Sasha in Sox
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
In Memorium, Sasha Gets to Heaven
First, I apologize for the immediate hiatus after creating this blog. It is for a solemn reason. It is my hope that this blog will be filled with entertaining and often humorous content, but today, in the words of W.H. Auden, "Stop all the clocks...Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood..." My beloved of beloveds, my dog Sasha -- pictured at my side in my "About Me" photo -- is at her final rest. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, to say she was a special dog is to misunderstand life itself. She was as angelic a being, human or otherwise, as any poet ever imagined a celestial soul to grace earth with its presence.
(For the complete Auden poem, as featured in the film, "Four Weddings and a Funeral," go to http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/auden.stop.html).
LUCKY PUPPY
Sasha was rescued on a beach on the island of Sardinia in 1994 by Amanda Cruz. The way she told it, Amanda was in Italy studying photography, and while sitting on the beach on the island, this starving puppy wandered up to her, collapsed in her lap and looked at her as if to say "I can't go on any longer. You can either take me home, or I will just lie here and die." Moved, Amanda took Sasha home, and lived with her in Italy for a year before moving to Los Angeles. I still have a folder-full of hand-written Italian veterarian notes, which are indecipherable to me, except that they tell me how well cared-for Sasha was from the beginning, and the kind of parent I had to be, and the kind of life Sasha had to have. Right here is the point at which most people ask, "But how did she get Sasha into the country? Wasn't there a quarantine?" Again, Amanda's story is fascinating. The Al Italia airplane that was going to bring the pair to the States was on the runway, delayed for one reason or another. After a period of time the duration of which I've since forgotten, Amanda rose from her seat in a panic. Tearfully, she pleaded with the flight crew: "The sedatives I've given my dog will have worn off half-way through our flight, and she's going to wake up and freak out! Please let me bring her up into the cabin and let me hold her the whole way." Amanda says that they stopped the plane, brought Sasha up, and she held her for the whole flight. I am not certain how they got through customs or avoided the quarantine, but here I am writing this; some sort of intrigue took place. I envision Sasha in a scarf over her head and sunglasses, "speaking to no one," and "acting casual."
ROCKET DOG
In her new home in L.A., she played at the Hollywood Reservoir park, the size of two football fields, in the shadow of the "HOLLYWOOD" sign, and overlooking the massive, picturesque canyon where vintage Hollywoodland was born. Here is where Sasha first earned a reputation as the Rocket Dog (a shoe and apparell company owned by the spouce of an acquaintance, and whose "running dog" logo struck me as resembling Sasha in full gallop. At a store that carried the line, I purchased a silver "Rocket Dog" key fob; the only accessory my keychain has had for the past ten years). Sasha was fast, but more impressive may have been her endurance. She would chase tennis balls for hours on end, and, in later years even beat younger and faster dogs to the ball, using what I called her "Fred Belitnikoff" experience over speed dynamic (for those Raider fans old enough to know him) and was the consumate athletic champion. She earned "Best Retriever" honors, and won the "Mommy and Me" obstacle course at the Silver Lake dog park competition in 1998. I framed the "Best Retriever" certificate several years ago, and it hangs on my office wall today, along with more than a half-dozen framed photos of Sasha. Soon, I will add to the collection, a shadow-box with her collar and tags, another photo and one of her favorite toys.
HOLLYWOOD STARLET
Traveling frequently, Amanda often put Sasha up with friends and families for weeks at a stretch. Sasha got to know a lot of people and a lot of people got to know Sasha. Years later, on more than one occasion, I would be walking Sasha down a street, only to be approached by some unknown person, who would ask me, "Is that Sasha?" She would look at the person and think, "Of course it's me. Who else would I be?" She sparkled with every step, and it was about twenty times a day that people would stop to meet her, and comment on how sweet and beautiful she was. I admit to feeling unbound pride in my little companion.
She was making her way in "the industry" as well. Later on, my current girlfriend, Jae, who would be Sasha's mama for the longest time (nearly eight years), would get a call to do background work on a commercial (be one of the people in the shot, but kind of blurry and unrecognizeable) and twice Sasha was included in the call. On set, Sasha got Starlet-caliber attention, and got to eat the food served to the other actors. Just so you know, the food served for breakfast, lunch and dinner on set is pretty damned good, and usually includes more than one kind of meat dish and a variety of healthy and truly delicious salads, side dishes and deserts. She deserved every bite.
ADOPTION DAY
My girlfriend at the time, Melanie was working in a Hollywood restaurant, and had begun speaking with greater frequency about her desire to adopt a dog. If I remember correctly, Amanda was on her way to deliver Sasha to Sasha's new family, when Amanda had second thoughts: "Maybe the kids will lose interest, and Sasha won't get proper attention," she later revealed. So she decided to stop for a coffee in order to give it some thought. It was the restaurant where Melanie was working. Melanie saw Sasha and excitedly said, "You've got to give me the chance to adopt Sasha!" I recieved a call: "Meet us at Prizzi's on Franklin at six o'clock, and look good." After forty-five minutes of "How many hours a week do you work?" and "Would you take her to the park ever day?" and "Will you cook her food?" and "What would you do if..." Amanda finally said, "Would you like to meet Sasha?" While waiting for Amanda to return, Melanie and I nervously congratulated each other on passing stage one of the interview process.
About a half-hour later, Sasha appeared, every bit as beautiful as Melanie had described her. Amanda knew she had made the right choice. Little did I know, this was one of the luckiest days of my life.
DOG BOWL, FASHION PLATE
We returned to Amanda's nearby apartment for an hour-long Orientation to Sasha 101. How to make her food, all about poop bags, leashes, and most important, her ball, and her bandannas.
See, just one of many things that made Sasha special among the elite was her affinity for fashion. A true Italian woman in the Sophia Loren mold, Sasha was quite auspicious, and loved to be fashionable. Years later, a friend from Sasha's dog park gave us the Christmas gift of a bag filled with about a dozen brand-new, different colored bandannas, and then there was the time an inn-keeper in the Southern California mountain resort town of Wrightwood met Sasha, and gave us a collection of holiday-themed bandannas that were now too small for her golden retriever. There was one for the Fourth of July, a couple for Halloween, Christmas, Easter, and others tauting "My Dog Hung the Moon," and other slogans. Sasha was never without appropriate attire. And while I am not one to clothe my dog, there was one chilly December night in Pasadena, when Melanie, Sasha and I were doing a little shopping along Colorado Boulevard, and Sasha just looked, well, chilly. We all went in a store, and bought Sasha a toddler's-sized navy blue UCLA hooded jacket. We rolled up the sleeves a bit and Sasha literally pranced her way down the sidewalk, bursting with pride. "I'm Sasha, and I'm special," she seemed to be saying.
Sasha also enjoyed fine cuisine. Over the years, I learned of her love of calmetta olives -- fresh, not canned (which, in taste tests, she always spat out in favor of the fresh ones). Capers. Garlic. Garbonzo beans. And of course, spaghetti and meatballs. All variety of pasta. Italian, all the way (yeah, I know the Chinese invented spaghetti). What a dog.
(For the complete Auden poem, as featured in the film, "Four Weddings and a Funeral," go to http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/auden.stop.html).
LUCKY PUPPY
Sasha was rescued on a beach on the island of Sardinia in 1994 by Amanda Cruz. The way she told it, Amanda was in Italy studying photography, and while sitting on the beach on the island, this starving puppy wandered up to her, collapsed in her lap and looked at her as if to say "I can't go on any longer. You can either take me home, or I will just lie here and die." Moved, Amanda took Sasha home, and lived with her in Italy for a year before moving to Los Angeles. I still have a folder-full of hand-written Italian veterarian notes, which are indecipherable to me, except that they tell me how well cared-for Sasha was from the beginning, and the kind of parent I had to be, and the kind of life Sasha had to have. Right here is the point at which most people ask, "But how did she get Sasha into the country? Wasn't there a quarantine?" Again, Amanda's story is fascinating. The Al Italia airplane that was going to bring the pair to the States was on the runway, delayed for one reason or another. After a period of time the duration of which I've since forgotten, Amanda rose from her seat in a panic. Tearfully, she pleaded with the flight crew: "The sedatives I've given my dog will have worn off half-way through our flight, and she's going to wake up and freak out! Please let me bring her up into the cabin and let me hold her the whole way." Amanda says that they stopped the plane, brought Sasha up, and she held her for the whole flight. I am not certain how they got through customs or avoided the quarantine, but here I am writing this; some sort of intrigue took place. I envision Sasha in a scarf over her head and sunglasses, "speaking to no one," and "acting casual."
ROCKET DOG
In her new home in L.A., she played at the Hollywood Reservoir park, the size of two football fields, in the shadow of the "HOLLYWOOD" sign, and overlooking the massive, picturesque canyon where vintage Hollywoodland was born. Here is where Sasha first earned a reputation as the Rocket Dog (a shoe and apparell company owned by the spouce of an acquaintance, and whose "running dog" logo struck me as resembling Sasha in full gallop. At a store that carried the line, I purchased a silver "Rocket Dog" key fob; the only accessory my keychain has had for the past ten years). Sasha was fast, but more impressive may have been her endurance. She would chase tennis balls for hours on end, and, in later years even beat younger and faster dogs to the ball, using what I called her "Fred Belitnikoff" experience over speed dynamic (for those Raider fans old enough to know him) and was the consumate athletic champion. She earned "Best Retriever" honors, and won the "Mommy and Me" obstacle course at the Silver Lake dog park competition in 1998. I framed the "Best Retriever" certificate several years ago, and it hangs on my office wall today, along with more than a half-dozen framed photos of Sasha. Soon, I will add to the collection, a shadow-box with her collar and tags, another photo and one of her favorite toys.
HOLLYWOOD STARLET
Traveling frequently, Amanda often put Sasha up with friends and families for weeks at a stretch. Sasha got to know a lot of people and a lot of people got to know Sasha. Years later, on more than one occasion, I would be walking Sasha down a street, only to be approached by some unknown person, who would ask me, "Is that Sasha?" She would look at the person and think, "Of course it's me. Who else would I be?" She sparkled with every step, and it was about twenty times a day that people would stop to meet her, and comment on how sweet and beautiful she was. I admit to feeling unbound pride in my little companion.
She was making her way in "the industry" as well. Later on, my current girlfriend, Jae, who would be Sasha's mama for the longest time (nearly eight years), would get a call to do background work on a commercial (be one of the people in the shot, but kind of blurry and unrecognizeable) and twice Sasha was included in the call. On set, Sasha got Starlet-caliber attention, and got to eat the food served to the other actors. Just so you know, the food served for breakfast, lunch and dinner on set is pretty damned good, and usually includes more than one kind of meat dish and a variety of healthy and truly delicious salads, side dishes and deserts. She deserved every bite.
ADOPTION DAY
My girlfriend at the time, Melanie was working in a Hollywood restaurant, and had begun speaking with greater frequency about her desire to adopt a dog. If I remember correctly, Amanda was on her way to deliver Sasha to Sasha's new family, when Amanda had second thoughts: "Maybe the kids will lose interest, and Sasha won't get proper attention," she later revealed. So she decided to stop for a coffee in order to give it some thought. It was the restaurant where Melanie was working. Melanie saw Sasha and excitedly said, "You've got to give me the chance to adopt Sasha!" I recieved a call: "Meet us at Prizzi's on Franklin at six o'clock, and look good." After forty-five minutes of "How many hours a week do you work?" and "Would you take her to the park ever day?" and "Will you cook her food?" and "What would you do if..." Amanda finally said, "Would you like to meet Sasha?" While waiting for Amanda to return, Melanie and I nervously congratulated each other on passing stage one of the interview process.
About a half-hour later, Sasha appeared, every bit as beautiful as Melanie had described her. Amanda knew she had made the right choice. Little did I know, this was one of the luckiest days of my life.
DOG BOWL, FASHION PLATE
We returned to Amanda's nearby apartment for an hour-long Orientation to Sasha 101. How to make her food, all about poop bags, leashes, and most important, her ball, and her bandannas.
See, just one of many things that made Sasha special among the elite was her affinity for fashion. A true Italian woman in the Sophia Loren mold, Sasha was quite auspicious, and loved to be fashionable. Years later, a friend from Sasha's dog park gave us the Christmas gift of a bag filled with about a dozen brand-new, different colored bandannas, and then there was the time an inn-keeper in the Southern California mountain resort town of Wrightwood met Sasha, and gave us a collection of holiday-themed bandannas that were now too small for her golden retriever. There was one for the Fourth of July, a couple for Halloween, Christmas, Easter, and others tauting "My Dog Hung the Moon," and other slogans. Sasha was never without appropriate attire. And while I am not one to clothe my dog, there was one chilly December night in Pasadena, when Melanie, Sasha and I were doing a little shopping along Colorado Boulevard, and Sasha just looked, well, chilly. We all went in a store, and bought Sasha a toddler's-sized navy blue UCLA hooded jacket. We rolled up the sleeves a bit and Sasha literally pranced her way down the sidewalk, bursting with pride. "I'm Sasha, and I'm special," she seemed to be saying.
Sasha also enjoyed fine cuisine. Over the years, I learned of her love of calmetta olives -- fresh, not canned (which, in taste tests, she always spat out in favor of the fresh ones). Capers. Garlic. Garbonzo beans. And of course, spaghetti and meatballs. All variety of pasta. Italian, all the way (yeah, I know the Chinese invented spaghetti). What a dog.
TWO BALL
Sasha invented a game that I soon learned was (in her mind) called "two ball." It involves two tennis balls (although more can -- and should -- be added to keep the game challenging), one "Chuck It" tennis ball chucking device, one human and one dog, namely Sasha. We would go to a park that had once been an estate off Sierra Bonita in Hollywood. Today, people rent the place out for weddings and other events, but the hillside up behind the place is a dedicated dog park. I would stand about half-way up the hill, and chuck away! Up Sasha would bolt like a rocket, get the ball and come running back toward me. As she would near me, I would turn and chuck a second ball down the hill. She would drop the first one about 15 feet uphill of me, so that it would roll to me as she passed on her way to get the second ball that I had just chucked down the hill. Then, up she would race at full hilt, repeating the routine. And repeating the routine. And repeating the routine. For about 35 to 40 minutes, maybe longer, she would go at this game without anything more than a 20-second water break. "Is she a machine?" people would ask. Most days, I would run out of energy before she did (and at this time, I was a pretty serious fitness nut). Other times, I would just take 10 or 15 tennis balls, and station Sasha fifty feet away from me, and chuck her a long series of pop flys. We came to perfect this game while at our condo complex in Playa del Rey. There is a football-field-sized patch of grass just next to the complex, on the other side of the tennis courts. This spot, we noticed, was where tennis balls came to die. So we dubbed it Ball Heaven, which morphed into Ball-halla. Clever. Sasha would catch one (often in the air) and then drop it in time to catch the next. She came to add a nifty spin-move to her technique; she would catch a ball, drop it, do a 360-degree spin, just for a challenge, I guess, and then catch the next ball. An amazing thing to see. I felt like I was training an Olympic athlete. I was so proud of my girl.
MORE TO COME...
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Good evening. Even if it's not evening, the phrase lends an elegance, an auspiciousness to what follows it, and in the case of what follows, we need all the help we can get.
Welcome to the first installment of The Cox Section, which, if it's name doesn't sound too painful, will hopefully deliver content of interest regarding the life and times of this writer, my family and a variety of related material, meted out in the following departments:
THE COX SECTION
News and Sports Commentary
I MUST BE ON SOMETHING
My Acting Career
MY FAMILY ADVENTURE
Stuff about Me, Jae, our 18-month-old daughter, Kylie, and our dogs, Sasha and Sammy.
ASGARD PRESS
Check out www.asgardpress.com and see if you don't fall in love.
ROBSTUFF
My blog's gift shop. As I learned at Disneyland, what's an attraction worth if it doesn't drop you off right smack in the gift shop. I'll be working to get pay-pal up and running.
That's about it -- for now. The departments will likely evolve, not to mention the look of the thing. Please be patient -- and feel free to shout out suggestions from the audience as to how I can improve and interest you. First, I have to figure out graphics.
Thanks for reading. A lot more to come. Now this...
Welcome to the first installment of The Cox Section, which, if it's name doesn't sound too painful, will hopefully deliver content of interest regarding the life and times of this writer, my family and a variety of related material, meted out in the following departments:
THE COX SECTION
News and Sports Commentary
I MUST BE ON SOMETHING
My Acting Career
MY FAMILY ADVENTURE
Stuff about Me, Jae, our 18-month-old daughter, Kylie, and our dogs, Sasha and Sammy.
ASGARD PRESS
Check out www.asgardpress.com and see if you don't fall in love.
ROBSTUFF
My blog's gift shop. As I learned at Disneyland, what's an attraction worth if it doesn't drop you off right smack in the gift shop. I'll be working to get pay-pal up and running.
That's about it -- for now. The departments will likely evolve, not to mention the look of the thing. Please be patient -- and feel free to shout out suggestions from the audience as to how I can improve and interest you. First, I have to figure out graphics.
Thanks for reading. A lot more to come. Now this...
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