www.themaveninme.wordpress.com
Yes, the maven in me! A maven is an expert -- in my case, self-assessed -- in something. I'm an expert on my personal opinions. Maybe on the world. Maybe just in my kitchen. Definitely about my dog. So, the new blog is gonna run the gamut of things, as I feel like sharing. Join the fun. Join the rant. Join the pathos. Who needs a group hug? Don't look to me for comfort! You've got problems? Hey, I've got my own. Move over world. It's MY turn!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Treyce's Untimely Death
Treyce didn't live much longer after my daughter and I acquired our puppies.
Turns out, she had a bad heart. A big heart, but a bad heart.
No one saw it coming. It was just there. And then she was just gone. I never got to see her from the time she started having blackouts until she died, but I think she died without pain or discomfort. Her heart just gave out on her. At the beach, one of her favorite stomping grounds...
My daughter, too, was spared having to see her in her blackout fugue states. In fact, she was with me when Treyce died. She drove to Columbia to meet her not-yet husband and bury Treyce in his family's backyard.
If it weren't for Treyce, I'd never have had Sonny. If it weren't for Treyce, therefore, I would have a lot more money. But knowing Treyce has made my life richer.
She brought unconditional love into my life. She brought a renewed love of all things non-human. Well, except spiders (for my daughter) and snakes (for my husband) and mosquitos (for myself).
I will always be grateful to my son-in-law for unwittingly opening up a new door in my life. Because, despite the expense, despite the hassles, despite the vomiting, despite the deafness, despite the skin disorder, despite everything, if it weren't for Treyce, my life would have a hole in it I didn't know existed. Treyce performed open heart surgery and it was a complete success. But in this case, it wasn't the patient but the doctor who died. And I will always miss her.
Turns out, she had a bad heart. A big heart, but a bad heart.
No one saw it coming. It was just there. And then she was just gone. I never got to see her from the time she started having blackouts until she died, but I think she died without pain or discomfort. Her heart just gave out on her. At the beach, one of her favorite stomping grounds...
My daughter, too, was spared having to see her in her blackout fugue states. In fact, she was with me when Treyce died. She drove to Columbia to meet her not-yet husband and bury Treyce in his family's backyard.
If it weren't for Treyce, I'd never have had Sonny. If it weren't for Treyce, therefore, I would have a lot more money. But knowing Treyce has made my life richer.
She brought unconditional love into my life. She brought a renewed love of all things non-human. Well, except spiders (for my daughter) and snakes (for my husband) and mosquitos (for myself).
I will always be grateful to my son-in-law for unwittingly opening up a new door in my life. Because, despite the expense, despite the hassles, despite the vomiting, despite the deafness, despite the skin disorder, despite everything, if it weren't for Treyce, my life would have a hole in it I didn't know existed. Treyce performed open heart surgery and it was a complete success. But in this case, it wasn't the patient but the doctor who died. And I will always miss her.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Enough About Sonny. For Now. Have I Told You Lately That I Love...
...baking. Yep. That's right. Baking. Of course, my daughter could argue that I don't bake all that much anymore and she'd be right. I have to be in the mood.
But I just ran across a recipe that thepioneerwoman.com posted. I LOVE Ree Drummond. My daughter introduced me to her blog several months ago, and I'm hooked. She's a great writer, tells funny stories, has a wry sense of humor, takes pictures, cooks and home schools her children. I didn't think I'd have much in common with her, but there's always common ground.
Back to baking. I love baking because, when you find a new recipe, like the one I have in the oven right now, it's usually made with ingredients you already have hanging around in your pantry.
Or should have!
The only ingredient for this Mystery Mocha Dessert that I didn't have was whole milk. But I had 1%. I usually never make changes to recipes without first trying them as originally written.. But all the other ingredients were ready to hand. I didn't think swapping out whole for 1% milk was a major issue. And even when you don't have all the ingredients, you have the majority of them. A quick run to the store for nuts, dried cranberries, etc. is no effort.
(Although my gas gauge is hovering on empty, the light is on, I've driven for two days, and I'm desperately afraid that I won't have enough gas to get to the nearest station, which is as near as the nearest grocery store. And this gas issue SEEMS to be an effort to me. Go figure!)
I also love baking because it's easy to keep up with the dishes as you go. All the prep work gets done ahead of time, so that the least amount of bowls, measuring spoons and cups -- and therefore work -- is all that's left once the ingredients have been combined.
And before you know it, the recipe is in the oven, the dishes are done, and it's time for the wonderful smell of baking yummies to fill the house. And only about 30 minutes has passed. As hot as it is outside, I would never think of using the oven at this time of year usually. But there's always room for exceptions! Yummy exceptions.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
But I just ran across a recipe that thepioneerwoman.com posted. I LOVE Ree Drummond. My daughter introduced me to her blog several months ago, and I'm hooked. She's a great writer, tells funny stories, has a wry sense of humor, takes pictures, cooks and home schools her children. I didn't think I'd have much in common with her, but there's always common ground.
Back to baking. I love baking because, when you find a new recipe, like the one I have in the oven right now, it's usually made with ingredients you already have hanging around in your pantry.
Or should have!
The only ingredient for this Mystery Mocha Dessert that I didn't have was whole milk. But I had 1%. I usually never make changes to recipes without first trying them as originally written.. But all the other ingredients were ready to hand. I didn't think swapping out whole for 1% milk was a major issue. And even when you don't have all the ingredients, you have the majority of them. A quick run to the store for nuts, dried cranberries, etc. is no effort.
(Although my gas gauge is hovering on empty, the light is on, I've driven for two days, and I'm desperately afraid that I won't have enough gas to get to the nearest station, which is as near as the nearest grocery store. And this gas issue SEEMS to be an effort to me. Go figure!)
I also love baking because it's easy to keep up with the dishes as you go. All the prep work gets done ahead of time, so that the least amount of bowls, measuring spoons and cups -- and therefore work -- is all that's left once the ingredients have been combined.
And before you know it, the recipe is in the oven, the dishes are done, and it's time for the wonderful smell of baking yummies to fill the house. And only about 30 minutes has passed. As hot as it is outside, I would never think of using the oven at this time of year usually. But there's always room for exceptions! Yummy exceptions.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sonny In Isolation. Not.
Well, Sonny is never really alone ever unless she's crated. In her crate, she's got a lovely window view, the TV is on for her listening and viewing enjoyment (Animal Planet, of course.) She's crated every day we work. And she seems to like it in there. Well, I know she likes the treat she gets to go in the crate! In the mornings, as soon as she sees me reaching for the treats, she heads off to her crate. She is a creature of habit. And she LOVES her treats, too.
When one of us comes home, there is excitement and joy. But it's reserved, because the family is still incomplete. Not until the second one of us comes home is the family complete and she can be whole again.
The very first time I ever left her was when she was about 4 months old. We'd only had her about a month. Well, I left her. My husband didn't. Sonny moped. My husband made the mistake of taking a shower, leaving the pup to her own devices. When he came out of the shower she had retaliated. Oh well, my husband didn't really need that pillow anyway! It is the only time she has retaliated for leaving her alone.
That we know of.
She did retaliate once because I was on the phone, not paying attention to her. Another pillow incident. But this time, it was a beautiful decorative pillow that I adored. Notice the past tense. She grabbed the pillow out of the guest bedroom, took it out to the living room, and wreaked havoc. When I got off the phone, there were stuffing clouds all over the living room floor. Bye bye pillow.
My husband travels periodically and she appears to adapt to that without much distress I travel less frequently, so it may be more of an ordeal for her when I'm gone. I don't know why. Sometimes when I'm there she seems to favor him the most. But it is me that she follows all over the house all day and all night long. Unless she's in a deep deep sleep, she wakes up and follows me to the laundry, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, to the bathroom.
When one of us is gone, there's more room in the bed for her. Not that space has ever been HER issue. It's always OUR issue. She gets what she takes, and we get what's left over!
There have been times (not many) when we've had to travel and leave her at home. My daughter's wedding in Charleston. Our car trip down to Florida over Christmas last year. A long weekend getaway to Bald Head Island. When we were in Charlotte for a week for my husband's shoulder replacement surgery. Not often for sure, especially when you realize it's over a 3 year period.
But we don't get out very often. Reference The Money Pit.
We ALWAYS take her when we visit our daughter in South Carolina.So she can visit her brother, Charley.
We have a wonderful dog sitter, Jack. Sonny absolutely adores him. Jack is six foot something, but when he talks to Sonny he pitches his voice high just for her. Sonny goes crazy. Jack will spend the night at the house and Sonny sleeps with him. Lucky Jack.
We have had her at a boarding kennel a few times. Sometimes Jack will have to take her there, or -- better yet -- rescue her from the kennel. The one kennel we prefer using is great. Sonny has a glassed in "suite" all to herself, a clear shot of the television (Animal Planet, of course!) and plenty of room. They take her outside to socialize with other dogs, they have a doggie pool and she seems to thrive when there. They are related to my vet, so I feel confident that her medical needs, if they arise, will be dealt with appropriately.
Once, and only once, we had to kennel her somewhere else. Although this place was recommended to me, I will never take her there again. Neither she nor I liked it. It was the only time that, when I picked her up, she jumped into the car without hesitation, without a push from the rear, without goading. As if to say, get me the H out of here. NOW, please.
When one of us comes home, there is excitement and joy. But it's reserved, because the family is still incomplete. Not until the second one of us comes home is the family complete and she can be whole again.
The very first time I ever left her was when she was about 4 months old. We'd only had her about a month. Well, I left her. My husband didn't. Sonny moped. My husband made the mistake of taking a shower, leaving the pup to her own devices. When he came out of the shower she had retaliated. Oh well, my husband didn't really need that pillow anyway! It is the only time she has retaliated for leaving her alone.
That we know of.
She did retaliate once because I was on the phone, not paying attention to her. Another pillow incident. But this time, it was a beautiful decorative pillow that I adored. Notice the past tense. She grabbed the pillow out of the guest bedroom, took it out to the living room, and wreaked havoc. When I got off the phone, there were stuffing clouds all over the living room floor. Bye bye pillow.
My husband travels periodically and she appears to adapt to that without much distress I travel less frequently, so it may be more of an ordeal for her when I'm gone. I don't know why. Sometimes when I'm there she seems to favor him the most. But it is me that she follows all over the house all day and all night long. Unless she's in a deep deep sleep, she wakes up and follows me to the laundry, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, to the bathroom.
When one of us is gone, there's more room in the bed for her. Not that space has ever been HER issue. It's always OUR issue. She gets what she takes, and we get what's left over!
There have been times (not many) when we've had to travel and leave her at home. My daughter's wedding in Charleston. Our car trip down to Florida over Christmas last year. A long weekend getaway to Bald Head Island. When we were in Charlotte for a week for my husband's shoulder replacement surgery. Not often for sure, especially when you realize it's over a 3 year period.
But we don't get out very often. Reference The Money Pit.
We ALWAYS take her when we visit our daughter in South Carolina.So she can visit her brother, Charley.
We have a wonderful dog sitter, Jack. Sonny absolutely adores him. Jack is six foot something, but when he talks to Sonny he pitches his voice high just for her. Sonny goes crazy. Jack will spend the night at the house and Sonny sleeps with him. Lucky Jack.
We have had her at a boarding kennel a few times. Sometimes Jack will have to take her there, or -- better yet -- rescue her from the kennel. The one kennel we prefer using is great. Sonny has a glassed in "suite" all to herself, a clear shot of the television (Animal Planet, of course!) and plenty of room. They take her outside to socialize with other dogs, they have a doggie pool and she seems to thrive when there. They are related to my vet, so I feel confident that her medical needs, if they arise, will be dealt with appropriately.
Once, and only once, we had to kennel her somewhere else. Although this place was recommended to me, I will never take her there again. Neither she nor I liked it. It was the only time that, when I picked her up, she jumped into the car without hesitation, without a push from the rear, without goading. As if to say, get me the H out of here. NOW, please.
Friday, June 18, 2010
You Say TomAto, I Say TomAHto. Read at your own risk.
Does Sonny suffer from mega-esophagus? Does she have Addison's Disease? Does she "merely" have IBS or an IBD? (Irritable bowel syndrome or disease). Does she even have an immune system? Does she have a lupus-type auto-immune disorder that travels from organ to organ, system to system?
Does anybody have the answer to these questions?
If you do, free advice is welcome. I think I'm going to have to refuse to pay anymore for expert advice. Not that I don't appreciate Dr E and all the staff. She and they are more than wonderful.
But Sonny is The Money Pit. Like the oil spilling into the Gulf of Mexico, no one really knows how to stop it. But for now, right now, the BUCKS ARE STOPPING! I can't pour concrete into her mouth to keep what's inside from coming out. Well, I guess I could but it would create other complications. Let's just say that my daughter is the first complication. The second would probably be PETA.
But I can control how I handle her next episode. Oh, and there will be a next. There always is. There always will be.
Because of her gastrointestinal problems, regardless of its name, my carpet is ruined. She's regurgitated on the carpet so many times in so many areas that the only solution is to take out the carpet and put in some kind of new non-carpeted flooring. My living room floor has stains all over the place. Sure, we've managed to clean up most of them, but after 3 years, the carpet has lost. And The Money Pit has won. So, replacing the carpet is not feasible at the moment. Probably never. Well, until we plan to sell the house, that is. Reference the aforementioned Money Pit.
And to set the record straight, Sonny regurgitates. She doesn't vomit. There's a difference, at least according to Dr. E. . Vomiting requires heaving and stomach spasms and a feeling of nauseousness before hurling out stomach contents and bile. Regurgitating happens at a second's notice, without any precursor or foreknowledge.Sonny's episodes? It's more like sneezing. You don't know you're going to sneeze until seconds before you do. When Sonny regurgitates, it takes the poor baby by total surprise. She could be just walking along and out it comes. Or she can be getting up from lying down and out it comes. Or she can be jumping around like a maniac and out it comes.
But it doesn't look like vomit. It looks like dog food that's been sitting in a small amount of water for a good while. Fully shaped, undigested, just soft. It looks like the food has never ever been in her stomach -- maybe just hanging around in her esophagus -- or her digestion is just really really really slow.
I know this is gross. Welcome to our life.
She may go several days -- IF WE'RE LUCKY -- not throwing up, and then regurgitate 4 times in a 20 minute period. And it happens so suddenly, she's not even expecting it. If she gets excited, out it comes. If she's nervous, out it comes. If she gets up too fast, out it comes. And then, poor baby, she runs into her crate because she just can't figure out what just hit her.
She regurgitates when she's under stress. But according to Dr. E, it doesn't matter if the stress is good stress or bad stress. Same reaction. Supposedly, we could increase her dose of prednisone in anticipation of a stressful situation, but the same events don't necessarily trigger the same response each time. And we're at the lowest dose we can give her. If we start increasing it on a regular basis, she first gets terribly thirsty and drinks enormous amounts of water. That get regurgitated. Secondly, she starts losing her fur. Neither reason is acceptable enough to warrant a long-term increase. Also, see The Money Pit.
This past weekend while at my daughter's house, we decided to leave Sonny outside of the crate along with her brothers, Charley and Sig. Outside of the crate for the very first time without a human in attendance.Of course, she wasn't alone. Charley and Sig were there. But, when we came home after being gone one hour, she had regurgitated on the floor.
Of course. Stressed out because she was out of the crate for the first time. I should have known better, but I really didn't see that one coming.
Welcome to our life.
Does anybody have the answer to these questions?
If you do, free advice is welcome. I think I'm going to have to refuse to pay anymore for expert advice. Not that I don't appreciate Dr E and all the staff. She and they are more than wonderful.
But Sonny is The Money Pit. Like the oil spilling into the Gulf of Mexico, no one really knows how to stop it. But for now, right now, the BUCKS ARE STOPPING! I can't pour concrete into her mouth to keep what's inside from coming out. Well, I guess I could but it would create other complications. Let's just say that my daughter is the first complication. The second would probably be PETA.
But I can control how I handle her next episode. Oh, and there will be a next. There always is. There always will be.
Because of her gastrointestinal problems, regardless of its name, my carpet is ruined. She's regurgitated on the carpet so many times in so many areas that the only solution is to take out the carpet and put in some kind of new non-carpeted flooring. My living room floor has stains all over the place. Sure, we've managed to clean up most of them, but after 3 years, the carpet has lost. And The Money Pit has won. So, replacing the carpet is not feasible at the moment. Probably never. Well, until we plan to sell the house, that is. Reference the aforementioned Money Pit.
And to set the record straight, Sonny regurgitates. She doesn't vomit. There's a difference, at least according to Dr. E. . Vomiting requires heaving and stomach spasms and a feeling of nauseousness before hurling out stomach contents and bile. Regurgitating happens at a second's notice, without any precursor or foreknowledge.Sonny's episodes? It's more like sneezing. You don't know you're going to sneeze until seconds before you do. When Sonny regurgitates, it takes the poor baby by total surprise. She could be just walking along and out it comes. Or she can be getting up from lying down and out it comes. Or she can be jumping around like a maniac and out it comes.
But it doesn't look like vomit. It looks like dog food that's been sitting in a small amount of water for a good while. Fully shaped, undigested, just soft. It looks like the food has never ever been in her stomach -- maybe just hanging around in her esophagus -- or her digestion is just really really really slow.
I know this is gross. Welcome to our life.
She may go several days -- IF WE'RE LUCKY -- not throwing up, and then regurgitate 4 times in a 20 minute period. And it happens so suddenly, she's not even expecting it. If she gets excited, out it comes. If she's nervous, out it comes. If she gets up too fast, out it comes. And then, poor baby, she runs into her crate because she just can't figure out what just hit her.
She regurgitates when she's under stress. But according to Dr. E, it doesn't matter if the stress is good stress or bad stress. Same reaction. Supposedly, we could increase her dose of prednisone in anticipation of a stressful situation, but the same events don't necessarily trigger the same response each time. And we're at the lowest dose we can give her. If we start increasing it on a regular basis, she first gets terribly thirsty and drinks enormous amounts of water. That get regurgitated. Secondly, she starts losing her fur. Neither reason is acceptable enough to warrant a long-term increase. Also, see The Money Pit.
This past weekend while at my daughter's house, we decided to leave Sonny outside of the crate along with her brothers, Charley and Sig. Outside of the crate for the very first time without a human in attendance.Of course, she wasn't alone. Charley and Sig were there. But, when we came home after being gone one hour, she had regurgitated on the floor.
Of course. Stressed out because she was out of the crate for the first time. I should have known better, but I really didn't see that one coming.
Welcome to our life.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Traveling with Sonny
One of the good things about Sonny is that she travels in the car very well. If there's just the two of us, she sits up front with me and takes in the scenery. If it's a family trip, she's relegated to the back seat and usually sleeps. Unless we slow down or stop. Or take a curve too quickly. Then she's up and at the window to see what's going on.
Of course, when we travel with her, we are usually going to my husband's family homestead in western North Carolina, or down to coastal South Carolina to visit our daughter, husband and their two dogs. Both places have crates. I don't trust Sonny running free in any environment that isn't enclosed.
We don't really go on vacations. I don't like staying in places that permit pets, because they're usually dives. And I've decided that a vacation in a room with a hotel bed not as good as mine at home isn't much of a vacation. So it's rare we travel without her. Of course, it's rare that we travel period, except to the aforementioned family homestead and our daughter's house! Read my post entitled "The Money Pit".
When we're on the road, we usually stop about every two hours. We stretch our legs and Sonny stretches her's. Big sniffing conventions, because there's all these new smells. And some old ones, because we often stop at the same places.
We offer her water each time we stop. Sometimes she drinks, sometimes she's more interested in getting back in the car in case we decide to leave without her. As if!!
Of course, when we travel with her, we are usually going to my husband's family homestead in western North Carolina, or down to coastal South Carolina to visit our daughter, husband and their two dogs. Both places have crates. I don't trust Sonny running free in any environment that isn't enclosed.
We don't really go on vacations. I don't like staying in places that permit pets, because they're usually dives. And I've decided that a vacation in a room with a hotel bed not as good as mine at home isn't much of a vacation. So it's rare we travel without her. Of course, it's rare that we travel period, except to the aforementioned family homestead and our daughter's house! Read my post entitled "The Money Pit".
When we're on the road, we usually stop about every two hours. We stretch our legs and Sonny stretches her's. Big sniffing conventions, because there's all these new smells. And some old ones, because we often stop at the same places.
We offer her water each time we stop. Sometimes she drinks, sometimes she's more interested in getting back in the car in case we decide to leave without her. As if!!
Monday, June 14, 2010
What's That, You Say?
So Sonny went deaf on us several months ago. I don't know how we missed it for so long, but one day my husband came home for lunch and Sonny didn't wake up in her crate. She was sleeping soundly. My husband made his lunch, opening the refrigerator door, which is always a wake up call for her. Nothing. He calls me, as if I can do anything about it. So, what's going on? Is she still breathing? Yes, he says. I can see her breathing. Then wake her up and make sure she's ok. Right as rain, he says.
Of course, it's Friday with the weekend coming up. But at the moment, she seems fine. Let's see what happens.
What happens is that I come home, start testing her and finally make the assessment: Sonny's deaf! She can hear me yell loudly, she seems to hear my whistle, but not anything else. Certainly not the doorbell. Not the refrigerator door opening. Not the ice dispensing in the freezer door.
WTF do we do now? It's the weekend and we're faced with doing nothing until she can be examined by Dr. E.
During the week Dr. E examines Sonny's ears. She's puzzled, because she's never quite seen this in a dog before. At least to this extent. It looks like there's a big wad of waxy buildup in both her ears. Dr. E is unwilling to commit that removing the blockage will bring back her hearing. Maybe it's related, maybe not. But, unlike in humans where they just lavage the ears out, a dog's ear canal curves, so to get in there is not only uncomfortable but could be dangerous to the dog if the dog moves. So, Sonny's going to have to be anesthesized for the blockage to come out.
Hooray, it works. She can hear again!
And now, she can't. Again. At least it appears to us that she's deaf again. Or being extremely unresponsive on purpose! And not only is it a Friday again, but I am flying out of state for the week.
And there is that Money Pit issue...
Of course, it's Friday with the weekend coming up. But at the moment, she seems fine. Let's see what happens.
What happens is that I come home, start testing her and finally make the assessment: Sonny's deaf! She can hear me yell loudly, she seems to hear my whistle, but not anything else. Certainly not the doorbell. Not the refrigerator door opening. Not the ice dispensing in the freezer door.
WTF do we do now? It's the weekend and we're faced with doing nothing until she can be examined by Dr. E.
During the week Dr. E examines Sonny's ears. She's puzzled, because she's never quite seen this in a dog before. At least to this extent. It looks like there's a big wad of waxy buildup in both her ears. Dr. E is unwilling to commit that removing the blockage will bring back her hearing. Maybe it's related, maybe not. But, unlike in humans where they just lavage the ears out, a dog's ear canal curves, so to get in there is not only uncomfortable but could be dangerous to the dog if the dog moves. So, Sonny's going to have to be anesthesized for the blockage to come out.
Hooray, it works. She can hear again!
And now, she can't. Again. At least it appears to us that she's deaf again. Or being extremely unresponsive on purpose! And not only is it a Friday again, but I am flying out of state for the week.
And there is that Money Pit issue...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Back to the Past: Sonny's Re-Check Visit
Well, we did make it back to the re-check. She survived and apparently thrived over the next several days. We put Sonny back on the exam table, rooting around in her blanket, trying to make a nest. Dr. E walks into the room and comments "look at that, she's acting like a real puppy now."
I took that as a sign of good things to come. It was the first positive affirmation from Dr. E that our puppy was behaving in a normal manner. And she had gained some weight. Things were looking up!
And that's the way Sonny's health has gone ever since. We are always re-assessing. Is she better or worse? How often is she regurgitating? Is she eating or not? Is her stomach making those gurgling sounds that indicate her intestinal tract is in an uproar? Is she licking an inordinate amount? Her paws? Her belly? Is she shaking her head and scratching at her ears? Does she have a fungal or yeast infection? Do we have the meds to try treating it ourselves, or do we need to take her in for yet another veterinary office visit?
It is always something.
Always.
When she was spayed, she pulled her stitches the first night and we had to take her to the emergency vet. Wonderful wonderful folks there, too. They stapled her right up.
Oh yeah, and she went deaf, too. Temporarily, thank goodness. But more on that later.
I took that as a sign of good things to come. It was the first positive affirmation from Dr. E that our puppy was behaving in a normal manner. And she had gained some weight. Things were looking up!
And that's the way Sonny's health has gone ever since. We are always re-assessing. Is she better or worse? How often is she regurgitating? Is she eating or not? Is her stomach making those gurgling sounds that indicate her intestinal tract is in an uproar? Is she licking an inordinate amount? Her paws? Her belly? Is she shaking her head and scratching at her ears? Does she have a fungal or yeast infection? Do we have the meds to try treating it ourselves, or do we need to take her in for yet another veterinary office visit?
It is always something.
Always.
When she was spayed, she pulled her stitches the first night and we had to take her to the emergency vet. Wonderful wonderful folks there, too. They stapled her right up.
Oh yeah, and she went deaf, too. Temporarily, thank goodness. But more on that later.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Money Pit
Sonny stole my heart before I even met her. The concept of a boxer was already ingrained in my heart. But since I got her 38 months ago, she's also stolen my money and almost 100% of my discretionary income.
Do I love her? Absolutely! Unequivocally! She's my buddy when my husband is out of town. She's my buddy when sitting on the couch blogging. She's my buddy when I'm in bed with a migraine. She's my buddy when I'm in bed with a flare-up of Crohn's.
But is she worth it?
I know how many times we've taken Sonny to the vet since we got her. I counted them. One by one. Since our visit on May 26 for more health issues, Sonny has been seen by Dr E 51 times. FIFTY ONE times. In only 38 months. That means, on average, Sonny goes to the vet MORE THAN ONCE A MONTH. I bet you only take your pet to the vet ONCE A YEAR.
You do the math.
It chills me to the bone to realize how much money I've "invested" in my beloved dog. My husband is right. When he looks at Sonny, he calls her his retirement. i used to laugh.
Not anymore. He's right! She's our money pit. She's our vacation getaway to Bald Head Island. She's our trip to a major league baseball game in a metropolitan city. She's a down payment on a vacation home. She's our wood flooring and granite countertop. She's my new dining room set. She's a new pair of eyeglasses. She's our refinished wood floors in my husband's family home. She's also new kitchen cabinets there.
And she's only 3 years old!
I love her and can't imagine my life without her. But her quality of life is starting to affect MY quality of life. And I just don't know what to do...
Do I love her? Absolutely! Unequivocally! She's my buddy when my husband is out of town. She's my buddy when sitting on the couch blogging. She's my buddy when I'm in bed with a migraine. She's my buddy when I'm in bed with a flare-up of Crohn's.
But is she worth it?
I know how many times we've taken Sonny to the vet since we got her. I counted them. One by one. Since our visit on May 26 for more health issues, Sonny has been seen by Dr E 51 times. FIFTY ONE times. In only 38 months. That means, on average, Sonny goes to the vet MORE THAN ONCE A MONTH. I bet you only take your pet to the vet ONCE A YEAR.
You do the math.
It chills me to the bone to realize how much money I've "invested" in my beloved dog. My husband is right. When he looks at Sonny, he calls her his retirement. i used to laugh.
Not anymore. He's right! She's our money pit. She's our vacation getaway to Bald Head Island. She's our trip to a major league baseball game in a metropolitan city. She's a down payment on a vacation home. She's our wood flooring and granite countertop. She's my new dining room set. She's a new pair of eyeglasses. She's our refinished wood floors in my husband's family home. She's also new kitchen cabinets there.
And she's only 3 years old!
I love her and can't imagine my life without her. But her quality of life is starting to affect MY quality of life. And I just don't know what to do...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Now What?
Yesterday was the 51st time Sonny has been seen by the vet in 38 months. Sonny has NEVER had a "well check". She's never been well. And she's never gone more than a month and a half without being seen for one ailment or another. Sometimes she's gone once a week.
This go round, Sonny has been getting up multiple times during the night to chew at her paws, lick her belly, shake her ears and scratch. It was driving us to distraction, so we made an appointment to take her in. Not so much because she was hurting. Mainly because she was disrupting our sleep!
So we took her in, thinking it was her ears and her paws again. Another yeast infection. Or so we thought. Turns out we were right about the ears. Eardrops will do the trick. The paws? Not a yeast infection this time. But Dr E did find pustules on her belly and a few other spots. Some sort of skin problem. She's had it before.
One of the reasons she has been on antibiotics and a special food diet for the past 8 weeks was to determine if her belly pustules were related to a food allergy. Based on this new eruption, probably not. So, her prednisone dosage has been increased, she's taking benadryl, and we'll try a medicated soap.Dr. E thinks maybe it's an airborne allergy. Like people get. Pine trees, dust mites, hair and skin dander, grass...
I don't know if they test dogs for allergies the way humans are tested. And I don't know if dogs get allergy shots like people do. I'm sure I will be finding out. Ca ching$$
Well, since we were there for her ears and skin irritation, we'd go ahead and get her annual check-up for heartworm, get her distemper shot and bordatella vaccine. At least this year she wasn't so sick that we had to delay getting her shots and annual routine examination.
Our appointment was for 4:45. We are always there for at least an hour. I'm not complaining. Dr. E always gives us her undivided attention. We sit on the floor and discuss Sonny, options, indicators, plans, ideas. Anything that helps begin to define today's Sonny issue as well as tomorrow's.
The vet's office recently expanded to add additional examination rooms. I think they should name one of the rooms after Sonny. Or maybe 2. Instead of Exam Room 5, maybe it should say "Room Sonny" or "Sonny's Room" or "In honor of Sonny's owner's contribution to our expansion wing". All kidding aside, I guess it's better than "in memorium".
This go round, Sonny has been getting up multiple times during the night to chew at her paws, lick her belly, shake her ears and scratch. It was driving us to distraction, so we made an appointment to take her in. Not so much because she was hurting. Mainly because she was disrupting our sleep!
So we took her in, thinking it was her ears and her paws again. Another yeast infection. Or so we thought. Turns out we were right about the ears. Eardrops will do the trick. The paws? Not a yeast infection this time. But Dr E did find pustules on her belly and a few other spots. Some sort of skin problem. She's had it before.
One of the reasons she has been on antibiotics and a special food diet for the past 8 weeks was to determine if her belly pustules were related to a food allergy. Based on this new eruption, probably not. So, her prednisone dosage has been increased, she's taking benadryl, and we'll try a medicated soap.Dr. E thinks maybe it's an airborne allergy. Like people get. Pine trees, dust mites, hair and skin dander, grass...
I don't know if they test dogs for allergies the way humans are tested. And I don't know if dogs get allergy shots like people do. I'm sure I will be finding out. Ca ching$$
Well, since we were there for her ears and skin irritation, we'd go ahead and get her annual check-up for heartworm, get her distemper shot and bordatella vaccine. At least this year she wasn't so sick that we had to delay getting her shots and annual routine examination.
Our appointment was for 4:45. We are always there for at least an hour. I'm not complaining. Dr. E always gives us her undivided attention. We sit on the floor and discuss Sonny, options, indicators, plans, ideas. Anything that helps begin to define today's Sonny issue as well as tomorrow's.
The vet's office recently expanded to add additional examination rooms. I think they should name one of the rooms after Sonny. Or maybe 2. Instead of Exam Room 5, maybe it should say "Room Sonny" or "Sonny's Room" or "In honor of Sonny's owner's contribution to our expansion wing". All kidding aside, I guess it's better than "in memorium".
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Weekend in South Carolina
We're visiting our daughter, son-in-law and the two dogs this weekend. Absolute total bedlam. As if three dogs together isn't enough, their cousin Rylie is visiting, too. Four boxers. Two hundred and thirty pounds of boxer love.Boxer slobber. I've been jumped on, scratched and licked since the first minute we got here. My clothes are filthy from being jumped on outside.
I love it! Especially right now when the dogs are pooped out and sleeping. Sig on the couch with me. Charley on the ottoman. Rylie and Sonny on the floor.
But where Sonny is mostly an indoor dog, the other three are outdoor dogs. And they've all been outdoors in the kids' large, fenced in back yard. And they're absolutely filthy. Bringing them indoors is a chore, because their face and feet need wiping off. Sixteen paws. Four mouths. All juggling for position to get into the house first. Well, first behind Charley. As alpha dog, YOU come to HIM to wipe him down, because he is NOT giving up his first place in line.
It's so funny to see how different all four boxers are, It's so much fun to see them interact. Sonny's the smallest and the only female; the other three are un-neutered males. Rylie is hyper-active and paces a lot. He's very friendly and his tail is a rotor engine. It is always wagging double-time.
Charley is the old man and, unless he's outside playing, places himself above the fray of the other dogs. Sig is high energy and the youngest of them all. He's still just trying to figure out what he's supposed to be doing.
And then there's Sonny. She may be small but she's loud. She's quite able to let Sig know when she's had enough! But she LOVES playing with Sig best of all. It used to be Charley, but he would tire out/be bored before she was ready to call it quits. Sig is quite happy to play on, and on, and on and...
I love it! Especially right now when the dogs are pooped out and sleeping. Sig on the couch with me. Charley on the ottoman. Rylie and Sonny on the floor.
But where Sonny is mostly an indoor dog, the other three are outdoor dogs. And they've all been outdoors in the kids' large, fenced in back yard. And they're absolutely filthy. Bringing them indoors is a chore, because their face and feet need wiping off. Sixteen paws. Four mouths. All juggling for position to get into the house first. Well, first behind Charley. As alpha dog, YOU come to HIM to wipe him down, because he is NOT giving up his first place in line.
It's so funny to see how different all four boxers are, It's so much fun to see them interact. Sonny's the smallest and the only female; the other three are un-neutered males. Rylie is hyper-active and paces a lot. He's very friendly and his tail is a rotor engine. It is always wagging double-time.
Charley is the old man and, unless he's outside playing, places himself above the fray of the other dogs. Sig is high energy and the youngest of them all. He's still just trying to figure out what he's supposed to be doing.
And then there's Sonny. She may be small but she's loud. She's quite able to let Sig know when she's had enough! But she LOVES playing with Sig best of all. It used to be Charley, but he would tire out/be bored before she was ready to call it quits. Sig is quite happy to play on, and on, and on and...
Monday, May 31, 2010
Wake Up Call
In the middle of the night, well, 4:30 Sunday morning to be exact, I'm happily blissfully sound asleep. Then my husband taps me and says, wake up. Something's wrong with Sonny. I bolt up to the sound of her panting away, wide awake. She doesn't seem to be in stress, but panting in the middle of the night is definitely not normal for her. She's awake, so it's not a dream she's having.
I take Sonny out of the room and, of course, she heads for the back door. In the middle of the night. It's dark. The neighbors are sleeping and she wants to go outside. Not really an issue, but we're not alone. And, in a flash, here comes Charley. Here comes Sig. Here comes Rylie. So, I let them all out, hoping that no one starts barking.
As each one comes back towards the door, I let them in. Sonny then heads straight for the water, and drinks for what seems like minutes. Ah, maybe it's the prednisone. See, at our vet visit on Wednesday, Dr. E had increased her prednisone from .25 mg per day to .5 mg twice a day, in an effort to clear up her pustules. It's working. Her stomach is 100% better looking, but she's thirsty as all get-out.
So, having eased my concern that we were going to have to find an emergency vet clinic open in the middle of the night, I decide to leave her out with the other dogs.
Out as in outside of the bedrooms. The adults are behind closed doors, leaving the four dogs with the run of the rest of the house. I figure this way my husband and I can sleep undisturbed, and I won't have to keep hearing her pant the rest of the night. I hear the click of toenails on the wood floors several times, but there's no scratching or whining at the door.
This morning, she's fine. Terribly thirsty still, but the panting is gone and she's acting her normal indoor-dog type self. The other three are outside enjoying the fresh air. Sonny would rather be in, so I let her.
She's played hard this morning already and needs her beauty sleep!
I take Sonny out of the room and, of course, she heads for the back door. In the middle of the night. It's dark. The neighbors are sleeping and she wants to go outside. Not really an issue, but we're not alone. And, in a flash, here comes Charley. Here comes Sig. Here comes Rylie. So, I let them all out, hoping that no one starts barking.
As each one comes back towards the door, I let them in. Sonny then heads straight for the water, and drinks for what seems like minutes. Ah, maybe it's the prednisone. See, at our vet visit on Wednesday, Dr. E had increased her prednisone from .25 mg per day to .5 mg twice a day, in an effort to clear up her pustules. It's working. Her stomach is 100% better looking, but she's thirsty as all get-out.
So, having eased my concern that we were going to have to find an emergency vet clinic open in the middle of the night, I decide to leave her out with the other dogs.
Out as in outside of the bedrooms. The adults are behind closed doors, leaving the four dogs with the run of the rest of the house. I figure this way my husband and I can sleep undisturbed, and I won't have to keep hearing her pant the rest of the night. I hear the click of toenails on the wood floors several times, but there's no scratching or whining at the door.
This morning, she's fine. Terribly thirsty still, but the panting is gone and she's acting her normal indoor-dog type self. The other three are outside enjoying the fresh air. Sonny would rather be in, so I let her.
She's played hard this morning already and needs her beauty sleep!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sonny's First Vet Visit
I brought Sonny into the vet's office wrapped in a blanket. I held her in my lap and snuggled with the little mongrel until they called her name. I unwrapped my bundle and they put Sonny on the scale. One pound. How can anything that small be one pound and be alive?
Dr. E came in and examined her. I think she took one look at this small and puny dog and assessed Sonny's life expectancy in days. Dr. E even delayed performing all of her normal first visit shots and procedures in order to take care of her more pressing issues. Like infected bites. And worms. Worms are fairly common in puppies but, as we were to find out time and time again with Sonny, nothing was normal about her. And getting rid of worms would take more than the normal treatment.
I'm pretty sure we talked about life expectancy. I'm pretty sure Dr. E was extremely cuatious. I just don't remember anymore. I may have blocked it out. Although Dr. E still credits us with Sonny's life. That's how bad off she must have been. I'm fairly certain I was in denial at the time.
But I scheduled Sonny's appointment for a recheck. For 5 days later.
Dr. E came in and examined her. I think she took one look at this small and puny dog and assessed Sonny's life expectancy in days. Dr. E even delayed performing all of her normal first visit shots and procedures in order to take care of her more pressing issues. Like infected bites. And worms. Worms are fairly common in puppies but, as we were to find out time and time again with Sonny, nothing was normal about her. And getting rid of worms would take more than the normal treatment.
I'm pretty sure we talked about life expectancy. I'm pretty sure Dr. E was extremely cuatious. I just don't remember anymore. I may have blocked it out. Although Dr. E still credits us with Sonny's life. That's how bad off she must have been. I'm fairly certain I was in denial at the time.
But I scheduled Sonny's appointment for a recheck. For 5 days later.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
In this corner: Sonny, weighing in at 1 pound
Sonny, so small that she is almost dwarfed by our rain gutter. A swath of missing fur on her head, courtesy of her litter mates. What was I thinking?
Our Veterinarian
Sonny's veterinarian and the entire vet's office is The Best! I couldn't ask for better. The staff is caring and friendly. Dr. E has created a real partnership with me and my husband about Sonny's care and well being. She knows we're conservative when it comes to spending money on Sonny, so she's always giving us options.
Conservative in that I don't really think I'm spending that much money all at once. I haven't dared to add up all that I've spent on her piecemeal over the past three years. Too scared to find out that my husband is right when he points to Sonny and says, "Our retirement is sitting right there!."
We were "this close" to taking her to the NC State Veterinary School last year. But then I chickened out about spending $1,000 up front without even knowing anything. And Sonny's condition, at least at this stage, is not a matter of life and death. It's a quality of life issue. Unfortunately, I'm not sure who's quality of life issue it is. Our's or her's! Anyway, we backed out of the appointment and decided to sort of start easy again with Dr. E.
Right now, Sonny's just finished a 6-week course of antibiotics plus a special diet to see if some of her medical issues go away. At the moment, she appears better. But it's too soon to tell whether it's the antibiotics or the special diet. Or maybe it's just luck. She has had "spells" of health when under the old regimen.
So right now, it's wait and see. Wait and see if 6 weeks of antibiotics and longer on an expensive diet improve her intestinal tract. Improve her regurgitation. Improve her spells of not eating. Improve her tummy aches.
Conservative in that I don't really think I'm spending that much money all at once. I haven't dared to add up all that I've spent on her piecemeal over the past three years. Too scared to find out that my husband is right when he points to Sonny and says, "Our retirement is sitting right there!."
We were "this close" to taking her to the NC State Veterinary School last year. But then I chickened out about spending $1,000 up front without even knowing anything. And Sonny's condition, at least at this stage, is not a matter of life and death. It's a quality of life issue. Unfortunately, I'm not sure who's quality of life issue it is. Our's or her's! Anyway, we backed out of the appointment and decided to sort of start easy again with Dr. E.
Right now, Sonny's just finished a 6-week course of antibiotics plus a special diet to see if some of her medical issues go away. At the moment, she appears better. But it's too soon to tell whether it's the antibiotics or the special diet. Or maybe it's just luck. She has had "spells" of health when under the old regimen.
So right now, it's wait and see. Wait and see if 6 weeks of antibiotics and longer on an expensive diet improve her intestinal tract. Improve her regurgitation. Improve her spells of not eating. Improve her tummy aches.
Home At Last
It felt so good to get home with Sonny. I'm quite certain, in retrospect, that my husband was aghast at the pitiful bundle I had brought home. Bless him forever for not saying anything negative at the time. He was most comforting. Back then.
Back then, Sonny was a scrawny wisp of a one-pound nothing. Of course, I didn't even know her weight until the next day at the vet's office. But she was so small she could fit in my husband's hand. She was so small she couldn't get up or down the one step into the house from the outside. She was so small she was almost dwarfed by a drain gutter.
So small that, the first night in her crate, when she cried, it was all over. Sleeping in the crate was never going to be an option. I ruined that by bringing her into our bed. And when she got bigger, we got a bigger bed. A king size bed that somehow Sonny seems to take possession of in the middle of the night. We get the spaces that are left over after she stretches out. With her paws in front and back stretched out, she seems to be almost 4 feet long. And I'm only a little over 5 feet myself.
Well, how did I get to talking about how big she is when I was talking about how small she was? Anyhow, that first night, I couldn't stand the crying. I mean, she's so small. So pitiful. Maybe just tonight? I brought her into our bed and she immediately stopped crying. Of course. She curled up on my neck and passed right out. Just like in the hotel room. I was in heaven. This small puppy-breathed thing was wrapped around my neck. How precious!
And this way, when she needed to relieve herself in the middle of the night, I would know right away and I'd whisk her outside. I think I slept with lounging clothes on for a few nights. Puppies can't wait for people to get dressed when the need arises. Besides, I had taken off the whole next week to spend with her. If my nights were messed up, we'd take naps in the daytime.
And tomorrow we were going to the vet and everything would be ok.
Wouldn't it?
Back then, Sonny was a scrawny wisp of a one-pound nothing. Of course, I didn't even know her weight until the next day at the vet's office. But she was so small she could fit in my husband's hand. She was so small she couldn't get up or down the one step into the house from the outside. She was so small she was almost dwarfed by a drain gutter.
So small that, the first night in her crate, when she cried, it was all over. Sleeping in the crate was never going to be an option. I ruined that by bringing her into our bed. And when she got bigger, we got a bigger bed. A king size bed that somehow Sonny seems to take possession of in the middle of the night. We get the spaces that are left over after she stretches out. With her paws in front and back stretched out, she seems to be almost 4 feet long. And I'm only a little over 5 feet myself.
Well, how did I get to talking about how big she is when I was talking about how small she was? Anyhow, that first night, I couldn't stand the crying. I mean, she's so small. So pitiful. Maybe just tonight? I brought her into our bed and she immediately stopped crying. Of course. She curled up on my neck and passed right out. Just like in the hotel room. I was in heaven. This small puppy-breathed thing was wrapped around my neck. How precious!
And this way, when she needed to relieve herself in the middle of the night, I would know right away and I'd whisk her outside. I think I slept with lounging clothes on for a few nights. Puppies can't wait for people to get dressed when the need arises. Besides, I had taken off the whole next week to spend with her. If my nights were messed up, we'd take naps in the daytime.
And tomorrow we were going to the vet and everything would be ok.
Wouldn't it?
Monday, May 24, 2010
The Wind Chime
In a flash of inspiration, I put a wind chime on our kitchen door to the outside before I brought Sonny home. My thinking was that Sonny would eventually be able to let us know when she wanted to go outside by ringing the chime. It worked like a charm. Still does! Does it ever! Of course, the wind chimes are now one chime. And whatever the centerpiece was is now gone forever. But it still works. And boy in how, does Sonny use it.
My husband hates it.
Of course it was cute when she was a puppy, to pop the wind chime with her paw. And it meant what it was meant for. "I need to go outside and use the facilities, please."
Now, it still means that.But oh, so much more. It means I want to go outside and sniff the air. The jasmine and the roses are in bloom. I want to go outside to see what's out there. Maybe a bird or cat I can bark out. Maybe a pesky human with child walking past on the sidewalk. I want to go outside to smell the grass and make sure no strangers have invaded my territory. I just want to go outside. To be outside. Period. Paragraph.
My husband hates it.
I've learned to ignore it. I usually can tell if she really REALLY means it, or is just bored and has nothing better to do than ring the bell and see if anyone buys into it. And, one good thing about Sonny is she really sticks to a schedule. Eating, peeing, pooping. The whole works. Pretty much got it down to a science. When she's not sick, that is.
My husband hates it. Because, for some strange reason, he can't ignore it. I don't know why it bothers him so much, but it does. It's not as if the wind chime is so noisy he can't hear the TV over its sound. It's not as if she rings it constantly. (Although it can be frequent.) It just annoys him to no end. And I just think it's funny.
I know she NEEDS to go out about every two hours. Considering that she is able to be in her crate for hours on end, two hours seems reasonable to me. Everything else is just gravy for her!
My husband hates it.
But he's the one who usually gets up and takes her out. There's a sucker born every minute!!
My husband hates it.
Of course it was cute when she was a puppy, to pop the wind chime with her paw. And it meant what it was meant for. "I need to go outside and use the facilities, please."
Now, it still means that.But oh, so much more. It means I want to go outside and sniff the air. The jasmine and the roses are in bloom. I want to go outside to see what's out there. Maybe a bird or cat I can bark out. Maybe a pesky human with child walking past on the sidewalk. I want to go outside to smell the grass and make sure no strangers have invaded my territory. I just want to go outside. To be outside. Period. Paragraph.
My husband hates it.
I've learned to ignore it. I usually can tell if she really REALLY means it, or is just bored and has nothing better to do than ring the bell and see if anyone buys into it. And, one good thing about Sonny is she really sticks to a schedule. Eating, peeing, pooping. The whole works. Pretty much got it down to a science. When she's not sick, that is.
My husband hates it. Because, for some strange reason, he can't ignore it. I don't know why it bothers him so much, but it does. It's not as if the wind chime is so noisy he can't hear the TV over its sound. It's not as if she rings it constantly. (Although it can be frequent.) It just annoys him to no end. And I just think it's funny.
I know she NEEDS to go out about every two hours. Considering that she is able to be in her crate for hours on end, two hours seems reasonable to me. Everything else is just gravy for her!
My husband hates it.
But he's the one who usually gets up and takes her out. There's a sucker born every minute!!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Getting Out of Dodge
So, at 5:30 in the morning, after a fitful, stressful and mostly sleepless night, I decided I couldn't stay another minute. From nerves and from lack of sleep, I knew that if I didn't leave then, I'd be worse later on. We sneaked out of the hotel, leaving behind trashcans full of messed up newspapers and a not-so-clean sheet. (I'm sorry!)
Into the car. And hit the road for home. A four hour drive with a helpless pup and a tired, stressed-out driver. I had a little box with a blanket on the front seat. During the trip home, Sonny was moved from the box into my lap and back, for the four hours it took to get home.
When my daughter called later that morning to ask what time we were coming over, I had to explain that I was now only one hour from home. Although disappointed, she understood.
Thank goodness we had shopped for puppy stuff before I picked her up. Everything was ready at home, including a crate, blankets, water and food bowls, food and treats.
And I had already scheduled an appointment with the vet for that Monday. In retrospect, I am so glad I had the foresight to schedule an appointment in advance.
When I said I was 100% invested with Sonny even before I met her, I really meant it. I even had scheduled an entire week of vacation for the upcoming week so that Sonny and I could work out kinks, work on house-training, hang out. Get to know each other. Cuddle. You know, bond.
Yes, I was very invested.
Into the car. And hit the road for home. A four hour drive with a helpless pup and a tired, stressed-out driver. I had a little box with a blanket on the front seat. During the trip home, Sonny was moved from the box into my lap and back, for the four hours it took to get home.
When my daughter called later that morning to ask what time we were coming over, I had to explain that I was now only one hour from home. Although disappointed, she understood.
Thank goodness we had shopped for puppy stuff before I picked her up. Everything was ready at home, including a crate, blankets, water and food bowls, food and treats.
And I had already scheduled an appointment with the vet for that Monday. In retrospect, I am so glad I had the foresight to schedule an appointment in advance.
When I said I was 100% invested with Sonny even before I met her, I really meant it. I even had scheduled an entire week of vacation for the upcoming week so that Sonny and I could work out kinks, work on house-training, hang out. Get to know each other. Cuddle. You know, bond.
Yes, I was very invested.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Hotel California?
Sonny and I left my daughter and traveled to the hotel. The name of the hotel will remain anonymous to protect ME. I left Sonny alone in the car in a box (I know, I'm already a terrible dog owner.) I checked into the hotel, rolled in my suitcase, then went to get Sonny.
I don't know what made me do it, but in hindsight it was brilliant. I asked the hotel to automatically check me out as I planned to leave really early in the morning. Little did I realize how true that statement was to become. At the time, it was just a ploy to get out of the hotel quickly and quietly.
Anyway, I stuck Sonny in a shopping bag with handles, swaddled in blankets. Is that a dangling participle? The bag wasn't swaddled in blankets. Sonny was! And she was whining a little. A foreshadowing of the future, maybe....
I walked quickly and determinedly past the front desk and into the room.
Now what? I didn't realize it, but I really was stressed out. Sonny, although she had started out the day as great as could be, suddenly took a dislike to the introduction of different puppy food. At least, that's what I thought. (Yes, again I'm terrible because I didn't ask the breeder what was being fed to the dogs so I could maintain continuity.)
Yes, she had diarrhea. Every twenty minutes. All night long.
Luckily the bathroom was tile.
But we didn't always make it to the bathroom floor in time.
She was sleeping on my neck. I was trying to sleep. When I felt her stir, we'd jump up and run to the bathroom. (Repeat every twenty minutes from 10:00 at night until 5:30 in the morning.) Clean up with newspapers and towels --yikes! -- on the carpet, the bed, the... You get the picture. And it isn't pretty. I was embarrassed and ashamed. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have left a nice tip. Hopefully they won't associate the room with the name if and when I go back.
I was supposed to see my daughter that morning, but there was NO WAY! I felt that if I didn't get home with Sonny, get her in my house, where my husband was, where the vet was, where my soul needed to recharge, I'd have a nervous breakdown. I was just beginning to have second thoughts about her life expectancy. And, even though I had owned her for less than 24 hours, I was emotionally invested. 100%.
Oh, did I forget to mention that when I bought Sonny, the breeders were so concerned about her life expectancy that they offered me another boxer at half price? IN ADDITION TO SONNY? Silly me to forget such a small detail! They were willing to sell me the runt, but wanted me to buy an insurance dog. Half price! NO WAY!
I don't know what made me do it, but in hindsight it was brilliant. I asked the hotel to automatically check me out as I planned to leave really early in the morning. Little did I realize how true that statement was to become. At the time, it was just a ploy to get out of the hotel quickly and quietly.
Anyway, I stuck Sonny in a shopping bag with handles, swaddled in blankets. Is that a dangling participle? The bag wasn't swaddled in blankets. Sonny was! And she was whining a little. A foreshadowing of the future, maybe....
I walked quickly and determinedly past the front desk and into the room.
Now what? I didn't realize it, but I really was stressed out. Sonny, although she had started out the day as great as could be, suddenly took a dislike to the introduction of different puppy food. At least, that's what I thought. (Yes, again I'm terrible because I didn't ask the breeder what was being fed to the dogs so I could maintain continuity.)
Yes, she had diarrhea. Every twenty minutes. All night long.
Luckily the bathroom was tile.
But we didn't always make it to the bathroom floor in time.
She was sleeping on my neck. I was trying to sleep. When I felt her stir, we'd jump up and run to the bathroom. (Repeat every twenty minutes from 10:00 at night until 5:30 in the morning.) Clean up with newspapers and towels --yikes! -- on the carpet, the bed, the... You get the picture. And it isn't pretty. I was embarrassed and ashamed. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have left a nice tip. Hopefully they won't associate the room with the name if and when I go back.
I was supposed to see my daughter that morning, but there was NO WAY! I felt that if I didn't get home with Sonny, get her in my house, where my husband was, where the vet was, where my soul needed to recharge, I'd have a nervous breakdown. I was just beginning to have second thoughts about her life expectancy. And, even though I had owned her for less than 24 hours, I was emotionally invested. 100%.
Oh, did I forget to mention that when I bought Sonny, the breeders were so concerned about her life expectancy that they offered me another boxer at half price? IN ADDITION TO SONNY? Silly me to forget such a small detail! They were willing to sell me the runt, but wanted me to buy an insurance dog. Half price! NO WAY!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sonny: A study in contrasts
Sonny? Sonny got all the leftover genes that Charley and the rest of the litter evaded Three years in to The Sonny Chronicles, and we have managed to stretch out our vet visits to average only about once every two months. ONLY!!! Most people only need to take their dog to the vet ONCE A YEAR. In this third year, I am finally able to ONLY go to the vet every other month. If I'm lucky. If we're lucky. If she's lucky.
Poor, poor Sonny...
Sonny, in many respects, is the polar opposite of Charley. She is not a lover nor a cuddler. Unless she doesn't feel well. Then, she wants to be a lap dog. A needy lap dog. I know she's not feeling well when she tries to force herself onto my lap. And I usually give in. After all, I don't get that much cuddle time with her.
She hates to be on her back, except for extremely brief belly rubs that she initiates. You will NOT be catching this dog sleeping on her back.Where Charley sleeps like a rock, Sonny is up and down, several times a night.
Where Charley could really care less about toys, Sonny LOVES toys. Any new toy and she acts like she's never had a toy before in her life. It consumes her. For a few minutes, anyway. And then, throughout the course of the evening, she will trot out, one by one, each of her other toys. But she's not content to play with the toy by herself. It requires interaction. A lot of interaction.
Unlike Charley's kisses, Sonny's are sweet and delicate. And very methodical. Almost like she's grooming ME.
Does Charley cry or whine? Not at all. Does Sonny? All the time!
Is Charley a picky eater? Not at all. Is Sonny? You bet!
Is Charley dominant? Duh! Is Sonny? Submissive is her middle name.
Is Charley loved? By one and all. Is Sonny? Yes, but...
Poor, poor Sonny...
Sonny, in many respects, is the polar opposite of Charley. She is not a lover nor a cuddler. Unless she doesn't feel well. Then, she wants to be a lap dog. A needy lap dog. I know she's not feeling well when she tries to force herself onto my lap. And I usually give in. After all, I don't get that much cuddle time with her.
She hates to be on her back, except for extremely brief belly rubs that she initiates. You will NOT be catching this dog sleeping on her back.Where Charley sleeps like a rock, Sonny is up and down, several times a night.
Where Charley could really care less about toys, Sonny LOVES toys. Any new toy and she acts like she's never had a toy before in her life. It consumes her. For a few minutes, anyway. And then, throughout the course of the evening, she will trot out, one by one, each of her other toys. But she's not content to play with the toy by herself. It requires interaction. A lot of interaction.
Unlike Charley's kisses, Sonny's are sweet and delicate. And very methodical. Almost like she's grooming ME.
Does Charley cry or whine? Not at all. Does Sonny? All the time!
Is Charley a picky eater? Not at all. Is Sonny? You bet!
Is Charley dominant? Duh! Is Sonny? Submissive is her middle name.
Is Charley loved? By one and all. Is Sonny? Yes, but...
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Charley and Sonny
I could eat them both up and not even have to spit out the bones, they are just so yummy!Aren't they adorable?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Charley: A Diversionary Tale
In the movie "Twins", Arnold Schwarzennager and Danny DeVito are genetically engineered twin brothers. Well, Arnold is genetically engineered. Danny DeVito's DNA is made up of what junk is leftover after all the good stuff is spinned out for Arnold.
That's Charley and Sonny. I imagine that Charley got all the good genes, and my poor Sonny was stuck with whatever was left behind.
Except for some minor issues, Charley has been the vision of health and vigor. He's the alpha male, but very laid back. VERY laid back. My daughter says she picked him because, of all the puppies in the litter, he was the one content to stay in her lap. She picked right. Charley is the lover and the cuddler. And he was born old. Old and wizened. Old and mature. He loves to play outside, don't get me wrong, but he's happy just chilling. In someone's lap. My daughter and son-in-law can lift him up and hold him in their arms. He'll lay on his back. He'll sit in their lap, laying back against your chest. Toys? He could care less, except as an exercise in dominance over another dog.
He loves to give kisses, too. Wet, sloppy kisses. Charley will come up from behind when you're sitting on the ottoman, and start to nibble at your neck, your ears, then get to your cheeks.
Charley is un-neutered and three years old, but I have yet to see him exhibit any symptoms of frustration due to his still unfulfilled natural urges. I doubt very much that Captain Sig (WHO? WHAT? [yes, a new boxer in Charley's household]) will accept his unfulfilled urges in such a sanguine manner.
Does Charley have any flaws or defects? Other than the wettest, sloppiest tongue I've ever known? None! Oh, yeah, I just thought of one. When he sleeps in the bed with me, he falls totally sound asleep and becomes nothing but a dead weight. An immovable force. Wherever he lands, he stays. If he's at your feet and you want to stretch your legs, fuggedaboudit! Is there such a thing as Boxer Velcro? You just can't move the guy unless you wake him up.
His fur is like velvet, especially his ears. I think his favorite indoor activity is looking outdoors! And napping, of course. I believe he's my son-in-law's best bud. And my daughter's "first born"!
He's an absolute love. And I absolutely love him.
Later: Rylie and Captain Sig. And more on Treyce.
That's Charley and Sonny. I imagine that Charley got all the good genes, and my poor Sonny was stuck with whatever was left behind.
Except for some minor issues, Charley has been the vision of health and vigor. He's the alpha male, but very laid back. VERY laid back. My daughter says she picked him because, of all the puppies in the litter, he was the one content to stay in her lap. She picked right. Charley is the lover and the cuddler. And he was born old. Old and wizened. Old and mature. He loves to play outside, don't get me wrong, but he's happy just chilling. In someone's lap. My daughter and son-in-law can lift him up and hold him in their arms. He'll lay on his back. He'll sit in their lap, laying back against your chest. Toys? He could care less, except as an exercise in dominance over another dog.
He loves to give kisses, too. Wet, sloppy kisses. Charley will come up from behind when you're sitting on the ottoman, and start to nibble at your neck, your ears, then get to your cheeks.
Charley is un-neutered and three years old, but I have yet to see him exhibit any symptoms of frustration due to his still unfulfilled natural urges. I doubt very much that Captain Sig (WHO? WHAT? [yes, a new boxer in Charley's household]) will accept his unfulfilled urges in such a sanguine manner.
Does Charley have any flaws or defects? Other than the wettest, sloppiest tongue I've ever known? None! Oh, yeah, I just thought of one. When he sleeps in the bed with me, he falls totally sound asleep and becomes nothing but a dead weight. An immovable force. Wherever he lands, he stays. If he's at your feet and you want to stretch your legs, fuggedaboudit! Is there such a thing as Boxer Velcro? You just can't move the guy unless you wake him up.
His fur is like velvet, especially his ears. I think his favorite indoor activity is looking outdoors! And napping, of course. I believe he's my son-in-law's best bud. And my daughter's "first born"!
He's an absolute love. And I absolutely love him.
Later: Rylie and Captain Sig. And more on Treyce.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Sonny!! (As in Sonny Liston, the boxer. Get it?)
Her markings were -- and still are -- beautiful. She has white flashing across her chest in the shape of a cross. There are patches of brown around her paws, her butt, her eyebrow. Her nails are black AND white. Without the flashing, she has the markings of a rottweiler. Just not the build. She has a pointy head. The breeder told me that a pointy head was a sign of intelligence. Well, all I can say, after 3 years with Sonny, is "I'm still waiting!" She has more of the European look about her -- her face is more pointy than "American" boxers. She's got jowls, but -- and this is one of her FEW pluses -- she doesn't drool.
I can no longer remember whether I had already named her "Sonny", or if I waited until I got home the next day to give my husband the belief he had a say in her name!
I had driven down from my daughter's house to the breeder's, holding Charley, who had been purchased from the same breeder one week before. On the way back, my daughter drove, holding Charley in her lap. And I sat, holding Sonny in mine.
She was quiet. She was curious. Apparently, she was hungry. I just didn't know it yet. My daughter and I had had the foresight to bring puppy treats to bribe our pets. I opened the bag and handed a treat to Charley. As I reached into the bag to pull out a treat for Sonny, she DOVE HEAD FIRST INTO THE BAG. Yes, she was really hungry. And, yes, she was really that small!
We got back to my daughter's house and I gave Sonny her first bath in the bathroom sink. I had some alone time with all the dogs -- Sonny, Charley and Treyce. I was in dog heaven. We all took a nap on the couch, then went outside to get warmed in the sun. It was April, and Sonny and Charley were 7 weeks old.
I had rented a hotel room that night because my daughter and future husband had house guests. Do you understand what I just said? I rented a hotel room for that night. With a puppy. WHAT WAS I THINKING???
Coming Up: Can you check into a hotel under a pseudonym?
I can no longer remember whether I had already named her "Sonny", or if I waited until I got home the next day to give my husband the belief he had a say in her name!
I had driven down from my daughter's house to the breeder's, holding Charley, who had been purchased from the same breeder one week before. On the way back, my daughter drove, holding Charley in her lap. And I sat, holding Sonny in mine.
She was quiet. She was curious. Apparently, she was hungry. I just didn't know it yet. My daughter and I had had the foresight to bring puppy treats to bribe our pets. I opened the bag and handed a treat to Charley. As I reached into the bag to pull out a treat for Sonny, she DOVE HEAD FIRST INTO THE BAG. Yes, she was really hungry. And, yes, she was really that small!
We got back to my daughter's house and I gave Sonny her first bath in the bathroom sink. I had some alone time with all the dogs -- Sonny, Charley and Treyce. I was in dog heaven. We all took a nap on the couch, then went outside to get warmed in the sun. It was April, and Sonny and Charley were 7 weeks old.
I had rented a hotel room that night because my daughter and future husband had house guests. Do you understand what I just said? I rented a hotel room for that night. With a puppy. WHAT WAS I THINKING???
Coming Up: Can you check into a hotel under a pseudonym?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Pardon the Interruption: A Brief Rant (Well, not so brief)
If my daughter hadn't been with me, if she hadn't brought Charley on the expedition -- Charley, living proof that there were healthy boxer puppies inside -- I'm pretty sure I would have turned the car around. I didn't think that I was buying from a reputable breeder. I KNEW I was pulling into the driveway of a boxer puppy mill.
That's not to say they didn't take care of and love the dogs. But they weren't AKC registered. The mother had had multiple litters that same year. When the breeder took us to meet her, her nipples hung so low she looked misshapen. But she appeared cared for.
I didn't like seeing a male boxer tethered to a tree. I didn't ask, but I'm hoping it was only temporary. Maybe because we were coming. After all, the yard wasn't fenced in.
Bottom line: they were churning out puppies for the money. All the horror stories .All the recommendations to purchase only from reputable breeders.All went out the window for the black. female. runt.
But I believe we would all gravitate to reputable breeders if we could afford it. Then again, aren't the reputable breeders in it for the money, too?
Face it, are papers THAT important? And more, are they worth $1,000 more? Is it nothing more than the difference between buying couturier clothing compared to buying off the rack? After all, most people do ok with their off the rack clothing purchases. And most people who buy "off the rack" dogs are happy with their purchase.
It is true that when one is dealing with puppy mill, the risk of cross-breed fertilization, and the risk of in-breeding is certainly higher.. The former is really not a big deal. After all, you KNOW you're not buying AKC registered. And the latter? Well, most of the time the dogs are ok.
And even though I know better than to do it again, I'm already looking at a gray pit bull puppy, sight unseen. (No thanks to Cesar Milan's "Junior"!) I don't know why, but I've been bitten by the pit bull bug. I know the puppy's daddy, Diesel. I know nothing about the female nor her environment. The ONLY thing holding me back (I'm asking my husband to cover his ears while I write this) is the ultimate cost of buying another dog.
Once burned, twice shy.
In the end, you're paying for the label, a name brand, a pure breed with healthy pedigree (usually). And, even though I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I rescued the black female runt, I did my part to further the reason these puppy mills exist in the first place. And, for that, I do have regrets.
Coming up: Meet Sonny
That's not to say they didn't take care of and love the dogs. But they weren't AKC registered. The mother had had multiple litters that same year. When the breeder took us to meet her, her nipples hung so low she looked misshapen. But she appeared cared for.
I didn't like seeing a male boxer tethered to a tree. I didn't ask, but I'm hoping it was only temporary. Maybe because we were coming. After all, the yard wasn't fenced in.
Bottom line: they were churning out puppies for the money. All the horror stories .All the recommendations to purchase only from reputable breeders.All went out the window for the black. female. runt.
But I believe we would all gravitate to reputable breeders if we could afford it. Then again, aren't the reputable breeders in it for the money, too?
Face it, are papers THAT important? And more, are they worth $1,000 more? Is it nothing more than the difference between buying couturier clothing compared to buying off the rack? After all, most people do ok with their off the rack clothing purchases. And most people who buy "off the rack" dogs are happy with their purchase.
It is true that when one is dealing with puppy mill, the risk of cross-breed fertilization, and the risk of in-breeding is certainly higher.. The former is really not a big deal. After all, you KNOW you're not buying AKC registered. And the latter? Well, most of the time the dogs are ok.
And even though I know better than to do it again, I'm already looking at a gray pit bull puppy, sight unseen. (No thanks to Cesar Milan's "Junior"!) I don't know why, but I've been bitten by the pit bull bug. I know the puppy's daddy, Diesel. I know nothing about the female nor her environment. The ONLY thing holding me back (I'm asking my husband to cover his ears while I write this) is the ultimate cost of buying another dog.
Once burned, twice shy.
In the end, you're paying for the label, a name brand, a pure breed with healthy pedigree (usually). And, even though I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I rescued the black female runt, I did my part to further the reason these puppy mills exist in the first place. And, for that, I do have regrets.
Coming up: Meet Sonny
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The Black. Female. Runt.
I didn't see the flaws.
Honestly.
I didn't see her scrawniness.
Honest!
I saw that she was black. I saw that she was a female. I had been told she was the runt, but I could see that for myself now.
I DID see the bites on the top of her pointy head. The breeder (and I do use that term in the loosest sense of the word) said the other puppies bit her because she was the smallest. And the bites were starting to get infected.
The breeder said he had been hand-feeding her because she wasn't able to get to the mother to nurse. HELLO!! Heather? Did you go deaf when you walked in their door?
I didn't even look at the cute rolly poly puppies hopping around, playing with each other.
I only had eyes for the black. female. runt.
Later, as one does to ease buyer's remorse, I justified my purchase as a true rescue operation. I do believe I actually bought a rescue dog. That puppy had no business still being alive. Apparently, she was a fighter. But for how much longer? I felt that I had saved her from certain death. I mean, how much longer was the breeder willing to take care of her? If she didn't die on her own.
Looking back at the situation now, I still believe I rescued her. But at what cost? To be honest, I haven't had the courage to add up the total expenses... but that's another story for another time.
Back to the breeders...
Honestly.
I didn't see her scrawniness.
Honest!
I saw that she was black. I saw that she was a female. I had been told she was the runt, but I could see that for myself now.
I DID see the bites on the top of her pointy head. The breeder (and I do use that term in the loosest sense of the word) said the other puppies bit her because she was the smallest. And the bites were starting to get infected.
The breeder said he had been hand-feeding her because she wasn't able to get to the mother to nurse. HELLO!! Heather? Did you go deaf when you walked in their door?
I didn't even look at the cute rolly poly puppies hopping around, playing with each other.
I only had eyes for the black. female. runt.
Later, as one does to ease buyer's remorse, I justified my purchase as a true rescue operation. I do believe I actually bought a rescue dog. That puppy had no business still being alive. Apparently, she was a fighter. But for how much longer? I felt that I had saved her from certain death. I mean, how much longer was the breeder willing to take care of her? If she didn't die on her own.
Looking back at the situation now, I still believe I rescued her. But at what cost? To be honest, I haven't had the courage to add up the total expenses... but that's another story for another time.
Back to the breeders...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
Those bells and whistles must have been put on mute 'cause I sure didn't hear them as we turned into the driveway. The first thing I noticed was a boxer tied up to a tree in the backyard. I didn't like that. But I don't remember asking my daughter to turn the car around.
Walking into the house, the second thing I noticed was someone smoking a cigarette. In the house. With an infant. Where WERE those bells and whistles? Do people still smoke with children in the house? What about second-hand smoke? What about cancer? But that's another story.
But the folks were nice enough and they let the puppies out of the crate. All of the puppies. All at once. I don't know if there were more than 5, but it seemed like a dozen. All of them running all over the place, tumbling over each other, jumping into my lap. They were cute. They were cuddly. But where was the black female runt?
Ah, there she was, trying to fade into the background. Trying to look unobtrusive. Trying to not call attention to herself. Because as soon as she did, the other puppies started biting her. I bet you hear the bells and whistles. And yet, as the sage Yoda the Jedi warrior would say, deaf I still was.
Next: Sonny!!
Walking into the house, the second thing I noticed was someone smoking a cigarette. In the house. With an infant. Where WERE those bells and whistles? Do people still smoke with children in the house? What about second-hand smoke? What about cancer? But that's another story.
But the folks were nice enough and they let the puppies out of the crate. All of the puppies. All at once. I don't know if there were more than 5, but it seemed like a dozen. All of them running all over the place, tumbling over each other, jumping into my lap. They were cute. They were cuddly. But where was the black female runt?
Ah, there she was, trying to fade into the background. Trying to look unobtrusive. Trying to not call attention to herself. Because as soon as she did, the other puppies started biting her. I bet you hear the bells and whistles. And yet, as the sage Yoda the Jedi warrior would say, deaf I still was.
Next: Sonny!!
Friday, May 7, 2010
I shoulda left my heart in San Francisco...
...or anywhere else for that matter. But I should NOT have taken my heart south of the border. South of the North Carolina border, that is!
Everything I had read previously had created a mental "checklist" of questions to ask, things to look for, when picking out a breeder and the dog. And I thought I would still be rational when I drove to South Carolina and met with my daughter to go to the breeder's house.
Uh huh.
My checklist went out the window as soon as I saw Charley, my daughter's pup. He was so cute, so adorable, so cuddly, so full of puppy breath. I mean, how could anything be wrong with the pup I chose. Famous last words.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize that, at the instant I knew a female runt was available, the dog I was going to get was already predetermined.By myself. Subconsciously.
I must have been deaf. Because I sure didn't hear those bells and whistles going off when we turned into the breeder's driveway.
Next: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Everything I had read previously had created a mental "checklist" of questions to ask, things to look for, when picking out a breeder and the dog. And I thought I would still be rational when I drove to South Carolina and met with my daughter to go to the breeder's house.
Uh huh.
My checklist went out the window as soon as I saw Charley, my daughter's pup. He was so cute, so adorable, so cuddly, so full of puppy breath. I mean, how could anything be wrong with the pup I chose. Famous last words.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize that, at the instant I knew a female runt was available, the dog I was going to get was already predetermined.By myself. Subconsciously.
I must have been deaf. Because I sure didn't hear those bells and whistles going off when we turned into the breeder's driveway.
Next: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Boxers For Sale!
After months of looking for Boxers, I had just about decided to go ahead and spend the money on a reliable breeder here in the community that had been recommended to me.
And then came that fateful phone call.
From my daughter.
Saying she had found a boxer breeder close by, and she had picked out a puppy. She had named him Charley. And guess what? They still had puppies left in the litter. And one of them was a female runt.
A FEMALE RUNT???!!!! That's exactly what I was looking for. A female runt. Female boxers run smaller than male boxers, and runts should generally be small. And guess what else, she said. She's BLACK!! All my research told me there was really no such thing as a black boxer. But my daughter said, although the dogs were not AKC registered, both the parents were boxers. And guess what? They were selling them for $200! $200? Wow. That's cheap, I thought. Way better than I expected to pay to the reliable breeder.
I bet YOU hear those bells and whistles going off. I wish I had. Black? Not AKC registered? $200?
I should have stopped right there.
I should have known better. But my heart was beating louder than my inner voice was speaking. And I forgot everything else but that there seemed to be a puppy with MY name on it.
I asked my daughter to call the owners and tell them to hold the puppy for me. I would be down the following weekend.
The week flew by, mainly because of a continual stream of pictures of my daughter's newest addition to her family. Charley was adorable and sort of roly poly. I bet the female runt would be just about the same: adorable and roly poly.
It's probably a good thing I don't gamble. (hint: I "bet" the female runt would be...)
'Cause, boy, was I ever wrong!
Next Leave your heart at home when you look for a pet.
And then came that fateful phone call.
From my daughter.
Saying she had found a boxer breeder close by, and she had picked out a puppy. She had named him Charley. And guess what? They still had puppies left in the litter. And one of them was a female runt.
A FEMALE RUNT???!!!! That's exactly what I was looking for. A female runt. Female boxers run smaller than male boxers, and runts should generally be small. And guess what else, she said. She's BLACK!! All my research told me there was really no such thing as a black boxer. But my daughter said, although the dogs were not AKC registered, both the parents were boxers. And guess what? They were selling them for $200! $200? Wow. That's cheap, I thought. Way better than I expected to pay to the reliable breeder.
I bet YOU hear those bells and whistles going off. I wish I had. Black? Not AKC registered? $200?
I should have stopped right there.
I should have known better. But my heart was beating louder than my inner voice was speaking. And I forgot everything else but that there seemed to be a puppy with MY name on it.
I asked my daughter to call the owners and tell them to hold the puppy for me. I would be down the following weekend.
The week flew by, mainly because of a continual stream of pictures of my daughter's newest addition to her family. Charley was adorable and sort of roly poly. I bet the female runt would be just about the same: adorable and roly poly.
It's probably a good thing I don't gamble. (hint: I "bet" the female runt would be...)
'Cause, boy, was I ever wrong!
Next Leave your heart at home when you look for a pet.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Search For Boxers in An Elegant Universe
I started researching Boxers, to determine if I would be a good match with them. Dog-sitting is one thing. Owning one, being tethered to one, being totally responsible to one, is something else indeed.
I checked out books from the library, researched websites on-line, and started visiting a few boxer rescue websites. I even looked online with the local animal shelter. The animal shelter had lots of boxer mixes, but most of them looked more like the mix than the boxer. And that other part was always another big dog, like a shepherd or chow or pit bull. (More later about my new obsession with pit bulls!)
I finally got up the courage to apply for a rescue boxer. The application was filled out and accepted. And then the boxer rescue group sent a representative nto our home to ascertain that we were dog worthy.
We did get accepted, but the rescue association never saw fit to match us with the few dogs we requested. We were hoping for a boxer on the smallish side. We don't have a big yard or a large home, so we were hoping to scale down a bit. Definitely female, and preferably on the runtish side.
There was one particular boxer that I really, really wanted. The rescue group called her a "smoxer" (small boxer!). But I was turned down in favor of someone else. Sadly,I found out a few weeks later that the dog had gotten loose and run away. I was heartsick.
And it was at that point that I decided that maybe adopting a rescue dog was not quite my fit anyway. All the dogs seemed to have various issues, either emotional- or health-wise. So, I decided to start looking into purchasing a boxer from a reputable breeder.
Next up: If the phone rings, don't always answer it.
I checked out books from the library, researched websites on-line, and started visiting a few boxer rescue websites. I even looked online with the local animal shelter. The animal shelter had lots of boxer mixes, but most of them looked more like the mix than the boxer. And that other part was always another big dog, like a shepherd or chow or pit bull. (More later about my new obsession with pit bulls!)
I finally got up the courage to apply for a rescue boxer. The application was filled out and accepted. And then the boxer rescue group sent a representative nto our home to ascertain that we were dog worthy.
We did get accepted, but the rescue association never saw fit to match us with the few dogs we requested. We were hoping for a boxer on the smallish side. We don't have a big yard or a large home, so we were hoping to scale down a bit. Definitely female, and preferably on the runtish side.
There was one particular boxer that I really, really wanted. The rescue group called her a "smoxer" (small boxer!). But I was turned down in favor of someone else. Sadly,I found out a few weeks later that the dog had gotten loose and run away. I was heartsick.
And it was at that point that I decided that maybe adopting a rescue dog was not quite my fit anyway. All the dogs seemed to have various issues, either emotional- or health-wise. So, I decided to start looking into purchasing a boxer from a reputable breeder.
Next up: If the phone rings, don't always answer it.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Treyce. Love At First Sight
What can I say?
It was love at first sight.
I had never seen a more noble looking dog up close before. I got down on the floor with her, and I saw nothing of a killer dog about her. She was just a big, beautiful, middle-aging dog with beautiful flashing and the sweetest saddest eyes on the planet. In that instant of love, I told my daughter that anytime she and her future husband were needing to go out of town, I would dog-sit her. And I did! A lot! At least for their last year in school. And when they took Treyce away and moved to the next state, I visited them (The kids don't know, but I was really visiting Treyce, HA HA!!) as often as I could. And dog-sat her there.
She did have her issues, especially about being left alone indoors. She suffered from separation anxiety, and took it out on anything that got in her way. Doors, food on the counter, window blinds. You get the picture. She didn't like being left alone.
On the day my future-son-in-law gave his oral defense of his dissertation, Treyce was left alone. No one was in the house and Treyce wanted OUT. Of course, there were other roommates in the house most of the time, so even though my daughter and/or her beau might be gone, someone was often there.
But not this day. This day, it was a big day for my future son-in-law. Fortunately, the call didn't come in until afterwards. You know, when everybody goes out and celebrates the successful defense of a PhD. Someone in the neighborhood checked Treyce's tag and called the number listed.
Turns out, not only was Treyce left alone, but the kitchen door had been left open. Picture this, if you will: An open kitchen door, a kitchen counter, and a screened open window. Trust me when I say that none of those were impediments to her ultimate freedom. She jumped on the counter, pushed out the screen, and away she went.
It made for an unusually exciting day! An when the kids left Eastern North Carolina (and took Treyce with them) they had to replace most of the window blinds in the house.
I don't feel sorry for them. They took Treyce away from me!
Next: Do I REALLY want a dog?
It was love at first sight.
I had never seen a more noble looking dog up close before. I got down on the floor with her, and I saw nothing of a killer dog about her. She was just a big, beautiful, middle-aging dog with beautiful flashing and the sweetest saddest eyes on the planet. In that instant of love, I told my daughter that anytime she and her future husband were needing to go out of town, I would dog-sit her. And I did! A lot! At least for their last year in school. And when they took Treyce away and moved to the next state, I visited them (The kids don't know, but I was really visiting Treyce, HA HA!!) as often as I could. And dog-sat her there.
She did have her issues, especially about being left alone indoors. She suffered from separation anxiety, and took it out on anything that got in her way. Doors, food on the counter, window blinds. You get the picture. She didn't like being left alone.
On the day my future-son-in-law gave his oral defense of his dissertation, Treyce was left alone. No one was in the house and Treyce wanted OUT. Of course, there were other roommates in the house most of the time, so even though my daughter and/or her beau might be gone, someone was often there.
But not this day. This day, it was a big day for my future son-in-law. Fortunately, the call didn't come in until afterwards. You know, when everybody goes out and celebrates the successful defense of a PhD. Someone in the neighborhood checked Treyce's tag and called the number listed.
Turns out, not only was Treyce left alone, but the kitchen door had been left open. Picture this, if you will: An open kitchen door, a kitchen counter, and a screened open window. Trust me when I say that none of those were impediments to her ultimate freedom. She jumped on the counter, pushed out the screen, and away she went.
It made for an unusually exciting day! An when the kids left Eastern North Carolina (and took Treyce with them) they had to replace most of the window blinds in the house.
I don't feel sorry for them. They took Treyce away from me!
Next: Do I REALLY want a dog?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
PHOTO: Sonny's first day with her human family
In my arms after driving to pick Sonny up. She is cuddling with her litter mate, Charley, who is owned by my daughter. Two days later at the vet's office, we found out she weighed only one pound. What WAS I thinking?
Treyce, The Killer Dog
My daughter's future husband was the owner (in absentia) of a six year old Boxer named Treyce. I had never been exposed to the breed before, and it had been decades since I was emotionally connected to any pets.My childhood always had had a dog in it, and my parents had two dogs during their empty nester days until the dogs reached the end of their lifespan.
However, that was decades ago. My empty nest life had begun and we were enjoying the freedom to move about without a second thought. Well, after the work-week was over, at least.
Back to Treyce... The neighborhood in which she was living was without leash laws and all the neighborhood dogs roamed freely. Treyce got into a serious tussle with a small yapping dog and the small yapping dog lost. Fatally. Yapping small dogs and all cats were Treyce's enemies. Oh, and squirrels. My daughter and her future husband rushed to rescue Treyce from the neighborhood before there were any thoughts about putting her down, and brought her back to our home town, where we lived and where they both were graduate students.
My daughter was very excited to have me meet Treyce. I'll never forget THAT conversation, which took place over four years ago. I asked my daughter, in disbelief: "Do you REALLY want to introduce your MOTHER to a KILLER DOG?" She insisted that Treyce wasn't "like that" and that I'd like her. Reluctantly, I invited her and the killer dog over to the house.
Before I go on, let me say that, although I had always grown up with dogs, they were all small dogs. Two were dachshunds, one was a basset hound (ok, not so small but definitely SHORT!), one was a 5-pound teacup poodle, and the other was a miniature schnauzer.
My daughter would be over in 15 minutes, and I didn't know what to think. A killer dog was coming into MY home, and I didn't even know what a Boxer was. And, AND, this killer dog was going to be living with my daughter. My days of having any influence with my daughter were long, long gone. The killer dog was coming over, and I'd better make the best of it if I wanted to keep seeing my daughter. Of that you can be sure.
I saw her car drive up and I let the two of them come to the kitchen door. In walked my daughter and Treyce.
Next: Meeting the Killer Dog
However, that was decades ago. My empty nest life had begun and we were enjoying the freedom to move about without a second thought. Well, after the work-week was over, at least.
Back to Treyce... The neighborhood in which she was living was without leash laws and all the neighborhood dogs roamed freely. Treyce got into a serious tussle with a small yapping dog and the small yapping dog lost. Fatally. Yapping small dogs and all cats were Treyce's enemies. Oh, and squirrels. My daughter and her future husband rushed to rescue Treyce from the neighborhood before there were any thoughts about putting her down, and brought her back to our home town, where we lived and where they both were graduate students.
My daughter was very excited to have me meet Treyce. I'll never forget THAT conversation, which took place over four years ago. I asked my daughter, in disbelief: "Do you REALLY want to introduce your MOTHER to a KILLER DOG?" She insisted that Treyce wasn't "like that" and that I'd like her. Reluctantly, I invited her and the killer dog over to the house.
Before I go on, let me say that, although I had always grown up with dogs, they were all small dogs. Two were dachshunds, one was a basset hound (ok, not so small but definitely SHORT!), one was a 5-pound teacup poodle, and the other was a miniature schnauzer.
My daughter would be over in 15 minutes, and I didn't know what to think. A killer dog was coming into MY home, and I didn't even know what a Boxer was. And, AND, this killer dog was going to be living with my daughter. My days of having any influence with my daughter were long, long gone. The killer dog was coming over, and I'd better make the best of it if I wanted to keep seeing my daughter. Of that you can be sure.
I saw her car drive up and I let the two of them come to the kitchen door. In walked my daughter and Treyce.
Next: Meeting the Killer Dog
Saturday, May 1, 2010
A Short Introduction
Sonny is a three-year old female black Boxer with some flashing, a bobbed tail and unclipped ears. Without the white flashing she has the coloring of a Rottweiler, but the build and temperament of a true boxer. This blog hopes to share my attempts (and those of my husband) at first-time dog ownership. Needless to say, it's been mostly seat of the pants, with some recent tweaking by following the teachings and philosophies of the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan.
Sonny's external physique is perfect and the vision of health and loveliness (for a Boxer). But inside, well, her insides are a total train wreck.
Throughout this monologue, I'll also be including some work-place scenarios (read as: comedy, drama and Jerry Springer!). No names, I promise. But you know who you are!
I hope you'll join me in my ongoing quest to discover what is wrong with Sonny, what is wrong with the world, what is wrong with me! Stay tuned. It just might get interesting!
Next up: Treyce, The Killer Dog
Sonny's external physique is perfect and the vision of health and loveliness (for a Boxer). But inside, well, her insides are a total train wreck.
Throughout this monologue, I'll also be including some work-place scenarios (read as: comedy, drama and Jerry Springer!). No names, I promise. But you know who you are!
I hope you'll join me in my ongoing quest to discover what is wrong with Sonny, what is wrong with the world, what is wrong with me! Stay tuned. It just might get interesting!
Next up: Treyce, The Killer Dog
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