ELMER PLOETZ
Adviser
What a week. What a semester. Thank God for dogs.
Nobody needs to tell you how tumultuous the times have been.
There have been way too many deaths, way too many lost jobs and too much disruption.
So my minor disruptions really aren’t that bad. One day last week, I found out the sabbatical I was planning on for the fall has been canceled. But I also found out two of my capstone students had job offers. So there’s good and there’s bad.
But we all need anchors. At the moment, mine is tri-colored and weighs 3.6 pounds. He can’t howl yet, so he squeaks when he wants to make his feelings known.
With my wife, Sandi, retiring as a school librarian this spring, we decided now would be a good time to get a dog.
Originally, we had planned to adopt a rescue, an older dog like the late, great Bandit (a beagle who lived to be 19 years before going to the happy sniffing grounds in the sky a couple of years ago).
But adoptions usually require home visits, and those ground nearly to a halt with the COVID-19 quarantine going into effect.
One day in class (online, in OnCourse Collaborate), we did an AMA (ask me anything) session, with students grilling me to write stories via live tweeting. The subject of pets came up, and I told them about Bandit, my father’s outdoor farm dog who came to live with us and became a great house dog.
One of the students said, “One of our neighbors back home in Niagara County has beagles, and they just had a litter.”
Within a day or two, the calls were made (thanks, Olivia!). The deposit was paid, and it was time to wait … with a little trepidation. I mean, a puppy? We’re not youngsters! We haven’t had a baby in the house since our youngest daughter was born 26 years ago.
But a couple weeks ago (May 6, Willie Mays’ birthday, if you keep track of that kind of thing), we drove up nearly to Lake Ontario and picked up Bernie, just 6½ weeks old and still wobbly on his feet. He sat on my lap and belly all the way home as Sandi drove with no stops (thanks to the quarantine).
Since then he’s stopped wobbling. He’s learned to pull at ropes, to pick up sticks and to chase a cat that is 2½ times his size (we’re working on stopping that). He chews everything he’s allowed to and quite a few things that he isn’t.
His pictures and videos have been brightening up days for people on Facebook.
He gets a middle-of-the-night visit to the yard (“going bye-bye,” as he knows it) and usually wakes us up for another trip outside around 6 a.m.
It’s exhausting. Like a human baby, he finds every clump of dust you didn’t know was in a nook or cranny of the house. He goes full-tilt for about an hour at a time, then he fades into sleep, frequently in the crook of my arm in my recliner.
Meanwhile, there’s a world going on outside.
As I write this, I just found out that one of the greats of the Buffalo jazz and acting worlds (Joe Giambra) has died of COVID-19.
Another, singer John Culliton Mahoney, was on a ventilator but has just returned to a regular room.
These are giants in the world of local music that I attempt to chronicle.
It’s a strange time. Things are going on that are out of our control.
But we’ve got our beagle. We’ve got time (thanks to the quarantine and Sandi’s impending retirement) to spend with him and, we hope, train him to be a worthy successor to Bandit.
Everybody needs an anchor in this time, something they can focus on beyond that mess outside their quarantined houses, apartments and yards. Something to bring them joy and balance household concerns with the global.
Ours has unbridled joy and energy, but also still piddles on the floor occasionally.
As we enter this summer of uncertainty, may you find your anchor … canine or otherwise.
Elmer Ploetz is an associate professor of journalism in the Communication Department and also serves as faculty adviser to The Leader.