One more sad dog tale …

Momentum for adding a second dog to our family remains in a temporary holding pattern. Daughter Nicole has pleaded, begged and lobbied for another pouch for years. That campaign intensified in August after the unexpectedly crushing loss of our brave West Highland White Terrier, Fala.

Nicole’s mother remains sympathetic to Nic’s crusade for a second dog. Marguerite’s motherly instincts kick in here. She rightly believes Asta – our second and not so brave Westie – needs a companion canine to hang around the house.

By contrast, I strongly resisted adding a third dog while Fala proudly roamed the grounds. I contended, with some justification I think, that our house really couldn’t handle a third four-legged mammal.

Now, with Fala gone and Asta firmly entrenched in the rank of senior-citizen-dog-status, Nic isn’t buying “the house is too small argument.”

And although I realize I will ultimately lose this unwinnable family battle, the truth is I’m simply not ready to replace Fala. I’m still recovering from that brutal day in August when we lost our old girl.

Fala was our cancer dog. Home from New York for a Christmas break after a first round of chemotherapy back in 1997, we met Sunday golfing buddy Ed Mead’s cheerful Westie during a brief visit. After we left, I innocently mentioned to Marguerite that if we ever decided to add a pouch to the family unit, a lively Westie might be the appropriate breed.

So we returned to our old Lake Shore house that May. On June 10, we brought home a tiny Westie puppy that I insisted on naming Fala after President Franklin Roosevelt’s famously temperamental Scottish Terrier.

We were repeatedly told by Fala’s breeder that Westies were notoriously strong-willed breed. You must be tough with her, the breeder warned. “Don’t let her push you around or that Westie will rule your house.”

Within days, it became clear enough who would prevail in this battle of wills. It wasn’t the human masters. Fala’s zest for mischief and her unexpected skill for the hunt charmed us into allowing our bossy Westie to assume a household leadership role, briefly at the Lake Shore house, and ultimately, at our new, two-acre Fairview spread on a sagging bluff overlooking Lake Erie.

I think Fala loved the new place even more than we did. While we looked on in horror, our little puppy quickly figured out she could navigate her way down the bluff to our rocky beach, often loaded with the rotting, dead fish Fala loved to roll in.

While terriers are supposed to focus on digging up critters living underground, Fala used hunting lessons from a Lake Shore neighbor’s old cat to bring home quarry ranging from hapless squirrels, unfortunate baby bunnies or out-gunned mice. And when Fala wasn’t busy treeing alarmed turkeys and keeping the property free from marauding deer herds, she formed a complicated relationship with our neighbor’s Golden Retriever Bridget (I remember shuddering while these two crazy dogs ran fearlessly out on treacherous Lake Erie snow dunes).

Soon enough, Marguerite decided Fala needed a Westie companion for company during workdays. Into our world in June 2001, the howling puppy Asta, named after the Wire-Haired Fox Terrier from the classic “The Thin Man” movie series.

After initial hostilities between the two stubborn Westies mostly ceased, the Fala-Asta show opened in the Colony Association. Asta began life as a relentless roamer, leading Fala on numerous unauthorized adventures, bringing phone calls from neighboring Wolf Road homeowners and Lake Shore residents, asking if two white dogs with our phone number on their tags were ours. After two years of these fetching expeditions, Asta finally settled down and learned to be a homebody.

Life with these two canine characters went along happily until we noticed Fala slowing down two summers ago. The vet said arthritis would halt her impressive jumping exploits, forcing her to settle down a bit in her senior years.

By last summer, a successful trip to the Animal Ark Animal Hospital in June stirred hope that Fala could give us a few more years. By August, a nasty, expanding growth in her stomach rocked our household.

A confession: I still mist up six months later when I think about that terrible August day. The growth (cancer no doubt) apparently pushed into Fala’s scent glands, creating a nasty smell even repeated showers couldn’t subdue. A call to the Animal Ark hinted at a possible fix.

The day before I took her in to the Animal Ark, Fala enjoyed a great day. She chased squirrels. She sat for hours in her favorite spot in the bushes next to our garage, happily soaking in the rays. She barked at a visiting eagle standing guard in our tree overlooking the lake

But the next morning, it became clear our girl knew something was up. When we arrived at Animal Ark, Fala refused to go into the building. Interesting. Back in June, Fala didn’t offer any resistance while Asta attempted several fruitless escapes.

This time, though, Fala seemed to sense this vet trip was different. Marguerite arrived later in the morning and we went into the examining room. Fala licked the nurse who weighed her. Fala calmed down after Marguerite put the muzzle on her.

The vet came in, quickly noticed the growth in Fala’s stomach and asked about her appetite. We both told him that she was eating and drinking normally. But then, he stunned us with a painfully quick diagnosis that spelled the end for our old girl.

“What do you want to do,” the vet asked.

Stunned, Marguerite and I huddled. We were both choking up, not really believing this was happening. I couldn’t talk. Marguerite told the vet that yes, there was only one choice here.

I wanted to grab Fala and get the hell out of there. I tried to tell Marguerite that we had to get Fala home, at least for a couple of weeks, or at least for the weekend.

But I couldn’t talk.

We petted and hugged our gal. Fala licked Marguerite’s hand and face one last time. Then, it was over.

A half hour later, I texted a message to Marguerite: “Did we let our gal down?”

Marguerite texted back: “No we didn’t let our gal down. We made a decision she couldn’t make. Fala was suffering.”

I knew this was true then. I know it’s true now. But I still wish we would have grabbed Fala and taken her home.

Didn’t our old gal deserve that?

I guess what it really comes back to is I never expected to feel this guilty.

Why Wouldn’t We Want To Insure 30 million Americans?

Well – why not?

There are smarter citizens among us who can better explain why America desperately needs health-care reform. The point I always come back to – a point I don’t see enough pundits or political reporters making – is 53 percent of the American people voted for health-care reform on Nov. 4, 2008, when they voted for Barack Obama.

That is 66,862,309 Americans who voted for Obama and health-care reform

Now one of those smarter citizens is Washington Post Economic and Domestic Policy blogger Ezra Klein. Heading into Thursday’s staged health-care reform summit between President Obama and congressional Republican and Democratic leaders, Klein explains there really is no longer any time for a credible bipartisan compromise (Ezra explained).

I like this take:

Congress has a few, final months before everyone scurries home to campaign for 2010. And they want to spend those months forcing Republicans to take difficult votes on jobs legislation, not arguing over whether Medicaid is solvent enough for a major expansion.

More importantly, there’s no political upside in starting over. The right will still cry “death panels!” and let loose the dogs of tea, and the left will savage them for failing to pass health-care reform despite controlling the second-largest congressional majority since the 70s. There’s a policy argument here in that a fallback plan will cover more people than no plan will cover, but if covering people is what the Democrats want to do, they’ll pass the comprehensive plan, which both covers more people and actually gives them a major accomplishment.

At this point, health-care reform either passes or it dies. Democrats are all in on this one. They know it, Republicans know it, and maybe more importantly, they know the Republicans know it. Letting health-care reform fail is indistinguishable from conceding the 2010 election. There’s no real fallback plan. If Democrats fall back, they fall.

Aside: My jaw-dropping experience with America’s broken health-care system came in the summer of 1997. The health-insurance company for Times Publishing Company employees refused to pay for $7,000 of the $10,000 surgeon’s bill covering a nearly 9-hour operation. The nearly 9-hour operation that removed a grapefruit sized tumor, saved my right leg and my life.

Get this: The insurance company actually refused to pay our surgeon for actually removing the cancerous tumor threatening my leg and my life.

The reason: The tumor removal didn’t meet industry standards for treating my particular strand of bone cancer. In other words, health-care industry bean counters figured out a way not to pay my surgeon to save $7,000.

I wish I was kidding.

Yes And Sorry:  One More Tiger Woods Take

Tiger Woods looked mortified (Tiger Woods’ full apology).

Tiger Woods looked like a shattered husband and son, telling his wife and mother that he was so terribly sorry for his unacceptable and inexcusable behavior.

Tiger Woods looked at the camera on Feb. 19, and told the world – you, me, millions of Americans and television witnesses throughout the world – that he accepted responsibility for acting like a jackass.

Yet incredibly, reaction to Woods’ 14-minute confessional remains mixed.

Woods was too robotic. Hello. He is – pay attention – a golfer, not an actor.

Woods’ performance was too rehearsed. What did critics prefer? A rambling, teary-eyed Oprah special.

I’d suggest Woods’ blood-thirsty critics imagine walking into a room full of friends, work associates, and for God sakes, their mothers, and try pulling off what Woods did. Think about – really think about what Woods did that day.

Miami Herald sports columnist/blogger Greg Cote got it exactly right (Miami Herald’s Cote praises Tiger, blasts media), asserting that nothing Woods could say or do would ever satisfy these critics. Some strong points here by Cote:

Woods would have been lauded had he presented the very same message in a traditional news conference, saying the same things, but interrupted. Woods also would have been hailed had the same words verbatim been met by the nodding, doe-gaze of Oprah Winfrey or been uttered under the august umbrella of “60 Minutes.”

Instead, Tiger’s solo confessional was met with derision and scorn because he dared to present what he needed to say on his terms. This was no news conference, but it was not merely a perfunctory statement, either. It was honesty we have never heard from so prominent an athlete. It was a very private man forcing himself to be very public about something very embarrassing.

I give Woods credit and do not think doubt should be cast on his message by any of the peripheral nonsense the critics focus on. The hand-picked audience, the prepared notes, the hokey blue curtain.

You can believe sex addiction is more excuse than illness. You can think Tiger a dirtbag for the way he put himself ahead of his family and was two-faced to fans. You can wonder if his reference to Buddhism on Friday was just a convenience.

Tullio Arena Desperately Needs That $42 Million Refurbishing

The Kerns and Oberles went to Disney’s “Finding Nemo” ice show Sunday at Tullio Arena. The ice show’s staging and performances were quite good. Our girls loved the show. But Disney’s extortion-like prices on souvenirs and refreshments bordered on the obscene.

For instance – $12 Nemo snow cones!

Now the first thing you notice at Tullio Arena is, well frankly, the grime. The place is just old and dirty.

And the seats!

I’m just a tad under 6-foot tall, but I nearly swallowed my knee trying to sit down. When Scott arrived a bit late with his two daughters, I heard a gasp when he sat down. Scott is a lanky 6-foot-3. He looked like a tall guy in a clown car sitting in those cramped arena seats.

So it came as a some relief to see Kevin Flowers’ follow on the Tullio lobby fire in Wednesday’s Erie Times-News (Tullio fire will not derail hockey game or long-term plans.

Construction on the $42 million Civic Center renovation project is scheduled to start this spring or summer, according to Flowers’ story. The project to restore one of the Erie region’s most important regional assets should be completed by 2012. As Flowers reported, “the renovations seek to create a multiuse entertainment complex, expand and improve interior space and create a parklike atmosphere outside.”

And please – don’t forget those new arena seats.

Phil English Checks In With A Correction

Former 3rd District Erie Congressman Phil English checked in and pointed out an error in last week’s blog (“Small World Moment Leads to Ray LaHood”).

English pointed out is that he did indeed proudly sign Newt Gingrich’s Contract With America in 1994.

Mea Culpa.