Dog Park Reviews

Three dogs found their way into my home and family. All are highly social, well-behaved, and friendly to man and beast. Lovely pitbulls, they can romp at a dog park with canine society with nary a raised lip. Contrary to common opinion, they are not about to "snap." The eldest has been with us for eight years without altercations. The youngest makes just about everyone who sees him chuckle with his goofy good looks and easy-going attitude. The third, the middle child, has just one focus – "throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball." No time for big, bad pitbull antics, she's got balls to catch.

Nicholai, my Dead Dog Walking (he now lopes through celestial fields and occasionally I think I hear him whisper in my ear), required hikes in isolated areas due to his independent and protective nature. Portland's many populated city parks held no interest for him, or for me, and so I left them largely unexplored. Now, in the company of one, two, or even all three of the bully-kids, I can investigate the relatively recent phenomenon of designated, fenced – hence safe, official off-leash recreation dog parks.

As late as the mid-2000's, there weren't any such dog parks in all of Portland. There were unofficial meet-up areas where dogs and dog-owners clashed with other park users. I mostly avoided these areas. Supervising unleashed play was just too stressful. Dogs weren't safe from passing cars, cyclists weren't safe from dogs, kids weren't safe from dog-poo; frequently the whole scene felt like a lose-lose proposition. The situation erupted in 2004 when numerous dogs were poisoned in Laurelhurst Park. Resulting rhetoric on all sides was emotional and sometimes toxic, but the end result was positive – the development of designated dog-parks throughout the Metro area.

This fall, with Izzy, Kelley, and Barney by my side, I plan to visit all of Portland's dog parks. I'll dash off my own little pitbull and people review – ease of access, size, surface, amenities. On my list are Brentwood, Chimney, East Delta, Gabriel, Normandale, Sacajawea, and Wallace. If you know of another designated, fenced off-leash park in Portland please let me know. I thought I'd visit the parks in alphabetical order, but life showed me otherwise. So far, I've visited Sacajawea, Normandale, and Gabriel.

Maybe I'll see you out there.

Not Again

I'm pissed at cancer again. Those sinister little cells that spin out of control, unwanted and dysfunctional in someone's body. My sister this time. Again. Already.

Being angry at cancer is silly. Just a cellular error, the malignancy doesn't have an agenda to take my sister - or anyone else - out. It only seems that way. Seems cancer returns with a vengeance, malicious, with the intent to eat my sister up, gobble her down like the legendary big bad wolf.

Originally diagnosed with breast cancer in spring of 2010, she underwent surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy, followed by estrogen blocking treatment. Just recovering from treatment, tumors struck again, in brain, in liver, in lymph nodes.

What I'm really pissed off about is the prevalence of cancer, its skyrocketing incidence in human and animal populations. Hell, while I was visiting Montana during my sister's brain surgery and immediate recovery, I could not help but notice the destruction wreaked on mountain trees by the little pine beetle. How stands of red, dead, and dying trees looked like tumors on the hills, how the disease is spreading, so like a cancer amongst the mountain pines. For centuries, there's been a balance between the mountain pine beetles and the forests, bugs culled only the weakest of trees. Now the temperatures are just a tad higher - a degree or so - and the soil a touch more acidic. The new environment shifts the scale toward the bugs, they thrive and the trees die - in groves.

Sooner or later, we're going to have to start to get it. We're using the land and water too hard and it's having deleterious effects. Sooner or later, the effects are coming to get us all, one way or the other. What's it going to take before we - each and every one of us - does something different, something serious, something to lighten the load on this old earth before it falters and finally dies? I worry that it will take too much and when we finally recognize we have to act, it could be too late.

I am using the power of the sun to dry the laundry. I rode my bike to the grocery store and to the nursery for fall lettuce, kale, and broccoli starts. These are small steps, but there is less than no excuse not to take them. To do the things I can to stem the tides of global warming, excessive power consumption and environmental degradation. I wish I had the power to eradicate cancer, and that is probably what pisses me off most. No matter what I do, it will still be here. Cancer will still threaten my family, my friends, even my dogs and wild animals.

But I must exercise the power I do have. the power to change what I can. Besides, the bike rides are lovely and the laundry smells great fresh off the line. I hope to reduce global warming and eventually save somebody somewhere from cancer.

Fifteen Minutes

Trotting along a beach on the Columbia River, I was struck with how easy, fun, and inexpensive it is to practice preventive medicine. There I was, in dilapidated clothing – though I had a cute knit wool hat to top off the sandy, torn, dog-drooled black pants and jacket – on a broad beach under a clear sky, breathing fresh air, enjoying the playful company of my ball-obsessed dogs. Walking briskly this morning, I reduced my risk of a heart attack or stroke by fifty percent and cut the chances of contracting breast cancer in half. I strengthened my bones, staved off Type II diabetes, and kept my weight in check.

The above statistics have been demonstrated conclusively in reliable studies published in peer reviewed medical journals. When the big wigs discuss what kinds of care should be covered in health plans, the new buzz-phrase is "evidence based medicine." Well, the evidence showing exercise preventing serious illness is unequivocal. I wonder then, why TV ads push statin drugs like Lipitor for times "when diet and exercise are not enough." There couldn't be an ulterior motive … could there?

Turns out, the evidence shows clearly the statin class of drugs does not prevent heart attacks or strokes. Did you get that? Lipitor, Zocor, Crestor, and their cousins – while they do lower cholesterol, they don't reduce the incidence of heart attacks or strokes at all. That's per the evidence. It's unclear exactly what role high cholesterol actually plays in cardiovascular disease. But I know I don't want to suffer a stroke with or without high cholesterol.

We're talking simple exercise here. Getting up off the couch and walking briskly for fifteen to thirty minutes. That's it, that's all. No equipment or special clothes needed. No jogging, grunting, or even sweating, just moving for a few minutes per day. To save our lives.

When our walk's complete, growly dogs are calm and grumpy woman feels serene. We've got strong hearts, flexible joints, and less likelihood of serious disease, but better than that, my breath comes deep and muscles feel fluid. Boredom vanquished and aggression curbed, dogs curl with noses tucked under tails and snore in bliss.

All the evidence I need.

Winding Down

Dead Dog Walking is winding down. Reluctant to say that last goodbye to my old man, arriving at a final post is hard. But slowly and surely, I am moving on; playing with Kelley and Izzy, being a mom, getting back in shape after so many many weeks of mandatory rest for eye recovery, ramping up to see more chiropractic patients/clients once again. I won't forget my dark and handsome canine man,but life is whisking me ever onward.

I am shifting my blog posts to my new Wordpress website: www.animotionchiro.com. As my process of blogging has been totally personal and organic, I don't know exactly when I'll write the very last post here. But the day is coming and coming soon. The Dead Dog is walking no more.

I would feel honored to have faithful readers and followers (and stalkers too) follow the new blog.

REINCARNATION?

Our deviant squirrel met me at the back door early this morning as I prepared to take the dogs for our daily constitutional; right at the threshold, sitting there … waiting. "Aaagh!" I cried, and jumped back. Though I find her terribly cute, I haven't forgotten the strength and determination she put into biting my finger. Our interspecies relationship took a serious hit in the trust department with that chomp. Though I could stomp her out of existence, she doesn't seem worried about that – and for good reason. It must be incredibly obvious even to a tiny squirrel brain; I am a classic care-taker chick. The chances of me doing in some cute mammal, who oddly enough seems to need me, are nearly zilch. (If one of the dogs murders the squirrel, I'll call it nature – but me, off our furry friend? I don't think so.) Codependent impulses aside, I'm awfully curious about what motivates her bizarre behavior.

A visitor recently remarked she thinks our rodent fan is Nicholai, come back from dog-heaven in another form. I imagine my ninety-five pound squirrel killing-machine of a dog reincarnated in the fuzzy body of his former prey, struggling to convince us to let him in the damn house. There is some kind of karmic poetic justice to Nicholai's return as a vulnerable member of the lower portion of the food chain. The timing is right and the squirrel is damned certain she belongs in our house. Trapped inside a wiggly fluffy-tailed tree-climbing, nut-eating, one pound fur-ball, Nicholai would be so mad; the image makes me laugh out loud.

I wish I thought there was anything to it. I miss the old guy and wish he were still here walking with me. But I remember how I could trust that canine boy – powerful jaw, sharp teeth and all, he never bit me. Much as I'd like to have my Nickle-pickle back in any form, I doubt this is it. No, this little dudette has her own thing going. What it is, I don't yet know.

But I sure am curious.

Food Reading List

Food Reading List

I've found the following books informative and compelling. Read, read, read if you're concerned about your own health or the health of a family member or even your dog or cat. We are what we eat.

The Omnivore's Dilemma – Michael Pollan

In Defense of Food – Michael Pollan

Eating Meat – Jonathan Safran Foer

The Antioxidant Miracle – Lester Packer

The Better Brain Book – David Perlmutter

Anti-Cancer – David Servan-Schreiber

Detoxify or Die – Sherry Rogers

Poisoned Nation – Loretta Schwartz-Nobel

Anti-Oxidant Revolution – Kenneth Cooper

The Meat You Eat – Ken Midkiff

Natural Strategies for Cancer Patients – Russell Blaylock

The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Anti-Inflammatory Diet – Christopher Cannon

Pet Food Politics – Marion Nestle

Foods Pets Die For – Ann Martin

If this doesn't keep you busy for a while, you're either a foody like me or you have too much time on your hands. More exercise, maybe?

Basic Fatty Acids for Eaters

Essential fatty acids are so-called because they are essential to our lives. These vital fats are used by our bodies but not manufactured inside our bodies, thus we must obtain them from our food. These fats are used as building blocks for important hormones and hormone-like substances that mediate all kinds of processes. We need to acquire two basic types of fats from our diets: omega-6 fatty acids and omega-3 fatty acids.

The most common dietary sources of omega-6 fatty acids are corn, cottonseed, sunflower, safflower, peanut, soy, and canola oils. These oils provide us with linoleic acids which are converted in the body to arachidonic acid and then prostaglandin E2. Prostaglandin E2 contracts or relaxes smooth muscles (such as in blood vessels) and performs other necessary functions in the body. Too much prostaglandin E2 leads to inflammation and creates fibrosis, pain, degenerative joint disease, vascular disease, and immune system dysfunction. Prostaglandin E2 is the number two cause of free radicals in the body which facilitate the speed of aging and the development of cancers. Animals such as cows, pigs, chickens, and fish fed corn and soy as major components of their diets instead of the green food nature meant them to consume, conveniently convert the omega-6 fatty acids right into arachidonic acid so when we eat meat from them, we are one short step and a few cox enzymes away from this inflammatory molecule. Typical of our western approach, rather than fix the problem at the source, we have developed a number of cox-inhibitor drugs to stem the tide of inflammation production in our bodies and hopefully reduce the effects as well – pain and heart disease, for example.

The most common sources of dietary omega-3 fatty acids are flax, hemp, and walnut. These alpha-linoleic acids are converted in the body to eicosapenataenoic acid, or EPA. EPA is a powerful anti-inflammatory. EPA is further converted in our bodies to docosahexaenoic acid or DHA. Both EPA and DHA build brain synapses and increase the production of serotonin and dopamine. These fats help are known as the "feel good" fats because they alter our chemistry toward a pleasant mood.

It used to be that we could pretty much eat food and acquire a balance of essential fatty acids, not so anymore. We have interfered so much with the growth and production of what we like to call "food" that while it sometimes still looks like the old-fashioned real thing, it often bears little internal chemical resemblance.

According to clinical tests, most Americans have an omega-6:omega-3 fatty acid ratio of greater than 10:1 – and in many cases, much greater, while experts agree that to be healthy, we should have ratios of 3:1. To get our fats back in balance and hence lose weight, decrease or eliminate chronic pain, and lessen the chances of heart disease, cancer, arthritis, and Alzheimer's, we need to drastically cut our consumption of "6's" and radically increase our consumption of "3's." Your dog or cat should do the same to manage degenerative conditions if they already have them, or prevent them if they don't.

How to in a nutshell: Cut OUT all factory farmed meat, poultry, milk, and eggs. Find and choose instead local farmers raising animals on grass. Organic is nice, but corn and soy can be grown organically and animals fed this will still fill you full of arachidonic acid. Eat less red meat from any source. Eat less period; more calories consumed correspond with more work for the body and more free radical production, hence quicker aging and more degenerative disease. Eat a full complement of colorful veggies and some fruit every day – dark green kale, zucchini, yellow squash, red bell pepper, purple cabbage, blueberries, carrots, and sweet potatoes. Nature has given us clues – each attractive color provides a vitamin, a mineral, or an anti-oxidant we need. We don't need to know all their names; we do need to eat all those veggies.

Eat wild-caught cold water fish. No farmed fish – they live in sewer-like conditions and eat, you guessed it corn and soy meal. (Or if its shrimp farmed in China, chicken cages are stacked above the shrimp ponds; guess what the shrimp eat.)Tilapia we get is farmed – much in Central America – and has more pro-inflammatory arachidonic acid than any other meat, nearly twice that of pork and ten times higher than hamburger. You might want to give it a miss next time you eat out.

Cut, cut, cut the consumption of carbohydrates. Those you do eat, make them whole, not processed. This will dump less insulin into your system which also effects the conversion of omega-6 fatty acids into Prostaglandin E2.

Finally, when all is said and done, we still need to supplement with high quality fish oil and antioxidant vitamins. It's impossible to make good choices about food all day every day surrounded by tasty junk food. Give yourself a leg up and just swallow some darned capsules.

After two failed eye surgeries with doctors who put their hands up and shrugged, I remembered healing really is an inside job. Whether its weight or diabetes, arthritis or cancer, each of us holds the most power to change our own outcomes. For the past month and a half, I've been feeding myself as carefully as I did with Nicholai and I choke down three handfuls (and I mean full) of supplements per day. I feel great. Better yet, at my last eye appointment the doc didn't see any worrisome areas of scar tissue.

Wow. Maybe this anti-inflammatory stuff really matters. Happy eating!