Graham Speaks for Me

It's too early.

Surrey Says

Two things:

1.  Tax refund has arrived!

2.  Guess where Surrey and Mulder are today?

A Visit to the Emergency Vet and Why Billy is “Family Circus” Funny

Last night we took Graham to the emergency clinic for a suspected urinary tract infection.  She’d been having accidents in the house for about a week but last night was the first time we saw blood in the urine.  So we decided to take her in to get her started on antibiotics last night instead of waiting until after work today.  She’s doing fine (she didn’t see the estimate we were given for ultrasound, x-rays, blood panel, urinalysis, etc. so of course she’s fine) and got her first dose of antibiotics last night.

It’s always awkward visiting the emergency vet since you don’t know them and they don’t know you.  Routine questions like, “What does she eat?” can get weird.  Sometimes I wonder if I should just lie and name a popular brand of kibble.  That would be one way to guarantee a hassle free visit.  But I braced myself and answered, “Homemade food”.  The technician then asked, “Is it people food or some type of dog food?”

Well you got me there.  Is it people food?  Dog food?  I hesitated for a moment and the technician chimed in with, “Believe me, I’m not going to judge”.  M’kaaay.  I replied that it was a high protein, moderate carbohydrate diet with added calcium and essential fatty acids.  I thought that was a clever way to avoid the question while providing an answer that demonstrated I wasn’t some dummy feeding my dog moon pies and gum – you know, to reassure the technician that everything was going to be all right, even though I was feeding my dog homemade food of unspecified people/dog origin.

The technician dutifully wrote my answer down on the record then looked up and judged.  She said she was concerned about the high protein, considering Graham’s age (she’s 12).  Billy spoke up at that point, joking that the dogs eat better than he does.  He probably thought this would lighten the moment and prevent me from going into food wonk mode.  The technician didn’t laugh.  But mercifully she shrugged the whole issue off with, “Well if she’s not having any problems, I guess…”  Whew.  Crazy dog lady fit averted.

After the technician left the exam room, I of course turned to Billy, my captive audience for the inevitable protein requirements of senior cancer dogs diatribe that was bubbling inside me.  Because he thinks he’s funny, and because he’s suffered through one too many such diatribes, Billy tried to cut me off with, “I agree with her.”

Isn’t he just a laugh-riot?

In Which Surrey Gets Pwned

On Sunday morning, Surrey executed the dash-through-the-legs-to-bolt-out-the-door maneuver for the first (and hopefully last) time.  What fun we had chasing her around the neighbors’ yards while she would come within 20 feet, then seemingly give a look that said “Nah!” and take off for more quality time with her nose.  I was in my pink flannel pajamas with hearts on them.  It was freezing.

Anyhoo, after rounding her up, we decided we really needed that gate built for the front porch that we’d been talking about for awhile.  So Billy got to work on that and now Surrey has a sad.

Beagle, Interrupted.

The Beagle Has Landed

A Tipton Co, TN pound threatened to put pregnant Surrey in a dumpster in October.  Thanks to caring shelter volunteers, rescuers, fosters and transporters, her pups got to be born and are attending an adoption event today with Meows and BowWows.  And Surrey got to come home.

She got a bath and a nail trim from some nice ladies last night.

She went right for the Beagle bed.

Be Seeing You, Charlie

In Loving Memory of Charlie – July 2000 – June 2011

"Paths that cross will cross again."

Charlie Sauce

Every pet is special in his/her own ways.  Charlie is special to me because he’s old (I love the seniors), he walks with me on our path (while the other dogs run around like pinballs), and he’s the best Flatcoat I’ve ever had.  An extremely gentle and tolerant dog, Charlie has helped me raise a lot of puppies.  He sired 3 litters for me with 2 different bitches.  He is my last show champion.  You see his picture on the right hand side of the blog and every time I leave a comment (that’s him getting a biscuit in my avatar).

Sadly, Flatcoated Retrievers have a very small gene pool which is rife with cancer.  All my Flatcoats have died of malignant histiocytosis – sub-listed in some veterinary books as “The Flatcoat Cancer”.  It’s tragic in that it rapidly cuts short a life which, if not for the cancer, would continue to thrive for years to come.  My Flatcoats have all been in otherwise good health at the time I’ve had to put them to sleep and I can’t help feeling robbed in a sense.  I feel like, if it wasn’t for this Flatcoat Cancer, there is no reason all my dogs shouldn’t live comfortably into their teens.  But they never do.  And neither will Charlie.

Charlie is 10 years old and this week, was diagnosed with probable malignant histiocytosis.  The lab can’t make a definitive diagnosis without getting the large mass which has infiltrated his lymph node but we won’t be putting Charlie through surgery.  We’ve got him on high doses of steroids to relieve his pain and, although it’s only been a few days, it’s been working well.  I can’t stand to see a dog suffer and on Tuesday, I came home from work to find Charlie in terrible pain.  My vet saw us right away and we got a game plan going.  When the lab results came back yesterday, I was sort of prepared and sort of not.  My vet and I discussed options and she supports me in my choice to keep him as comfortable as possible for as long as possible without pursuing any invasive treatments which would be unlikely to buy him much more time, if any.

For me and my pets, it’s about quality of life.  Charlie can’t walk with me on the path anymore (my favorite thing) nor can he chase the ball (his favorite thing).  But he can still carry the tennis ball around in his mouth, play with puppy toys that are too small for him and come up for a scritch (and a biscuit!) when he feels like it.  I make the same promise to him as I do to all my pets:  you will not suffer.  When we can no longer ease his pain with medicine and love, we will take him to the vet for that most difficult, final act of love.  Then we will bury his body in the yard, near those who have gone before, and he will be added to the list of dogs I hope I will meet again sometime.

I don’t know how long we have with Charlie – hopefully weeks or, if I let myself get out-of-control-hopeful – maybe months.  But the length of time isn’t as important as how we spend it.  I plan to spend it doing all the little special things I can for him.  Like avocado with his dinner last night.  And ice cube treats.  And trying to keep Mulder’s annoying puppy antics to a dull roar.  Not that Charlie would complain, mind you.  He never does.

Age is Just a Number

My favorite puppy.

You know that saying “They grow up so fast”?  Well Mulder aged a couple of months this week.  Let me explain.

When she first came to us, I estimated her age was about 6 weeks.  We took her for her first vet visit about 2 and 1/2 weeks later and the vet agreed with me that Mulder was probably in the 8 – 9 week old range.  I am a breeder.  My vet is a breeder.  And she sees A LOT of puppies.  I had every confidence that Mulder had been born sometime around October 22.  I already have that date marked on my 2011 calendar for her 1 year birthday.

This past weekend, I found she was in season.  I have never had a bitch come in at such a young age.  I was shocked.  I wrote to my Aunt who breeds Shelties (I figure Mulder has some Sheltie in her family tree) and she asked me if I was sure about Mulder’s age.  I said that maybe I could have been a week off either way but yeah, pretty sure.  Then she asked “Still has baby teeth?”.  Yeah I’m sure she does but I’ll go ahead and look just for the heck of it.  Adult teeth.  Whaaaaaa?

From my Aunt:

Don’t forget she was in pretty bad shape when

you got her.  I have four month old puppies here,

and just a few adult teeth on each.. the teeth are

a HUGE indicator.  A sickly, malnutritioned Sheltie

at three and a half months could very easily pass

for six to eight weeks.  I think you need to put

her birthdate down as August  :)

So Mulder is apparently a couple of months older than I thought – than we all thought.  I’m still shocked over this.  What do you think – birthday in August?

Open Thread

Bring your pet related links, questions and chit-chat.

And here is a picture of Mulder, the worm puppy from hell:

I have a wee underbite.

Humility by Pet

Sooooooo, the other night I was awakened by a foul odor.  I thought one of the dogs must have thrown up.  I went searching with my roll of paper towels and cleaner in hand but found nothing.  Still the odor.  I opened Mulder’s crate (she’s sleeping in a crate by my side of the bed at night until she’s reliably housetrained) and figured I’d toss her blankie in the wash, clean out the crate with a disinfectant wipe and put clean bedding inside.  Still the odor.  I went back to sleep and hoped the stench would dissipate by morning.  No such luck.

The next day, I finally figured out (because I hug and squeeze her all the time) that the source of the stink was Mulder.  It wasn’t bad breath.  Her coat was clean and dry so she hadn’t rolled in anything.  Her skin was A-OK, except for some flakes.  The smell wasn’t yeasty or infectiony but I gave her a good going-over just the same.  Perhaps a broken toenail that had turned icky?  No.  Ear grime?  Nope – but I cleaned them just in case there was something invisible down in there.  Still the odor.  I washed every dog blanket in the house and vacuumed everywhere.  I was really perplexed and getting rather worried at this point.  Did my favorite puppy have some sort of mystery illness which manifested itself through an unpleasant smell?  Was she dying?  Would she live another hour?!  !!!

Somehow, I made it through the day.  When we got to our evening family time in front of the TV, Mulder took up her usual spot on top of my slippers at the side of my chair.

Oh dear.

Lightbulb moment.

Mulder smelled like feet.  My slipper feet to be exact.  Time to get new slippers I suppose.

Do you have a humbling story to share about a pet?