ohmidog!

Plenty of bars have gone to the dogs.

Here’s one that has gone to the cats.

Veer right off Highway 14 before you get to Madrid, New Mexico, and you end up in a little town called Los Cerrillos, according to some of the signs; just Cerrillos, according to others, on which the “Los” has been lost.

In the once-thriving mining town, the paved roads turn to dirt — even Main Street is dirt. But if you come down Main Street and hook a right at the first stop sign, you’re at the front porch of Mary’s Bar, one of a handful of business enterprises in town and one where, on the day I visited at least, there were more cats than clientele.

“They keep me company when we don’t have any customers,” said the bars’s owner, 95-year-old Mary Mora, who sat at a table next to a wood burning fireplace.

Mary runs the bar with help from her daughter, Kathy, who is responsible for bringing in all the cats.

Not too long ago there were six. Now they’re down to five — Sashi, Stringbean and Lucifer among them.

All were unwanted, and some had been abused, Kathy says. One had been wrapped in Christmas lights by children. One was being held up outside a PetSmart by a man who said his pit bull was eating the litter and he had to get rid of him. Another was being forfeited because he scratched a family member.

Kathy, who can’t understand such behavior, took them all in — most are from Albuquerque — got them checkups and shots, and gave them new homes at the bar, which the Moras live in as well. She doesn’t try to find them homes. She just gives them one.

Originally built as a general store in 1918, the bar was known simply as the Cerrillos Bar until a crew filming the 1998 movie “Vampires” used the town as a set for part of the film.

The crew put up the “Mary’s Bar” signs and nobody ever took them down, photographer Christopher Crawford relates on his website, which features a fine collection of Mary’s Bar photos.

The bar was also used for the “Young Guns” movies as well, and Mary, the daughter of Italian immigrant, says she cooked spaghetti and meatballs for Emilio Estevez and Lou Diamond Phillips.

Los Cerrillos was once a thriving gold and turquoise-mining community — lead, zinc and silver as well – and it is said turquoise from here made its way into the Spanish Crown Jewels. At one point, the Spanish  considered making Los Cerrillos the capitol of Nuevo Mexico. During the 1800’s, the town sported 4 hotels and 21 saloons.

Now, it’s a sleepy little community, home to a Catholic mission, some artists, a trading post/junk store that features a petting zoo and a “scenic view” that, to be honest, is not too extremely scenic, and Mary’s Bar, where the proprietor is approaching the century mark, customers are few, clutter rules, and cats are king.

(“Dog’s Country” is the continuing account of one man and one dog, spending six months criss-crossing America.)

Madrid — the one in New Mexico, pronounced MAD-rid — wants you to slow down.

It’s not just to make you less likely to run over a valued tourist; and it’s not just to make you, if you are a tourist, more likely to stop at one of the galleries in the funky artists’ colony and make a purchase.

No, the advice — to many, at least — is aimed at protecting dogs. Because, as the sign says, Madrid loves its dogs.

In addition to the official 25 mph speed limit signs posted throughout town, I spotted a couple of these — hand-painted pleas (it is an artists’ community, after all) reminding motorists to be on the lookout for dogs.

Madrid, which turned into a ghost town when the mines closed in the 1950s, has been enjoying a revival since the early 1970s, when artists began moving here and opening galleries and shops. It’s home to what’s purported to be the longest bar in New Mexico, at the Mine Shaft Tavern, and dozens of galleries featuring paintings, photography, sculpture, crafts, pottery, textiles and more. A haven for motorcyclists, it also served as the setting for the movie “Road Hogs.”

It’s also home to some road dogs — pooches who, though owned and loved, are of the free-range variety. I saw a couple of them walking alone along the road, and generally doing a better job of avoiding traffic than the tourists did.

I’m proud to report that I made it through Madrid — at 25 mph — without running over either.

The 120 beagles rescued from a bankrupt New Jersey laboratory earlier this month are learning life’s simple pleasures — chief among them, the joy of grass.

Having spent their entire lives in cages, the beagles were turned over to rescue groups on the 4th of July weekend. They had been left behind, along with 55 monkeys, when Aniclin Preclinical Services in Warren County, N.J., went out of business in April.

The beagles were taken to Pets Alive, where the video above was shot, and since then, in a joint effort by several rescue organizations — they’ve been taught how to be dogs, as opposed to specimens.

As of Friday, all but 15 had been adopted, and those were expected to be placed soon, Pets Alive reported on its website.

Some of the beagles have taken more quickly to freedom than others, according to this dispatch, on the Best Friends website:

“For the first few days, volunteers would show up at Pets Alive and want to walk the beagles. Ordinarily, this would be welcomed help. But before the Great Escape, the beagles had never been outside, so a common item like a leash is a foreign object from outer space. When everything is new, it’s important not to introduce too much at once because if the dogs become too overwhelmed they can withdraw and shock becomes an issue.

“But these dogs are resilient. Every day, they are increasingly curious and decreasingly timid. So after slow stepping it for a week, today, the walks began.

“With the help of wonderful volunteers, like John, the dogs were each walked more times today then all the days of their previous lives combined. For most of the dogs, it was a bit of a painstaking experience. Take a step. Stop. Look around. Step. Freeze. Move backward. Take a step.

“But one dog, Rex, took to walking like a fish to water. In fact, it wasn’t long before he was racing laps around the play yard. With those beagle ears flapping in the wind …

“But while Rex was at the head of the class, little Millie was sitting in the back of the room hoping nobody would notice her. Millie is a sweet little girl who has captured the heart of all of us involved with the rescue. She has struggled with all the changes, at times being outgoing and jovial and then quickly changing to withdrawn and timid.

“Today, when a young couple came in to find a female beagle to adopt, Millie didn’t give them much to work with. She was curled up tight in her kennel, with her back to all potential adopters and her face tucked under her legs. Motionless, she stayed like a ball. Trying to shut everyone out. But something about this family told me Millie was the perfect dog for them…

“It took a good 20 minutes before Millie and the couple were warming up to each other. An hour later? Millie was strutting, on a leash, down the driveway with her tail wagging, heading home with her new family.”

(Photo: Rex running, by Becky Tegze / Courtesy of Best Friends)

Short-snouted dogs appear to run a far higher risk of death when it comes to air travel, according to federal government statistics released last week.

Bulldogs, pugs, and other short-of-snout breeds accounted for about half of the purebred dog deaths on airplanes in the past five years, the data shows.

Overall, 122 dog deaths — 108 of them purebreds — were reported between May 2005, when U.S. airlines were required to start disclosing them, and May 2010, the Transportation Department says.

All the dogs died while being shipped as cargo, as opposed to flying in the cabin.

English bulldogs accounted for the highest number, with 25 deaths. Second highest were pugs, 11 of which died. Seven golden retrievers, six French bulldogs and four American Staffordshire terriers died while flying as cargo in that period. And boxers, cockapoos, Pekingese and Pomeranians accounted for two deaths each.

You can see the full list here.

The Department of Transportation says dog owners should consult with veterinarians before putting their dogs on planes. It believes that the deaths represent a tiny percentage of the pets shipped on airlines.

Short-nose breeds — known as “brachycephalic” — in addition to being less tolerant of heat, have a skull formation that affects their airways, Dan Bandy, chairman of the Bulldog Club of America’s health committee, told the Associated Press.

“The way all dogs cool themselves is basically through respiration, either just panting or the action of breathing in or out, is a method of heat exchange for them,” Bandy said. “A dog that has a long snout or a long muzzle has more surface area within its nasal cavity for that heat exchange to take place. So breeds like labradors or collies or those types of dogs with the long muzzles have a more efficient cooling system.”

Bandy said that in addition to trying to cool themselves, dogs may also pant excessively in the cargo hold because of stress or excitement. But he believes dogs shouldn’t be given tranquilizers before flying because that makes them less able to manage their own cooling process. In addition, airlines generally do not want pets tranquilized, he added.

In all, 144 pet deaths were reported by airlines over the past five years, along with 55 injuries and 33 lost pets.

As we ponder where to go next on our road trip to nowhere, we’re feeling drawn to Texas — where two stories this week have piqued our curiosity.

First is the tale, told yesterday, of the Methodist pastor who’s calling for a stray dog hanging out behind his church to be shot, and the ire that has raised. Second are the two recent sightings — and subsequent terminations — of alleged Chupacabra, the legendary dog-like creatures who, according to myth, suck the blood of goats (which is what Chupacabra means in Spanish).

In the past week, two of the coyote-like creatures were spotted within 10 miles of each other, outside of Dallas, one of which was bagged by an animal control officer. The other was shot by a rancher. News reports seem to give no reason behind the shootings, other than the fact that the animals were “ugly.”

“All I know is, it wasn’t normal. It was ugly. Real ugly,” said Frank Hackett, the animal control officer who killed one of the creatures.

Reports of Chupacabra sightings are fairly rare; there’s one about about every year — including this one, where a law enforcement official followed and videotaped what he thought could have been one.

Of course, there are plenty of modern-day theories — ranging from them being pets left here by extraterrestrials to them being the result of government experiments gone awry. More often than not, though, they turn out to be coyotes with skin problems.

News reports say neither of the two slain creatures has been identified, though the DNA of at least one of them is being analyzed.

There is no documentation that the species or sub-species exists; instead the word ”Chupacabra” has become a catch-all term for anything dog-like, but not immediately identifiable, kind of like Bigfoot is for anything hairy, human-like and not immediately identifiable.

This won’t be the first alleged Chupacabra to have its DNA tested. In 2007, Texas State University biologist Mike Forstner performed a test on what turned out to be a coyote.

Another strong possibility, I’d suspect, is that some of the ”beasts” that have been spotted are actually Xoloitzcuintle, a Mexican hairless dog breed.

In any event, we’re headed east, and Dallas is on the way. If that’s where we end up, we’ll let you know what we find out.

A pastor in Dallas who apparently thinks that “do unto others” stuff doesn’t apply to canines is drawing criticism for how he’s handling the matter of a stray dog who has taken up residence behind the church.

For several months now, local rescuers have been trying to help the dog and animal control officials have been trying to capture it. That’s not good enough for the pastor, who reportedly says he plans to hire someone to shoot it, and who scolded a 70-year-old woman who showed up to feed it.

Let’s stop for a moment and ponder who’s acting in a more Godly manner here.

Pastor Joseph Stabile says the dog is aggressive to parishioners of the Cochran Chapel United Methodist Church, at Midway and Northwest Highway. Others dispute that, saying the dog is shy and avoids people, according to a report by Examiner.com’s animal rescue blogger Rebecca Poling in Dallas, who is also a member of the Metroplex Animal Coalition, one of the organizations raising questions about the pastor’s behavior.

Poling points out that no parishioners have come forward to back up the pastor’s claim the dog is aggressive.

Dallas Animal Services has tried to capture the dog, even using a tranquilizer gun at one point. A group of well-intentioned dog lovers have joined in the cause, trying to humanely catch the dog, known as John Wesley, but he continues to elude everyone.

The group has started a Facebook page, a Care2 petition and has written letters to church and city officials. They also plan Sunday morning protests outside the church to let parishioners know what their pastor is doing.

It’s a spa eat spa world, especially here in Santa Fe – a massage Mecca, a hot tub haven and home to hundreds of practitioners of the so-called healing arts who are willing to manipulate, realign or otherwise cleanse and bring peace to your body and soul.

But among the surfeit of spas, there’s one that has risen above the rest – at least in terms of its size and its fame — and it has something more going for it than detoxifying herbal wraps, exfoliating salt glows and facial masques that make use of sanitized nightingale droppings.

Ten Thousand Waves allows dogs, both in its cottages and in its private baths, and that, in case you’re wondering, is how I – one who feels uncomfortable being disrobed in the privacy of my own home (when I had one) — ended up buck naked in the mountains of New Mexico.

But not with nightingale poop on my face.

At the recommendation of the person for whom I am pet sitting, who once worked there, and upon hearing it was dog friendly – unusual for spas, which can be pretty unrelaxed about their rules – Ace and I headed up to Ten Thousand Waves yesterday.

The Japanese-style spa was opened in 1981, by a “child of the 60’s” who got his start in the business world by selling T-shirts at Woodstock. Originally, Duke Klauck planned to open a storefront in Santa Fe with a couple of hot tubs, but when a prime piece of countryside became available just outside the city limits, he snapped it up – to the displeasure of some neighbors.

One of them, shortly after the spa opened, showed his opposition by building a pen for a dozen of his pigs at the edge of his property, six feet away from one of the tubs. The news media picked up the story, providing Ten Thousand Waves with much early publicity, and a judge later ordered the pigpen moved. The bathhouse containing the tub was subsequently named Kobuta, which means piglet in Japanese.

When I called to reserve a private bath, I requested that one. Dogs are permitted in the private baths, but not the public ones, and they are not allowed in the tubs, I was told. I asked about getting a head and neck massage, but was told dogs aren’t allowed in massage rooms, as they would distract both the rubber and the rubbee. It was suggested that I could put the dog in my car during that time, but, even with Santa Fe’s mild temperatures and the spa’s shaded parking lot, I, for reasons of pawlitical correctness, passed on that.

Ace and I arrived in the afternoon, climbing the 90 stairs to the lobby (and burning 45 calories in the process, according to the sign). We were given a robe and directed to the men’s locker room. Guests are asked to shower before their baths, which I guess makes sense in an odd way.

I looped Ace’s leash over a towel peg while I showered and, even though he blocked the entire row of lockers, none of the other guests seemed upset by his presence. He sat patiently, and didn’t stick his nose into anyone’s private areas. I robed myself, and we walked back down to the lobby, where we were directed to our bathhouse.

It was surrounded by bamboo fence, and had a large wooden tub, five feet in diameter, and the water was a toasty 105 degrees. When I turned on the jets, Ace watched with interest for a while, then settled down at the tub’s edge while I gradually immersed my naked self. When I got to the point of overheating, I walked over to the “cold plunge” and took a dip in freezing cold water.

It was an amazingly tranquil little spot, and Ace seemed calmed by it, too. When the five minute warning came, we didn’t want to leave — either our tub or the spa, which with its koi pond and waterfalls seems to suck the stress right out of you.

Ten Thousand Waves is modeled after spas in Japan and, for years, Klauck’s Akita, named Kojiro, roamed the grounds, followed by another Akita. Though Klauck’s intent was to simply provide some hot tubs, the spa now has more than 100 independent massage therapists on contract and a staff of about 90.

Dogs have always been permitted – both in the resort’s cottages (for an additional $20) and in the private baths (which cost $30 an hour).

“It certainly fits in with Duke’s whole philosophy. He loves dogs. He’s always had a special affection for dogs and an empathy for dog owners. I don’t know of many other spas that allow dogs,” said Bob Sheffield, the front desk supervisor who’s known at the spa as Buddha Bob.

“We have guests come in with dogs about every other day,” said “A lot of out of town guests are traveling with a dog and they prefer not to have to lock it up in a car of board it in some kennel. Dog lovers like the companionship of their dogs in all the things they do, and by being dog friendly, it really makes them feel more welcome.”

Ace and I felt the love, and none of the uppity-ness that, though we don’t frequent such facilities, we’d guess are common in the spa experience. The healing arts can get a little high faluting, and spas can have a country-club snobiness about them. It was nice to find one that’s down to earth and, far more importantly, dog friendly.

I have not let a water bowl run dry. I have not missed administering a single dosage of doggie meds (more than I can say when it comes to my own). I have not left alone for more than three hours my wards for the week — Sophie the three-legged Pyrenees, Charlie the congested golden retriever, Lakota the flatulent bulldog.

My agreement to pet sit for friends in Santa Fe, in exchange for getting to enjoy their tranquil home (mountain views and wind chimage included), is working out well.

There may be a poop or two I haven’t scooped, some dog hair dust bunnies I haven’t swept up, some food and beverage consumed (by me) and not replaced, but all in all I give myself an A.

There have been no altercations — despite the snarls Lakota was directing at my dog Ace before his parents left. None of three dogs I’m taking care of require walks, content to use the backyard. There’s little actual work involved, other than feeding and medication time, which has gotten much easier since I decided to, rather than take the push down the throat route,  administer all pills — Lakota’s Beano included — inside hunks of Havarti cheese. As a result, all three dogs get very excited about pill time, as do I, for it is very good Havarti cheese. I may start putting my own medications inside Havarti cheese.

Sometimes all three dogs will start barking at nothing, but otherwise we’re enjoying the serenity of our temporary adobe abode — though, as I speak, a storm appears to be coming in, meaning I should go administer some Havarti-wrapped Alprazolam.

There has been only one scary moment, when I noticed Charlie had developed a swelling above his eye. I called Mark Terry, his owner — and a veterinarian — who suspected a bug bite and recommended a Benadryl. By the next day, the swelling was gone.

Lakota, the reputed troublemaker of the group, has caused none, though there was one moment when, waking up from one of his frequent droopy-tongued naps, he didn’t immediately recognize me and came at me barking and snarling. As soon as he heard me use his name, he calmed down. Lakota gets his meals in a separate room, with the doors closed. Generally, after about 30 seconds of trying to eat out of one of those dog bowls designed to slow down fast eaters, he flips the whole thing over and eats off the floor.

All three dogs are sweet in their own way. Charlie is the attention seeker, who approaches with his whole hind end wagging, spit strings (due to his respiratory condition) often hanging from his mouth. Sophie loves attention but, for now, prefers you bring it to her. When you do, her tail starts fiercely pounding the tile floor. Lakota, the most indecipherable, unpredictable and stubborn member of the pack, is a lover, too, though he keeps his soft side more hidden, behind an intimidating looking underbite. Rub his belly, though, and he’s putty in your hands.

Writer/editor Valerie Brooks brought Lakota to the marriage, while husband/veterinarian Mark Terry came with three pets of his own.

Both Sophie and Cleo were taken in by Mark after he met them while training to be a veterinarian. Cleo was the first cat he spayed. He ran into Sophie at a shelter just after his own dog died.

Sophie, who recently had one of her front legs amputated due to bone cancer, seems to have grown more frisky each day, and Cleo, the cat is no trouble at all, though once in a while she seems to be trying to tell me something, even when her bowl is full and her litter box is empty. Ace, now that she’s no longer hiding from him, is less enthralled with her.

Ace has bonded with two of the dogs and the cat, but he’s still steering clear of Lakota, even though he’s three times the bulldog’s size. Every evening Ace and I head to the dog park, less than a mile down the road, then out to dinner at one of Santa Fe’s dog-friendly restaurants. Our report on them is forthcoming.

All in all, it has been a peaceful few days. We’ve gotten to stroll the streets downtown, hang out and listen to music in the plaza and, today, are headed to 10,000 Waves, a popular mountainside spa (for humans) that welcomes dogs. I plan to sample the baths, and I have an interview with somebody named Buddha Bob. If he gives me any trouble, I’ll just rub his belly.

(To read all of “Dog’s Country,” the continuing adventures of one man and one dog spending six months criss-crossing America, click here.)

Here in the plush offices of ohmidog! — aka my car — we make every effort to keep a distinct boundary between advertising and editorial content.

Unlike many a website, we don’t accept money — however much we might need it — for sneaking advertising links into our editorial matter. We don’t assault you with pop-ups. We don’t run advertising in disguise. All our ads are on our leftside rail (<—— ) over there. Blame it on my journalism background. I’m ethical, darn it.

That doesn’t mean we won’t write about or mention our advertisers, or other companies, when circumstances merit it — either as a news item or, as in this case, when thanks are due.

For every stop we’ve made as part of our continuing “Dog’s Country” tour, K-9 Kraving, Baltimore-based maker of  raw diet dog food, has shipped a package of treats to our hosts — to those individuals who offered us lodging and to the shelters, sanctuaries and rescues we’ve reported on.

It’s my way of saying thank you, without actually paying for it.

Treat room at K-9 Kraving

What makes it even cooler, is that it was K-9 Kraving’s idea. I did offer to, in exchange, run their advertisement for free for the duration of my trip, but, as it turns out, they’re spending far more than that shipping a collection of treats to those place I’ve stopped.

So, from St. Bernard’s Parish in Louisiana, where the oil spill has led to an influx of shelter dogs, to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, where I spent two days as a volunteer, to Utopia Animal Rescue, Kinky Friedman’s Texas-based sanctuary (home of the dog shown above), shipments  of K-9 Kraving treats have arrived.

Those individuals with dogs who have taken me in — including Judith Pannebaker in Bandera, Texas, Jen Walker in Albuquerque, and my brother in Phoenix — have also received treat packages, in thanks for their hospitality to ohmidog!

So now it’s my turn to thank K-9 Kraving, whose raw diet dog food was Ace’s food of choice — back when we had a freezer.

Now, as many of you know, we’re on the road, and have been for 50 days. Likely, as we’ve found we can travel for about the same amount of money we survived on back in Baltimore, while still doing our blog and seeking jobs, we’ll continue for a few months more – taking the pulse of America, its dogs, and its dog-friendliness in a journey made possible by my 401K, unemployment insurance and K-9 Kraving and all my other advertisers.

So thanks to them all. Now get back over there to the leftside rail, where you belong.

Naming a dog after his deformity, funny as some may find it, seemed downright cruel to Barbara Sulier.

And that’s why the dog she adopted — born with ectrodactyly, or “lobster claw syndrome” — no longer goes by “Claude.”

A 2-year-old, 60-pound pit bull mix, Claude’s now named Cody. He was left at a shelter as a pup, then rescued by Even Chance, a San Diego-based pit bull advocacy center, which paid for surgery to help correct the deformity by fusing his two toes together.

Now, Cody lives happily with what’s called a “mitten” paw. He’s found a forever home with Sulier. And he’s been certified as a therapy dog, PeoplePets reports.

Working with New Leash on Life Animal Rescue’s Lend a Paw program, he’s the first of his breed to be certified as a therapy dog through the organization, which Sulier hopes will set the record straight about other dogs of his kind.

“Pitties are sweet, loyal dogs, and the reason they become mean dogs is because they’re so loyal, they will do anything you ask them to,” she says. “People need to see that they really are extremely loving dogs.”

Every other week, Sulier and Cody head to the Jewish Home for the Aging in their hometown of Los Angeles. Sulier feels Cody, who walks with a slight limp, has a personal connection to those he comforts.

“He’s been pretty special ever since [I adopted him],” she says. “For some reason, from the bottom of my heart, I know I’m supposed to have Cody.”