ken foster

The Spare Rottweilers

2011-08-25T08:13:00.003-05:00

A few months ago, the writer Julie Klam was in town for a booksigning and potential

material for her new book, "Love at First Bark: How Saving a Dog Can Sometimes Help You Save Yourself." As I drove her and her husband Paul around town, we turned a corner onto Chartres Street in Bywater and there, several blocks away, was a rottweiler roaming the middle of the street. It seemed too ridiculous to be true, but I drove closer and we hopped out of the car to pursue him. Of course, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Julie or I, sensing, perhaps, that we were opportunists. But he did allow Julie's husband to approach him. Still, he was slippery, and it wasn't until later in the evening that some volunteers from Dogs of the 9th Ward called saying they had him. The next day I whisked him to my vet and we began the process of getting him healthy and treating his heartworms. He's moved from being a shy, timid boy to a healthy one, but, of course, he's still looking for a home.

About a month later, driving back from teaching at Carver, I spotted another stray rottweiler--or at least I thought it was a rottie. It was hard to tell, because half her fur was missing and she was about 40 pounds underweight. As I chased her cautiously through the neighborhood, someone stopped to ask what I was doing. "Trying to get that dog," I said. "Well, she's a neighborhood dog. We all take care of her," he said. "Well," I said, "she's going to die soon." The man told me to "do what you have to do." And at about that same moment it occurred to me that this dog was too weak to outrun me. So I scooped her up as the other dogs in the neighborhood looked quizzically on. (HER? they seemed to be asking.) Louisa is now full weight and heartworm free, and like Paul, still looking for a home.

So if you know anyone who needs a spare rottie, email dogswhofoundme@gmail.com.

Pitty FAIRness in Louisville this Saturday

2011-07-25T07:06:00.004-05:00

If you are in the Louisville area this Saturday, be sure to come by the first annual Pitty FAIRness artand music fair, sponsored by Saving Sunny. Shorty and Hercules will be there, and I will be speaking and signing books at a booth I'm sharing with Carmichael's books. The event runs from 10am-5pm at Central Park, 1340 S. Fourth Street. And it is FREE!

My summer mini-tour

2011-07-08T11:00:00.000-05:00

I'm somewhat unexpectedly hitting the road this month, with two big events in Charlotte and Louisville. I'd been hoping a third would pop up, just for the claim of being "on tour." But so far, it's just a pair of dates at two pit bull festivals with lots of live music and an appearance by Shorty Rossi and Hercules, from the TV show Pit Boss.

Saturday July 16th: Charlotte, NC, 2pm-6pm
American Pit Bull Foundation Summer Concert
Amos' Southend
1423 South Tryon Street
with Shorty Rossi, Pinups for Pit Bulls, John Shipe and more.
Tickets are $25

Saturday July 30th: Louisville, KY 10am-5pm
Pitty FAIRness sponsored by Saving Sunny
Central Park
1340 South Fourth Street
with Shorty Rossi, contests, music, dogs

Introducing Miss Bananas Foster

2011-06-21T08:46:00.005-05:00

For the past six months there's been an absence in the house. After fostering Bonnie (who came from a Florida dogfighting case and suffered neurological damage), she was adopted into a wonderful home and there was no longer an adorable female pit bull in the house. At times the vacuum was so startling to me that it stopped me in my tracks. One day, there would be a permanent girl moving into the house. Of this, I was sure. But when? Brando is eleven and has thyroid issues as well as some mobility problems that require injections of Adequan. Zephyr has Cushings disease, recently had to have a plate implanted in her wrist, and recently was diagnosed with degenerative myelopathy (the canine equivalent of MS). Meanwhile, Doug has been twiddling his paws and daydreaming about the days when we were able to wander into the French Quarter where he imagined himself as a sort of celebrity busker. I wasn't sure that any of them were ready for a new dog and my own antsy daydreams of moving added one final reason to put off any decision.

And then, a few months ago, I drove past a gas station where a young couple was selling pit bull puppies from the back of their car. I kept going, then turned back around to introduce myself. Or, I said it was just to introduce myself. I pulled a Sula Foundation calendar from the back of the car and explained the work we do. The couple explained that they hadn't intended to breed the litter, and had already had the female spayed after the birth of the pups. They had all had their shots, and were gorgeous shades of blue and blue brindle. But they couldn't find any takers. I didn't want a litter of puppies, since the Sula Foundation already has a group of adult foster dogs waiting for homes. But I gave them my contact number and offered to help if I could.

The entire time, behind her four rambunctious siblings, the runt of the litter sat very still and seemed to be taking in every word I said. When they emailed me for help a few weeks later, I knew, if nothing else, I was going to take her off their hands. But how could I take one and not help the others? So a Saints player, on the advice of one of our Sula volunteers, took a male puppy. And the other three went to the LA-SPCA with a promise of a spot in their adoption room. (Things didn't turn out quite the way we planned, but I'll tell that story another time--they all did find homes in the end.)

So Bananas, the runt, came home with me. I figured if it didn't work out, I could find a home for her somewhere. The first night, Brando was terrified by her presence. As she stepped towards him, he backed up the whole distance of the living room. Rut ro! Doug was indifferent. Zephyr aloof.

Of course, within a few days, Brando and Bananas were inseparable, and as she came out of her shell, she began to demonstrate all the ridiculous, affectionate traits of a great pit bull. My favorite move: when I sit on the steps of the deck behind our house, she likes to run up from behind and squeeze her head under my arm to kiss me.

The House of Blue Leaves

2011-04-23T09:56:00.002-05:00

Earlier this week, I went to see a preview of the new revival of "The House of Blue Leaves," the John Guare play that was first produced in 1971. I'd never seen a live production of the show, but I had seen a televised performance from the 1986 production that starred Swoosie Kurtz and John Mahoney. Ben Stiller, who played the son in that production, now plays the father, Artie, and Edie Falco plays his wife, Bananas, with Jennifer Jason Leigh as his girlfriend, Bunny.

First the superficial details: the set is gorgeous. Unfortunately, it is also needlessly filled with obstructions, particularly if you are sitting, as we were, in the fifth row on either the right or left. Performances disappeared behind furniture, in doorways, into alcoves, and even, frequently, behind other performers on the stage. Get seats in the balcony or center orchestra if you go. But, you really should go. While Ben Stiller is a bit stiff in the early scenes, he loosens up and becomes more confident as the show goes on. Edie Falco and Jennifer Jason Leigh seemed miscast (shouldn't they switch roles?) but, in fact, they are both fantastic. Falco makes Bananas simultaneously absurd and tragic; Jennifer Jason Leigh manages to own her role as a superficial, celebrity-obsessed social climber. Some early online reviews claimed she was a complete failure in the part, but at the performance I saw, she got the biggest laughs.

I did have some issues with the direction. I know they were going for a darker version of the play than previous incarnations. But it didn't always work. In particular, the slapstick staging in the second act seemed out of place next to the more naturalistic tone. Also, it seems an odd choice to bring a greater sense of realism to a play that constantly addresses the audience as if the characters expect their lives to be lived on a stage. But the performances, particularly by the women, make it worthwhile.

Obviously, my vow to blog again didn't quite take hold

2011-04-19T03:01:00.002-05:00

Twitter and Facebook continue to keep me from my once very active blogsite, because, after all, why try to form fully realized thoughts and paragraphs when you can just link and blurt in 140 characters?

But tonight up doing laundry and heading to--well never mind where I'm heading to. But it made me think, I really should try to get back to the blogging habit. Blogging actually seemed to help me get around to more serious writing, and as I'm now working on another manuscript, it seems like this will be good practice again for keeping that tiny section of my brain working.

On Sunday, the 24th, Season Two of TREME begins on HBO. I know a lot of people had mixed feelings about Season One. I liked it at the time, but my feelings faded after the season concluded. Season Two covers some events that I was a part of in "real life" so the past few months I've been on the phone with fact checkers wanting to get everything right--or at least wanting to seem that they want to get everything right. This past Sunday I got to see the first two episodes of the new season and I have to say--its pretty great. It feels looser than last season, and has so much more humor, even as it moves into one of the grimmest periods of the recovery, including the murders of Dinneral Shavers and Helen Hill.

And here's another reason to start blogging again--I just passed the one year mark of my horrendous week in the Tulane Hospital. There is hope.

Voodoo or Voodon't?

2010-12-13T06:27:00.003-06:00

I keep promising to myself that I'll get back to blogging on a regular basis, but instead, I find myself sucked into Facebook and Twitter...and, well, work.

This past semester I've been teaching at three different schools: alternating mornings at Sophie B. Wright and Carver with the Bard Early College program and afternoons teaching creative writing at NOCCA. It's been quite an experience, and I enjoyed being busy for the first time in years, but I've also realized that working full-time means having to cut back on all the volunteer work I've become accustomed to. For the past few years, in addition to my own organization, The Sula Foundation, I've been on the founding boards of two other organizations. No more!

Another by-product of being over-extended is that it has made me more productive with the little scraps of time that I do have. And so, I've finally, finally managed to finish a book proposal I'd been struggling with--and a piece of that proposed book is currently online at Salon.com under the somewhat provocative title "What brought me to the voodoo priestess." And as might be expected, most of the comments, at least the early ones, are responding to the headline rather than the story itself. But, to answer some of the more serious questions raised: the gris-gris bag is considered a hoodoo tradition but this one was, in fact, made by an ordained voodoo priestess; my father's request for me to go to the priestess was not based in any belief in her practices, but more an attempt to convey the desperation he was feeling (also, he knew she lived next door); I didn't have the bag made immediately because I wasn't sure how serious anyone was--and later, I didn't deliver it in a timely because I live more than 1000 miles away from my parents; also, several visits were delayed due to illness (which is mentioned in the essay).

By the time I found a way of writing about this particular episode, I realized that it was really about my parents' relationship with each other, not voodoo. I think most readers understand that too.

An appearance on WWLTV discussing the new Sula Foundation calendar

2010-11-24T07:51:00.000-06:00

Brando meets some new neighbors

2010-10-06T08:47:00.001-05:00

It's time: Pre-order your 2011 Pit Bulls of New Orleans Calendar

2010-09-22T20:12:00.001-05:00

It is that time of the year again; we're racing around town with volunteer photographers, putting together our 2011 Calendar which will be on sale October 16th at the Bark Market at the Bywater Art Market, which once again benefits The Sula Foundation. Be sure to mark the date, because in addition to our calendar's debut, the market will feature our Fall vaccination clinic with $45 vaccines for all breeds; $15 for pit bulls. We will also be making our big push offering free spay/neuter surgeries for pit bulls, funded in part by a grant from Animal Farm Foundation.

Of course, you can also be sure to be among the first to receive the calendar by pre-ordering it online; $18 per copy with a flat rate shipping charge per order. We're still tweaking the design, but it'll look something like this:

Reading Comprehension

2010-09-03T08:54:00.003-05:00

For the past two weeks, I've been teaching Jamaica Kincaid's book "A Small Place" in two public high schools in New Orleans. It is a tricky piece of literature, because the book is very indirect in the way in which it deals with English colonialism and the history of Antigua. Kincaid is sarcastic, passive-agressive, and seems to disrespect everyone on all sides of the issue. So we're stopping a lot to dissect her language and what it means. Next up is Plato, which, I keep telling the students, will be a challenge for me as well as for them.

The students are doing pretty well sussing out what Kincaid really feels about things. I wish the same could be said for some of the readers of my recent Salon piece, who continue to argue over all the things that weren't said or suggested in the piece. They've been doing quite a bit of projecting their own issues, if they read it at all. For example, I recently heard from someone who was upset about my attitude toward Section 8 housing. I pointed out that the essay very directly criticizes absentee landlords who take advantage of Section 8. But he wouldn't hear any of it, because then he'd have nothing to argue.

My difficult birthday--and "The Story of Doug"

2010-09-01T06:51:00.003-05:00

Sometime today I'll be appearing, alongside Tom Piazza and a still-displaced New Orleanian, on the Canadian Broadcasting radio show "The Current," which also airs in the US. We taped the piece a few days ago, and though I don't know how it'll be edited, I think it was a pretty good trio of perspectives on the city.

For a completely different take on the world, you can check out my essay "The Story of Doug" in the September issue of Best Friends magazine. You might even say they are to blame for my bitter Salon piece last week. The editors at Best Friends asked me for a piece on the 5th Anniversary of Katrina and after agreeing, I thought, "I don't really have anything I want to say about Katrina." So I wrote about evacuating for Gustav three years later, the differences in those experiences for everyone, and, of course, the story of Doug, the dog that ended up moving in and keeping old Brando on his toes.

After writing such a cheerful piece, I kept thinking about the other side of things. I wanted to write about the nostalgia we sometimes have for that period after the storm, when things were eerily quiet, but people were united--and happy to see each other. As I revised my way through that, my mugging experience kept distracting the balance of the story, and eventually I decided to just push that to the front.

But, enough of that. Tomorrow is my birthday. Want to give me something? Donate to the fund for Perry and other dogs featured a few posts below. I know a surprising number of people who share September 2nd as a birthday and we all agree that it is an awful time for a party. It is always the day before school starts, or registration day, or labor day, or just before labor day, or just after the start of school. Particularly in adulthood, it is a easier to just let it pass by unnoticed.

Five years ago, I arrived in Atlanta on my birthday, after being stuck in Mississippi without electricity or access to news for almost a week. My friends gave me new clothes for my birthday that year.

Five years later

2010-08-29T07:14:00.005-05:00

I've been more or less ignoring the Five Year Anniversary events of this past week, but it always seems like a good time to look back on my blog of that week and remind myself where I was. The day we left, Sula ran away and I had to chase her through the neighborhood. I still miss her. I've also lost both my parents and a few friends (some of whom are technically still living). I've published two more books, and I've written forewords and introductions for several more. I have founded four non-profits. I've purchases two homes. I've almost, but not quite, finished my Ph.D. I need to get on that!

Top ten funniest things about the "Race Realists" who have been contacting me (a work in progress)

2010-08-29T06:58:00.006-05:00

1. They think their anonymous email addresses are actually anonymous.
2. They think that by threatening me with violence, they are making an effective case for proving that white people are the less violent race.
3. They insist on using free speech to defend themselves while telling me I have no right to speak.
4. They question statistics of crime worldwide, but use statistics to support their claims when the numbers are in their favor.
5. Another variation on the numbers game: they claim all foreign stats are questionable, but all US stats are accurate. Now, that's really funny!
6. They say that I deserved to be attacked for living in my neighborhood, but ignore the fact that the attack took place somewhere else. (But ignoring facts is their life's mission).
7. When sending their not-really-anonymous emails, they always put something about dogs in the subject line, because they want to make sure I open their threats.
8. They smugly tell me that I'm smug.
9. They assume that procreation is essential my identity as well as their own.

Help pay for Perry's surgery (and fund vaccination clinics this fall)

2010-08-27T05:23:00.001-05:00

from The Sula Foundation:

Recently we told you about Perry, who was transferred from the Louisiana SPCA's adoption room and then diagnosed with a serious orthopedic problem in both knees. He's recooperating from the procedures, but now we're hoping to replace the funds that were used to pay the bill. If we reach our goal, we hope to be able to expand to two low-cost vaccination clinic events this fall.

There's nothing as unpopular as being a victim

2010-08-26T03:15:00.002-05:00

Yesterday Salon published another of my essays, which they titled, "Please don't come back to New Orleans." They had actually wanted to title it "Don't come back to New Orleans" but I asked them to add the word "Please." They said they needed to be provocative in order to get people to click on the story, because no one really cares about New Orleans anymore.

Of course, my editor and I both knew that the story was likely to generate a lot of hate--because people don't hate anything more than someone who has been a victim of meaningless violence, and because we're only supposed to say nice things about New Orleans. And that is why we both felt it was important to go ahead with the piece. Initially, I'd imagined it as a lighter piece, in which I pine for the quiet days of my then-abandoned neighborhood. But in an early draft, my mugging appeared, and I knew that people would point to that, whether I wanted them to or not, and decided to just push that to the front of the piece.

I also decided not to read any of the idiotic comments that were likely to follow. But a few people have filled me. Apparently I deserved it. Because I moved to a black neighborhood, and I should have known better than that. Aside from the fact that this theory actually ignores the specifics of the story (the mugging didn't happen in my neighborhood), it is also a mortifying racist suggestion in response to a story that doesn't once mention race. But that's the internet for you, isn't it?

The Lost Dogs

2010-08-15T08:15:00.004-05:00

If you haven't yet seen today's PARADE magazine, you should rifle through the funnies and find it--there's a great excerpt from Jim Gorant's book THE LOST DOGS, and a pit bull on the cover. I read Jim's manuscript a few months ago, and provided this quote for the back jacket:

“Jim Gorant’s remarkably even-handed The Lost Dogs is a gripping story of redemption that uncovers the other side of the Michael Vick story. A portrait of dogs as individuals, caught up in events that reveal the best and worst of human nature, The Lost Dogs will validate dog lovers and possibly transform cynics as well. In the fate of dogs like Jasmine, Leo, and Hector, we can see ourselves—and the complicated world around us.”
—Ken Foster, author of The Dogs Who Found Me

Jim's story began with a Sports Illustrated cover story last year, which made me green with envy until I realized that he was in a much better position than I as far as reversing the stigma people have regarding pit bulls. At this point, people expect me to make the rational argument in their defense. But Jim doesn't own pit bulls; in fact, I'm pretty sure he doesn't own a dog at all. And he's one of the most poker-faced reporters I've ever encountered. He's agenda-free. Which makes his account much more powerful.

Ever since The Dogs Who Found Me came out, I'd been trying to sell a publisher on doing a cultural history of the pit bull. No one wanted it. My own publisher, which bragged of their success with The Dogs Who Found Me, didn't want it, and they also had huge issues with the image of Brando that I wanted on the cover of my follow-up, Dogs I Have Met. They apparently weren't aware that there were pit bulls in The Dogs Who Found Me, as well as one peering out sympathetically from the book's cover.

PARADE magazine also approached me about writing for them, but like many editorial staffs, they had a relatively narrow idea of what would work for their magazine. When I tried to pitch a story about pit bulls and other maligned breeds, it was literally as if they didn't understand a word I was saying. In the end, they assigned me to follow therapy dogs in a nursing home, and then killed the piece, admitting that it hadn't been such a good idea after all. Last year, they ran a small piece by a conservative journalist, asking whether pit bulls should be banned, and skewing the numbers to make it seem that yes, they should. I wrote to the editors that I had worked with to express my disappointment, particularly since they had already heard from me, in my previous pitches, that these statistics were not true. No surprise, I got no response.

So it is great to see THE LOST DOGS on the cover of PARADE, riding high on the Amazon bestseller list with a great line-up of radio appearances coming up--all a month before publication. Maybe things are looking up!

In defense of Elizabeth Gilbert and "Eat, Pray, Love"

2010-08-12T07:34:00.004-05:00

Earlier this morning I got into a strange, pointless debate on Twitter regarding Elizabeth Gilbert and her memoir "Eat, Pray, Love." What started me off on this topic was the backlash that has been aimed lately at the book and now the movie of the book (which I haven't seen.) What is curious is that a lot of the print backlash (which is limited to a single argument/complaint: "its all about her, not about me") comes from the same sources that embraced and promoted the book to begin with.

The problem with this line of critique is that the book "Eat, Pray, Love" never pretended to be about anything other than Liz Gilbert. That this became a phenomenon is not the fault of the author, nor is she responsible for the thousands of women who have decided that they should follow her path to find themselves.

I should disclose: I know Liz Gilbert, or, I should say, I knew her. Back in the 90s, she was a frequent reader at the KGB Bar reading series that I curated. She hadn't yet published a book, but her short stories, and her journalism, were great pieces that lent themselves well to being read to a crowd. I was particularly taken with her non-fiction, because she always found a way of using it to critique herself as much as her subject; to me, this seemed a fair approach. She was also willing to share stories about her writing career: her embarrassment at having an editor point out her writing tics, her success at accidentally resubmitting a rejected story to one magazine, which found the unchanged draft suddenly perfect.

When the KGB Bar Reader came out, we did our first radio interview together and complimented each other on our practiced eloquence and charm. Every Halloween, she and her husband hosted a huge party in their small apartment overlooking the parade. These social occasions always seemed less fun to me; this might have been my own social awkwardness, but in retrospect I also wondered if it was because she wasn't really having as much fun as she always claimed.

We fell out of touch around the same time my collection of stories came out; later, reading her memoir, I realized that this was probably around the same time her life was falling apart. Just before its publication, I interviewed Liz for Time Out New York. We actually both had memoirs coming out, and although it never made it into the printed piece, we talked about how strange it was, how unimaginable, that the two of us, of all people, had memoirs coming out (The Dogs Who Found Me was due out in a few months). But we both felt really good about our books; in fact, we both felt completely confident in what we had written, and unconcerned about how they might be received. This was a completely new and liberating experience for ourselves. I remember saying something along the lines of "I feel like people will really like my book, if they read it. I don't know how many people will find it, but I feel like it has good things to say." Liz felt the same about her own.

Of course, my book was being published on a much smaller scale. The initial printing was about 2000 copies. The orders were even less. Fourteen printings later, it has about 60-70,000 copies in print. So I feel like a also know a little bit about the frenzy that comes when a book exceeds its audience. As a writer, you feel an obligation to the readers who have found your book valuable. You hear from people who are grateful that you have given them, in some way, a voice. So, you keep talking. You keep granting interviews. You keep going on reading tours. Because you know you probably aren't going to have this chance again, this opportunity to say that there are a few things that matter to you, this chance to let other people speak alongside you.

And with that comes the growing number of voices who ask, quite reasonably, "Who do you think you are?" You can see this effect particularly on places like Amazon, where the growing number of reviews include people who feel the need to take the book down a notch or two, who slight it for being about a flawed person, who claim, in some cases, to be a better person than the author, a more worthy subject for examination. What has happened is the book has reached beyond its actual audience into a readership for which it was never really intended.

And that is when you realize how very lucky you are.

The latest on my heart, my pacemaker and incompetence at Tulane Medical

2010-08-11T06:56:00.003-05:00

You may remember that a few months back, in April, I had a little heart incident and ended up at the nightmarish Tulane Hospital, where they refused to release me but also didn't have time to treat me. Eventually, I called a lawyer and they finally found the time to do the relatively simple procedure of switching my old pacemaker for a new one. After I blogged about the experience, I began to hear from former and current employees, all of whom confirmed that the poor treatment I received was not only a violation of basic standards, including HIPA, but also par for the course at Tulane. In fact, within a week of my release, the substandard "over-flow" area that I had been trapped in was cleared out--but only for a day, to keep an accreditation team from seeing what goes on.

Meanwhile, employees concerned about losing their jobs had a series of meetings with me in which they apologized for the care I'd received. The head of one department asked me if I would come in and talk to the staff and part of a training, so that they would understand what not to do. This seemed like a strange request, but I agreed to it anyway, because I was pretty certain the woman had no intention of contacting me again. She just didn't want to deal with a potential lawsuit. And, of course, I was right. She walked away feeling that she'd covered her ass and needed be bothered with keeping her word.

Another thing happened immediately after leaving the hospital: my pacemaker began pacing my diaphragm instead of my heart. I knew why: they had an inexperienced staff member insert the leads in my chest and one was so misplaced that the supervising doctor instructed him to removed it and try again. Apparently the lead was still misplaced. But when I returned to have this corrected, everyone insisted it was normal and fine, and they lowered the voltage of the pacemaker so that the diaphragn wouldn't be bothered anymore. I asked if it was still able to pace my heart, and the doctors assured me it was fine.

Last month I went for a check up with my new cardiologist, who had already expressed befuddlement at the records from my Tulane stay and the mountain of medications that they had put me on. Now, three months after implantation, they had a Medtronic rep in to check the pacemaker's record of activity and other settings. Ooops, it turns out that it wasn't capturing on one side! Why? Because the voltage had been turned down.

Anyone else have any stories about treatment at Tulane that they'd like to share?

Is it time for school to start already?

2010-08-09T07:57:00.003-05:00

I continue to promise more frequent postings here, but I've been so busy trying to get a few things done before the end of the summer that I haven't had time to think--and I hate to post things without thinking. So, what have I been up to? Trying to work on a book proposal that is outlined by the major events of my past three years--yet with three deaths, one near death, a mugging, a skin graft, several murders, a shooting, and a few other crisis, it is a struggle to keep it from becoming melodramatic.

I've also written a few short pieces, including one coming up in Best Friends magazine and another for Salon.com. And I don't know that there could be two more different pieces of writing.

And, of course, I've been up to my ears in dogs, including Bonnie, who came from a dogfighting bust in Tallahassee and appears to be blind from either a blow to the head, or early disease. You can watch her playing with Zephyr (sort of) below:

Don't worry, I'm alive, just busy

2010-07-14T00:38:00.002-05:00

Over a month has passed since my last post, but it is not because I am dead.

I taught summer school for two weeks at NOCCA, with 28 students from 7th through 11th grades and my co-teacher was Henry "Simply" Griffin, and old friend who also happens to be an actor (and character) on Treme. Class started at 9am and ran until 2:30, so there wasn't much time to do anything else. Then, as soon as that was done, I was off to Michigan for my nephew's graduation and a few other bits of family business.

And, on weekends, I continued househunting, for a little getaway/evacuation location out of town. I've been to Vicksburg, Tylertown, Natchez, Bogalusa, Gloster, Centreville. But what am I looking for? Something far enough to be safe from a hurricane. Something close enough to be a weekend retreat. Something nice enough that it doesn't require work to move in. Something rustic enough that it fits my budget. Needless to say, I haven't found the right place yet. Or maybe I have, but the owners are holding out for more than I'm willing to pay. I keep thinking back to the advice given in Howards End: you set your market and you set your price.

Also, I'm working on a book proposal: another memoir. And writing some essays, including a piece that will be out in August for Best Friends Magazine.

Remind me to tell you the latest news about my heart...

House hunting

2010-06-09T07:49:00.002-05:00

I've been house hunting, which is always exhausting, but possibly more so when you are hunting for a possible second home. This sounds so extravagant but the purpose is to have a place to evacuate to with my dogs (and Sula Foundation foster dogs) during hurricane season. We were incredibly lucky last year with no evacuation required, but eventually our luck will run out and we'll have to duck out of town for a few days until the storm has passed.

Of course, I wouldn't even be able to think of shopping for a house if not for the fact that we just sold my parents' house in Pennsylvania, so I have "real estate money" that I'm rolling over into more real estate. I'd love to leave my current property in the Holy Cross neighborhood, but there are a few problems: one is that I probably couldn't sell it; the other is that I'd hate to give up the double lot. For a while I did some looking around New Orleans for a fixer upper, thinking that I might eventually move into something else in the Bywater or Seventh Ward. And I made an offer on a HUGE house at 1555 N. Miro, which was 4200sf but filled with great historic details. Unfortunately, the inspections found that it was also filled with active termites, and illegal sub-code plumbing and wiring, all of which would need to be torn out. The current owners have had the place for seven years without treating it for termites, and the work they did on the property was not only incomplete, it was also completely incompetent. It is a tragedy for the house.

Last week I traveled up to Tylertown and Vicksburg, and later this week I'll check out Natchez. So far, I can't seem to make up my mind between a relatively rustic, secluded property or something larger, nicer and possibly rentable when I'm not around.

2010-06-04T06:17:00.002-05:00

It has been a month since Sula passed. Hard to believe. I've been keeping busy, looking for an evacuation home, writing, and looking after Brando, Zephyr and Doug, who are all having a hard time without Sula. Their grief has been, somehow, a surprise.

I've also been working on several projects to commemorate Sula. The first of these is the gorgeous Sula collar that was launched yesterday by Paco Collars. Paco collars create exquisite, hand-crafted leather leads, collars and leashes. "The Sula" features a diamond pattern modeled after our Sula's white diamond marking on the back of her neck. A portion of all sales of the collar will be donated to The Sula Foundation, and through June 7th, 20% will be coming our way. Check out "The Sula" and other collars at their website; they may be a little more than you are used to spending, but they are worth every penny.

Did I mention I can be followed on Twitter?

2010-05-22T06:20:00.002-05:00

I've been tweeting up a storm, posting links to interesting essays and news stories, including my own. You can follow me at KenFosterWrites on Twitter. One of the other Ken Fosters beat me to my name.

Can my pacemaker make me a superhero?

2010-05-21T20:04:00.002-05:00

Here is my latest essay at Salon.com: I am "Iron Man" with a pacemaker

Posted using ShareThis

More on Sula

2010-05-09T08:12:00.001-05:00

Early this week, my dog Sula passed away. This is the kind of thing for which you can never prepare yourself; I wake up every day to find a blank spot in my daily routine. The house is too quiet. The other dogs don't know what to do.

I know that Sula meant a lot to other people too, which is why I am sharing this news publicly (in an essay at Salon.com), while at the same time mourning privately. At some point in the future, we will have an event to celebrate her life and her legacy.

Sula's arrival

Sula showed up on St. Patrick's Day in 2004. In the past six years: she has been the subject of a memoir and numerous news features and essays; she has appeared on television interviews in New Orleans, Gulfport, and Memphis. She was a guest at the St. Louis Film Festival and discussed on NPR's Fresh Air. Her image was plastered on large posters all around the city of Los Angeles. Her story has been translated into Turkish and Japanese. She had a very full life and helped to save the lives of countless other pit bulls around the country and the world.

More than that, I loved her and she loved me. And I miss her.

We have already begun to receive donations in her name, which will go toward paying medical bills for other stray pit bulls; donations can be made by PayPal to sulafoundation@gmail.com or by mail. But we also know that Sula would also be honored if you chose to give something to your own local pit-friendly rescue, in her name. Or by volunteering a few extra hours at a local shelter, and thinking of her while you are there.

Sincerely,

Ken Foster
The Sula Foundation
PO Box 3780
New Orleans, LA 70117

The Sula Foundation is a 501c3 public charity.

Losing Sula

2010-05-06T09:42:00.002-05:00

My little pit bull girl, Sula, passed away this week. I could not have imagined how devastating this is. The morning routine. The empty bowl.

She worked her way into an essay about the oil spill at Salon.com.

I miss her more than I could have ever imagined.

Dominick is looking for a good home

2010-04-27T09:01:00.002-05:00

Dominick moved into the spare room a few days before I ended up in the hospital. It must have been very confusing for him! I first picked him up a year ago, eating garbage on St. Claude. He stayed at Zeus' Place for a year, attended countless adoption days and even appeared on Good Morning New Orleans. But he's still looking for a home.

My nightmare night

2010-04-22T10:26:00.002-05:00

I knew that eventually, the whole experience at Tulane last week would catch up with me and I'd have an emotional reaction, delayed like it is after a near-fatal car accident.

This moment came, like clockwork, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the night. I woke up from a deep sleep and found Brando motionless beside me. I was convinced he was dead, and that he was dead because I had failed to remember to give him his medication. The merger of dream and reality was so tight that it took several minutes to realize that none of this was actually happening. Brando was asleep, and he isn't on any medication. Still, I had a hard time shaking it.

More on my medical drama

2010-04-20T08:49:00.003-05:00

I've been getting a lot of response to that last post of mine, including a few people from inside Tulane and even more from other medical institutions around the country. I want to clarify that I do understand that not all patients are treated immediately and I've probably been very lucky with my previous treatment at other institutions. I also understand why, for example, phones aren't installed in ICU "rooms" (the problem being that I wasn't supposed to be in ICU and needed a phone to try to get out of there). More than that, I want to say that the vast majority of the people I dealt with at Tulane, as individuals, seemed to be doing all that they could. But there's something wrong with the management of a system in which anyone has to wait that long for treatment, and in which the continual delays result in beds being unavailable for people who really need a bed.

I spent the weekend trying to get in touch with someone--anyone--at Tulane, to try to find the missing information from my discharge. None of the on-call doctors were able to help me, but said they would leave a message for Dr. A, my new cardiologist, to call me. No call came. I spent Monday making multiple calls to try to get an appointment with him--no one was able to get me to the proper person who might schedule that. I called a Dr. at another hospital and was able to talk to someone immediately, schedule something for next Tuesday, and was warned "When we have patients from Tulane it is impossible to get their records." So, at least I know its not just me.

Meanwhile, when I lay on my left side, I feel a strange twitching in my diaphragm, which makes me worry we're going to have to start over again with with those misplaced leads in my chest.

Now I Know What it Feels Like to End up at the Pound

2010-04-17T19:58:00.004-05:00

This past Monday, after an energetic and productive weekend, I spent several hours at work at NOCCA, then spent bit of time going over my UNO students' work before heading back to the gym for the first time since getting surgery on my eardrum a month ago. It was a quick workout. Fifteen minutes in, as we headed from a bike to the weight room, I felt dizzy and after a few minutes of sitting, I laid down on a mat and the staff called EMTs. The EMTs carried me out, and though I was conscious and not experiencing any pain, they used a defibrillator to correct the rhythm of my heart, which was apparently racing. I was terrified--not of my condition, but of the blast of electricity I was about receive. Though I was strapped down, I literally was blown out of the restraints. "How do you feel?" the EMT asked, and I answered "I feel great!" which was true.

They asked which hospital I preferred. I told them that I had only been treated at Ochsner Baptist and they took me to Tulane, because it was closest. Once there, I was stabilized and admitted. Most people know that I have had a pacemaker for about five and a half years. I've also been working with a trainer at the the New Orleans Athletic Club for the past seven months. There has been no reason to suspect there was a problem. And then this.

It was quickly determined that there were two possible problems that needed to be immediately addressed. There could be a blockage with my heart, or a problem with the pacemaker. A man from the pacemaker company was on the scene quickly, downloading a series of reports from my body; there was no need to talk to me, since the information was already stored. I felt like a machine.

Tuesday morning, they would do angiogram, and if there were blocked arteries, it would be fixed by a stint or bypass. They wheeled me up to the ICU overflow wing, because there was no room elsewhere. It was dark and there was an abundance of swivel chairs blocking the hall. "Is this a storage area?" I asked, and I was serious. But it wasn't storage, and there were a few other patients up there and even some staff. They put me in a corner and told me I'd be transferred to a room the next day, though they weren't sure when. At this point, I was very understanding of the uncertainty of my care, but at the same time, it seemed like such a chaotic mess at Tulane Medical Center, I wondered if it might be a good idea to arrange a transfer to Ochsner.

The curtained off area I was assigned was barely larger than my bed; when I asked about a bathroom I was told that there wasn't one on this wing. And it was hot as hell--the air-conditioning had been broken since the previous Thursday. Tuesday morning someone else on the hall passed away, and I watched as about fifteen residents and interns crowded the door to watch. One of the nurses on duty was planning her wedding, and spent most of the day discussing it with co-workers. At one point I heard her on the phone making an appointment to be waxed. But I wasn't allowed to have a phone; this was ICU policy. I did have my iPhone, and though it often didn't have a signal for calls, I was able to email the outside world.

By Tuesday afternoon, and 24 hours of not eating or drinking, I asked why I hadn't been taken down to the CATH lab to have the angiogram that I'd been told was vital that morning. No one knew. After throwing a mini-fit, I was squeezed in late in the day, but the results were puzzling. No blockages meant there was no obvious treatment for me. But, worse news: my heart was enlarged and weak. This was very serious, and we needed to address it as quickly as possible, I was told. They had already said, before the angiogram, that it was likely I'd need an upgrade to a pacemaker that also defibrillated; the new pace would be lower, so that my heart would returning to doing whatever work it could. Wednesday morning, they would proceed with that upgrade while they continued to investigate possible causes. That night I was able to eat for the first time.

Each morning, the staff would wake me at about 4 to draw blood to send to the labs. Then I would lie awake, trying to figure out what was going on. Early Wednesday, after the labs, I was told that I'd been taken off the schedule for the day. No one could tell me why. Breakfast arrived and I put off eating it, hoping that they might put me back on the schedule. A woman from the pacemaker company arrived and did an analysis of the pacemaker that was currently in my body. And here was the surprise: when the pacemaker was installed, it was because only one half of my heart was receiving the electrical pulse signal. But now, she was able to turn my pacer off and my heart was able to hold a steady beat of 55-60 beats per minute. The pacemaker had been set to go on if my heart went below 70 beats per minute. So my heart, at some point, had essentially been usurped by the pacemaker--and this, perhaps, is why it grew large and week. They decided to keep the pacer off, while giving me medication to ensure a regular beat. The medication was a pill, which I took twice a day with other pills; the dispensing of pills twice a day was the extent of my ICU needs. Yet they wouldn't move me.

Late Wednesday, I contacted my insurance to ask if they could arrange for me to transfer somewhere that could actually address the situation more quickly. At this point I'd missed three days of work and had a friend trying to take care of five dogs in my house in addition to her own. I was behind on work for my Ph.D. Also, I kept thinking of Brando, my oldest dog, who I'd been nursing at home for over six months with injections, anti-inflamatories and other short-term remedies. The insurance company was alarmed at what I told them, made a few calls, and was assured that I would get the pacemaker implanted in the morning.

Thursday I spent the day not eating or drinking again, and once again, I was bumped from the schedule. At this point, I tried contacting the case manager at the hospital; could he begin exploring other options? Could he find another possible facility? Would I ever be moved into a room? He told me that there were eight people waiting for beds for the night--they were on stretchers. I pointed out that I was waiting for a 30 minute procedure that would then open up a bed after I was gone. Eventually, he promised that he would make calls Friday morning to other places; later, I found out that he wasn't even scheduled to come in. This wasn't the only strange reversal. Throughout the week, one person would tell me something and another would say the opposite. For example, I was told at one point that I could be sent home with a defibrillating vest, and return as an outpatient. When I asked the caseworker about this, he said that was absolutely impossible, and would take days for insurance to approve. One of the doctors (I was, apparently, being treated by five doctors, though most who were listed on my case I had never even met and depending on who I asked the person in charge was Dr. Cook or Dr. M or...) told me that the reason for the delay was that they were very careful about observation post implant. I pointed out that in order to observe me post-implant, the implant would have to actually be done.

I didn't sleep well Thursday night, although, as usual, I was allowed dinner as my only meal of the day. I had been off the IV since Tuesday. Could it really be good for me to fast in this condition? The man behind the curtain to my right was having Katrina flashbacks all week. On the left, I had an actual wall rather than a curtain, but it also had a door, which led to a room where a series of highly infectious patients had been stored. All day long, people walked through my area to get to whoever was in that room. They hung their med coats on a hook above my head. In the space between the bed and the wall, there was just enough room for my tray and the portable toilet, but not really enough for me to maneuver between them.

On Friday I woke up and was told, once again, that they couldn't promise anything. But at least there would likely be a private room opening up for the weekend. The dogsitter texted me to let me know that Brando wasn't eating. That was it.

Early in the week, the HBO show TREME had premiered; one of the characters, played by Melissa Leo, is a civil rights lawyer, based on the very real and very amazing Mary Howell. I'd been joking with a friend at the beginning of the week that we might need to hire Mary to track me down in the system, as she so often does for people who go missing while in police custody. So, I emailed Mary. And Mary contacted Steve, a lawyer who, coincidentally, was also a former neighbor of mine. And he called the hospital, talked with several departments to find out what was going on, and also talked with the hospital's legal department. Suddenly I was being taken to have the procedure done. On the way, the medics transporting me discovered there was only one working elevator to take us there; we were late, and the Dr. had become impatient and gone. Earlier in the week, I'd been assured of what an expert he was; how lucky I would be to have him implant the device, when it actually happened. Eventually he returned, and I was not put entirely under. Because I was actually conscious during the process, I was able to listen to the conversation in the room, as the doctor instructed an intern in how to thread the leads to my heart. It took two hours. At one point, I heard the Dr. reassure the intern, "No one saw that." At another point, they had to retread a lead because the intern had asked for the wrong size.

Saturday morning, after spending the night in a room for the first time, yet another doctor who was, in some way, "my doctor," arrived in my room to introduce himself as they prepared to discharge me. He scolded me for not taking pain meds that had never been brought to me. Another Dr excused himself to get the meds, and then never returned. Six hours later, as I was walking out the door, someone gave me the pill. They also gave me my discharge papers. When I finally got home, I read over them and found reference to eight educational pamphlets that had supposedly been distributed to me. I hadn't received a single one. There was also no mention of the pacemaker I had just received. And there was no information on what I should expect or avoid with this new device in my body.

The Dogs Who Found Me is now available in Japanese!

2010-04-03T08:18:00.001-05:00

Wouldn't it be great if jowls were as attractive on people as they are on dogs?

2010-03-31T21:57:00.001-05:00

How I Learned about Sex

2010-03-26T06:16:00.002-05:00

Friday and Saturday night, I'll be participating with seven others in a reading titled "How I Learned about Sex" at Le Chat Noir. You can click on the link above for more info. How did I ever agree to do this? Someone called and said they had a favor to ask, and my first thought was that he wanted me to take back the deaf pit bull I'd left at his house. So, I said yes. And now I'm scrambling to figure out the answer to the evening's question.

Post Op

2010-03-06T06:56:00.002-06:00

Here I am, post surgery. On Wednesday I underwent a tympanoplasty to repair damage to my eardrum back in October when I was mugged. It was clear that I had some hearing loss, but even I was surprised when tests showed a 35% loss on my right side, so there were things I was not hearing AND there were things I wasn't even aware I wasn't hearing. The overall effect was one of receding a little further back from the world. I think we've all been in a room with an older person who seems to not be listening or not care that they aren't hearing the conversation around them. That was me--although I wasn't entirely aware of it until the tests came back.

So Wednesday morning they put me under and cut an incision along the back of my ear, removed some muscle tissue and inserted it between my ear canal and my inner ear to make up for the membrane that was broken when I was attacked. Essentially, this is a skin graft. And now I have to be patient while we wait to see if my body accepts it.

Brando gets sick; Metairie Small Animal Hospital gets rich

2010-02-20T07:24:00.001-06:00

Last Friday night, Brando began to have diarrhea, although when I first discovered it I wasn't sure if it was that or vomit. It had that kind of acidity to it. Yuck. He seemed better the next day, but when I left in the evening he wanted to stay on my bed, so I let him...and returned a few hours later to bloody puddles everywhere. I tried some pepcid, but he threw that up. So I slept with him next to me in bed, worried about his deteriorating health. He was scheduled for surgery this week for several cysts and a few bad teeth that should be removed.

In the morning, we drove out to Metairie Small Animal Hospital, one of the clinics that also operates as an emergency facility. I had called ahead, and it was suggested that I come in at 9 to avoid the emergency fees. Brando's symptoms were identical to some problems Sula has had in the past, which were treated for her with a quick IV of fluid, an injection of anti-nausea meds, a prescription for Flagyl and some I/D food. But the Dr. at MSAH wanted Brando to stay overnight, possibly for two nights. And, in a panic, I agreed and went home to sit in a stupor with the other three dogs.

In the morning I called to check on him, and was told he was doing well. They had given him an IV, an injection of anti-nausea medication, and were going to test him with some I/D food. They had run blood tests and he was slightly anemic and possibly suffering from pancreatitis. Brando has never stayed overnight anywhere in the past eight years. I asked if I could visit him. They said yes, and I drove in and sat for nearly an hour with Brando laying in my lap, immobile. I didn't want to leave. Finally I told the staff that they could put him back...and they said "Oh, you can take him home." Huh? Why had I just spent an hour visiting with him if he could come home? The Dr. who checked us out said, "Well, you insisted on it." Actually, all I had done was ask, that morning, if he could come home, and had been told no.

I picked up his meds: a prescription for Flagyl and another antibiotic, along with some I/D food. The bill came to $620.

A few days later, I noticed that they had billed for two days of hospitalization at $125 a piece. The blood work, IV, etc was all itemized as additional charges. I called to ask about the bill and was told that they bill per day, not per 24 hours. "We're not a hotel," they said. I said, "So you should tell people that you have a minimum two-day fee." They said that's not true. "If I bring my dog in, and he stays overnight, but you charge me an extra day because he's there in the morning before I can get him, then that's a minimum two-day fee. How could someone possibly be charged only for one day?" "Well, if you took him home the same day you brought him, that would be one day." I've never heard of a facility charging this way. And I've used a lot of vets. "You need to realize," they told me, "that there isn't an additional exam fee, and the hospitalization also includes fluids and injections, etc." "Actually," I explained, "those things are itemized on the bill. And I understand there wasn't an additional exam fee, but there also wasn't an exam on each day he was there."

And at that, all they could say is "Well, I can see how you might be confused." And I said "I'll certainly think again before coming here, and I'll be sure to let everyone know what your policy is."

They said they could totally understand why I would want to do that. And so I am.

A new New Orleans?

2010-02-11T07:26:00.003-06:00

I'm laying in bed with Brando on a cold February morning, so I might as well post something, right?

The past week has been crazy in New Orleans, with an election, Carnival and the Saints Super Bowl win. And I've been out almost every night after a long period of hibernation. I voted early, two weeks before election day, so there was a startling time-warp effect as the campaigns all kicked into high gear after the fact. I was pretty clear, early on, on who I'd be voting for. I contributed money to Mitch Landrieu's campaign as soon as he announced, then became frustrated with his campaign's slow start, and then attended several forums and decided he was the logical choice. I also gave some money to James Perry. And to Kristin Palmer. And to Austin Badon. The only real question--which left me standing frozen with indecision in the ballot booth--was how to vote on the question of City Council At-Large. I knew I'd be voting for Arnie Fielkow--one of the few who actually show up at events and engage with the public--but I was torn on my second vote in this category. Should I vote for someone I liked, or should I vote for the person most likely to keep Cynthia Willard-Lewis out of office? CLW is my representative, and for the past three years I've seen her show up for events, latch onto the work of others, and, her worst offense, talk down to her constituents, constantly assuring them that no one else in the entire world cares what becomes of them. Yet, if you contact her office with concerns about blight, crime, vandalism, shootings, absent police patrols, etc, you get no response. Or, you get the helpful information that you should go somewhere else with your problems--even if you initial complaint is that those other places are not helping.

So last week, I went on Wednesday to House of Blues for a Musicians for Mitch concert featuring an insane lineup of the city's best: Irma Thomas, Allan Toussaint, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Preservation Hall, Amanda Shaw, Branford Marsalis, Terrance Blanchard, Trombone Shorty, Clarence "Frogman" Henry, Dr. Michael White, Deacon John, etc. It was a mini-Jazz Fest. And the mood was astonishing. The crowd was from all over town (even with the lowest ticket being $100) and there was a sense of something wonderful happening in the city--The Saints were going to the Super Bowl. Nearly every song turned into a chorus of "Who Dat?" I kept saying I'd stay for just one song, but was there til the end.

Then on Saturday, another amazing thing happened. I went to bed early, not having the energy to wait out a long, inconclusive night at the election parties. Everyone was certain there would be run-offs in several categories, including mayor. Then I woke shortly after eight and checked the early returns, jumped out of bed and heading to the Quarter. First stop: Arnie's victory party. On the way into the Royal Sonesta, we passed Irvin Mayfield, who had long been rumored to be Nagin's choice as successor. "He could have been mayor," I said as he passed and my friend turned with a look of horror on her face. After Arnie's, we ran across Canal to The Roosevelt, to Mitch's party. A couple of kids were playing around at the podium; the victory speech had already been made. We weaved through the crowd and talked to friends and watched as various news crews interviewed the mayor-elect and as opponent Troy Henry came in to wish Mitch well. Then it was back across Canal and through the Quarter again, among wall-to-wall crowds of people already celebrating the not-yet-played Super Bowl. At Bourbon House, we congratulated Kristin Palmer and her family for winning district C, then watched as the news reported a narrow victory for Jackie Clarkson over Cynthia Willard Lewis. Off we went to the Monteleone, where we found the Clarkson party still quietly waiting for word on the votes--no televisions were playing in that room. Finally, Jackie got off the phone and announced a victory of 13 votes--ooops, she meant 1300. Then she thanked her supporters and promised to never run for office again--which drew enormous cheers of support from the entire crowd.

Time to go home, then, and get ready for the Barkus parade the next day, which left me so exhausted I slept through the game. Yes, that's right, I snoozed with the dogs right through til the end, and then sat bolt upright in bed suddenly thinking...we must have won. And just at moment, I heard the entire city go wild with cheers.

My pit bull is an (exhausted) Saint

2010-02-10T10:31:00.001-06:00

Here's Doug collapsed on the floor of Tonique after the Barkus parade on Sunday, just before the game.

Barkus and the Super Bowl Pledge

2010-02-07T08:45:00.002-06:00

In a few hours Doug and I will be out at the Barkus parade, tossing these great cups to the crowd. Then it is Super Bowl time--and you can help pit bulls in New Orleans or Indianapolis by joining our contest with The Sula Foundation. We're asking for pledges to donate $5 per Saints touchdown, $1 per field goal and $10 for the win--and we're in a friendly competition with Indy Pit Crew to see which team gets the most support. You can send your pledge to sulafoundation@gmail.com--and we'll check in with you at the end of the game.

What would I do without Doug?

2010-02-06T08:04:00.002-06:00

Here's a photo of Doug and I at the Barkmarket this past October. I hadn't seen it until last night, when Blake, who runs the Bywater Art Market, slid her iPhone over to me. I love this photo. We both look so foolish!

Meanwhile, an update on Brando. Last month we did x-rays and discovered that what was thought to be arthritis is actually something more serious. The discs in his back are deteriorating. He's now on a variety of medications, including Metacam, an anti-inflammatory, and injections of Adequan, which I've learned to administer at home. Brando has always hated going to the vet, but he's a great patient for me. He lays very still and lets me do whatever I need to. Of course, I can't help but think of my parents during all of this.

Fortunately, Brando still has Doug to get him out of bed in the morning. Doug sleeps in the kitchen while the others crowd my bed, and Brando stays put after Zephyr and Sula get up to go to the yard--but he comes to the kitchen to give Doug his morning kisses.

(By the way, the March 20th Bywater Barkmarket/Art Market is a fundraiser for The Sula Foundation. If you are a dog-ish vendor and are interested in participating, send an email or leave a comment here.)

Doug has had enough

2010-01-22T10:00:00.000-06:00

A week of events from SilenceIsViolence

2010-01-20T06:35:00.003-06:00

It has been so busy that I'm only now posting the events for this week, which marks the 3rd anniversary of the march to city hall in 2007. On Monday afternoon, I posted the first Crime Happened Here sign, with details of my mugging in October. And, of course, its already been taken down. You get the signs at Sound Cafe. Meanwhile, here are the other events of the week:

Monday January 18th at 7pm
Mayoral Forum; Goody's restaurant, 3200 St. Claude Avenue
Join moderator Lee Zurik and The Stooges Brass Band for a forum asking candidates for details on their plans to address crime and community safety.

Tuesday January 19th
Vigil for Victims of Violence, held by United for Peace in New Orleans. Claiborne Avenue at Martin Luther King Boulevard, 7AM-7PM

Wednesday January 20th at 7pm
Antenna Gallery, 3161 Burgundy Street, New Orleans, LA
Antenna Gallery will present the Canadian documentary "After the Storm," about the life and death of Helen Hill; plus a short documentary on the Hot 8 Brass Band and the SilenceIsViolence youth music clinics.

Thursday January 21st
PEACE WALK and evening vigil led by the
Social Aid and Pleasure Club Task Force
START: City Hall, 6PM

Friday January 22nd:

* Victims’ Memorial, City Hall: Homicide victims lost in New Orleans during the past year will be memorialized at noon.
* WEAR RED wherever you are.
* Youth Resource Picnics: Lyons Playground (Delachaise Street at Tchoupitoulas) and Bunny Friends Playground (Desire Street at S. Prieur Street), 11AM-3PM
* 5% Pledge by local businesses around New Orleans
* Soccer in the Streets: Skills at City Hall, 9AM
* Peace Motorcade: Location and time TBA. Led by Nakita Shavers in memory of Dinerral Shavers and Helen Hill

Remembering the March to City Hall in 2007

2010-01-13T21:34:00.000-06:00

Vaccination Clinic, January 9th, Lower Ninth Ward

2010-01-05T05:07:00.001-06:00

The Sula Foundation, New Orleans' pit bull advocacy group, will sponsor a low-cost vaccination clinic on Saturday January 9, from 1-4pm at the Sankofa Market at St. Claude and Caffin in the Lower Ninth Ward. Working in conjunction with Dr. Jessica's "Pets R Our World" mobile veterinary clinic, the following services will be offered:

For pit bulls: $15 for complete vaccinations (including rabies, bordetella and distemper)
Appointments for FREE spay/neuter surgeries

For all other breeds: $45 for complete vaccinations.

Holiday movie triple feature

2009-12-29T06:44:00.002-06:00

A friend and I decided to catch up on movies, which is a difficult task now that there is no movie theater in downtown New Orleans. It is also difficult given the extra-long running time of most holiday films. So our triple feature was spread out over 24 hours. We began Sunday night with "It's Complicated" at the Prytania uptown. I wasn't expecting much--Nancy Myers seems to be the kind of writer-director who goes for big concepts rather than finding any real nuance or character. But the Prytania is a great, single screen theater with digital projection, so I'd go see almost anything there. The surprise was...I actually liked the movie. It made me laugh, and strangest of all, Alec Baldwin was terrific (although playing a creep). I went home and dreamt that Meryl Streep had to sign off on my dissertation.

Day 2 begain in the burbs at 3:05 for "Up in the Air." We were at the Elmwood AMC, and the place was packed with people trying to get into the IMAX screening of "Avatar," which made me cross that film from my list. I had high hopes for "Up in the Air" but it left me kind of flat. George Clooney was great. Vera Farmiga was even better. And there are some funny scenes. But the premise seemed foggy and unconvincing. There were scenes and plot twists that would only make sense to someone trying to self-consciously construct a meaningful narrative. I didn't buy it. And worse, what was there to buy? The lesson seemed to be: "Don't ever consider becoming sincere and entering the real world; anyone who seems real to you is actually faking it." I thought I was a cynic, but I guess I like if I'm going for cynicism I'll take in a less frothy form than "Up in the Air."

Technical problems (Elmwood is always having technical problems) delayed the start of "Up in the Air" by fifteen minutes, so we had to run out on the credits and take our seats at "The Young Victoria" which had already begun. This was a movie I really didn't expect much from, although it had some great reviews. And the first scenes were stiff and costume-y. UGH, why had I thought I wanted to see this? But then, scene by scene, it came to life. I've never been a big fan of Emily Blunt, but she's terrific. And the supporting cast has actors I either haven't seen in a while (Miranda Richardson) or never at all (Rupert Friend). By the end I found myself completely identifying with Queen Victoria--and that's pretty strange, but in a good way.

So now I'm looking this over seeing that I've allowed myself to break all of my own rules for criticism, including the annoying overuse of the first person. Maybe I'll come back later and correct that. Maybe while I'm at it I'll italicize the titles rather than putting them, incorrectly, in quotes. On the other hand, maybe not.

Did I mention I was mugged?

2009-12-27T14:54:00.002-06:00

I keep meaning to return to more active blogging, but I've been so busy with teaching, The Sula Foundation and...well, being mugged, that I haven't had a chance to do much more than post on my Twitter and Facebook pages. So feel free to follow along there.

But, back to the mugging. On October 17th we were working a table at the Barkmarket edition of the Bywater Art Market. I had the proofs of the Pit Bulls of New Orleans calendar, and needed to get them to the graphic designer for some changes. Since she lived just a few blocks away, and it was only 2:30 in the afternoon, and the weather was gorgeous, I decided to walk them over to her house. On the way there, I ran into a friend outside of her house, someone I used to see regularly back when I still lived in the neighborhood and walked my dogs past her house everyday. We stood and talked for quite a while, and I remember thinking, "This is why I should have driven--I'll just keep talking to people and this simple errand will take forever." At this point, I was approaching the intersection of Dauphine and Press Streets, just a few blocks from NOCCA, where I teach. Ahead of me, on the other side of the intersection, there was a group of teenagers on bikes. They were spread out on both sides of the street, with their backs to me. It seemed they were waiting for someone to come down the street from the other direction. If I had been planning to walk that far, I would have found a way to bypass them, but I didn't worry about it, because I was already turning up Press.

In the green space along the train tracks, two stray dogs looked up from the distance and began charging at me. Then someone clubbed me on the right side of my head and I fell hard onto the middle of the street. Soon there were several kids on top of me, hands in my pockets, asking "What have you got?" They took my iPhone, and left as the dogs continued barking at them. The dogs turned out to belong to two additional former neighbors, and when they realized what had happened, they called the police. I, of course, continued on my errand, since there was little chance of a speedy response from the police. Then, after speaking briefly with the cops when they turned up, I returned to the market, then went onto the hospital for an MRI (I was bleeding from my ear), and stopped into a fundraiser hours later on my way home.

The police, of course, have done nothing. It took multiple calls and complaints before the detective would meet with me; she then took all of my time to tell me that it was a difficult job she had to do and she really didn't want to bother with a case involving teenagers. Meanwhile, I'd heard from people all over the neighborhood that this same group of kids had been causing trouble all over. Some people even knew where the kids lived. Others could identify them. She wasn't interested. In fact, she didn't even bother taking any of this information down.

A few days later, I noticed that the incident hadn't even been reported on our districts email alert system. After pointing this out, they sent an account that bore no factual relationship to the actual events. I sent a correction. They emailed a revised report that also had most of the facts wrong. I emailed again. They sent a third version that was, at least, closer to the truth but still incorrect. I gave up.

Now, more than two months later, I still have hearing loss in my right ear and will have to repair the eardrum with a skin graft procedure.

The crime, according to the NOPD, was not a violent one.

Annie and Ken on the morning news

2009-11-27T10:15:00.001-06:00

Brando begins therapy

2009-11-26T10:21:00.003-06:00

Brando continues to get older, in spite of all my efforts. In fact, we'll be celebrating nine years together in January. But being a large dog with tall legs, he's started to have issues with his joints. In "Dogs I Have Met" I wrote about the success we had with Adequan injections. But three years later, we're augmenting that with some other therapies, including acupuncture and the use of an underwater treadmill (at Dag's House.)

In this video, Brando begins his first treadmill session. Remarkably, he got into the tank on his own, had no concerns as the water rose from the bottom and surrounded him, and hesitated only for a second when the treadmill began to roll. Still, you can see the look on his face which seems to be asking "Why?"

In the next clip, we get a side view, which looks a little like something from a science fiction movie. But you can also see how much range of motion he has while underwater. The idea is to maintain and redevelop atrophied muscles, so that the effects of the deteriorated joints will not be as severe.

Have you ordered your Sula calendar yet?

2009-11-24T09:24:00.002-06:00

Babe was found wandering the Lower Ninth Ward last fall after we returned from a hurricane evacuation. (He had formed a pack with the English bulldogs Harold and Maude, who we also rescued.) Babe was fostered at Zeus' Place and there he fell in love with Charity and her beagle, Hubig Pie. So, of course, they're all living together now. In this shot from our 2010 Calendar, Babe makes a very confident first visit to a bar. (And somehow manages to look twice his actual size.)

If you haven't ordered your calendar yet, get on it! And pick up a few for your family and friends too.

You can buy my childhood today, at auction

2009-10-31T05:35:00.002-05:00

Brando has moved on from sniffing the boxes that arrived from Pennsylvania a little over a week ago. Now he has simply taken possession of an old blanket that I'd used in packing some of the items. Wherever the blanket is, Brando plants himself on top of it and refuses to move, which makes me wish I'd taken more from my parents' house before today's auction. I've been pouring over the items that will be on sale, and thinking "Wait, that's still there? I thought someone had taken it!" And yet, realistically, I have no need for cut glass or silver tea services.

I do wish I'd remembered to take my Italian Annie Hall poster, or the Andy Warhol coke bottles, or my Rembrandt reproduction etchings. Yet, I do not need them. And still it is strange to see them listed as part of the sale.

Things I did remember to take: My Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car; a green glass insulator collected from an old power line; my Keith Haring inflatable baby; our dog's obedience certificate.

A friend here in New Orleans asked if I had done a final walk through before leaving last month. I did not. At the time, I still hadn't decided whether I'd be coming back for the sale, and we were anticipating that the house itself would be on the market for quite a while before we found a buyer. But yesterday we were surprised with an offer, and accepted it. So, now it really is done, isn't it?

Brando remembers my parents

2009-10-20T17:14:00.002-05:00

When he was a puppy, Brando used to visit my parents house quite often. It was a nice break from the social pressures of a Manhattan dog park. Later, when we moved away, he would sniff any envelope or package that my mother sent, and run to the door or window to see if she was there. Today a truck arrived with furniture and art and books from my now deceased parents' house. And this is what happened:

I'll be speaking on a panel at Temple University on Wednesday October 28th

2009-10-13T18:18:00.001-05:00

What: Temple Student Animal Legal Defense Fund presents a panel discussion on dog fighting in the city of Philadelphia. The discussion will highlight how the issue of dog fighting affects the city’s animals and people alike and what is being done to combat dog fighting in the city. Panelists will discuss the breeds commonly involved, what dog fighters typically breed for, misconceptions of the breed and owners, as well as commentary on the dog fighting bust involving Michael Vick and the rehabilitation of the recovered Vick dogs.

Temple SALDF seeks to raise awareness about the issue of dog fighting and discuss the impact it has on the community.

Who: Panelists include:

* Ken Foster, author of best-selling memoir “The Dogs Who Found Me” and founder of the Sula Foundation in New Orleans;
* Jim Gorant, Senior Editor at Sports Illustrated who reported on the seized Michael Vick Dogs which also inspired his upcoming book
* Marisa Scully, dog behaviorist and certified pet trainer
* Leigh Siegfried, a certified pet dog trainer and owner of Opportunity Barks Behavior & Training, who worked with eleven of the seized Michael Vick Dogs.
* George Bengal, PSPCA Animal Control Officer involved in dog fighting raids

Where: Moot Court Room, Klein Hall, Temple University, 1719 North Broad Street, Philadelphia, 19122

When: October 28, 2009 – 7pm
RSVP to: Samantha.Jones@temple.edu

Buy a calendar, help a pit bull

2009-10-13T08:16:00.003-05:00

I spent the past few weekends working with two photographers to create the Sula Foundation's 2010 Pit Bulls of New Orleans Calendar. And my back is killing me from hunching over the keyboard with a designer all day Sunday. But the result is pretty fine--and its always fun dragging people around town with me as we scout models and locations.
Just $18 plus $4.95 postage, with proceeds going to continue The Sula Foundation's work. You can use the PayPal button below, or send a check to The Sula Foundation, PO Box 3780, New Orleans, LA 70117.

Sarah Vowell, New Orleans Film Festival, and a busy busy October

2009-10-09T08:34:00.002-05:00

I keep meaning to find the time to write interesting posts on here. I really do. But my schedule has been so nuts that there's no time for it. None at all.

For example, last Friday my old classmate Meghan Daum came to town and visited my NOCCA students for a master class in the afternoon. That evening I ran uptown to a party hosted by Tom Beller for Meghan and others participating in a symposium on the personal essay. Also there: Phillip Lopate, Jonathan Ames, and many friends and colleagues. I ended up staying quite a bit later than I intended. I spent the next day working The Sula Foundation's vaccination clinic, where we had over 30 dogs come for low-cost shots, and signed up about ten for free spay/neuter.

Something happened Sunday, but I don't know what. Oh, I spent most of the say working on the pit bull calendar for 2010. Then, Monday and Tuesday, I switched my workout schedule so I'd have time later in the week, because last night was the kickoff for the New Orleans Film Festival, which runs for the next seven days, and today we have a visit from Sarah Vowell, who will also be speaking tonight at 8pm at NOCCA.

And yesterday, movers arrived at my parents' former house in PA to load up the things I'm taking. Now that seems very strange. I'll be living in a house with furniture and art from my childhood. Something to write about, when I get the time.

Help restore Shawn Hall's 500 small oil paintings

2009-10-07T06:31:00.003-05:00

My friend and former neighbor Shawn Hall is raising money to restore a group of 500 small paintings that were damaged in storage. Her work is amazing, and if you help her out with a donation, you'll receive a print from the collection:

Vote for Doug in BAD RAP's My Dog is Family Photo Contest

2009-09-22T13:29:00.003-05:00

My Doug is competing in Bad Rap's calendar contest. You can vote for him, or any of the other dogs in the running, by going to: My Dog is Family Photo Contest.

"Albino": a new short story at Guernica Magazine

2009-09-01T06:22:00.002-05:00

Four years ago in October, I returned to New Orleans and began volunteering every day at a warehouse on the Westbank that had been set up as a temporary shelter for the Louisiana SPCA. One of the many dogs that showed up was an albino Doberman that a man brought in after coaxing it into his car. The dog had been showing up at his house on a regular basis and wasn't very friendly, but the man gained his trust and brought him in, and then put a sign up along the Westbank Expressway to try to find his owner. Meanwhile, a young volunteer at the shelter recognized the dog--a friend of hers had a photo of the very same dog that had been given to her by a young man that came to clean her pool. I was fascinated by the fact that we had all of these clues to the origins of this dog, yet no one could make a connection. The dog itself was a bit wild; he seemed unpredictable, although one of the staff discovered that he had been taught with hand signals. It was possible that the dog was deaf, which would also explain why he was so freaked out at everything that had unfolded around him.

The owner was never found. The dog was sent to a sanctuary. And four years later, here is a totally fictionalized account inspired by the mysterious albino dog.

Celebrate Ken Foster's birthday by donating to The Sula Foundation's spay/neuter fund

2009-08-27T09:31:00.003-05:00

Yes, it is time for Brando to dust off his party hat and celebrate Ken's birthday. This year, you can join the fun by donating $10 or more to The Sula Foundation--and one lucky winner will receive an iPod Touch!

Annie from Oklahoma

2009-08-25T07:47:00.002-05:00

Here's Annie from Oklahoma. She's dog #3 in the video posted earlier on this blog. She was transferred to the custody of The Sula Foundation last week, and arrived in New Orleans Saturday at midnight. Among many other neglected medical needs, she must have at least five teeth extracted due to fractures. We're taking small contributions toward this expense via Fundable.com.

The Long Goodbye

2009-08-21T07:52:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I finally booked a ticket back home for the internment of my parents' ashes and I was kicking and screaming the whole way. We've had the date set for quite a while, but I just could not get around to confirming a flight. Then, as I searched for fares the past few days, I became crabbier and crabbier, lost sleep at night, and yet could not pinpoint why I was feeling this way. Then it hit me--it was all about the ticket, and the ticket was all about this final step that I do not want to take.

The past month has been one in which I've really tried to snap out of it. My parents were both diagnosed in the summer of 2007. My mom passed away in March of 2008. We had a memorial for her in June of that year. My dad followed her this past March, and we hired the same tent, rented the same chairs and invited everyone back to the house again in June. So, in August, I started organizing my life, picking up unfinished errands that had stalled out two years ago. I framed some art that had been collecting dust in my spare room. I bought a scooter to get around town. And I started back to the gym, which has been more difficult, in some ways, than the rest of it. Last night, my trainer was trying to figure out the puzzle of my right arm, which doesn't want to lift in a straight line and instead goes off to the side every time. She wondered if I had an injury. No, I insisted. And then, in the middle of another set of reps, I burst out laughing. "I broke my right clavicle," I explained, wondering how I'd forgotten that painful injury. The mind plays powerful tricks on us.

Now we have this final ceremony, and on Halloween, we'll have the estate sale and the material part of this process will almost be over.

And here I am, blogging again, even if my parents are no longer here to read it. Or to scold me.

Meet the Oklahoma dozen

2009-08-21T06:54:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago, I spent 24 hours in Oklahoma, where I met up with Tim Racer from Bad Rap to help with assessments on a dozen dogs that were confiscated earlier this summer as part of a large federal investigation. We're still keeping most of the details under wraps until the dogs who passed arrive at their new foster destinations. But in this clip you can see the whole group of dogs, just after we arrived at the facility.

For more information, visit The Sula Foundation.

I'm fat--and other recent discoveries

2009-08-10T07:11:00.003-05:00

My gosh. Didn't I say I would be blogging with more frequency rather than less? And then, in the blink of an eye, three weeks pass without a peep from me.

But it's been a busy three weeks. Today we start back again at NOCCA, where I'll be teaching full-time through October. And since my time will be filled up with all of that, I've been trying to get a few things settled at home. I even started going back to the gym, working with a trainer, trying to get into better shape because...well, I spent the summer getting fat. And it is the horrific kind of fat that sneaks up on you. I'd been doing well at the beginning of the year, running around with Doug/Buddy. But then my dad passed away in March, and my yard doubled in size in May and the combination allowed me to wallow in grief in my bedroom, or sit on the deck watching the dogs as they played. And I got fat.

And, of course, I've been busy with all the Sula Foundation foster dogs, many of whom have found their way to new homes in the past month. And last week I made a trip to the midwest to get a closer look at some of the dogs taken in during a massive federal dogfighting bust. But more on that later, as we're allowed to release more details.

So here I am, still in bed, making a list of the things I'll need to run home and finish at the end of the day--a revision due on a story, notes for my online students, laundry, laundry, laundry.

And probably a little more grief.

Inseparable

2009-07-19T08:31:00.002-05:00

This is how most of the day is spent now that Buddy has moved in. Brando can't get enough of him. My favorite moment in this clip is when Buddy looks up in the sky (following an insect, I think) and reveals his irresistible jowls.

There is a name change in the works; Buddy seems to prefer to be called Douglas.

Nearly 400 dogs seized in fighting ring

2009-07-11T07:20:00.006-05:00

Nearly 400 dogs have been seized in a fighting ring in Missouri, Iowa and Illinois. This story broke earlier this week, and it seems the perfect topic to relaunch my blogging on a regular basis. This is the largest dog bust in US history--and the arrested individuals include a registered nurse, an employee of a school for the handicapped and a public school employee. In a way, this is great news--because it dispels the notion that dogfighters are only a "certain kind of person" or that it is limited to "urban" environments. There's no telling how long it will take for the trial to run its course. The dogs, meanwhile, will be held as evidence. PETA, of course, has come out with a statement urging that all of the dogs be euthanized without evaluation. But they will be evaluated. And they will try to find responsible organizations to take those we evaluate well. But I'm afraid that with that many dogs, it will be hard to find placement for all of them.

The Sula Foundation has already decided that when the time comes, we will take one or two dogs. Why, when there are so many dogs that we cannot take? Because the dogs deserve a chance, and up til now they haven't had one. And because saving a few of them will also offer the chance to educate people regarding the nature of dogs, and the nature of dogfighting. (And then, too, there is the example of Katrina, when many of these same organizations came together to save our New Orleans dogs.)

More important, The Humane Society of Missouri needs donations to help keep the dogs comfortable while they await their fate. Donations of sheets, towels, blankets, shredded newspapers and sturdy toys to its St. Louis headquarters, as well as donations to its fund for investigating animal cruelty. 1201 Macklind Avenue St. Louis, MO 63110

Here are some links to news of the bust:

St. Louis Today

Humane Society of Missouri (with links to donate and more news links)

The new dog in the house

2009-06-26T05:03:00.002-05:00

Okay, so Buddy is still here. Brando loves him and spends a good part of each day carefully kissing and grooming him. Sula likes to chase him around the yard. And Zephyr is happy to have anyone around. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I like him too. Here's a short video I took yesterday with a new Flip camera.

Another eight week online course at Mediabistro

2009-06-22T08:28:00.004-05:00

I've been so busy this summer that I haven't had time to really post much of anything on this blog. But, in the meantime, if anyone is interested, another round of personal essay starts this week:

http://www.mediabistro.com/courses/cache/crs4730.asp

Tuesday July 7th: The Dollar Store Show comes to New Orleans

2009-06-18T06:21:00.002-05:00

On Tuesday July 7th, the Dollar Store Show comes to New Orleans, and I'll be one of the featured writers. What is the Dollar Store Show? It started in Chicago, and all of my Chicago writer friends have been talking about it for years. Each of the evenings writers is sent an item from a Dollar store, and you have five minutes to tell a story that somehow springs from that item. (Or not.) I'll be joining New Orleans writers Pia Z. Earhardt and Michael Patrick Welch, along with a traveling troop of Dollar Store veterans: Aaron Burch, Blake Butler, Zach Dodson, Amelia Gray, Mary Hamilton, Jac Jemc, Caroline Picard.

Tuesday July 7th, 8pm
The Allways Lounge
2240 St. Claude Avenue

The End of Whitney Bank

2009-06-13T08:25:00.003-05:00

For me, anyway. I've been a Whitney customer since just after Hurricane Katrina, when my previous, friendly bank, Hibernia, was bought out by Capital One. I had a number of lost deposits and other strange incidents, so I moved everything to Whitney, because I wanted to support a local institution. I opened a savings account, and when the Sula Foundation was formed, the account was at Whitney as well. And I did all of this in spite of relatively small incidents that should have shaken my confidence, but for some reason did not. For example, the paperwork for the Sula account was filed incorrectly, then had to be redone. And the savings account was opened incorrectly and mistakenly given a checking account number instead of a savings number. Then there was trouble accessing the Sula account online, which required multiple phone calls and registrations and still doesn't work. In fact, there seemed to be a general lack of knowledge of exactly how to open any accounts.

But they were generally nice people. And it was local.

But this week, I deposited a fairly large check, and the following day discovered an erroneously negative balance in my account. In seemed that a hold had been placed on the entire amount of the check, and then the entire amount had been deducted from my balance. A double hold. So I called and the first person I spoke to thought that deducted the amount of a deposit made sense. I explained why it did not. Then I asked that someone call me back to correct the situation. No one called. Finally I got a hold of someone at a few minutes before 4pm on a Friday. Incredibly rude, the woman explained that a hold would remain on the deposit for eight days, and that no portion of the amount would released until then. I've never had a deposit in which no portion of the funds were available for nearly two weeks. But the rude woman explained that since the bank the check was drawn on was unfamiliar to them, they had no way of knowing if the amount would clear. This is nonsense. They do have access to this information, and the obscure bank she was dealing with was The Bank of New York. She suggested that I contact the Bank of New York myself, and obtain confirmation that the funds had cleared, and then they might credit my account. And I will do that. And then I'll withdraw all of my money, redirect my direct deposit, and do business somewhere else.

Luna, the latest foster dog

2009-06-10T05:29:00.002-05:00

Luna came to The Sula Foundation after being held for four months as evidence in a court case. Now she's learning to play. To learn more about The Sula Foundation, go to www.sulafoundation.org. To see more adoptable Sula dogs, go to sula.petfinder.com.

The High Cost of Breed Discriminatory Legislation

2009-06-01T10:13:00.002-05:00

Last week, our friends at Best Friends launched a new campaign and a new tool to fight misguided breed specific legislation. The highlight is a link to an online database that provides charts, graphs, and figures regarding how much it would cost to enforce a pit bull ban in your city.

New Orleans comes in at 750,000 dollars a year, but I think that estimate is low. Other cities: NYC would cost nearly 13 million annually; even Abbeville, AL comes in at over $4,000 for less than 3000 residents. Wouldn't this money be more useful if it was spent enforcing existing laws regarding responsible pet ownership? And maybe even some education? Or...how about free spay/neuter service?

You can check out the online calculator here.

A new yard, a new set of trees...a new security system

2009-05-29T13:38:00.003-05:00

I keep thinking that I'll get back to posting more frequently but things have been hectic since the semester ended almost two weeks ago. First I went home to sort through some things with my family and then I returned to a bunch of projects that I'm trying to get done in the few weeks I have before summer school begins.

So first I had Green Bean come and spray closed cell foam beneath the house to close off all the air that was sinking out of the house in summer and blowing up through the floor in winter. The difference is remarkable, and once I made the commitment to get it done, the process was only about two hours, with little to no fumes.

Then came the BIG project: moving our eight-foot high side fence (about 110 feet long), which was built less than two years ago, to our new property line, about thirty-five feet away. This involved dismantling the whole thing and carefully reconstructing it piece by piece. Good thing someone else was doing the work. But there were unexpected complications: the cement that had been put down to keep the poles in place required quit a bit of jackhammering, and the enormous trees along the rear property line made it impossible to build the fence there. So we brought the fence in about eight-feet, creating a little storage area between it and the existing chain-link fence that is now part of the trees.

Meanwhile, I was frantically trying to plant some trees while I could still, technically, claim to have come in under the May deadline for getting things in the ground. So, I added three new crepe myrtles, a mulberry tree, an avocado, and few others, digging every morning before eight, when it became too hot to continue.

Sula, of course, wanted no part of any of this, and has been defiantly camped out in my bedroom through all of this work. Last night and again this morning, she finally stepped outside and ran and ran and ran around the huge new yard, stopping only to roll on her back and then start over again. See, I told her, it is a good thing.

And now we'll be installing a seven camera surveillance system before taking a renovation break for the rest of the summer.

Brando and Zephyr get their DNA analyzed

2009-05-23T06:59:00.002-05:00

We've been selling DNA tests as a fundraiser for The Sula Foundation, so of course I had to break down and test my Brando. For years I have called him a pit bull/Dane mix, but I really have no idea, and I am pretty sure that an actual pit bull/Dane would be somewhat different than my mysterious Brando. The test (www.canineheritage.com) uses a swab inside the mouth and tests 100 breeds. Brando was very patient has I swabbed his cheek, but he had that look on his face that says, "I have no idea why you are doing this, but it must be important."

The test results can be tricky. If the dog is truly a mutt, it is possible that there is no primary or even secondary breed. Also, they don't release any results for "American Pit Bull Terrier" because they say the term is applied to too many different types of dog and also because they don't want the test used against a dog in court. (They do test for Bulldog, Bull Terrier, Staffordshire Bull Terrier and some other related dogs.) I also uploaded a photo of Brando for them to print on his certificate. I had seem some skepticism online regarding the submission of photos. Did they look at the photos and guess the breed, rather than actually testing the DNA? So I swabbed Zephyr as well, and submitted the sample without a photo. Between the two of them, Zephyr was the dog with a more obvious ancestry, so she made a great blind test.

The results:

Brando has not had a pure breed in his family for at least three generations, but there were traces of Mastiff, Bullmastiff and English Coonhound.

Zephyr has no primary breed, but has Rottweiler as a secondary breed, with some German Shepherd and German Shorthaired Pointer.

We still have a few DNA kits available at $99.95--a discount from the retail price of $120. If you are interested, email sulafoundation@gmail.com

Yes, I'm on Twitter

2009-05-14T07:11:00.003-05:00

I'm still trying to figure out what to blog, what to Facebook and what to Twitter. But if you Twitter (or even if you don't) you can follow me there.

More Dog Day on Julia

2009-05-02T08:35:00.001-05:00

Here's video from our Dog Day on Julia Street. The gallery will be open tonight from 6-8pm, and the show runs through May 23rd. Robert Tannen will be donating 50% of sales of his ball portraits to The Sula Foundation!

And yes, I do look awful. But doesn't Gus look great?

Dog Day on Julia Street: Friday May 1st

2009-04-27T08:09:00.001-05:00

Friday May 1st
527 Julia Street
noon-bark

Celebrate the life of Rocky with your four-legged friends. Attend the first-ever dog-friendly art show on Julia Street. See Robert Tannen’s “A Show of Balls,” sure to be a hit with Fido. Also visit “Rocky’s Ballroom.” Low-hanging art, water, and lots of balls. Treats for dogs and their humans.

Rocky was a 65 pound pit/lab mix. Twenty percent of the proceeds from art sales during the show will benefit the Sula Foundation for local rescue pits.

Still here

2009-04-19T10:03:00.002-05:00

Last weekend I went home to go through things--to begin to go through things--with my brother and sister at my parents house. I was gone for three days. It felt like months, and I'm still feeling discombobulated and off-kilter.

Meanwhile, Buddy is still here, and as you can see, he has managed to sneak his way into the bed. Brando cleans his ears morning and night, and I have to say, its pretty good having him around. But my back is killing me.

Advanced Personal Essay Writing with Ken Foster at Mediabistro.com

2009-04-14T17:04:00.002-05:00

Beginning April 28th, an eight week online course "for experienced essayists who want to dig deeper."

Readers and editors seem to love the personal essay -- so why is writing them sometimes such a challenge? How can we expand on the personal aspects to achieve something with a more universal meaning? And what can we do when the well seems to have run dry?

This intensive 8-week online class is for experienced students who are ready to dig deeper and demand more from themselves and each other. We'll be looking at examples of published work in magazines and anthologies and discussing how they succeed. Students will generate and workshop short drafts of new ideas -- and work on revising longer work that has you stuck.

In this class, you will learn:

How to identify what makes your experience compelling for others
How to explore the hidden narratives that can and should shape your work
How to use "ordinary" details and events to create extraordinary insights
How to reshape your tale using the techniques of fiction while retaining the integrity of the truth
How to approach editors and submit your work
By the end of the course, you will have:
Five short pieces with notes on how to expand them into essays and at least one complete and salable personal essay

Students who have taken this class have been published in:
The New York Times, Modern Love, Christian Science Monitor, The Washington Post, Newsweek, Self, Runner's World, the San Francisco Chronicle, and more

Sign up at http://www.mediabistro.com/courses/cache/crs4511.asp?c=mbsoccrs

Marley and Me film features "The Kind I'm Likely to Get"

2009-04-06T09:50:00.002-05:00

About a year ago, I signed a release for the use of my book of stories, The Kind I'm Likely to Get, in the film of Marley and Me. This amused me, since there are no dogs in the book that I can remember, but my own dog books weren't the proper time period for the film, so they picked the stories. If nothing else, this guaranteed that I would buy a ticket to the film, just to see if my book made it onto the screen. So, last December, I drove out to the suburbs for a matinee, and once the movie started I remembered that, even if the movie was no good at all, it was bound to make me sob like a baby. I began to panic.

The film, it turned out, wasn't bad at all. And I sobbed at least three times, beginning with a montage of how the dog and the character's lives blur together over the course of a year. Of course, it isn't perfect either, and I found myself missing the dog an awful lot during some of the scenes in the later part of the film. And that's when "The Kind I'm Likely to Get" popped up. Jennifer Aniston suffers from post-partum depression and orders Owen Wilson to take the dog to live somewhere else. Later, when he comes home from dropping the dog with a friend, he finds Aniston asleep on the couch with my book in her lap. She wakes up, suddenly recovered from her condition, and announces that the dog can come home.

So there you have it--my stories are a cure-all.

The movie is available on DVD now.

For anyone who doubts that the media misreports dog bites

2009-04-04T07:56:00.002-05:00

From NBCBayArea.com:

HEADLINE: WOMAN DIES AFTER ROTTWEILER BITE
Subhead: Small wound wouldn't stop bleeding

So, the woman was bitten by a Rottweiler and then bled to death? Well, no, neither of those things is true:

An 80-year-old Alameda woman died at a hospital this week several days after she was bitten in the hand by a dog while feeding it a dog biscuit, an Alameda police sergeant said. McNiff said it appears a neighborhood dog nipped Newell's index finger as she fed it a biscuit in the area of the Harbor Bay Landing Shopping Center.
Dolly Newell, who had lived in the city for more than 40 years, was walking her 3-year-old Rottweiler between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. Saturday when the incident occurred, police Sgt. Kevin McNiff said. Newell, who lives on Garden Road on Bay Farm Island, knows many other dogs in the neighborhood and often greets them. McNiff said it appears a neighborhood dog nipped Newell's index finger as she fed it a biscuit in the area of the Harbor Bay Landing Shopping Center. The wound would not stop bleeding and Newell got a ride from a neighbor to a local hospital, McNiff said. However, she initially told both her neighbor and hospital staff she injured her finger while gardening.
Newell was released from the hospital after receiving a stitch and later confided in her neighbor, saying she had been bitten by a dog, McNiff said. She told the neighbor that the dog had all its shots but would not describe the animal.
"She told her friend she didn't want the dog to get in trouble," McNiff said. On Monday, friends of Newell found her in serious condition on the bathroom floor of her home. She was taken to the hospital where she died Tuesday of an aggressive bacterial infection, McNiff said.
He said police were notified of the incident Tuesday and have since interviewed family and friends of Newell.
Anyone who may have witnessed the Saturday incident is asked to call Sgt. Don Owyang at 510-337-8319. McNiff said police are seeking the dog and its owner to confirm certain details of the case and that the owner is not in trouble.

I am... The Dogfather!!

2009-04-03T09:36:00.001-05:00

The current issue of Gambit features a story on the Sula Foundation. This photo, by reporter Noah Bonaparte Pais, shows me cradling little (but full grown) Roosevelt. Thank you Gambit!

William Hepler Foster, 1932-2009

2009-03-20T07:05:00.002-05:00

My father passed away last night, one day short of the anniversary of my mother's death last year and two days short of what would have been their fiftieth anniversary. He had been diagnosed with emphysema in 2007, shortly before my mother's own diagnosis of aplastic anemia, which took her life.

The past year was difficult for him, and for all of us. He learned to use a checkbook--something my mother always took care of--and he acquired a cat, who he named Rex. But a few weeks ago he began to have trouble breathing, and entered extended care with plans to move back home once homecare had been arranged. I was due to fly up to Pennsylvania next week, and spoke to him by phone yesterday afternoon. He was having a lot of difficulty with his voice, and apologized for not being able to speak for long. I told him not to worry--that we would see each other next week and that would make it easier, even if his voice wasn't strong. And I sensed that this could be our last conversation.

More later...

Five years ago...

2009-03-17T13:01:00.001-05:00

myadorablesula, originally uploaded by kfoz.

I found Sula March 17th, 2004. And it has been pure drama ever since. But look at that face.

How many times have you been asked: “What kind of dog is that?”

2009-03-14T12:32:00.001-05:00

Now you can answer.

With the Canine Heritage DNA test, your mixed breed is scientifically identified against over 100 breeds. The test retails for $120.00, but through a special arrangement, The Sula Foundation is offering the test for $99.95, with 25% of the proceeds going to support the Sula Foundation’s medical fund for treating stray pit bulls and supporting free spay/neuter services and low-cost vaccination clinics. The test kits are available beginning March 20th at Canine Culture and Canine Connection, and also at these upcoming “Swab-a-thon” events:

Saturday March 21st, Bywater “Barkmarket” 9am-4pm

Sunday March 29th, Dog Day Afternoon, City Park

Saturday April 4th, Freret Market

For more information, contact sulafoundation@gmail.com or go to www.sulafoundation.org

Adopt Guinness at the Louisiana SPCA

2009-03-10T14:04:00.003-05:00

Brindle dogs don't have it easy. In fact, they are the second most difficult type of dog to place. (The first being any black dog.) But Guinness is a wonderful striped boy who made it to adoption row at the Louisiana SPCA. Now, after ten days, he may be running out of time. So go pay him some attention!

UPDATE: Guinness is now a Sula foster dog.

Love is in the air...

2009-03-07T19:29:00.004-06:00

I've been trying to get a shot of Brando and Buddy kissing, but whenever I get my camera ready, the action deteriorates to something like this.

New Orleans writing workshop starts March 9th

2009-02-28T18:58:00.002-06:00

Narrative Truth
A workshop with Ken Foster
Mondays, 6pm-8pm; March 9-April 27
8 sessions; $200

Whether working in fiction or nonfiction, the challenge all writers face is in creating narratives that ring true to the reader. This workshop will allow students to dip into both genres--short story and creative non-fiction--and measure their work against the same literary standards: character, conflict, detail and use of language. Each student will be able to workshop at least two full-length stories or essays during the course. In addition, students will be given short, focused, weekly assignments designed to break them out of their comfort zone.

Ken Foster is the author of a memoir, The Dogs Who Found Me; a collection of stories, The Kind I'm Likely to Get; and a collection of essays, Dogs I Have Met. His work has appeared in numerous publications including Salon, Fence, Bomb, McSweeney's, The Believer, The New York Times, Bark, The San Francisco Chronicle and elsewhere. He is the recipient of fellowships from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Yaddo, the New York Foundation of the Arts, and The Sewanee Writers Conference. Ken received an MFA in Writing from Columbia University and has taught at The New School, Florida State University, Tulane University and UNO.

To apply to the class, send an email and writing sample, with a list previous workshop experience, to kenfosterworkshop@gmail.com.

My Mardi Gras Houseguest

2009-02-22T16:37:00.002-06:00

This is Buddy, and as you can see, he's sort of a pit bull, but really not. Still, he looks enough like what some people think a pit bull is that his chances are pretty much shot if he ever ends up in a shelter (or a North Carolina court room, but that's another story.) He was found just after the last evacuation in September, and for six months he was being fostered with another rambunctious dog and a very bossy cat. But time ran out at that home, so last Tuesday he moved in with me and my three completely intolerant dogs. But, it turns out Buddy is so agreeable that even my grumpy dogs don't mind having him around. The biggest problem has been my inability to shake the idea that I'm walking around the neighborhood with a Dr. Suess drawing on a leash.

In an effort to find him a home, I took him all over yesterday: to the Bywater Art Market, to a couple of cafes, etc. It was surprising to see how new this experience was to him. He's never been around that many people at once, but when he realized that everyone wanted to pet him and sneak him french fries, he decided it was quite good. This morning I even took him by the dog park, where he played for a long time with several different dogs before coming home good and tired.

For more information on adopting Buddy, email sulafoundation@gmail.com.

More on the North Carolina mess

2009-02-18T19:28:00.002-06:00

Apparently the HSUS sent out a press release saying that they were disappointed with the media hungry rescuers who had tried to suggest the North Carolina pit bulls be properly assessed before any decisions were made. I always love it when someone sends out a press release to alert the media that those other people are just trying to get attention.

Meanwhile, here's the note we sent out today from The Sula Foundation:

Dear Friends,

We had a great time at our Barkus booth on Sunday, and it was wonderful to meet so many of you as you stopped by to say hello, pick up a bumper sticker, and sign up to join us at future events.

We also had a successful week of adoptions, with Rosanne, Lucinda and Foxy Brown all finding their permanent homes. Particular thanks go out to Pit Stop Rescue and Pits Pounding the Pavement in Tampa for helping us with a home check in Lakeland, FL.

Unfortunately, most pit bulls aren’t that lucky. Yesterday in North Carolina, over 140 pit bulls were euthanized following testimony from representatives of the Humane Society of the United States. The dogs had been taken in a dogfighting/breeding raid in December. The HSUS argued that the dogs should be put down without any evaluation, including over 50 puppies, some born since the raid. They took this same stand in the Michael Vick case, in which all but two dogs were proven to be sound. In fact, many of the dogs are now in homes and working as therapy dogs. I spent a good part of Tuesday morning on the phone and email with our friends at Bad Rap, Best Friends, and Animal Farm Foundation, as well as with a few reporters and eventually HSUS itself.

I asked HSUS what, specifically, their policy is regarding pit bulls. They told me they were drafting a statement as we spoke. (Later in the day, at 5pm, someone else I know called, independent of me, and was told they were still working on it.) But in my conversation with their representative, I was told several contradictory things: they favored euthanasia because law enforcement would be reluctant to conduct raids if the dogs were required to be evaluated; the breeder bragged about his dog’s “gameness” and game dogs can never be trusted (this is, in fact, not true); street-bred dogs are more readily rehabilitated (again, not true); and, most incredibly, they claimed that the Vick dogs were easy to rehab because the breeders sold their worst (i.e., least game) dogs to Vick. I told them I would trust a temperament test before the word of a breeder.

It will be interesting to see what they actually say when they do release a statement.

Of course, we all know that the overpopulation of pit bulls makes euthanasia an unfortunate reality. But in a case like this, evaluating the animals as individuals is vital. If the animals are, in fact, so poorly bred and so abused, wouldn’t a written evaluation be helpful, even if they are beyond help? Yet, the HSUS continues to send the dangerous message that dogs can be judged by their breed, which unfortunately leads people to believe that the people involved are somehow less responsible than the dogs themselves. This doesn’t make anyone safer.

On a much brighter note, the LA-SPCA Dog Day Afternoon is coming up on March 29th. We’ve set up a fundraising page to show how much support the pit bull community can give. You can make a donation, join our fundraising team, or register to participate in the walk by going to http://www.active.com/donate/dogday09/sula

We will be updating our blog with news about the NC case, and hope to soon have a new website in the works.

Thanks,

The Sula Foundation

The Humane Society and pit bulls

2009-02-17T07:49:00.002-06:00

Yesterday a judge in North Carolina ordered 127 pit bulls (nearly half were puppies) euthanized after hearing testimony from two representatives of the Humane Society of the United States. On hearing this, a logical person might assume that the Humane Society was urging them to evaluate the dogs before making any decision. Yet the opposite is true; the Humane Society was once again suggesting that these dogs should be put down without evaluation--that there was no way they could be redeemed. The Humane Society also campaigned for the euthanization for Micheal Vick's dogs without evaluation--while at the same time running a fundraiser on their website suggesting that money would be used for the dogs' care. All but two of Vick's dogs were saved, and most are now celebrities, featured on TV shows, in Sports Illustrated, etc.

Why would they take this stand, which seems at odds with their normally extreme support of animals in even the most unlikely cases? I'm guessing it has to do with their efforts to end animal fighting--legislation would be easier to pass if people believe that the damage done to the animals cannot be reversed. Or, perhaps even more cynically, they haven't figured out a way to make money off of pit bulls, so they aren't interested in promoting them. (They do have huge success raising money on the puppy mill issue, which actually only affects 8% of the dog population, while pit bulls make up perhaps 20%).

I put a call in to their media rep this morning, and asked for a statement on exactly what their position is regarding pit bulls. I haven't heard anything yet, but it'll certainly make an interesting story.

The Louisiana SPCA's Dog Day Afternoon is coming...

2009-02-16T07:19:00.002-06:00

On March 29th, the Louisiana SPCA's Dog Day Afternoon will take place in City Park. This is the first time that City Park has been the location for the event--in the past, it has always been held at Audubon Park.

You can make a contribution to my fundraising efforts my following this link. Or you can join me as part of The Sula Foundation's team. We're hoping to raise at least $1,500 for the SPCA.

James Reiss remembers Ellen Miller

2009-02-09T19:40:00.004-06:00

In 1999, Ellen Miller and I did a West Coast tour; her novel was newly in paperback. My collection of stories was just out. In San Francisco we did a number of readings, and at one event, we hitched a ride with an old friend of mine from New Orleans (Derek McCollough). Derek brought a carload of friends along, and then we ran into my former classmate Crystal Reiss, who had just moved to the Bay Area. Crystal eventually married one of Derek's friends (who is, just to confuse things more, named Ken), and she also told her father about Ellen's work. I just received this email from him:

My daughter Crystal just told me about Ellen’s death. I’m hugely distressed by the news.

Nearly ten years ago I read Like Being Killed. I thought it was one of the best first novels I ever read. I assigned it as required reading in an undergraduate Contemporary American Fiction and Poetry course I was teaching at Miami University in Ohio. I worried about whether my mainly Midwestern students would go for the novel’s New Yorky, Lower East Sidey ambience. I no longer remember how they answered the question to my pop quiz, “Does Like Being Killed have a happy ending? Briefly explain why or why not.” But I sure recall kids from Chicago and Cleveland to Chillicothe and Cincinnati finishing all 352 of its gritty pages and telling me they preferred it over other required fiction by Ron Hansen, Siri Hustvedt, Elizabeth McCracken and George Saunders. In English 310’s popularity contest back in spring 2000 only Paul Auster’s Moon Palace grabbed second place after Like Being Killed.

I liked Ellen’s novel so much that I joined with a colleague and helped bring her to Miami University for a weeklong sprint course she taught, including a reading from Like Being Killed. She was such a hit in Oxford, Ohio that we invited her to conduct a second sprint course—unprecedented for us—and read from her novel in progress. Again, she brought down the house, and we invited her to apply for a position on our faculty; she politely declined our offer. Tempted as she was by the notion of living in our small college town, she couldn’t leave her friends or her apartment in the Big Apple. Thereafter, for a few years every November I continued to nominate her for a Pushcart Award—until we lost touch.

My Bay Area daughter Crystal, who initially turned me on to Ellen, joins me and a large number of Millerites who would like to see her second novel published electronically, unfinished as it is. May the genius of Ellen Miller—and Ilyana Meyerovich—shine forth in what I’m certain will be a brilliant second act.

Jim Reiss
www.jamesreiss.com/

Cry constipation...courtesy of Ellen Miller

2009-02-09T13:52:00.003-06:00

I keep waiting for the moment when I'll feel capable of crafting some insightful, eloquent account of this thing, but in the meantime I just keep tossing up a few paragraphs at a time.

Yesterday morning I left my house at about 4:30 am and headed to the airport for a flight to NYC. Earlier in the week I'd been completely felled by a fever for two days, and last weekend I was bit by a dog (after I stuck my hand in its mouth), and then at the end of the week Sula was having anxiety over the construction next door, so I began to think I couldn't do it. But I woke up at about 3am and knew it was time to go, and that I had to, and that I wanted to.

On the train from JFK, I looked at the map and realized we were passing Canarsie, where Ellen Miller grew up. Then, when I got to Manhattan, I met a few friends for brunch at a place where, as I had predicted, they served miniature servings of food. I had the tiniest little eggs benedict I'd ever seen. Then I walked back from Union Square to my old neighborhood in the East Village, where Ellen had lived just a few blocks away. I stopped in and visited a friend's new pit bull, then headed to the dog park, and at some point realized that it was the first time in years that I had been in New York and the sun was out. It was a beautiful day.

T Cooper and I headed over to the memorial to help out ahead of time. Hannah Tinti had arranged for a beautiful spot in the Lillian Vernon Writers House. There were a lot of people there: Dani Shapiro, whose first workshop as a teacher was where I met Ellen; Ben Schrank, Rebecca Donner, Johnny Temple, and others who were familiar from my old days in the old school literary world of New York. But there were also people who I knew exclusively through Ellen: her old boyfriend Frank, who few up from Key West; her friends who lived across from me on 7th Street; her old friend Stephanie Foster, whose last name I could never recall; etc. T opened the memorial by reading from the first three paragraphs of Like Being Killed; Johnny read a series of terrible puns about how much Ellen like puns; someone else read from a very Ellen email exchange; I read from the plumber section of the novel, and from the end. People laughed and cried and hugged each other. And then I got into a cab, few home, and collapsed in bed with my dogs at 10:30pm. Today I'm still in bed, in a jittery stupor, like when you have an accident, but it doesn't hit you until after you walk away from it.

"Cry constipation" was one of the terms someone mentioned Ellen inventing, for when you want to cry, need to cry, can even feel the pressure of a good cry pressing against the back of your eyes, but nothing comes. That's where I am now.

Writers Remembered: Daniel Handler (Lemony Snicket) pays tribute to Ellen Miller

2009-02-06T11:37:00.000-06:00

A class action against the city of New Orleans?

2009-01-30T10:27:00.002-06:00

I don't know how these things work, or if it is even possible, but I do know that I've heard a lot of talk in the past month or so that perhaps there will be a class action lawsuit filed against the city in response to their inability to effectively police their citizens. Certainly, it makes sense. In the past two years, in spite of increasing crime and unrest, virtually no action has been taken. The police are rarely seen outside of their cars. Records are not kept and not released. Police ignore calls or dispatch never bothers delivering the information. An independent report was commissioned and ignored. And so on...

But, given the level of inertia in city hall, would even filing a class action inspire anything other than a vigorous defense?

Memorial scheduled for Ellen Miller, February 8th

2009-01-28T19:07:00.002-06:00

A memorial for Ellen Miller
Sunday February 8th, 2009
4pm-6pm
Lillian Vernon Creative Writers House
58 West 10th Street
New York, New York

I posted a few weeks ago about the death of my friend Ellen, who had a heart attack on December 17th and died on the 22nd. She and I had met in a writing workshop at the Westside Y in 1994--although actually we met for the first time in a workshop in 1992. In the first workshop, Ellen called me after the first week to ask if I would turn something in in her place the following week. It was a strange, dramatic phone call, and she kept talking to me long after the issue of turning something in was resolved. She never returned to the class, and there really is no reason that either of should have remembered such a brief encounter, but two years later we were sitting around another room at the Y, with another teacher, and Ellen arrived for the first class with a 30 page short story that was passed around the room for discussion the following week. The story was called "Water Sports" and when I saw the title, I looked back down the table to see who had written it. She smiled this wicked little smile that she deployed on a regular basis with friends, and later she said, "You know, we met before." But I remembered.

I went to Columbia. She went to NYU. I would take the train to meet her or we would talk on the phone late at night. She wrote big, long, heady scenes. I wrote short, clipped, minimalist stuff. But often what we were writing about was essentially the same. Later, when my collection came out and her novel was released in paperback, we toured the west coast together. She had cats. I had dogs. When we disagreed, we did it in extremes, but we were still friends. Once, when I visited her apartment, I found books exploded everywhere throughout the living room. In the middle of the night, the shelves had pulled away from the wall and deposited books across every surface. And it stayed like that for a while, so you couldn't ever sit down to talk to her without rearranging books. But that's what her life was about, after all.

Are pit bulls now acceptable in the publishing world

2009-01-28T17:25:00.002-06:00

After The Dogs Who Found Me came out three years ago, I mentioned that I wanted to write a social history of the American Pit Bull. No one was interested. My book, with a pit bull on the cover, went on to sell over 50,000 copies and my publisher wanted another book. I suggested a social history of the American Pit Bull. They weren't interested. I met with another publisher, suggested an approach, almost agreed to compromise, and yet it was made clear that there was little support for the book, and I decided to wait til someone really understood what I wanted to do, and that there was an audience for it. A few months ago I started working on a new proposal on the same subject, and then, suddenly, pit bulls were on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Now comes the news that the Sports Illustrated author has signed a deal to write "The Lost Dogs"--an account of the the Vick dogs and their lives after being rescued.

Is there still room for another pit bull book on the shelf?

I've disappeared into Facebook

2009-01-28T08:07:00.004-06:00

It has happened. After months, even years, of people telling me I should be on Facebook, I broke down and signed up, and I haven't been seen since. It is a great tool for keeping old friends at your fingertips and engaging in passing conversation as if you still live in the same neighborhood. And, they make it very easy to share news stories and videos. So, you can find a page there for me, and a page for fans of my books who might want to receive updates or discuss my work, or for people who want to be involved with The Sula Foundation.

And, now that I've gotten over my first wave of infatuation with Facebook, you'll see me posting more often back here.

Ken Foster Online Writing Course starts next week

2009-01-21T09:02:00.002-06:00

I'll be teaching a workshop in New Orleans beginning next week, but if you aren't in the area, you can still take a class with me via Mediabistro. My advanced personal essay course starts next Tuesday. You can learn more by clicking here.

Workshop in New Orleans beginning Jan. 26!

2009-01-14T08:43:00.000-06:00

Narrative Truth
A workshop with Ken Foster
Mondays, 6pm-8pm; January 26-April 6
10 sessions; $250
Room 220 at the Colton School Studio

Whether working in fiction or nonfiction, the challenge all writers face is in creating narratives that ring true to the reader. This workshop will allow students to dip into both genres--short story and creative non-fiction--and measure their work against the same literary standards: character, conflict, detail and use of language. Each student will be able to workshop at least two full-length stories or essays during the course. In addition, students will be given short, focused, weekly assignments designed to break them out of their comfort zone.

Ken Foster is the author of a memoir, The Dogs Who Found Me; a collection of stories, The Kind I'm Likely to Get; and a collection of essays, Dogs I Have Met. His work has appeared in numerous publications including Salon, Fence, Bomb, McSweeney's, The Believer, The New York Times, Bark, The San Francisco Chronicle and elsewhere. He is the recipient of fellowships from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Yaddo, the New York Foundation of the Arts, and The Sewanee Writers Conference.

To apply to the class, send an email and writing sample, with a list previous workshop experience, to kenfosterworkshop@gmail.com.

Post-strike update

2009-01-10T07:00:00.002-06:00

When we came up with the idea of a "strike against crime" for this year's anniversary of the march to city hall, we really thought an actual strike, with the entire city staying home, would be the only thing that might get the city leaders' attention. Of course, we also knew it would be impossible to pull off. So we began playing with the idea of a strike. People could strike parts of their day. People could wear red wherever they are. Yard signs would mark crime scenes with the message "Crime Happened Here." Activities would be organized all over town to memorialize victims and also to offer examples of the kinds of recreation programs that can keep kids off the street. Etc.

The one thing we were certain of is that we didn't want to bother with city hall. It would be a waste of time. But the news media kept reporting that there would be a rally, so earlier this week, with just a few days to go, we gave in and decided to read the names of the victims in front of city hall following a motorcade to recent crime scenes. And then some of the media coverage reported that few people participated in these activities, as if numbers were essentially the point.

The crowd at city hall was actually significantly larger than it was last year, when we also read names. And it was mostly made up of family of victims, in some cases people who are still waiting for their cases to go forward in any way. Also there: Councilmen Fielkow and Carter, and our new district attorney. Suspiciously absent: Mayor Nagin, the NOPD, Councilmembers Head, Clarkson, Willard-Lewis, Hedge-Morrell and Midura. (Of course, part of our plan in reading the names at city hall last year was actually that we knew Nagin would show his disrespect for the dead once again.)

Predictably, after the bulk of the day's events were done, people began posting online about how disappointing the turnout was. Of course, these same people didn't turn out either. Nor did they offer to plan a better event. But that's how it goes. And it is unfortunate that they can't see the photos we're getting from schools all over the city who asked their students to wear red and had discussions about violence and crime and making the right decisions.

Nor did they see the people who were flagging me down everywhere I went in town, asking for stickers or commenting on the news. Even at my bank, the manager waived to me from her office and the teller said she wished she could wear a strike sticker. So our idea worked after all--because people were thinking about the problem wherever they were during the day, and in many cases, they were joining in the projects that had been planned along the way.

But then, of course, there are people like Curtis Doss, who took the time to write: "All of the names you read of the murdered. You should have also listed the past criminal record of most of them so that we will know how much safer the streets are with them dead. It is not a bad thing when criminals are killed. I am sorry for those who are not in that life but for those who have records, thank you to the shooter. Hope they are next."