CVIndependent

Wed11202019

Last updateTue, 18 Sep 2018 1pm

Alexa and Avery Roemer are two kids from Orange County with a passion: rescue dogs. They shared that passion with Stagecoach attendees through their band, A. Rae and the Rescue Dogs.

Alexa, 10, and Avery, 9, were born into a musical family. Their mother, Kelly Rae, leads the Kelly Rae Band, which also performed this weekend in the Honky Tonk Tent. Their father, Jack Roemer, plays bass in Rae and the Rescue Dogs and is the songwriter. The two girls began performing last summer—but they’ve been singing for quite a while, thanks to their musical family.

When the A. Rae and the Rescue Dogs performed in the Half-Pint Hootenanny on Saturday, Alexa explained their mission: “We hope our show inspires you to get a dog,” she said.

All of the songs are about dogs, and the girls have even recorded a CD to benefit rescue dogs. They make appearances at animal-related fundraisers and occasionally make an appearance onstage with their mom’s band. During Stagecoach, half of the proceeds from CD sales onsite were earmarked for Canine Companions for Independence, a nonprofit organization that provides service animals to people with disabilities.

“I’m passionate about rescue dogs, because our dog is a rescue dog,” Alexa Roemer said during an interview in the press tent. “Our Aunt Lisa rescued him, and we were trying to find him a home. He came from an abandoned home. We thought, ‘Wow, there are so many dogs out there that are like that.’ So to think are a lot of dogs put down every week—I think every dog should have a home instead.”

Avery Roemer echoed her sister’s sentiments: “I think every dog should have a home and should be loved and cared for.”

With their parents close by during the interview, Alexa said she’s happy her father is the songwriter for the band.

“I think it’s cool that he writes our songs,” Alexa said. “He’s really good at it, and I’m glad he’s doing it instead of us.”

Both Alexa and Avery said they do feel a bit nervous at times while performing in front of audiences, but they do it out of passion for the cause of rescue dogs.

“I don’t really get nervous except when I mess up the words,” Avery said. “But I like going onstage and singing to the crowd. I also like selling our CDs.”

As for Stagecoach, both were excited to be seeing Carrie Underwood, given they love American Idol, although they were also looking forward to seeing other performers as well.

“I think we can see some people perform and take some influence from them. I think that would be very cool, and I think it’s going to be very fun to perform here,” Alexa said. “I’ve always liked Carrie Underwood’s music.”

Avery agreed.

“Carrie Underwood is one of my favorite singers—along with my mom,” Avery Roemer said. “I’m really excited to see her.”

For more information, visit www.songsaboutdogs.net.

What I say will not make me a popular person, but here it is: For excellent reasons, dogs should not be—and usually aren’t—allowed in the backcountry of national parks.

Dogs, being predators, bother wildlife even when they’re leashed. Then there’s canine fecal matter, which carries a number of diseases and parasites that may be passed on to wildlife.

Perhaps surprisingly, a lot of dogs are not good hikers; their paws become lacerated, and since they sweat through their feet, it is easy for them to overheat. If a dog gets lost or injured, search-and-rescue volunteers may have to risk their lives to aid the animal. This year, off-leash dogs had to be rescued from Volcanoes, Acadia, Kenai Fjords and Yellowstone national parks.

There seem to be many people who cannot bear to be away from their fuzzy loved one for the length of a hike in the wilderness, so they bring their dog along—even when it is prohibited. How do they get away with that, you may ask? Easy: They just say it is a “service” or “therapy” dog.

Bingo. No one can question the service dog. Websites selling service-dog vests, collars and even bandanas brag you can “Take your dog anywhere.” Then they add that they sincerely hope no one is gaming the system by registering a service dog that is not, in fact, a service dog. Right.

In 2011, the National Service Animal Registry signed up 2,400 emotional support animals. Last year, it registered 11,000. No paperwork required; this is on the honor system. Public employees such as park rangers may ask whether the dog in question is a service dog, but they may not ask about the manner of a person’s disability. One is allowed to ask what the dog is trained to react to and what, as a caring professional, one should do upon that occasion. Websites promoting pseudo-service dogs warn that one should have the answer memorized so “it flows smoothly.” If the question evokes a blank stare from those who have not rehearsed their smooth response, one can, if one is in a snarky mood and out of uniform, mention that “liars go to hell.”

Those protected under the 1990 Americans With Disabilities Act are not pleased. Some say they are concerned that the rights of those with disabilities will be undermined by those who want Fido along and are willing to lie to achieve that goal. Although passing a dog off as a service animal is a federal offense, perpetrators figure they won’t get caught.

This is becoming enough of a problem on and off trails that municipalities such as Prescott, Ariz., are passing or proposing laws penalizing the pseudo-service dog. Meanwhile, national parks are allowed to close an area to service animals if it is determined that the animal poses a threat to the health or safety of people or wildlife. Grand Canyon and Yellowstone national parks both require that service dogs be registered with the backcountry office. The owner is schooled on trail etiquette, and search-and-rescue is alerted.

Rangers say that they never used to see dogs; now they deal with them 20 to 30 percent of the time. A dog owner may be ticketed if the dog is off-leash, barking or defecating on the trail—but not for lying about the dog’s status.

Mule wranglers at Grand Canyon say mules will attack a dog. On a narrow trail with a cliff on one side, this is not a good scenario. One wrangler says the half-dozen dog owners she has met cooperated in moving their dog out of sight; still, they’re a hazard.

Make no mistake: There are those for whom having their dog along can be a matter of life and death. When a legitimate service dog is on the trail, the owner usually sets a realistic itinerary and avoids extreme temperatures. But they often leave the dog home, because they do not want their animal exposed to danger or put under stress.

So what, you might ask, is the harm to a national park if a true or faux service dog is well-behaved while it’s there? Badly behaved teenagers surely do more damage to the wilderness than dogs; after all, dogs don’t spray paint their name on the rocks.

For me, it’s the lack of respect for a park’s rules that gets my goat—the notion that rules apply to other people, but not to me.

Marjorie “Slim” Woodruff is a contributor to Writers on the Range, an opinion service of High Country News, where this piece first appeared.

Published in Community Voices