Some sad, and then some happy

The week that Charlie died, we had been making plans to visit a dog breeder to get a puppy. It has been just over a year since Gabby passed away, and I really felt like Charlie was not my dog. It's not that I didn't love him; I did, no matter how much I maligned his presence in our home and talked about when he was going to finally croak. It's the fact that he was SB's dog. Much like Gabby was more mine, Charlie loved SB fiercely. But me, not so much. I was okay playing second fiddle when I had my Gabby girl around, but when she was gone it wasn't the same - and my heart ached to have that back.

Then Charlie died, and I thought SB might not be able to handle a new puppy. It made me sad. It was like a double loss for me. But we talked it over, and since we had been so ready to move ahead anyway, we decided that now is the time.

So on Saturday we met with a breeder, and also got to meet four fuzzy little nuggets of amazing goodness, one of which is going to be ours. We met the mom and dad dog (I think they call them the "bitch" and the "ho" or something like that) and they are both beautiful and healthy well into their fourth years, which is great.

Here is a little photo of one of the pups. I'm sorry I don't have any really good ones, but I was so entranced by the puppy breath that I forgot to take any photos at all - this is one the breeder sent to me.


We haven't picked a name for our puppy yet, but she will be a girl. And she will be coming home around June 10th, I think. I will keep you updated, and am warning you right now to brace yourselves for WAY more puppy pictures and stories than you ever thought imaginable.

I am a jinx

So, I guess I spoke too soon about the whole health situation.

Unfortunately last Friday we had to make the decision to let our dear Woodgie go. It was tough, and of course happened on Friday night, when I returned from the CLOSED vet clinic. SB had found the Woodge in extreme respiratory distress for the second time in a week, and the meds were not kicking in. He was working so hard to get air into his lungs, which were crowded and swollen with fluid. We waited over an hour and nothing happened with the meds, which usually kick in within 20 minutes.

I called our wonderfully fabulous vet on her cell phone, and she talked me through all the stuff I was struggling with. In turn I discussed everything objectively with SB and we decided it was time. Our vet met us at the clinic, which was dark and quiet, and the whole thing was very peaceful and serene. I can't express how thankful I am to have our vet, and I also feel very settled about the whole situation. When he finally passed it was obvious to us that it was time. I will spare you all the details that showed me we had made the right choice, but even just seeing him so still, finally done struggling and fighting to keep his heart pumping at all, I just knew it was right.

Our house feels very empty without a dog in it. The cats are great, but they aren't dogs (okay, so Simon is almost a dog, but not quite). And surprisingly Simon has been acting very, very strangely, almost as though he misses the dog that tried to eat him on at least 10 separate occasions that we know of.

I share with you what I think is my very favorite photo of The Woodge. I didn't go through all the photos we have of him, and I'm sure it's not even the best one. But when I think of him fondly, this is what I see.

vacation countdown and organizational madness

5 days until vacation. Which means I am now obsessively checking weather reports (it's not looking great, folks) while alternating with obsessively making lists. And it seems like these lists never get shorter.

The most stressful thing, as it is on any given day of my life, is the work situation. Trying to be sure everything is in place and ready for the girls so they have a stress-free week (or as stress-free as possible), which involves heavily coaching our clients to get their acts together and make things as uncomplicated as possible.

But this time, we have the added fun factor that The Woodge is basically half croaked, so SB's brother may come home to a dead dog at any moment. What's happening is that he is in congestive heart failure. This is surprising to me because I didn't think he had a heart, then come to find out it's about three times regulation size. He's taking three different drugs which seemed to have regulated his breathing a bit, and he's back to eating his normal meal, so that's good, but the vet gives him 4-8 months. Now, I'm not sure if we're doing the right thing by medicating him, or if it would be better to put him down, but we both have a whole lot on our plates at the moment, and medicine is easy to administer (albeit not CHEAP, by any means) so that's what we've decided to do for now. Hopefully he will be okay while we're gone, because I would feel horrible if Ren had to go through that. Even though we're expecting it to happen, I know he would feel pretty poopy about it.

And as if all that weren't enough to worry about, today I have to go for a wax. Ugh. Vacation is killing me.

The Woodge avoids The Badness

When I got up this morning it was evident that Woodgie's camel hump probably wouldn't make it the weekend without exploding. I called our vet's office, and they couldn't take us today, then I called their associated vet's office - the conversation:

"I would like an appointment today for my dog"

"sorry we don't have any openings today, is it an emergency?"

"He has a sebaceous cyst that I'm pretty sure is fixing to explode.."

"oh dear, hold on one second"

So they fit us in, and when the vet initially felt the lump, he was sure it wasn't a cyst, but a mass, because a cyst is liquidy, not hard. But he poked it with a needle to check what was in there exactly and all I have to say is ew. Ew ew ew ew ew. Ew a million times. It was a cyst, but just really really really full.

Woodgie was a VERY good boy, barely noticed the guy poking FIVE needles into him to drain out all the fluid. We had the vet check out a bunch of other stuff, obviously, since we were there and Woodgie isn't exactly what you would call a late model. He has a heart murmur, and also a cyst in his eye that partially covers his pupil - this was, in fact, so interesting that the vet had to pull out a textbook to compare it to, and had another vet come in and take a look just for kicks.

Since Woodgie is about 800 years old, there isn't much we can do about all these problems. Or, rather, there aren't many things we are willing to do. Surgeries and weird medications and weird therapies, that's not us, especially not at this age. But we'll keep an eye on him for some of the symptoms the vet has mentioned to us. He's calling it a palliative approach. Knowing Woodgie he'll be fine for another 6 years.

Gifting

I spent the day at home today doing work and knitting. I haven't done very much knitting since the spring - I don't find I really feel like it when the weather is nice. It just feels wrong. But now I'm finishing up a project I had been working on to give as a Christmas gift.

I am slightly torn about the giving of a handmade gift. I know that I love it, and I know that to me it's definitely a better gift than if we went out and bought a similar item in a store and gave that. But I'm not sure if everyone values a handmade thing the same way. And that doesn't even begin to address the issue of taste, because no matter how much someone appreciates the effort and the thought, all of that may not matter if they think the item is the fugliest thing they have ever seen. So we will see if the gift will come with an accompanying small item. Or maybe I just worry too much about pleasing people. Which is probably the case, but whatever.

Anyway, only one other item to discuss today - I just caught Charlie trying to make friends with Simon. I am not even kidding. He was all raised tail and elephant ears, while Simon had a look on his face like WTF? Why are you not trying to fit my whole head in your mouth right now? I think this is a sign that Charlie needs a puppy to.

Rotten

Today was a rotten day. For many many many reasons.

It was long. It was a long, long day and usually when I have a busy day of work like today it goes by quickly. Not so today.

The dogs were not nice. First off, my dog was not nice. I took a chance and brought him on a group walk even though I feared he may bite the face off another dog. He didn't, he had fun. He romped. And then when I dropped him at home so I could finish my day, he wouldn't stop barking. Usually when I leave the house he will bark for about 10 seconds, then stop, but today he would not. And I understand that he knew that he was missing something, but, Dude, you miss it every day. And today you got to partake in it for an hour. So shut it.

Then the afternoon group dogs were not nice. Actually, only one of them was not nice. But I expected it. He's a puller, which means he just basically tries to pull you all over. I already have a very sore arm from lord knows what, but I woke up last Thursday and felt like someone tried to pull my arm out of the socket. Then kicked it. Anyway, I used a cross-body leash since I knew this dog was a puller and it saved my arm for sure, but he did whip me a few times quite roughly and now I have a sore back. Not too sore, but just sore enough. The other dogs made me want to eat them up they are so adorable. And I forgot my camera, by the way.

Also, when I parked my car at the mountain I parked behind a car that had its keys hanging out of the trunk's lock. So I put a note and took the keys, and she happened to call when I was in the middle of my pickups and drop offs for the next group. Then my brain fell out of my head and I forgot to pick up one of the dogs on my way to the mountain to drop the keys to her, so I had to backtrack quite a way adding even more time to the day.

Then to top it all off I had my last visits with a diabetic cat that we have cared for many times over the last few years, but now his parents are moving. I wish that was the end of the story, but not only are they moving, but they have decided that the best thing to do would be to have the cat euthanized rather than moving him with them or finding him a new home. Yes, he's old, yes he's very, very sick, and yes it probably really makes sense. But my heart can't take visiting a kitty and cuddling him and loving him and knowing that in two weeks they are going to kill him. It sucks.

So, after my bath and half a bottle of wine, I was very happy that SB had brought home some Portuguese chicken. But after dinner, what does he pull out? (dirty minds, dirty...enough of that!)

A SNICKERS!!!! And since I didn't have time to eat lunch today, I ate it and I didn't care, and I was glad that there was one thing today that made me happy. And happy that it came from him.

extremely random

I have a very very busy day tomorrow. Not looking forward to it at all. Well, kind of am, because I will see loads of dogs I haven't seen in a long time, but I'm also very very tired lately, so not too excited about a 9-10 hour day.

I gave The Woodge a sort-of bath today. He hated it. Was terrified. But he smelled bad so it was necessary. He was super happy after his bath, though, and I was too, seeing as how I didn't lose a limb in the process. He was, in fact, so happy that he kept looking at me adoringly, so then I would crouch down to pet him and then he would plant a giant smooch on his face. Apparently he couldn't stand the stink of himself either. Now if only I could figure out how to pressure wash his mouth.

Also, before the wedding, I had gel nails applied. They looked nice, and I have been semi-keeping them up (every 2-3 weeks is pretty excessive, so I was doing 3-4 weeks) but now I've decided I'll leave them to grow out. They aren't adding anything to my life. I need a haircut more than I need stupid nails. So, it's back to Hands that Appear to Have Been Mangled by a Woodchipper for me.

That's all for today. I think I will try to take some photos tomorrow one my walks because I have a feeling I won't be full of ideas when I get home tomorrow night.

Here's something that's extra fun...

We went to a lovely barbecue on Saturday at my friend Christina's house. We had a fabulous time, and left later than we had planned, which meant that I had to visit some kitties later than I had planned, but it was all good because we had a fabulous time.

We arrived home around 12:30 to find some drops of some weird substance on the floor. It kinda looked like.....pudding? Except kind of chunky and light brown/marroon colored. It was not poo, too thick and brown to be blood, didn't smell. A mystery substance. With drops all over the place. There was also some brownish spots on our ~white~ duvet. SB took Gabby out for her walk because she is old and he likes to walk her first quickly then take Charlie for a longer walk.

While he was gone I did some investigating, and lo and behold, Charlie's neck had exploded.

Let's back this up a bit.

A few years ago we took Charlie to the vet because he had always had this little lump on his neck, but within a space of a few weeks it had seemed to double in size. The vet poked it and said it seemed like some sort of benign something that was surrounded by infection (the infection which made it double in size) so we did a round of antibiotics and it shrank. She told us that if we noticed it grow again, to come back.

It's been a few years, and I guess it's been growing at such a slow pace that we didn't even notice his neck was full of pestulant disease until it EXPLODED ALL OVER OUR HOUSE.

The lump is probably the size of a golfball, and the hole that ended up in it is about the diameter of a pencil. I spent a couple of minutes squeezing out grossness until I almost vomitted, and then SB came in and I told him about the EXPLODING NECK and then he took over cleaning.

Of course it was Saturday night, and Sunday none of our regular vets are even open, so we had to take him to the emergency clinic. SB called and the wait time was about half an hour, so rather than wait for daytime Sunday, which is probably what a lot of people would do if their dog's neck exploded in the middle of the night, we decided to get it over with while the getting was relatively quick. Because Gabby is a whining old lady, I didn't want to leave her alone in the middle of the night to wake all of our neighbors just because she felt left out, so SB took Charlie alone.

Now we have a twice daily washing and medication regimen which seems okay but is still totally gross because the wound is healing. Charlie totally doesn't seem to care at all about the whole situation, except that his meds make his poo soft.

I had noticed the past week or so he had been really grumpy, and he bit me in the foot last week. I guess I would be grumpy too if my neck was fixing to explode.

Cuba in one week - WooHooo!!!!

So, ya, one week til vacation. I was kinda not thinking about vacation a lot, and wasn't really excited cause I never thought about it. But the last two weeks have been crazy burning hell. So now I'm VERY excited that next week is vacation. Very.

Charlie is still not showing signs of rabies since his showdown with the squirrel last week. Hard to tell since the vet said to watch for "A weird smell from the bite site" (his mouth - which always reeks) and "aggressive behavior". Hello, this dog has bit me at least five separate times. Anyway, so far no paralysis, and no foaming from the mouth. Awesome.

We've taken on like five million new clients in the last two weeks! Actually, probably like five new dogs, but whatever, I feel like I'm always running around town meeting them. I think that this sudden rush has been spurned by the ungodly frigid weather we've had lately and the fact that no one actually wants to be outside except for dogs. I hope they stay on through the spring and summer.

I went to yoga the other night for the first time with Nazi yoga guy (I have been avoiding him and taking classes with the other instructors instead). It was sooooooo hard. I'm pretty sure he pumps the heat higher than he's supposed to. Anyway, I thought I was going to die. But I didn't. I'm pretty sure I'll be ready for yoga again tomorrow. With one of the normal instructors.

Something in the air

My dog Charlie is officially out of the group.

Every day I have a group of dogs that I bring up the mountain, and lately I've been bringing my dogs too - I never used to be able to because I would have other appointments all through the day, and it was too hot to leave them in the car. But now, more often than not, my group is the only pet work I have, so doggies can come.

Charlie is a basset hound, and tends to follow his nose. When I started bring him to group, he was really good, and chugged along with the rest of the doggies, wanting to get to know them and not really sure of himself yet. Lately, he's been chasing squirrels into the woods, and disappearing for a while, then joining us again, and ya, that's pretty annoying, but he always comes back, and he's having fun, so I let him.

Then today he crossed a line. A line that from this day on will be referred to as The Puke Shit Incident. We were rounding the last bend before the car, and I was gathering everyone back on their leashes when Charlie suddenly barked at a squirrel and darted into the woods. We all started toward the car while I called him, and about a minute later he reappeared and ran to join us. Except he wasn't quite himself. No no, he was covered in The Puke Shit.

It was obvious he had found something quite exciting in the woods and rubbed his whole head and shoulders and neck in it, but what it was - well, who knows, really? It was yellowish, and slimy, and squished into his fur, but also smelled a little like poo, but looked like puke, hence the name Puke Shit. Before getting him in the car I wiped him off with all I had - some Lysol apple sented wipes. That sure made it smell nicer.

When we got home he went right to the tub, where I rinsed and scrubbed and soaped (in my clean as of yesterday tub - ugh!). He didn't get the good doggie shampoo, either. No, he got the discount kind because I had to use about half a bottle to get all the Puke Shit out of his fur. He was shaking and whining, and when we were finally done he jumped out of the tub and laid on some towels I had prepared. I kept the door closed so he couldn't get anything in the house wet while I showered and re-rinsed the tub. When I got out of the shower, he was licking and whining and shaking water off of him. Ya, like being wet and clean is SO bad compared to being covered in Puke Shit.

And so to get back at him, I give you this: