Weekend in a Cage

To draw attention to and support for an initiative that’s on the Nov. 6 ballot in Miami-Dade County, a South Florida man is doing what no other animal activist has ever thought of doing to remedy the problems that plaque the county’s animal shelter.

This weekend, Michael Rosenberg will spend three days and two nights locked in a cage at Miami-Dade Animal Services, just like any of the hundreds of thousands of animals that are surrendered there each year.

“My plan is to stay in that cage for the weekend  to bring community awareness for The Pets’ Trust, and also to have every single animal adopted that weekend,” he said. “When I leave on Sunday night, I want to be the only living thing in that shelter.   (If I am still living.)  I want every animal out of that place.  This hopefully, will be the greatest adoption event ever.“

Last year, Rosenberg adopted a 6-week-old kitten from Miami-Dade Animal Services and named her Wren. Four days later, Wren died – just one of the victims of panleukopenia, a deadly virus that spread through Miami-Dade Animal Services, forcing the shelter’s temporary closing.  Dozens of cats had to be euthanized after they contracted the highly contagious, incurable disease. Though heartbroken, Rosenberg vowed to make something good out of the situation. With the help and support of animal advocates and local rescue groups, he came up with the idea to create The Pets’ Trust in Miami-Dade County.

But contagious diseases are not the only reason that animals are put down at the shelter.

“In Miami, we kill 20,000 adoptable dogs and cats every year, and have been doing so for at least 25 years,” said Michael Rosenberg in November of last year. “We want it to stop!”

For almost a year since Wren’s death, Rosenberg has been working the cause and spreading his message.

The road hasn’t been easy. He has battled the skeptics, cut through miles of red tape, each time surpassing his efforts to draw attention to what pet advocates see as the solution to saving thousands of adoptable animals the shelter kills each year.

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During his journey, Rosenberg has received support from county commissioners, animal activists, and pet parents across South Florida. But his support hasn’t been limited to the local area. Among his supporters are Dog Whisperer’s Cesar Milan and he has received an endorsement from the Humane Society of the United States. Most recently, singer Lissette Alvarez recorded a song about the Pets’ Trust.

Rosenberg is a man who walks the talk.

In November, he spent a Saturday morning in the shelter’s “A Ward,” watching animals being put to death.

“I spent three hours in the most horrible room in Miami-Dade County. It’s so sad. I can only tell you to never go there,” he said. “I watched about 15 animals euthanized.  The amazing thing is each one has a story.  They didn’t just pop in for a visit.  All of them had a journey.  Some of those stories just tear you apart.”

Just when I thought his passion for pets couldn’t be any greater, a few weeks ago, Rosenberg shared with me his crazy idea to spend a weekend in a cage at MDAS.

“I wanted to let you know that I received official word tonight that I will be allowed to “check in” to the Animal Shelter and experience what our animals go through,” he wrote in an e-mail in early September.  “On October 5th, I will be escorted to the “surrender” section of Animal Services and formally processed as a new ‘inmate.’ I keep thinking of that story Christina (Local 10 reporter Christina Vazquez) did about the death of Wren, where I said, ‘We’ve got to do something,’” Rosenberg said.

And something he did indeed.

The Pets’ Trust would help provide funding for programs and resources that would cut down, and hopefully eliminate, many of the problems that plague Miami-Dade Animal Services.

“The County has managed Animal Services for at least the 25 years I’ve been here,” Rosenberg said.  “What are the results?  21,000 animals killed every year — over half million in the past 25 years.  And the County just keeps those lethal injections coming.”

The question on creating a Pets’ Trust will be on a nonbinding straw ballot Nov. 6, but if voters say yes, then the County Commission would likely approve it.

Distractions To Keep Us From Our Goals

I was shocked to log into this blog today to find that I hadn’t written a single entry since April … of last year.

It’s not like I haven’t written anything anywhere else.  It’s not like I haven’t done anything worth writing about.

It’s just that well … stuff keeps getting in the way.  There’s always something else to do.

I’ll write later, I tell myself.  But later never comes.

Then I start feeling restless.  I get angry.  I snap at everyone who even considers coming within 50 yards of where I am.

It’s no wonder.  The real thing I want to do … write … can only be dismissed for so long.

The still, quiet voice within begins to scream to get my attention.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

A blog entry begins with a single sentence.

Today I begin again.

 

RIP Grete Waitz: The Passing Of A Hero

After years of idolizing her running greatness, when I finally saw Grete Waitz in person I was amazed to see that the running giant I had looked up during my years of training was about as far from a giant as you could imagine.

I remember walking into the lobby of the New York City Road Runner’s Club that day to find Grete and Fred Lebow (then President of the NYRRC and the man credited with turning the NYC Marathon into the race it is today) just hanging out and talking like mere mortals.

She was smaller than I had expected — shy, unassuming … almost as if she thought she was just another runner. 

She looked up, smiled, said hi to me and pretended not to notice that my jaw was somewhere down around my ankles.

The headline announcing her death this morning was as simple and unassuming as the woman about whom it was written:

• Grete Waitz, NY Marathon Legend, Dies At 57

One of the perks of working for a television news station is that I hear the news long before it becomes news.

Yet I doubt anyone in my newsroom at the time this headline came across the Associated Press wire was affected as much as I was.

“Who died?” asked my fellow editor when I read the breaker and announced “Oh my God. Grete Waitz died.”

Although I knew she had been diagnosed with cancer several years ago, news of Grete’s death was still unexpected.

After all, heroes are supposed to live forever.

Grete Waitz was a marathon icon who inspired millions, including a then 24-year-old marathon novice whose stories about her hero in Runner’s World Magazine inspired her to train for three New York City marathons.

Knowing that Grete was in the lead, helped me finish all three New York City marathons I started.

In 1984, injuries kept me from running New York. As a consolation prize, I travelled to Scandinavia that summer and coincidentally found myself in front of a huge bronze statue of Grete that had just been erected outside Bislett Stadium in Oslo, Norway.

But that was just the beginning of the story.

During that trip, I met a family from Los Angeles who invited me to visit them and attend several events during the Los Angeles Olympics. Among those events, I got to see Grete compete and win the silver medal in the women’s marathon.

Fred Lebow died on October 9, 1994. He always said his biggest regret was not being able to run the marathon he helped create.

Grete and Fred were reunited today. And while runners around the world mourn, there is happiness in heaven as the two greatest symbols of the world’s greatest marathon set off together on their marathon to eternity.

It’s time for me to go for a run.

Another Trip Across The Pond

After months of uncertainty, planned and cancelled itineraries, dozens of travel guidebooks and a gazillion hours spent watching and reading about all things travel-related, my next trip magically planned itself.

I consider myself a somewhat seasoned traveller.   I love to travel as much as I love to stay home. 

I prefer to live my day-to-day life in the cocoon of my home and family.  A perfect weekend for me involves cuddling with my partner and our dog, all-day appetizers, a good bottle of wine and a Tivo filled with stuff to watch.

But when it comes to travel, staying in one place for too long is taboo.  In fact, if I come home from a vacation well rested, it wasn’t a vacation at all.

For the past couple of years, my partner and I haven’t been able to find a destination that has clicked with us.  It’s a big world out there, and we don’t want to waste our precious vacation time going somewhere that’s not going to deposit treasures in our bank of memories.

Last week we found ourselves with two weeks of booked vacation time, enough frequent flier miles to get us both to somewhere and back, and no place to go.

And then it happened.

A week magically freed itself up in a resort near Prague that we’ve been wanting to visit.  Just like that, another week opened up in another resort in Croatia that we’ve had our eye on.

A couple of phone calls later, we were booked at both places.  Delta and its airline partners magically found flights that got us to all our destinations with no hassles or extra charges.  Oh, there was one inconvenience.  We had to spend two nights in Venice in order to make all our connections.  Venice … my favorite city in the world.

Just goes to show you … lo que esta pa ti, nadie te lo quita.  (Rough translation: Whatever is meant to be, will be)

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

Local 10's Helicopter Flies Over Miramar Florida

Sometimes life has a funny way of letting you know that you’re doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing.

The answers to the questions “What am I supposed to do with my life?  What is my purpose?” are often subtle.

Other times they are loud and obnoxious, like when they come delivered in a helicopter hovering directly over your head while you’re trying to take an afternoon nap by your pool.

I was recently doing just that, when a chopper — not just any chopper, but the chopper belonging to the television station for which I work – startled me from my slumber.

At first, I wrote it off as a traffic helicopter covering an accident on Interstate-75, which is a stone’s throw from my house.

But when I looked up, I could clearly make out my station’s logo — Local 10 – on its side.

Like just about everyone else in the universe, I sometimes question my career path and wonder if there’s something else I should be doing that would add meaning to my life.

Being in the news business is especially trying because it’s mostly a doom and gloom kind of job that doesn’t have such a good reputation for adding meaning to people’s lives.

But then, just when I needed it most, life reminded me that my purpose is not about me.  It’s about what God has put me here to do.

Your purpose is about what God — – or Life, Your Higher Power, Fate, or whatever you wish to call it — has put you here to do.

And if you’re too stubborn to listen to the subtle reminders, it sends a helicopter to deliver the message.

There I was in peaceful sleep, when God’s messenger sounded as if it would fall from the sky and land in my pool.

I immediately went into my zone.

Take photo, send to station, send a text message to a colleague to find out what was happening.

Then I did something that later would provide the moment of clarity that led to this article … I grabbed my keys, jumped in my car and started chasing the helicopter.

About a block from my house, I realized I wasn’t dressed in what you would call proper journalist attire.

Three blocks away I looked at the road long enough to notice the panicked look on the faces of a team of landscapers that I was about to run over.

Then it hit me.  No sane person would have done what I did — unless it was part of their DNA, their purpose.

Journalism and chasing helicopters is in my blood.  That passion is part of the reason I’m on this planet.  It might not be the only reason, but I even though I sometimes lose focus, I am grateful and accept the gift I have been given — the purpose to which I was assigned.

What about you?  Are you questioning your purpose or wondering what it is?

Well, then, relax and just wait for it.  There might soon be a helicopter hovering over your head.

You’re In Control …

We’ll keep it short and sweet today.

Sometimes inspiration hits you with an eloquence that can only be attributed to spirit inspiration.

This popped into my head during this morning’s commute.

Nothing can hurt you without your permission.

Meditate on that today, my friends.  And watch your tomorrow’s fill with joy!

Procrastination Made Me Hot!

I wouldn’t consider myself a serial procrastinator.

When it comes to getting things done, I usually get around to doing them quickly.  I learned a long time ago that procrastination equals stress  — the bad kind of stress — not the stress that motivates and inspires.

But while I don’t do it often, when I do indulge in the practice of procrastination, I am what you could consider a championship caliber procrastinathlete.  If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I’d be a multiple gold medalist.

Recently I had the honor of demonstrating my skills.

Here’s the scenario.

Six months ago,  the air conditioner in my house decided it was tired of being an air conditioner and chose to exhale coolish air.   At first I ignored this, blaming the start of a season of hotter-than-usual temperatures in South Florida.

Now, before you think I just sat around doing nothing but pay my ever-rising electric bill, you should know that I did take action to confirm that my air conditioner was in fact not conditioning anything but Florida Power & Light’s profits.

My neighbor down the block has a friend who is in the business.  He’s done work for me before, so I called him out to check my system.

He confirmed I had some kind of leak, sprayed dye in the system and added freon twice.  But he never followed up on checking the source of the leak so I blamed him for my procrastination.

Then another friend of a friend who also happens to be in the business checked and confirmed something was wrong.  O even went through the motions of asking him to find the best replacement model for us.  But alas, he was a procrastinator too, so nothing ever came of it.

Finally, I paid for a tuneup which confirmed all of the above.  That, at least, inspired the research where I actually found the system we wanted, had four estimates and then sat on them while making other plans.

Still, the folder with the information and estimates sat on the kitchen counter for two weeks unopened.

And then it happened.  It sounded like … well, nothing.  That’s because despite the fact that the unit inside the house was humming away, blowing air into the house , the outside unit was frighteningly quiet.

The coolish air turned freakishly hot.  And well, so did I.

I thought if I turned off the breaker and turned it back on it would coax the thing back to life.

That idea worked, well … not so much.

The breaker turned off fine but when I tried to turn it back on, I heard what sounded like a milliion bees buzzing during a power surge.

If electricity could laugh, that’s what it would sound like.

Every light in the house flickered.  All the appliances gasped.

And so, I was left with no choice but to do what I should have done in the first place.   I made the call to have the new system installed.

“We can have someone out tomorrow,” the technician said to me.

“Tomorrow?  Really?” I replied, as my procrastination muscle made one final flex to see if I could stall for more time.   A drop of sweat rolled down my face, clinching the deal.

Meanwhile, I got to enjoy 36 hours of hotness.  And I learned a valuable lesson: being hot definitely is not cool.

Thank goodness the company I chose to do the job does not procrastinate.  They were out the next day and by 6 p.m., I was cool again.

Hot is well, hot.  But being cool is better.