Skunk Scare!

It was a skunk encounter that I've lived to smell tell about.  Coming home late night/early morning after the late shift covering sports sometimes brings interesting wildlife into my wild life.  A couple of weeks ago it was a large coyote half a block from my house. This time it was a skunk that looked a lot like the one above.

I pulled into my driveway around 1:30 AM.  Across the street, by my neighbor's shed, I could see the outline of what I thought was a cat.  When I saw the white and black pattern it was unmistakeable--it was a skunk.  I watched for a moment and thought about heading over for a closer look and maybe a picture with my iPhone.  Then I thought better of it, realizing it could shower me with a foul musk that even a shower couldn't fix.  So I watched while standing outside my pickup truck.

Within about 15 seconds the skunk started scampering down the driveway, and in and my direction.  As I reached into my pocket for my phone, the muffled sound of James Taylor's "Don't Let Me be Lonely Tonight" playing on the phone's iPod speaker startled the little guy, and sent him back from where he came.  So I missed the picture.  Might be just as well.

Timing is everything in well... everything.  Usually about the first thing I do upon arrival at the homestead is let out Beverly, our German Shepherd.  I can only imagine if those two got tangled up.

Dee Dee, my Dad's first dog looking on.  Dee Dee was sprayed by a skunk on Cape Cod after digging under a porch.

Having a dog sprayed by a skunk is no party.  My dad's first dog, Dee Dee, was sprayed by a skunk some 65 years ago.  When Dad tells the story, you can almost smell it.  Take your average skunk roadkill, multiply ten times, and you're about halfway there.  I didn't have the heart, or nose for a messy cleanup like the one he wrote about in Follow the Dog Home.  With that in mind, when it was time to put Beverly out, I made sure she stayed in the backyard.

Searching for Missing Super Kid from Super Bowl

I spent a week in Indianapolis searching for, and filing story after story related to the big game between the Patriots and Giants.  We did some fine work, and had a great time doing it.  In all, my TV network did about 100 hours of television coverage.  That's a lot.

Kevin Walsh, outside Lucas Oil Stadium

Kevin (red tie) with crew inside Lucas Oil Stadium after Super Bowl 46

But there's one story that hasn't been told completely, and I will be restless until it's told in its entirety.  It has little to do with football, and everything to do with kindness, humanity and what became a popular slogan during Super Bowl 46: Hoosier Hospitality. 

Let me explain.  I left my suburban Boston home a week before Super Bowl Sunday, saying goodbye to my wife, Jean, and daughters Samantha, 10, Amanda, 8.  I was thrilled to cover my first Super Bowl.  But as usual, I was sad to leave the family behind.  This is the tougher side of TV.  We do very exciting work and see things that most people will never have the chance to, but at the end of the day, we go back to a very quiet and lonely hotel room.  It rarely changes, only the city does.

When I arrived at the Fairfield Hotel in Indianapolis, there was something waiting for me that made me feel at home right away.  It was a handwritten welcome card from a Super Kid named Breanna.  About 36,000 students from around Indiana colored cards that were left for visitors to Indianapolis.  She drew a picture of herself which you see above.  She wrote about how much she loved animals and the Indianapolis Zoo.  Below is her additional artwork that was on the back of the card.  It looked like something my girls do for me from time to time, artwork that often ends up on the refrigerator.

One thing I've discovered in my lifetime of covering news and sports is that the best stories often find you.  This is one of those.  My second book, Follow the Dog Home, was released the week of the Super Bowl.  Really, what are the chances that Breanna's card would just so happen to end up in the hands of the one guest who just happened to release a book about animals at the same time?

I brought a signed copy of Follow the Dog Home to Indianapolis with me thinking I might bump into someone who might really want to read such a book.  Little did I know that person would be 11-year-old Breanna.  Here's where it gets tricky.  I don't know Breanna's last name, or her school.  I asked the Super Bowl Host Committee if it could help, but it said without a last name and school, finding her was all but impossible.

As a reporter, I don't accept that.  I left the book with the Host Committee, but I've been left to search for Breanna largely on my own.  Over the last few days, I've spent several hours calling dozens of Indianapolis Elementary schools hoping that someone, somewhere would recognize the girl's self-portrait and artwork.  Most of the people I talk to, and most of them are women, love the story and want to help.  They're sharing the story and pictures with art teachers, principals, liaisons and PR people. 

I thought I had a match on call number four, but it turns out James A. Garfield Elementary School had a different girl from my Super Kid artist.  Boy was that disappointing-- for me and the school secretary.  But I have hope.  We'll find the cute girl, with the unique name spelling, love of animals and a flare for pink.  It's an eyeballs thing.  Someone will have an Aha! moment, recognize her and her drawings, providing the tip that connects the dots.

Kevin at Fairfield Hotel, Indianapolis

So we have a few good stories at work here: the beginning, the middle and the end.  I think that means we're on a journey.  The most meaningful journeys are never the easiest.  And so I search, looking for the little girl who could use a good book and a nice reward, for simply being herself.

Super Dogs at Super Bowl

I saw a lot of football at the Super Bowl, naturally.  I also saw quite a few "Super Dogs" in Indianapolis.  So I thought I'd tell you about them.

Below are Brody and Kaiser, German Shepherd rescues.  I don't think I've ever seen more handsome rescue dogs in my life.  I don't know who would give up on such beautiful dogs; but their owner, Sean of Indianapolis is thrilled to have them.  I've seen a lot of well primped dogs who don't look as good as these two.  Brody and Kaiser enjoyed the whiz sound of the zipliners zipping past St. John's Church in front of the Convention Center.

Brody front, Kaiser back

There were lots of working dogs too.   As to be expected, many were German Shepherds.  

Diesel, Ft. Wayne, IN

Above is Diesel from Ft. Wayne.  He's trying to listen in on his handler's cell phone conversation.  After the man hung up, Diesel did his thing--sniffing my bag and the bags of other reporters and cameramen.  I couldn't get Diesel  in action because the Super Bowl Super People were rushing me along; but here's another dog in action that did pretty much the same thing.  It happened so fast, that it really was--like the picture--a blur.

Then there were Rowdy and King.  Both worked for the Department of Homeland Security.  Both were Labs.  King is the black Lab in the top picture.  From the nose down, I kinda think he looks like his handler.  Rowdy is the yellow Lab below King.  He looks like his master too.  Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?  The dogs and handlers did a masterful job sniffing around media headquarters of the JW Marriott Hotel.

And then there were regular dogs who just took a walk, or a seat around the Super Bowl Village.  Below are Goldendoodles Finlay and Jackson.  Neither is golden, but their personalities were.  Both charmed the passersby who wanted to pet them.  They loved it, and their owners did too.

Finlay, brown Goldendoodle

Jackson, black Goldendoodle

So there you go for Super Dogs.  They really were a part of Super Bowl 46.  It just goes to show that the Super Bowl is for everyone, and that includes the dogs.

Massive Dogs, Lots of Fun

I'll be going to a Patriots sendoff rally later today at Gillette Stadium, and traveling to Indianapolis for the Super Bowl tomorrow (Monday).  I'll miss my wife, children and dog, but going to the Super Bowl really is a once in a lifetime opportunity.  With that in mind, I made sure to take them out to a nice family lunch yesterday, and Beverly over to her favorite place:  Centennial Park, in Wellesley.

Beverly, foreground.  Bucky, background.

We had exceptionally warm and sunny January weather.  I knew it would be a good day when we pulled into the parking lot at Centennial and saw a massive German Shepherd sitting in the back of his car with the back hatch open.  He and his owner walked with us.   Bucky was massive and handsome.  His light colors reminded me of my first GSD, Tiffany.  Naturally, Beverly fell in love, and loved her walk with her new pal.

Bucky just exuded a quiet calm, a regal sense of "I'm the man!" on the trails.  We encountered a male Boxer along the way with whom Bucky had a history.  Bucky thumped the Boxer a few times with forearm shivers to send the dominant message without a single bark, or baring of teeth.  It was impressive.  So too was his pose during his top of the hill rest.  Now that's one helluva dog.

On the way down the hill we bumped into Heidi, the St. Bernard.  My family had a St. Bernard years ago, long before I was born.  When you have a past history of breeds in your family, you're pretty much forever attracted to them.  Heidi attracted plenty of attention, and apparently is a pro when it comes to striking a pose.

Heidi

A ForeWord Review:

 A Happy Ending?

"We made it through the review.... I'll let go of your neck now, Kevin." 

- Grandpops, Bob Walsh, with Samantha and Kevin Walsh at an editorial meeting.

Thank you to ForeWord Reviews for such a wonderful review of "Follow the Dog Home."

Hardcover release date is February 1, 2012.

Click here for ForeWord's Review

We're still a family! 

Chance Meeting with President Obama's Dog

Bruins present Mr. Obama with Bruins Jersey

I went to The White House the other day as President Obama honored the Boston Bruins for winning the Stanley Cup.  Aside from goalie Tim Thomas snubbing the team invitation for personal and political reasons, it was a wonderful day.  The President called Brad Marchand "a little ball of hate", told the story of Claude Julien's daughter eating Cheerios out of the Stanley Cup, he even worked the word "wicked" into the conversation--which always goes over well with New Englanders.

Outside front door of White House

NBC News place on "Pebble Beach"

Plenty of people knew I was going to Washington, and they asked me to say hello to Mr. Obama.
The reality is, you really don't get all that close to the President, and he's in and out in about 8-10 minutes.

A couple of people even asked me to say hello to the First Dog, like he too is readily available in the very structured visitor experience.  But as luck would have it, Bo came trotting by the room in the basement where I was interviewing Bruins and team brass.  "Does he just have the run of the place?" I asked a young staffer with Boston roots. "Yep," Brandon said.

Bo, the First Dog, White House Photo

So I saw the man, and his best friend.  It was all very cool.  Bo was bigger than I thought.  Just thought you'd like to know.

Life Saving Dogs

I came across this photo on the German Shepherd Dog Community, a group I belong to on Facebook.  At first I was creeped out by the doggy funeral, or whatever you want to call it.  Then I read the story that accompanied it.  I'll summarize.   These were working dogs in the war zone.  The poster, Michael Hoffman, estimated that bomb sniffing dogs in the military save an average of 3-5 lives a day, alerting soldiers about IEDs and stuff before they explode.  It's dangerous work, and doesn't always work out for the dogs.

It reminded me of when I started my TV career in Guam, and told the story of an old Marine who came back to Guam to put flowers on his working dog's grave.  Guam, if you don't know, is a US Territory.  It's the only American soil occupied by a foreign invader in modern history.  The Marines basically came in, and saved the Chamorro people (now Americans) from the Japanese.  The old vet took me up on Nimitz Hill, pointed down to Apra Harbor, and told the story of how his German Shepherd sniffed out a sniper lurking in the bushes.  Were it not for the dog, my friend would have been a dead man.  The dog took the bullet.  Fifty years later, the Marine--who also happened to be a veteranarian--returned to Guam to honor the dog who saved his life.

That is loyalty, that is honor, and that is why I have a German Shepherd now.