Justice for Dunkin' Dog: October 2009

Friday, October 23, 2009

Happy Birthday, Dunkin'

Today would be your 8th birthday, love. How we celebrated for 7 years and had so many parties and cherished times. I remember your face glow with the candle on a cupcake in front of your brown face. I'm yearning for your love again, your innocence and protection. You were so happy with me. You literally smiled at times, so many times. I wish I would have powers to bring you back, I would use them. What's the point in even saying that, Dunkin'. Oh Dunkin', my Dunkin' dog. Some people don't get it, and some others really do. Either way, you are 8 now, somewhere, in my world, I will sing for you today. Happy birthday to you dear Dunkin'. My little man, little lovely life that touched me with love just at the sight of you. My organs want to jump out of my body sometimes in such despair. My stomach, the heart organ, they hurt when I walk around or sit and think about how we were torn apart. The tears that fall heavily onto my lap splatter like stars because they are SO heavy. Why even write when a picture is worth more.

Happy Birthday my little love. I miss you and granny and gramps and Rudy love and miss you too. I can only wish to feel you again, somewhere.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Everything for a reason

I am having a difficult time with time. Everyone says that time heals all wounds. Lies. Time is nothing more than a unit of measurement from event "a" to event "b". Dunkin' would be 8 in a couple of days and the time (whether it is a day, an hour, or one month) that has past since his death has done nothing to sooth me. I do not admit this to several people and the truth is, I cry daily and nightly. I was told recently that my eyes betray my emotions. He said that even when I am happy, my eyes always look sad. Seems to me like the windows to my soul are quite transparent.

I met someone yesterday that I knew I would meet one day. I met the man who designed the Macy's Balloons. I always pictured a Dunkin' the Service Dog Macy's Day balloon and I said to him, "It's great to finally meet you. You will design the Dunkin' balloon someday." We smiled and will jam again next week. Dunkin' would have loved last night. The boy adored live music and a bohemian lifestyle... anything that made his momma happy and calm.

When I cry I do it to myself. I can stop it, if anyone can. It's mighty hard to do. I'm in this alone and alone is new to me. Or, rather... without Dunkin'... that's what is new to me. I am doing my best and that's about all I can do.

Friday, October 9, 2009

October

Dunkin' should have been 8 years old this month on the 23rd. I already am at a loss for how I feel regarding his birthday. I always had a party for him, I have video of them as well. If I had a computer at home and some internet access I would post those memories. Last year it was somber as I was in a nasty relationship. The year before it was so much fun. Either way, he had 7 great birthdays...almost 8.

Last year... last year... I had him. Last year I entered him in the Dog Day Masquarade contest in Times Square. He was Young Dunkenstein. He was so adored, so loved by all who saw him. The Broadway actor who played Young Frankenstein took a particular liking to Dunkin'. And Dunkin', being the Zen puppy that he is, reveled in the love. I loved teaching him that he should enjoy hugs and love from good people. He always looked at me for approval and he always got it. He never needed it from me but he just always looked at me. He was always aware of me... where I was, was I safe, was I sad... nobody has cared for me with such intent other than my own mother.

I miss you Dunkin' dog. I hate saying that I miss you because I should not have to. I love you, Dunkin'.

The Tragedy

On July 4th I was driving alone with my service dog of almost 8 years of age, Dunkin’, in the rear seat towards the middle. I was pulled over on I-17 after being tailed for about one mile. The cop was very close to the rental car I was driving which was a gray Toyota corolla. The vehicle was due back on Sunday and I had planned on returning it, then utilizing the airport shuttle to catch my early flight back to New York’s La Guardia airport with Dunkin as my travel companion.

I pulled over to a safe spot on the shoulder of the road and the cop opened the door and drew out a shot gun. He actually AIMED it at me. I could see his eye aiming and it made no sense. I was shouted at and told to keep my hands where he can see them. This seemed very strange and not at all common for being pulled over. I could hear shot gun cocked and I realized that something was not right. I obeyed his shouts to keep my hands up and I allowed Dunkin to continue sleeping in order to keep us both calm. I was ordered to get out of the car, walk backwards without looking, and was very confused… I was going further and further away from Dunkin’.

I was shouted at to kneel, yelled at and then immediately cuffed and put in the back seat of a cop car. I immediately told him that my service animal is in the back of the car and to please be careful with him as he is license in NY state and is official for my Multiple Sclerosis. The car was overwhelmingly hot and my MS symptoms began as I tried breathing for fresh air. It was getting hotter and now he was drawing a weapon to the vehicle. I was very frightened that they would kill Dunkin’ as they looked like they would do so with the weapons drawn so intently.

The cop opened the rental car door which was nearest the I-17 traffic. Dunkin’ rested soundly on that side of the vehicle. When the door was opened, the cop let him get out of the car onto oncoming traffic. Dunkin’ got out of the vehicle confused. He ran into oncoming traffic, looking for me. His mission is to look for me, wherever I may be. As cars swerved and missed him… I screamed. I prayed and screamed at the top of my lungs for my companion’s safety. The cop S.D Soto (who was the one who aimed at me through his shotgun, also cuffed me) walked to the front of the car passenger area. He pulled out Dunkin’s fluorescent orange service vest and read the insert in his pocket which states that he is a service animal and he is protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. S.D Soto Read the facts, read my rental agreement (which was located on the passenger seat area) and continued to ignore my pleas for help and air conditioning.

At this point a red headed cop was on the scene too, along with a thicker sized blonde-red headed cop. I will never forget their faces. One wore shades, the other had glasses and piercing blue eyes. They completely ignored my existence and did not check on me. Someone chased Dunkin’ and I told them that he would ONLY come to me. I begged and pleaded to allow them to let me call for him. S.D Soto told me to shut up and I was annoying him. He said that he would gag me next, if I said another word and did not cooperate.

I noticed my wrists were really in a lot of pain and my body temperature was rising in the back of the car. Dunkin was nowhere to be seen, he ran off into the area where desert grows. At this point, I hoped coyotes would not get him. I was screaming for them to listen to my pleas and my proof that it was a rental and I do indeed have MS and need my service animal for my well-being. Again, I was shouted at while they walked around calmly with no care for Dunkin or my safety. My safety was compromised the moment they ignored me and Dunkin’. They never read me any rights, and continued to walk around, ignoring how hot I was in that car. It felt like a fish out of water and I was gasping for air.

Dunkin’ came back through the desert area to about 10 yards north of the vehicle which obtained me. I screamed again, and begged them to keep him safe. They again chased him, frightened him, and he ran northbound. I never saw my Dunkin’ again.

At this point the sergeant… Robert Hardt, was called to the scene. I was let out of the vehicle, still cuffed very tightly. I am 5 feet tall and weigh 110 lb’s. I whistled in vain to call Dunkin’.. I was not allowed to walk towards the area he has run towards. I was not allowed to move. I was on the gravel on the side of the road waiting for the cops to do something. I begged the sergeant to lead me, with the cuffs, or however he seemed fit, in order for me to be able to get to Dunkin’ to whistle for him. He told me not to worry and “the dog will come back.”

A cop car came back with Dunkin’s destroyed body in it. I asked an officer… is there anything left… the red headed one with the glasses and blue eyes shook his nod, indicating that there was nothing left to see. At that point, I began to mourn. I screamed and I screamed in shock. My hands were still cuffed. I was thirsty, the srgt gave me water from a water bottle he had in his car. Around that point, I was uncuffed. I called my friends and family in NY and AZ and no one answered for what seemed an eternity. I finally reached a friend in NYC and I screamed in agony at the trauma I had just undergone.

The srgt called ambulance to see about my MS. They said to me, “you cannot scream and cry in my ambulance.” I refused treatment since I could not help my emotions of having lost my dearest best friend in this earth. They wanted to sedate me and start and IV on me. I refused this as I did not think I would wake up if I allowed them to stick a needle in me. Already they had violated me.

A sheriff’s chaplain was then called to the scene. My phone died, and I was able to speak to my brother, who was in Hawaii vacationing, through the srgt’s cell phone. My brother was extremely concerned about my MS as he understands the close bond that Dunkin and I have shared for almost 8 years. I was in no condition to drive, I do not know who drove the rental back to the rental location. My belongings were put in a bag, I was put in a car with the chaplain and I continued to document my bruising by photographing my wrists with the time on the dash board.

I grieved the entire way to the hospital asking the chaplain for words of consolation and he was speechless. The bruising on my legs from kneeling on the tar/gravel started to emerge when I got back to NYC. I have attached those pictures in a previous email. I was never cited for anything, I was never read any rights, I was not arrested. I ended up in the hospital and was given a sedative. I had x-rays taken of my wrists as the pain was excruciating to the slightest touch.

My friend Andrea Barker took Dunkin’s remains to the animal crematory where Dunkin’ was cremated. His remains arrive in New York in a few days.

I have already felt the symptoms of MS which has been in full remission for 4 years. My left hand buzzes and tingles, my capacity to concentrate has diminished and my job is in jeopardy. I am a Master’s degree student at NYU and begin a new class tomorrow. I have received 2 A’s and 3 B’s in the coursework I have achieved and I hold a position of Learning Specialist at the College of Dentistry. I am my sole provider and feel the stresses of this trauma impeding my rest, my work, my concentration, my spirit (which feels broken). I experience nightmares nightly and sever bouts of mourning. My life is not the same.

Justice for Dunkin' Dog