MORE BACTERIA ON A GROCERY CART THAN A TOILET SEAT. GROSS.
14/08/12 15:56
Did you know there is more bacteria on a shopping cart than on a public restroom toilet seat? According to several recent health warnings, swabs taken from shopping cart handles and seats have shown saliva, blood, fecal matter, mucus (and worse), plus Listeria, Salmonella, Staph, E. Coli, and general individual bacteria. Why are they dirtier than a bathroom's seat? It's because most stores clean their shopping carts only a couple of times each year. A restroom is cleaned at various times each day.
How do you keep your child safe from such disgusting germs? The answer is to use baby wipes or sanitizer and wipe down the front of the cart before you do your shopping. It's that simple.
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TIME FOR A SECOND OPINION ON DOG VS. BABY
01/10/11 22:34
Early on in my wife’s pregnancy, I wrote an article on how dogs and newborns get along (click here.) As the final week approaches until our first child’s arrival, we decided to get one last opinion on whether our dog can handle a newborn and whether or not we needed to beware of anything. So, after finding a trainer that specializes in training police dogs as well as public canines, we decided to have our dog evaluated by a respected trainer.
We arrived in the quaint and upscale neighborhood of Brookline Village as the sun was setting. I easily found a parking place and fed the meter its quarters. It ate them like a hungry dog at dinner time. Then myself, Val and El Dog marched across the street to the training center. There were dogs milling about and El Dog was extremely alert as the strange dogs passed by.
As we entered the facility, we were told to go downstairs where our trainer, Francis, was waiting. We pointed out that our dog wasn’t perfectly socialized and may cause a stir. The trainers said, “Great, you’re at the right place. Go downstairs where the dog will get socialized.” So we headed into the basement via the creaky, narrow staircase.
When we got downstairs, there was a class going on and there were 6 dogs in a perfect down stay as a clown of an instructor was skipping around, making a loud racket, juggling tennis balls and letting them fall where they may. The exercise was to teach the dogs to remain in a down position even with the highest distractions around them. It was teaching them self control. It was working. Only one dog popped up to play with the tennis balls. The others were bored and looked at their owners to see if they might be able to play. The owners did not give them permission. It was impressive to watch.
Meanwhile, our dog was excited as hell and wanted to run into the room and grab tennis balls and wreak havoc. El Dog looked at me and I shook my head,” no.” He begrudgingly succumbed and stopped pulling on the leash. Then Francis, our instructor, came over to evaluate El Dog. He pet El Dog and El Dog sniffed him and decided that Francis was okay. Francis asked Val how far along she was and when she said 9 months, he suggested we get started training immediately. We all laughed. Seems everyone has a joke about a pregnant lady ready to give birth.
It’s important that the dog know his place and be happy in that place within the pack. When the baby arrives, we want the dog to be happy there’s a baby in the house, not disappointed with the baby. And he said that it’s easy to do. He asked us if we had a baby doll that could stand in for the real baby that was on its way. We told him we had one. He said, “Do you have the baby powder and diaper cream and other stuff that you can put on the baby doll?” We told him that we did. He said, “Great, put it on the baby doll and pretend that baby is your baby. Walk around the house and gush over it like you will your real baby when it arrives. When the dog comes over to check it out, it gets treats. Then when it decides the baby is no big deal and that it can lay down, the dog gets a treat for that, too. It’s good to be around the baby and its good to leave it alone. That's the message.
Valerie had lots more questions. “What if the dog thinks the baby is an animal and wants to eat it? The trainer looked at Val like she had three heads. “Why do you think the dog would want to eat your baby?,” he asked. “Well, you hear about those things in the news,” Val said matter-of-factly. The trainer agreed that these things happen now and again but that it’s rarely the fault of the dog. It’s almost always something the owners did with the dog that eventually ratchets up the dog to do something drastic.Val pointed out that our dog wasn’t exactly social around other dogs and would this cause El Dog to act differently than most dogs? The trainer said, “Well, do you mind if I take El Dog and work with him for a minute?” ”Go ahead,” I said, “but I need to know that you’re not going to do something drastic with my dog like pick him up off the floor by his leash or anything like that because that’s not okay with me.” He said that’s not how he trains dogs but that it was a fair question. So I gave him El Dog and he put a pinch collar on him and took him out into the room with the other dogs and had him stand there while the other dogs were in a down-stay. El Dog just stood there and watched the other dogs. At one point, he decided he wanted to smell the doberman closest to him and the trainer gave him a stern pop of the leash and El Dog no longer was interested in sniffing the doberman. After about 3 minutes in the middle of the room with the other dogs, Francis came back with El Dog and said, “I’ve seen enough to tell me what I need to know.” Val and I both leaned forward and said, “Well, what did you see?”
Francis said, “Your dog’s not even on my radar.” We leaned closer. Francis continued, “If your dog was aggressive beyond a healthy dose of canine aggressiveness, He would have lunged, at those dogs. As soon as I gave him a correction, he backed down and said, “Francis, you’re the boss.” He allowed me to be the protector. Your dog is good, trained and smart. He just needs to be fine-tuned. He said that many Pitt-mixes have a dose of aggression but that’s it’s natural and they simply need to know how to control it and channel it through play, exercise and self-discipline.
After an hour of talking to Francis, we felt comfortable that he was the trainer for us as we learn how to fine-tune our abilities to train El Dog and continue to socialize him with other dogs so that he’s a pleasure to take on walks with our newborn no matter who we come across on the streets.
As we begin to wrap up our conversation, a few people with German shepards began to arrive and a trainer came in dressed all in quilted leather from head to toe. I recognized this from videos; shutzhund. This is a very specialized training for advanced dogs. As part of the training, the dogs are taught to attack on command. We found ourselves in the middle of a class of attack german shepards. El Dog was on full alert. The first dog marched around the room with his owner looking every 1/2 second at his owner as they walked. This dog was amazingly attentive and alert. He looked like he was having fun. Then the owner took him off his leash and gave a command to attack the trainer. Suddenly, the dog went from alert and smiling, to growling, barking and biting. It was a treat to watch a dog channel his aggression appropriately and only on command. El Dog was at full attention, he head was straight up and cocked to the side, trying to figure out what was going on and his tail was wagging.
We agreed that it would be amazing if he could control himself in the midst of such aggression nearby. We said our goodbyes and headed upstairs and out the back door into the dark alley. As we exited onto the safety of the Brookline Village sidewalks and onto the perfect village storefronts, it was like stepping out of a movie and back into reality. We looked at each other and begin to laugh, “What just happened back there?” It was surreal. In a dark basement in snobby Brookline Village, was a team of African American dog trainers teaching police dogs how to attack criminals and young professionals how to control their dogs on the quiet streets of provincial Boston. And after an hour in the underbelly of Boston, we had been regurgitated back into the safe, quiet, picture-perfect streets of one of the most prestigious neighborhoods of Boston.
We took El Dog back to the car, locked the doors and dipped into a chic Italian restaurant called, Pomadero, and I sipped a red wine and had spaghetti while Val had Carbonara and settled for water. After all, she still can’t drink for three more days. Or until our first child enters the world and rides El Dog, our pit-mix, into the sunset.
SURVIVING HURRICANE IRENE WITH THE FAMILY
28/08/11 18:21
This weekend, I recognized another first for me as a dad; instead of running around Boston taking pictures of Hurricane Irene and the potential devastation, I prepared my own home for the possible damage to protect my wife and unborn child. I left the daring adventures for the dare devils.
We live right on the ocean so when the winds bear down, there is nothing to slow them down. I’m the house that slows the wind down as it enters Massachusetts. So I started by moving all the furniture from the front of the house into the backside of the house in case the windows blew out from the 80mph winds that were expected.
Then my wife and I lined the window sills and wooden floors with towels to absorb the rain that may find its way in. I went to the store and stored up three days worth of food and ice in case the electricity went out; which it just did one hour ago. I bought an extra ice chest to store the food (and beer.)
I removed all the musical instruments from the window areas and safely stored them in the upstairs bathroom. I charged all the phones, ipads, computers and weather radio.
Val and I decided to sleep downstairs in the back bedroom with smaller windows for extra safety. I took my Navajo flute and played to Valerie and our unborn child until both fell fast asleep last night. I woke up about every two hours to check the house and weather and to make sure that everyone was safe.
This morning I woke up with the sun at 6am and saw that the seas were rough and the boats outside the window were being tossed on the ocean like Tommy the Tugboat about a drunken night out with the boys. But they held on to their moorings for dear life.
After making the family a breakfast of pancakes, I grabbed my camera and went out to survey the damage to the neighborhood. Two 150-year old trees decided to call it quits as they fell to their knees across Crabtree Road and yanked down the powerlines with it. Other powerlines had blown over in the massive winds and were dangling like puppets as the other powerlines prevented them from falling to their death on the causeway into Wallaston Beach.
After seeing the damage, I decided I’d better get back to the house in case more trees stranded me from returning, leaving my pregnant wife alone in the house. As we only have 4 weeks left until the baby’s born, I didn’t want to chance that she might go into early labor while I’m out taking photos and assessing the damage.
I decided to drive by Orchard Beach to make sure our dinghy had held tight to its mooring and was pleased to see “Diddly I” bouncing furiously on its mooring. Kind of reminded me of our little Bean tossing inside of my wife these days. That little guy is ready to come out. And in no time, he’ll be in this world.
Hurricane Irene has been downgraded to a tropical storm now and while the wind is still blowing, it appears we dodged a bullet here. And I can return all the furniture to its places, the musical instruments can leave the bathtub, and our family can go back to its usual activities. However unusual they may be these days as we prepare for the coming of Bean, our first son.