A Night To Remember

I’ve not been keeping up with the blog and people want to know how Atticus is doing…and how I’m doing. The same goes with emails. In less than a week, more than 400 emails came in and I’m behind in answering them. If you’ve written and I haven’t emailed you yet, I apologize. It’s literally been impossible to keep up. I will do my best in catching up.

Today, Dr. Christine O’Connell of the North Country Animal Hospital took out Atticus’ stitches and all looks well. She smiled when she told me she received fan mail for taking care of Atticus. If you sent her a card, thank you. She’s a good vet and will be our local vet for as long as we live up here. This is one of the good things that came from the attack on Atticus. The other is the outpouring of love and kindness. It’s remarkable. No wonder my head is still spinning.

I’ve stepped off the emotional roller coaster but you know how it is, it takes a while to get your feet under you after a crazy ride.

First the attack, the hole in Atticus’ neck, the long weekend worrying about him. Then we returned to Newburyport two days earlier than I had planned so that he could see familiar and friendly faces. It worked well. By Tuesday afternoon Atti had a bounce in his step again. He was visiting with friends, playing with dogs in Moseley Pines.

Then came Thursday night; and what a night it was!

Atticus walked the red carpet like he’d never been injured. He stepped into the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library like he’d been there a thousand times before. This little dog who was banned from the Newburyport Post Office and City Hall, because I wrote a paper questioning questionable city officials, was not only welcomed into the JFK Library but honored. The world is a funny place.

The good people of MSPCA Angell couldn’t have been kinder to us, and especially him. I think after seeing the photos on the blog they expected a different Atticus.

Thoreau wrote, “It’s a fine art to saunter.” Watching Atticus step into that august building was watching fine art. He literally sauntered. People greeted him by name, told him he looked good, wished him a good evening and he sauntered like he truly belonged there.

Eventually we made our way down to the “VIP room” where the heroes of the night were gathering, along with some of the sponsors of the event and some of the big wigs of MSPCA Angell. Again, Atticus sauntered in like he owned the place: not with an air of arrogance, but with comfort and ease. He walked in, his little bum swinging in a carefree manner, surveyed some of the smaller dogs in their jeweled collars and sparking leashes and stopped right in front of Emmylou Harris, the big star of the night. What can I say, the little guy has panache. How could she not notice him? I picked him up and introductions were made and we chatted for a while, Atticus sitting up in the crook of my arm, Emmylou occasionally rubbing his belly or his chest, the photographer taking photos and more photos.

Then the ‘heroes’ gathered against the wall and more photos were taken. I held Atti. Another person in the line-up held a dog. Someone suggested Emmylou needed a dog so I put Atticus down in front of her and he sat and looked at the camera.

From this “exclusive room” Atticus and I made a break for it, seeking out the manicured lawn against the sea with the view over to Boston. Outside we talked with the caterers and the security people and heard their stories and they smiled at the little dog who greeted each and every one of them as if they were stars like Emmylou Harris.

When we returned inside, a couple of folks were in panic mode looking for us. It was time to mingle with the rest of the attendees in the main lobby. There were many dogs at the cocktail reception, pretty dogs, some shaped as perfectly as if they were backyard topiaries, all well-behaved, all leashed. Atticus wove through them: no leash, no collar, feeling free, sauntering. Occasionally he’d get lost between or behind legs and then find me again.

Say what you want about the money in the place, and there was plenty of it, but people were as nice as could be. Then again I was with this little carefree dog, the one who made himself at home like he was on top of a mountain or in one of his favorite Newburyport restaurants.

The dining room was beautifully decorated. Beautiful room, beautiful people. With the numerous good ladies of Angell sprinkled through the crowd, and one of them (Kathleen Santry) sitting at our table, I couldn’t help but feel at home, neither could Atticus, who was befriended by the caterers, some of which he’d met outside. (They would later welcome him into the kitchen.) I grabbed an extra chair and pulled it up to the table for him. Many of the dogs who were in the cocktail reception in the lobby were now put into another room during the dinner.

Speeches started, food came, we people watched. Atti and I shared some chicken and then were visited by Dr. Maureen Carroll, the first doctor we’d seen at Angell. A warm hug, great seeing her, a long chat, she took us away and introduced us to a couple of other people. Others ate; we wove through the tables, Atticus following along. Eventually we made it to Dr. Carroll’s table where her vet tech, Ann Novitsky, was seated. We’ve only met Maureen and Ann twice before Thursday night but it was like visiting old friends. My comfort level grew, not to sauntering level, but much better than it had been.

Then we escaped outside again, more fresh air, more chatting with the working folk. Warm conversation offering a cool escape from the hot dining room and the 350 people in attendance. Once back inside, we were whisked into the dining room again. The presentations of the four hero awards were about to begin.

Heather Unruh, News Center Five co-anchor, introduced the first hero, a teen with remarkable poise and maturity. She had done incredible work gathering signatures for the ballot question about Greyhound racing. Her speech was amazing, she read with a calm clarity Sarah Palin could have used on more than one occasion.

I was told we were up next. Great…how does one follow such an incredible kid?

I’m a writer but I decided not to read a speech. I figured I’d just wing it. The introduction, written by the talented Diane Wald, read by Heather Unruh, brought tears to my eyes. I had to go back to my table for my napkin to wipe my eyes. While the introduction was read, photos from some hikes flashed on the large movie screen behind Heather and people loved them. At one point the audience gave such a joyous gush of oohs and ahhs at the photo of Atti on North Kinsman with Franconia Ridge in winter white behind him, Heather stopped reading the introduction, turned around, looked up and said, “I’ve been stumped by a dog.”

Moving towards the stage we came face-to-face with open backed stairs, one of Atticus’ weaknesses. I had planned to let him walk up on stage on his own but instead I picked him up and carried him as I do when we stand on top of a mountain. Handshakes, greetings, then I turned towards the audience and I’m blinded by the bright lights. There are people out there, I just can’t see them. I know that the movie screen above and behind us is showing a larger version of the two of us and I’m wondering if the audience can see the wetness in the corners of my eyes. Diane’s introduction, the weight of the past week, it came leaking out of the corners. I place Atticus on the podium and he looked out into the audience. My legs shake, so does my voice.

What to say?

I’m not really sure where I started but after thirty seconds or so it was easy. There were people to thank, jokes to make, talk of Atticus and what he’s been through, praise for Angell and the doctors and the vet techs and receptionists and fundraising people. I’m still not quite sure of what I said but I tried to keep it brief.

At one point, in telling the story of my friend Atticus and his blindness, he laid his head on my heart and the audience melted. It’s one of the few things I picked up from them. I heard them laugh a few times, louder than I expected, then heard the overall sigh when he laid his head on my chest. Later, a woman from the audience said, “When Atticus did that, every one wanted an Atticus to hold or a Tom to hold them.”

When I finished I was glad not to have made a fool of myself, glad to have gotten across some cogent thoughts. Once back at the table there were congratulations. People from the audience – strangers – waved and gave a ‘thumbs up’ sign.

The next two presentations went to the Boston Police dogs and Emmylou Harris. Then it ended.

A week ago I held Atticus with a hole in his throat and wondered if he would live, then survival mode took over. On Thursday night we couldn’t make it through the crowd. People kept coming up to us saying hello, saying thank you, saying so many wonderful things. One woman told me she laughed so hard she nearly peed. Others told me they cried. When we made it to the hallway, Atticus met his public and posed for photos. Each time someone would walk by with a centerpiece of flowers, Atticus would stop them and sniff it.

This little dog does have a way of getting his point across. On this night of a lifetime, it was time to stop and smell the roses.

During my speech on the stage at the JFK Presidential Library I forgot to mention three beings who would have loved the night.
1. Jack Ryan, my father: He who loved the Kennedys and Boston politics and anyone on Channel Five News would have loved the evening, if only for the setting. When my brother David gave Dad’s eulogy he said that Dad always wished for but never received a standing ovation. At the end of the eulogy we all stood up and clapped for him. Thursday night, I would have gladly given him the standing ovation I received. I hope he was watching from wherever he is.
2. Ruth Freeman, Atticus’ breeder: What a proud night for Ruthie. Atticus is with me because Ruth gave him up. She was going to keep him for herself, then heard my story of losing Max and decided that Atticus and I belonged together. Instead of charging me the $2,400 she could have, she only charged me $450. I didn’t know how much he was going to cost me and didn’t know his price was $2,400. But because of Ruth and her vision, so much has happened in my life. Imagine being Ruth and giving up the only dog you were going to keep and now having him be honored that way. She has much to be proud of!
3. Maxwell Garrison Gillis: If it weren’t for Max, there wouldn’t have been an Atticus. In my chapter summaries in my book proposal, the final one touches on Max and the job he passed onto Atticus:

Four decades into my life I made a decision that changed everything. I adopted an unwanted dog and gave him a home. He, in turn, gave me a home. In his brief time with me, Max opened my heart and the door for Atticus. I owe much to one dog who died, and even more to another who lived. Max sent me on my way, but it was Atticus who led me home again, who taught me even more about love; the kindness of my fellow man; about daring to dream; and about finding a way to love my embattled father – who, while he never understood this, will always live, as long as his son carries his dreams for him.

In telling the story of my friend Atticus M. Finch and the winter we climbed 81 mountains, the days that followed and the winter that followed that, I think of the line from Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince: “Perhaps love is the act of my leading you back to yourself.” For that’s exactly what this little dog did. He led, I followed, and in the end I found myself.

My father would not have admitted to being proud of me, or of Atticus for that matter – but he would have been. But in conversations with Ruth, she was bursting with pride and so happy for the friends she brought together when she paired the two of us. As for Max, he was there on Thursday night. I sprinkled some of his ashes on JFK’s old boat, then carried a little vial containing more ashes on stage with me.

And of course, I cannot forget my dear Atticus. What a tribute. He is my hero. Angell’s Diane Wald got it right in her introduction when she quoted me, “…this little dog that I hike with is the story.” (Diane’s introduction follows below):

Our Human Hero Award is given every year for exceptional devotion, compassion, and bravery on behalf of people and animals.

As we all know, there's more to every story than what lies along the surface. Tom Ryan's unique method of raising thousands of dollars for Angell Animal Medical Center-by attempting to climb, along with his Miniature Schnauzer, Atticus M. Finch, each of New Hampshire's forty-eight 4,000-foot mountain peaks twice, in one winter, in honor of sponsors' beloved animal friends-is the story on the surface. And that alone, of course, is a remarkable accomplishment. It's a story born of Tom's passion and imagination and enacted with energy, determination, and an abiding humility.

But the story behind that story is, for us tonight, equally as stunning-a story of compassion, empathy, and love shared between a human and a dog. Illuminating, we think, is the fact that Tom Ryan named his dog after the character in Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird who said, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-until you climb into his skin and walk around in
it."

Tom Ryan, as you will see if you visit his blog (the web address is in your program), seems to have climbed right into Atticus' skin from the first moment they met, and has made his life Atticus-centric. His devotion has seen Atticus through some hope-testing medical crises, one of which brought Atticus to Angell Boston, where he and Tom have made many friends. In return, Atticus has offered Tom-and the rest of us, through Tom's writing-many important life lessons gleaned from the little dog's meditative approach to the mountains.

Tom writes "...this little dog that I hike with is the story. It's not the man. If it weren't for him I don't think I could do this. He gives me strength, he gives me courage. Funny to think that a dog only the tenth of the size of the man he lives with....can provide that kind of strength." Tom calls Atticus "the little dog who has a spirit much larger than the body that holds it."

We're so fortunate that these two intrepid travelers and inspiring examples of the human-animal bond are here with us tonight......doubly fortunate, because as recently as last Friday Tom and our sweet friend Atticus met with some terrifying luck on one of their climbs. But we'll let Tom tell you all about that.

We thank Tom and Atticus not only for the funds they've raised for Angell, but for the everlasting gift of goodwill for our cause that they've spread far and wide.

Tom - and Atticus - please come up and accept your award.

How lucky we are, this man and dog, to have the experiences we share. How many lifetime moments we’ve already had together in the 6 ½ years we’ve known each other. I cannot imagine a world without Atticus in it, not now, not while the adventures come at us one after another.

Some day, if I live long enough so that I last longer than my family and friends and most of my good senses and I end up in a nursing home where I am all alone, those who take care of me will surely think me mad when I tell them of one little dog, the adventures we shared together, 188 mountains climbed in three winters together, a night on the stage of the JFK Library.

I’m a sentimental fool; it’s in my Irish blood. It’s for this reason that I think it is so cruel that dogs lives are shorter than the people who love them. No wonder when thinking of Atticus and our adventures together, I'm so moved whenever I read that wonderful last line from A.A. Milne’s House at Pooh Corner: “So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.”