Strangers I Have Known

~ A blog by Melissa Kotler Schwartz

Strangers I Have Known

Monthly Archives: May 2013

Paid to Play with Dogs

28 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Melissa Kotler Schwartz in Blog Posts

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AKC, Best in Show, Breeders, Butler County, Cincinnati, Dogs, Dolls, Golden Retriever, Groomer, Handler, Happy, Home, melissakotlerschwartz, Memorial Day, Rows, RV, Skin, St Bernese Mountain Dog, strangers, strangersihaveknown, Stuffed Animals, Vendors

While waiting outside the Greater Cincinnati Memorial Day Dog Show barn, I saw the Golden Retrievers and Saint Bernese Mountain Dogs make their way to the show ring. Their coats were perfectly combed and they walked in knowing that they were the center of attention, but I knew it had taken a lot of work by their handlers to make them that way.

I noticed a tall, beautiful young woman with fair skin and a smidgeon of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she was holding a Saint Bernese Mountain Dog puppy.

“What a cute puppy!” I said.

“You can pet him if you want,” she said, smiling. “His name is Klondike.”

I gave him a good petting as she held him and he wiggled around and licked my wrist. “How old are you, Klondike?” I asked him.

“He’s just four months old,” she said.

I watched as some of his relatives made their way to the show ring.

“So you’re a handler?” I asked her.

“Yes, this is my life and I love it,” she said with confidence. “I travel to shows every weekend. I’m from Indiana.” Another handler, a woman with long gray stringy hair parted in the middle walked up to Klondike and gave him a kiss. They both laughed and played with him and then the woman said she had to go get Gracie and she’d be back.

“When I was a little girl,” the handler from Indiana continued, “I didn’t play with dolls; I played with stuffed animals and put dog leashes on all of them. I guess that pointed to my future as a dog handler.” She paused. “I love what I do and wouldn’t want to do anything else. “

I admired her. Sometimes you meet someone who is so at home with who they are, that wherever they are they are home. I had wondered about this sub-culture of dog handlers, groomers, breeders and vendors as I had walked through rows and rows of RV’s set up with tables outside and dogs playing behind miniature octagonal-shaped fences. As I walked by people sitting in small groups at tables with little shade, I remember thinking, you’d have to love this life to do this, because you travel every weekend. There is always the element of adventure and that in itself could keep you on an adrenaline high.

“Do you have family that are dog handlers?” I thought that she was going to say yes and point to an aunt or uncle.

“No, no one in my family, just me.”

“That’s wonderful, that you learned the business with out anyone close to guide you. That you followed the path you were meant to follow.”

“Yes,” she said, and we would have gone on talking, but just then another handler waved to her to come help her.

“Nice meeting you,” she said. “Enjoy the show.”

“I will,” I said, happy to have met a handler for the first time. I don’t think I could have met a lovelier one.

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A World of Its Own

21 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Melissa Kotler Schwartz in Blog Posts

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Corals, Doors, Entranced, Farm, Golden Retriever, Google, Great Dane, Guns, Marine, melissakotlerschwartz, Nuzzled, Paper Weight, Puffer, strangers, strangersihaveknown, Tank, Trespassers, World, Wrong

Yesterday, I was with my son looking for an aquarium store about forty minutes away from our house. My son has a saltwater aquarium and we heard through the grapevine of aquatic enthusiasts that they carried some beautiful corals. So we decided to go on an adventure to this small Ohio town that we’d never been to.

It’s interesting how your mind gives you a visual of where you’re going when it really has no idea. There was no Google image of this store, so we had to imagine it. We both pictured it located in an old building, in an old downtown. Boy we were wrong.

Instead we found ourselves driving down a winding country road. My GPS suddenly said that we had arrived at our destination and I caught a glimpse, at thirty miles per hour, of a dark brown wooden sign with the word “Marine” on it. I quickly turned in. To my right was a seventies rust-colored brick ranch house with a farmhouse behind it and another building in the distance. I parked the car and opened the door. We were greeted by two big dogs, a Golden with a red bandana that looked friendly, and a large mutt with the face of a Great Dane that I was a little wary of.

“Come on, Mom,” my son said. “They’re nice dogs.”

His words put me at ease. He knows me too well, I thought. We stepped out of the car and the dogs nuzzled us repeatedly, barely letting us out of the parking area.

Next we had to figure out where the marine store was. I had that creepy feeling, like we could be misinterpreted as trespassers. I didn’t want to open strange doors—I didn’t want us to get shot (On the way here we’d passed several gun stores.) How sad, I thought, that I have to worry about that.

I took out my phone and called the store, but no one answered.

“Mom, it’s over there.” My son pointed to a sign.

“Are you sure? I don’t want us to get shot,” I blurted out.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s here,” he said, looking at me like I was worrying too much, which it turned out I was.

We opened the door to a building that looked like a big wooden shed. Inside we saw tanks filled with fish. A big puffer in a lone tank stared at us like we were lost.

“Hello, hello,” I called. There was silence and I continued to feel uncomfortable. Was there anyone here?
As we turned down an aisle and walked toward the back, we saw two men in the distance looking at Corals. They must not have heard us over the hum of the tank pumps.

“Hi,” one of the men said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I said. “We’re here to look at some corals.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he said. “I’m helping this gentleman. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

My son and I gazed at the mysterious corals. They were lined up in six rows of big, long trays, far from their ocean beds on a farm in Ohio. They seemed well taken care of and we gazed at their delicate beauty that reminded me of my parents’ beautiful glass paperweights that I was entranced with when I was a child. The water gently lapped across each coral that was made up of miniscule orange, green and red buds. Each one is a world of its own, I thought.

I was happy that we’d made the trip. Looking at the water and the corals and the occasional fish swimming through the flat bed tanks was peaceful, even though the getting here had been a little dicey. It’s funny, I thought, how when we come back again, we will never feel like a stranger here. We will already have learned how to get to the store, said hello to the dogs, met Jack, and made some of these corals our own.

corals

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Fire-breathing Dragon

14 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Melissa Kotler Schwartz in Blog Posts

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Bagels, Capers, Car, Coffee, Convience, Dragon, Golden Years, Hurry Up, melissakotlerschwartz, Mister, Neck, Personal Space, Pumpernickel, Society, strangers, strangersihaveknown, Terrific Day, Toaster, Tomatoes, Wallet, Young Man

27_dragon

I’m in a short line at the bagel shop waiting for my pumpernickel bagel to toast. Behind me, a man in his golden years is breathing down my neck, hoping to get his bagel before I get mine, even though I’m ahead of him in line.

He wants it now. Why does he think that his bagel is more important than my bagel? We live in a hurry up, quick fix culture and this neck-breathing can be the unwanted byproduct. Here he is, past his prime and yet he has learned nothing about patience.

Yes, it’s wonderful that there are many things we can get quickly, like a hot cup of coffee on a cold day, but when that convenience breeds impatience that translates into a stranger in my personal space, I can get very irritated. I want to throw up my hands and say to him, “Back off, Mister.” But I don’t; it wouldn’t help any.

I hear a thud and see my bagel drop out of a large industrial toaster.

“What would you like on it?” the curly-haired young man behind the counter asks.

“I’ll have a little cream cheese with tomatoes.” I paused and then added, “And some capers, too.” The capers just about took the fire-breathing dragon behind me over the edge—capers are small and precise and require more detailed work to organize on a bagel. The man got even closer to me and tapped his foot.

I pulled my charge card out of my wallet to pay. Then it was finally his turn.

“How are you today, sir?” the cashier asked him.

“I’m having a terrific day,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” I whispered to myself, as I walked towards my car. You can’t be “having a terrific day” if you can’t even wait for a bagel. That means that everything else is passing you by.

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Melissa Kotler Schwartz

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Books I Love

  • Bird by Bird
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  • The Greatest of Marlys
  • The Long Loneliness
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  • Wow Women on Writing

Links

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