“I used to be a preacher,” he said to me, and I believe it. He has that ability to grab a group of people. I first watched him do it at an ACES session at the Helen Woodward Animal Center, when he was there to tell a group of animal rescue advocates from around the country about his company, Ark Sciences, and how he wanted to change the world.

His subject now is not religion but unwanted pets, but he brings the same fist-clenching conviction to the topic that one would expect from any passionate believer. “We’re going to change the world,” he says, while talking of the pain he felt travelling all over the world and seeing the suffering resulting from animal overpopulation. The room felt it too.

With no background in animal science to speak of, Joe founded Ark Sciences and assembled a team of veterinarians, scientists and animal experts to move forward with his goal. They acquired the patent for a form of chemical castration, which had languished as Neutersol, and re-vamped the protocol under a new name, Esterilsol.

So what is it, exactly? Zinc Gluconate is a chemical that, when injected into the testicle, kills the spermatozoa and triggers the formation of scar tissue in the seminiferous tubules and rete testis. That is the short-short version. For the complete explanation, check out the thorough FAQ section of the Ark site.

The earlier form of chemical castration, Neutersol, did not succeed for a variety of reasons, be it business, some early adverse reactions, or a skeptical public. The problems with adverse reactions related to injection technique have been addressed; complication rates are about 1% (which is lower than that for the traditional surgical castration.)

It can be done with mild sedation, removing the need for general anesthesia. And it preserves the Leydig cells responsible for producing testosterone, preserving levels at about 50% of what it was pre-neuter. For many owners, sex hormone preservation and the emerging data regarding its impact on health is a major reason to avoid surgical neutering.

Since launching the product, Esterilsol has been approved in Mexico, approved by the FDA for dog castrations in dogs from 3-10 months (though they are expecting to drop the upper limit by the time it hits US markets), and is pending FDA approval of its US manufacturing facility, expected this year.

After extensive usage and approval in Mexico, Joe brought the Esterilsol product back to the US and began approaching humane societies, animal welfare organizations, and veterinary schools about his vision to end euthanasia due to pet overpopulation with this process that is fast, straightforward, and best of all to a cash strapped organization, cheaper than traditional neutering.

The reaction from the animal welfare community has been enthusiastic. That of the veterinary community is a little more cautious.

“Why wouldn’t you want to use this?” Joe asked me one night. “Why wouldn’t a vet want to start using this tomorrow?”

And I paused, and I laughed, because I totally get how my profession works. We have a procedure, and we know how to do it, and it works. We are born skeptics and born arguers. No one wants to be the first adopter of a new technology that ends up going south. We are old and crotchety and set in our ways.

“It’s going to be a while before it becomes widely accepted,” I said. “Everyone’s going to wait and see what happens when someone else does it before they take a risk on their own clients.”

Joe looked at me, and pulled from his folder the journal articles, the FDA statements, the technical papers from the veterinarians participating in the research. “I have all the proof right here,” he said. “What more do you need?”

“Other vets,” I said immediately. It is how we work.

And he told me about the animals he has seen all over the world, and we talked about that a bit. And I told him about those I have seen in South America, in Mexico, in Africa, and here in the States. I get it. I understand his drive to get this off the ground as soon as he can just as much as I get my colleagues looking at a syringe of something they haven’t tried yet and saying, “you first.”

It’s all quite complex and you might have lots of questions, so please, ask away if you haven’t gotten a chance to check out the Ark website. It’s fascinating, and you know what, it’s exciting. I think this is going to be big.

Joe is not one to be easily deterred. They’re working on the vets as we speak; the last time I spoke with the people at Ark, Western had invited them to teach their technique to the vet students there. Joe fixed me with his gaze and said with certainty, “This is going to save lives.” And you know what? He made a believer out of me.

I am very interested to see where this is going to go.

I’ve been working on it. I actually get along pretty well with people, as far as I can tell. But every once in a while I experience one of those penultimate human experiences that I’m supposed to relish, and all I can do is run away screaming and bury my face in the dog and not want to talk to another person for at least eight hours, possibly ten. I had one of those this week.

In an attempt to raise a good citizen, I enrolled my daughter in Girl Scouts. I did it when I was a kid. I tried to find my picture of me in my Brownies uniform to prove it, but I think it’s in the storage facility somewhere, at least that is my excuse. Anyway, as far as I could recall, it was fun: we made some ribbon barrettes, colored, got to wear those badass brown sashes to school and strut around every Tuesday, and I think one time I sold some Thin Mints. It was low key.

And I look around at the second graders these days dressing like Miley Cyrus and singing all the words to “I’m Sexy and I Know It”, and I realized something with horror: I’m apparently an old school prude. And I’m really not, but compared to what’s out there, I kind of am. And I had two main choices for after school activities for my daughter: Girl Scouts or the local dance studio, and if you saw what the eight year olds were wearing at the last recital you would understand why I went with the scouts.

Because the Scouts are the answer to all the things we bemoan about being a woman today, right? It’s about teamwork and solidarity. It’s about empowerment. Equality. Buoying your fellow woman instead of throwing her under the bus. Girl power and all of that, embrace your brain, etc.

Well.

As January approached, word came down that Girl Scout Cookie season was fast approaching, and which Mandatory Cookie Meeting would we like to attend. Our troop’s Cookie Magistrate dutifully went on the troop’s behalf, and came back with a 500 page Rule Book detailing the intricate and mythic tome that outlined cookie sale parameters. There are major rules here, people. Deadlines and requirements and set in stone dates and Craigslist bans and everything.

But no matter. My daughter, a bit more outgoing than I ever was, was happy to grab our mobile unit- we got rid of our wagon when the kids were little so we were stuck with a rolling Tumi bag like a displaced commuter, or maybe a street hawker from Manhattan selling pirated goods- and head down the street in search of some sales.

How hard could that be, right? Everyone loves Thin Mints. Plus it’s a cute kid in a brownie uniform and she was walking an also-cute Golden retriever, and it was the first day you could legally sell cookies so no one had the “Oh, I bought some already” excuse.

Fifteen houses later, not one neighbor even bothered to answer the door to reject us to our faces. Dejected, we returned home. And ate some cookies.

The next day, my friend and I had the bright idea to go walk around the neighborhood down by the library.  The library is right across the street from the local junior high, and we timed it just as the 13 year olds were pouring out of the school in search of carbs. It was awesome. The girls opened up their little suitcase and held court like the brilliant hucksters they were. It was glorious.

And the next day, we found out someone ratted us out.

There are Cookie Spies, you see. And they called whatever 1-800 number exists for Reporting Illegal Sales of Cookies on us. Because if there’s one thing a Girl Scout loves more than supporting her fellow scouts, it’s winning “big prizes.” Like T-shirts and pillow pets. And as much as the idea of fundraising for the greater good may appeal to one’s sense of community, when it all boils down to it, in this cutthroat world, it’s each scout for herself. We weren’t trying to be sneaky. We weren’t trying to pull one over on The Man, or in this case The Girl. I just wanted my daughter to sell at least one box of cookies so she’d stop looking so sad and I wouldn’t have 96 boxes of Thin Mints sitting on my dining room table calling to me.

As we were to learn, buried somewhere in the rules and regulations that state you can walk on the sidewalk in a mobile unit prior to said date, somehow stopping on the sidewalk is not ok. Like, I guess you need to continually stay in motion until booth sales start this upcoming weekend. (Trolling private residences is ok, though.)

I tried to picture how this might work, me driving slowly around the block while my daughter hung out the back trying to count out change, and my head started to hurt. So I went to Joann’s to get some stickers for something or another, and every person in there was a Girl Scout mom trying to come up with the fanciest poster for their kid’s wagon. And then my head hurt even more. Because so help me God, I think those women were enjoying this. They were plotting the best street corners to walk on. I never thought I would hear a bunch of middle aged women in a fabric store having this conversation.

I’ve learned some lessons about solidarity, community and leadership over the last month. Yes I have. More than anything, I learned that if this is what sisterhood is about, well, I guess I made the right choice being the weirdo who hangs out with her dogs all day, because it’s way easier that way.

And if anyone asks, my name is Jennifer Bagelsong and my troop is number 666 from San Dimas.

We’re staying in the area- after seeing all those pictures from Colorado this weekend I think it’s safe to say I am actually quite content here in San Diego, thanks- and the decision is one that has more to do with commutes and schools than anything else. Now, the last time we sold a house was in 2004, and as you probably know, the market was a little different back then. You could put a ramshackle log cabin on the market in 2004 and it would be sold for a ridiculous bucket of money back then. Our place sold in 10 days, to the second person who saw it. Ah, to be back in 2004 again.

Now, buyers are a little pickier. And the prospect of trying to keep a house in showable condition for possibly months, with two messy kids and a really rowdy Golden who would love nothing more than to go nuts each and every time someone comes by, has me in apoplectic fits. Worse than when I was taking the boards, worse than when I was pregnant. I have NO idea how I’m going to do it.

But I have a point here, and my point is: this is how we found ourselves at the mall on Saturday looking at little knick knacks, because my husband decided potential buyers would be impressed by more candles in the house. Now, I am ambivalent about that kind of stuff to begin with, and all I could think while we were wandering through the store was “It won’t matter, there’s no way the house is going to sell and then we’re going to be stuck in this house forever WITH A BUNCH OF EXTRA CANDLES TO HAVE TO STORE” and then I got even more stressed out and couldn’t concentrate. 

And as it turns out, Pottery Barn is right next to an Anthropologie, and after about 10 minutes of wandering about Pottery Barn I had it and said I needed to go next door. That’s right, I left my husband to his own devices to decorate the house so I could go look at clothes. He has good taste, and besides, I wasn’t being any help at that point anyway. I needed the calming shabby chic influence of Anthro to calm my nerves.

And look! Look what I found!

I was told by someone in the know that if I were going to be wandering around Westminster next week, I should have a blazer, you know, to make my jeans look more professional. And this is a blazer with bees all over it. I fell instantaneously in love. My nerves were soothed. Because animals on clothing make me happy.

And because I needed to do something more constructive than trolling the net looking at the depressingly paltry numbers that houses in our neighborhood have been selling for, I decided to spend the afternoon pursuing a more enjoyable avocation, looking to see if there are any other cute, non-scary animal clothing items out there. Because there was a lot of this for sale at the cat show:

 And I needed to update my wishlist with more Non-Unfortunate Items of Animalistic Fashion.

I’m kind of torn on these shoes. They aren’t my style, but I think I could appreciate them on the right person in the right outfit. Something about the old school tapestry pattern combined with the crazy platform is…evocative, let’s say.

Better. A muted doggie pattern on a navy dress. See? We can be subtle in our proclamation of puppy love!

This tapestry shoe bothers me less for some reason. The Mary-Janes balance out the tapestry pattern a little better, I think. I would wear those, under certain circumstances.

And last but not least, who could resist a Bambi dress? Minus the whole “your mom got shot, sorry about that” element, everyone loves Bambi. Well, at least I do.

So all I need to do is envelop myself in soothing happy animal prints and then I won’t be so stressed when the realtors come and do those annoying things they do, like show up unannounced while you’re in the shower and insist on taking people through the place. Or I can just strap on those huge cat boots and kick them out. Win-win.

Please vote for pawcurious! Brody and Koa will love you forever!

I was so, so excited to see pawcurious is a finalist in the 2012 Bloggies Best Pet or Animal Weblog category! It would mean SO much if you would take just a moment to vote for us. It would mean more than:

• a bucket of truffles
• a closet of Jimmy Poos
• a nice bottle of vintage Port

Yes, it would mean that much. And to entice you further, I have composed more Bad Poetry:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Please vote for us,
Even though you get nothing in return because I love you.

Sonnet 35

Shall I compare thee to a dog biscuit?
Thou art more yummy and more humorous.
Of all the many blogs out there you risked it,
Spending time here with my pets so scurrilous.
Sometime we talk, well, overmuch, of poop,
And often you’re subjected to the pics;
But you can trust me to give you the scoop,
Just hope it’s not another litter fix;
But my eternal writing shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of the evidence,
I might regret those YouTubes that I made,
But the web’s forever, or so I sense.
So long as dogs can pant, or fingers type,
So long lives this, and for you I will write.

Tomorrow’s the big day! For air time info,  check here but it should be either 2 pm or 12 depending on your time zone. There’s also an online Twitter party that will be going on simultaneously using the hashtag #AKCEukshow. I’ll be there with some more Eukanuba dog food vouchers during the PST air time, 12-2 PST. I hope you can stop in!

The show will mostly be covering the Best in Show finals, but as you know there was a ton of other stuff going on too. I put together a slideshow of some of my favorite pictures from around the web. Fun fun fun!

There’s been lots of coverage in the blogosphere about the show- here’s some of the VIP blogger coverage of all different aspects of the event!

It’s a big weekend for those of us who like to sit by the TV and eat. One, the AKC/Eukanuba show airs on Saturday, so I’ll be glued to the screen jumping up and down every time I spot myself on TV. And of course, the next day is that most festive of sports events, the Super Bowl.

It’s fair to say I am ambivalent at best about football, so the question here is not so much “Team Pats” versus “Team Giants” as it is “Team Game” versus “Team Commercials.” I for one, am of the latter persuasion. After all, there’s no dogs in the game, unless you somehow manage to convince your significant other that the Puppy Bowl is fine to watch at the same time.

But I don’t let that stop me from eating my way through the show. That’s the best part. And because I don’t want the dogs to feel left out of the junk food bacchanalia, and I’m afraid if I don’t have something for them someone will slip them some seven layer dip, I decided to create their very own Dog Nachos to get them through the day.

Nachos are not rocket science. There is no high level of culinary talent or expenditure required to create a plate of nachos. All you need is something crunchy, some sort of gooey meat substance, and a topping. Which works out perfectly, since I happened to have all three on hand:

• chicken jerky strips (which I made already)
• A can of dog food
• shredded carrots

Step one: Open can of food.

Step two: Arrange artfully. Done. Best served immediately, since they smell exactly like how you would expect them to smell.

And that smell is delicious, at least if you are a dog.

And do dogs like dog nachos?

I think it is safe to say, dogs really like dog nachos.

STEP OFF, CAT! These are DOG nachos!
(pawcurious is not responsible for your dog going all Cartman on the cat when dog nachos are around.)

I mean it, cat. MINE.

Hey, wait a minute…

Of course, the cleverest of dogs do not waste time chasing cats off, but take advantage of the distraction to hone in on the plate and clear it off. Touchdown Team Labrador!

So what team are you? Pats, Giants, or commercials?

As it turns out, though, I couldn’t be more wrong. The dog show people I met are- get ready for it- just like anyone else, plus ribbons. They are dog lovers first and foremost, who just happen to have a hobby I’m still learning about. Take Michele Molnar, for example- the lady of the hour, owner of London, this year’s winner at the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship. I asked her if I could interview her for the blog in advance of the show’s air date this weekend, and she immediately accepted. She’s fun, accessible, and above all a total dog lover.

That’s Michele in the killer red dress. Anyone who can rock red sequins like that is good people, that’s what I say.

And what about the man of the hour himself, Grand Champion Jaset’s Satisfaction- aka London? He held himself with such composure that I think all us bloggers were all a little scared to go up to him after his big win, concerned that perhaps such a dignified gentleman might be mortified to be surrounded by the great unwashed masses.

Well, all of us except Susi (of course). Here she is attempting to stare into his soul. Kind of like when you see the tourists at Buckingham Palace trying to rattle the Queen’s Guards. No dice.

But much like his owner, London is totally down-to-earth. Sure, when he’s on the job, he’s all business, but when he’s at home with handler Ann Rairigh, guess what he likes to do? Sip martinis? Sit around with other poodles and scoff at the hairless breeds? Actually, according to Michele, he spends the day romping in the yard, barking at squirrels, playing with toys, and taking naps underfoot.

His favorite toy, by the way, are his squeaky toys. Left to his own devices, he pulls out all the stuffing and covers the house with white squeaky toy guts. See? A troublemaker just like all the rest of them. And lest you think he only likes to hang out with other poodles, his BFF is Bucky the Pomeranian.

“The biggest misconceptions I think the public has that people involved in dog shows aren’t every-day people,” said Michele. “If one started talking to the exhibitors, one would quickly find out that for the majority of us are involved in dog shows as a hobby.  We have lives, a day job, etc. outside our passion for dogs.”

That hobby can be time-consuming. London spends, on average, 2-3 weekends a month at dog shows, wowing judges. And as you can probably surmise, prepping a standard poodle for a show can be a bit labor-intensive. The distinctive clip is a matter of form following function:

“Not many people know that the poodle was originally bred for hunting,” says Michele. “The trim allowed the poodle to wade through the marshes and not get caught on brambles and weeds, but kept all the major organs and joints protected from the chill of the water.”

But on show day, London’s not exactly prepping for a mud run. He needs to be picture-perfect:

photo courtesy Michele Molnar

And that takes a bit of time. “Grooming for standard poodle that is going to be shown starts with a bath, a blow-dry and scissoring a few days before the show,” says Michele. “Feet, face and if it is adult, legs are shaved.  Then at the show we re-brush and scissor to make sure the shape is perfect.  With all the prep time before we even step in the ring, we can put in 3 to 5 hours in on a single dog.”

But the time and effort paid off when London, who turns 4 in mid-March, took the grand prize at the AKC/Eukanuba show.

“We didn’t even dare to dream that he would win Best in Show. With having won both the variety and the Non-Sporting group the day before, we already were on cloud nine.  Who could ask for anything more?” says Michele. “The line of the dogs in Best in Show were the who’s who of competitors and any one of them deserved the win.  So when Judge Polly Smith pointed at London and Ann, it quickly became an overwhelming emotional moment.  Complete disbelief and tears as ‘We couldn’t believe it was happening’, as it was beyond our wildest dreams.”

Smiles all around after London wins Best in Show. photo courtesy Michele Molnar

Happy pup, happy owner, smiles all around. Just another loving dog owner, see? Plus ribbons. Big ribbons.

Proud parents! photo courtesy Michele Molnar

And an upcoming spot on the Big Bronze Trophy.

photo courtesy Michele Molnar

It’s such a strange confluence of worlds, society-minded dog fanciers and competitive point-watchers and intense breed overseers who make it their life’s work to delving into the pedigree and genetics of a dog in order to improve the health of the breed. And then there’s fascinated outsiders like me, doggie voyeurs who just take in the show. It’s so much fun to watch.

Domesticated creatures are a wonder unto themselves, aren’t they? We busybody primates tinker around with natural selection and breeding in order to create a creature more to our liking: a canine with a commanding bark, or a dog with a natural retrieving instinct. And in the process, we muddled up the gene pool quite a bit. Interestingly enough, as our understanding of genetics evolves at an exponential pace, the very oddities we’ve introduced into the canine genome are providing some unexpected insights into our own genetic makeup. Ah, science. I STILL don’t get how dogs accumulate points in order to be show champions, but start whispering in my ear about the genetic markers for albinism and I’ll perk right up. Now you’re sweet talking.

This month’s well-timed National Geographic (my favorite magazine ever since I was a kid dragging my Jane Goodall issues around) is headlined by this very topic:

National Geographic, Feb 2012

For reasons both practical and whimsical, man’s best friend has been artificially evolved into the most diverse animal on the planet—a staggering achievement, given that most of the 350 to 400 dog breeds in existence have been around for only a couple hundred years. The breeders fast-forwarded the normal pace of evolution by combining traits from disparate dogs and accentuating them by breeding those offspring with the largest hints of the desired attributes.

To create a dog well suited for cornering badgers, for instance, it is thought that German hunters in the 18th and 19th centuries brought together some combination of hounds—the basset, a native of France, being the likely suspect—and terriers, producing a new variation on the theme of dog with stubby legs and a rounded body that enabled it to chase its prey into the mouth of a burrow: hence the dachshund, or “badger dog” in German. (A rival, flimsier history of the breed has it dating back, in some form, to ancient Egypt.) Pliable skin served as a defense mechanism, allowing the dog to endure sharp-toothed bites without significant damage. A long and sturdy tail helped hunters to retrieve it from an animal’s lair, badger in its mouth.

The remainder of the article may be found here at the National Geographic website; or, check out the current issue of National Geographic Magazine on newsstands now.

In the meantime, please enjoy some of the gorgeous images from the February 2012 issue of National Geographic magazine, used with permission. For the full set, check out the National Geographic Gallery of dogs from the 2011 Westminster Dog Show:

Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

Great Pyrenees. Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

The eye-shielding curls of Charlotte, a black-haired puli, are produced by the interaction of three genes. Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

Afghan hound "Manny". Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

English Setter. Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

Researchers have identified a single gene mutation that causes the "hairlessness" of dogs like Sugar, a Chinese crested.Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

Oakley, a pug (foreground), and Little Dude, a Saint Bernard, stand witness to the immense morphological diversity of their species. If humans varied as much in height, the smallest would be two feet tall and the tallest would measure some 31 feet. Photo credit: ©Robert Clark/National Geographic

I’d tell you that seeing these pictures is inspring me to go pick up the latest issue of NatGeo, but who am I kidding. I’ve been subscribed for eons.

“The patient in room two is a….” I studied the chart…”Belgian Mali-noy?”

“Malin-WAH,” she would correct, rolling her eyes. That sort of thing. You had to see her in action to get just how well she did ‘condescending eyeroll’. And then I would make it through the room, and proudly pronounce the next day that there was another Malinois there on the service, only to have her whip out a droll, “No, um, that would be a … Tervuren” plus eyeroll at the senior clinician. While the difference between a Malinois and a Tervuren are now clearer to me, they really weren’t at the time, and well, they are hard to tell apart to the untrained eye.

We don’t learn breed identification in school. We learn it on the fly. We learn that the whatever-it-is in the room has an ear infection, and how to deal with it. It’s much easier in a clinic, where the owner has already filled out paperwork and told at least two other people what breed you are looking at before you go in and mess it up.

It’s still not easy. While this may be easy to ID: 

I’ll take, “What is a black lab in a bikini top for $500, Alex”;

This, less so:

As you can tell by the shirt, this is a Pumi. Without that hint, I would have said, what a cute schnoodle.

One of the most fun parts of watching a dog show is getting to see all sorts of dogs you don’t run into on an every day basis. And because I’m nosey, and because it’s fun, I thought I would ask some of the people at the AKC/Eukanuba show what their breeds were most commonly mistaken for by people like me who don’t know them all on sight. The answers I got were pretty entertaining.

I’ve got a couple giveaways to do leading up to the big AKC/Eukanuba show airing on the 4th, and I figured I would kick the first one off today for Giveaway Tuesday: I have two vouchers for a bag of Eukanuba dog food- up to a 40 lb bag! Good for any breed or combination thereof.

To enter, watch the video and leave a comment below with either- your favorite moment from the video, or the funniest thing someone has ever mistaken your own dog for. Don’t forget to enter on the Rafflecopter widget! Good luck!


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Much like a dog show, there are ‘rings’ where the cats are judged.

There’s none of this running around in a show lead, however. The cats wait in a cage until it’s their turn. 

The judge takes the cat out. Stretches them out a bit, maybe waves a feather around.

And they were very interactive with the spectators, telling them what they were looking for in a cat.

Champion cats proudly displayed their ribbons.

There is also a category for “household” (ie non-show) pets, who can win in categories as well. Here is a former stray who is, as you can see, doing quite well for himself now.

This is an agility course. I am so sad they wouldn’t let me photograph while a cat was running it, because trust me, it’s cool. In order to compete, the cat needs to finish the circuit in 3 minutes, though the fastest that day finished in 10 seconds.

But the best part for me was just seeing so many beautiful kitties, like these Cornish Rex:

And this Oriental Shorthair. Will you LOOK at that muzzle!

I’m pretty sure this regal cat is an Abyssinian. Cat fancy breeds are not my strong suit. ETA: The consensus of you all is that this is in fact a Somali- I was waffling on that. See previous sentence.

And a beautiful Tonkinese. Look at that little face.

All eyes.

I adore ragdolls. These guys were sooooo cute. I wanted to stick one in my purse. (Ragdolls are my kitty Boston terriers.)

The number one Burmese in the country getting some love and hugs.

And a Persian doing what cats love best.

Of course, no cat show is complete without some accessories of questionable taste.

Dinnerware and puzzles, as well.

You know you’re at a cat show when there is an entire dumpster dedicated to the leavings. Wouldn’t want to be the lucky guy who gets to empty that one out.

We had a great time getting to know some new kitty breeds and just hanging out with people who love felines dearly. Maybe I am a teeny bit of a cat lady after all.