Harold & Kumar Go To The Animal Shelter

The email began with a warm greeting, even buttered me up a little which is a familiar approach with favor requests, before getting to the main point of pitching a column topic.

The solicitor next mentioned her title, board president of the Humane Society of Ventura County, as if that would impress me and sway my keyboard into benevolence. Taking no chances, Sheila Kane McCollum tried to play on my emotions by introducing me to Kumar and Harold.

Unlike the movie “Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle” and its two sequels, this storyline is not a comedy (although it does feature a buddy road trip). Rather, it begins with a neglect case involving two adult dogs and a pair of puppies. The owners, when visited, agree to surrender the furry four-legged foursome to the HSVC in order to give them all a better opportunity for re-homing.

Shortly after their arrival at the shelter, the two puppies, dubbed Harold and Kumar by the caring staff, became lethargic with pale gums—symptoms of Parvovirus, a highly contagious disease that can prove fatal. Testing came back positive and because HSVC does not have a veterinarian on site around the clock, H & K were transferred to Horizon Veterinary animal hospital for the intensive care they required.

Following the diagnosis it was necessary for all HSVC personnel coming into contact with H & K to wear full Personal Protective Equipment, then sanitize and decontaminate afterwards, as if they were in the ICU treating COVID patients. Similar health safety protocol continued at the animal hospital where Harold remained for six days, and Kumar for more than two weeks, while receiving antibiotics and medication to treat the Parvovirus, as well as IVs for hydration and feeding before finally being able to take solid food.

Such medical attention is expensive, Shelia told me. All told, in fact, Harold and Kumar received more than $15,000 of care—all covered by the Humane Society of Ventura County. Located on four bucolic acres in Ojai, the non-profit organization relies on donors (go to HSVC.org to give) in order to live up to its mission of ensuring the welfare of local animals.

It is no small mission. The HSVC offers on-site shelter and adoption, low-cost spaying and neutering, vaccines, ID chips, emergency services that include animal rescue teams and disaster preparedness, even a free pet food pantry. Mobile vaccination clinics and pet food pantries are also offered. Furthermore, staff provides humane education through classroom visits during the school year and at youth camps in the summer.

Sheila wanted me to write about all this, and more, that the HSVC does. And then, with a final tug so hard as to snap a rock climber’s rope, much less a heartstring, she told me that because of the high cost and amount of woman- and manpower required, at many shelters Harold and Kumar might have been euthanized.

Thanks to the HSVC, however, “Harold & Kumar Go To The Shelter” has a happy ending. Indeed, both puppies now have a new lease—rather, leash—on lifewith adoption and new forever—rather, pardon a second pun, fur-ever—homes in their futures.

I was personally blessed long ago to have had two rescue doggies—Mac and Sammy—who were every bit as adorable and loving as Harold and Kumar. All the same, I regretfully had to tell Sheila I couldn’t help her.

After all, considering that the menagerie HSVC cares for includes horses, I simply cannot run the risk of my column turning into a dog and pony show.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Masterpiece Friends Elevate Us

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Masterpiece Friends Elevate

Us To The Clouds

“A friend,” Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, and wisely, “may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.”

One such masterpiece in my life celebrates a milestone birthday today, having completed 60 voyages around the sun. Thinking of My Masterpiece Friend brings also to mind my first best friend throughout childhood.

Dan and my relationship got off to an odd start a year before starting kindergarten together when our moms, who were in the same bowling league, set up an introductory play date.

When Mrs. Means – parents did not have first names in the 1960s – called out for Dan to come into the family room to meet me, he did not appear. She tried again, slightly louder. Again, Dan did not show up or answer. Not one to yell, Mrs. Means directed me down the hallway to the last door on the right.

I found Dan’s room, but not Dan. From beneath the bed, however, came a soft rustling noise. I crept over, dropped to my hands and knees, and lifted the hanging bedspread. Hiding like a fox in a den, Dan was playing with G.I. Joes.

Dan gave me a Cold War reception, like I was G.I. Vladimir, and refused to come out. Meanwhile, I dared not crawl into G.I. Dan’s foxhole. Instead, my mental Kodachrome footage shows the strangest thing: I started doing pushups, counting aloud, “One, two, three … ten!”

Why in the world would I act like a mini-Jack LaLanne? I have no idea other than I was trying to impress Dan in the same manner I sometimes reacted when my two older brothers told me I was too puny to join their activities.

Dan eventually Army-crawled out from his under-the-bed bunker and we played G.I. Joes. Next, we fed his two pet gerbils – “Bruce” and “Wayne” in honor of Batman’s true identity – and then headed to the basement to play with Hot Wheels.

Murray was a four-legged masterpiece friend.

Dan and I were fast friends indeed, literally so at a go-kart speedway once. More accurately, that day I was his fast-and-reckless friend. On the opening lap I bumped his wheels while trying to pass and sent us both spinning into the grass infield. We were instantly expelled from the track. Instead of being ticked off at me, Dan laughed like Muttley the cartoon dog having a loud asthma attack.

Fast forward four decades. I met My Masterpiece Friend in similar fashion to how I met Dan. Instead of two matchmaking moms, a shared acquaintance set up a play date of sorts to introduce us. This time, I did not do any impromptu calisthenics.

“Make friendship a fine art,” John Wooden advised and in this vein My Masterpiece Friend is a modern Rembrandt. One example may serve as well as 100. Recently, our nearly 13-year-old boxer grew gravely ill with cancer. The day arrived when the only humane recourse was to have a veterinarian come to our home to relieve Murray’s suffering through euthanasia.

The vet, who had the couch-side manner of an angel, needed help lifting Murray onto the stretcher afterward. I risked aggravating a recent injury, although that pain would be preferable to having my distraught wife do the morose task.

Not to worry because My Masterpiece Friend dropped everything and rushed over. What is even more, I knew he would.

“What wealth is it to have such friends that we cannot think of them without elevation!” wrote Emerson’s great friend, Henry David Thoreau. I can still envision Dan and me kicking the clouds with our toes while soaring on the playground swings, but My Masterpiece Friend elevates me higher still.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

Boy’s and Girl’s Best Friend

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Every Dog Has His Day . . . And Column

Editors note: Woody Woodburn is taking the day off. His 10-year-old boxer, Murray, who is named after Pulitzer Prize winner Jim Murray, is filling in.

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Have you ever been so dog-tired you couldn’t even muster the energy to fetch a tennis ball? That’s how wiped out I am right now, so obviously I didn’t feel like writing this column for Wood-daddy – but he knows my weakness for dog biscuits, so here I am pawing away at his keyboard.

Murray, the guest columnist

Murray, the guest columnist

Why is my long tongue dragging, you ask? Because my two favorite people in the entire universe were just home to visit me, that’s why! No offense to Alpha Pops and Mama Lisa, but My Girl and My Boy make my heart race double-time and my tail wag faster than a Ringo Starr drumstick.

This is saying something because I adore Mama so much I am her constant shadow. Even if I’m snoozing in a warm sunlit spot, if she leaves the room I’ll jump up and follow her – except when My Girl and My Boy are home.

And for the past two weeks, My Girl was home for the first time in ages. I was so surprised to see her, I did my trademark “helicopter” greeting where I spin around and around and around while simultaneously bucking up and down and up like a bronco with a spur under its saddle. Simone Biles would be envious of my gold-medal floor routine.

At my age, I needed a short nap afterwards, but first I had to take My Girl for a long walk and show her the ol’ neighborhood again.

When I was a puppy, My Girl lived away at college. But two things really bonded us. First, she is the only one who lets me break the “Murray, get off the bed!” house rule.

Second, a few years ago I needed eye surgery and she took time off work and come home from the Bay Area to nurse me while the lovebirds were on an anniversary trip in Ireland. Since then we’ve been BFFs.

My Boy, however, has been my best friend from Day 1 when he picked me out and I slept on his lap during the long drive home. He was a high school freshman and every day after track and cross-country practice I would keep him company when he took an ice bath for his legs. I was so small back then I had to stand on my hind legs to see over the edge of the tub.

Now I’m 89-pounds – “all muscle and mischief!” My Boy likes to say – and we still gator-wrestle on the ground like two young pups. My joints are old now, but I’m forever young with him. He even pretends not to notice my muzzle has grown gray.

Murray holding watch for "My Boy" and "My Girl"

Murray holding watch for “My Boy” and “My Girl”

My Boy now lives in New York City, so I don’t get to see him very often, but we sometimes Skype. Some people won’t believe this, but I knew with a sixth sense he was coming to see me five minutes before he walked through the front door. I was so happy I almost flew to the ceiling doing my “helicopter.”

For four days – it seemed like 28 – my wagging tail didn’t rest because My Boy and My Girl were both home. It was nirvana, I tell you, doggie heaven.

So you can imagine my hangdog face when I saw them packing their suitcases. My melancholy was overpowering and the closing lyrics from the Beatles’ song “Two of Us” came to my mind, although for me it’s Three of Us: “You and I have memories / Longer than the road that stretches out ahead.”

I have been napping even more than usual since they left. And my dreams have been a long road of happy memories with My Boy and My Girl.

As I hold loyal sentry at the front window watching for my two best friends to return once more, I am comforted by a quote attributed to Dr. Seuss: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

I can’t wait until it happens again.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

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