Someone Appreciates Spring Weather!

Can you believe she'll be 13 in May?

Excitement

Well, no. Not really. Today, after a busy week of weather and driving and errands and minor emergencies and mood swings and emotional issues... 

Today we are being beautifully lazy. Enjoy your weekend. May you get from it whatever you need. 

 

We’re participating in this Saturday’s Pet Blog Hop, hosted by Life With Dogs, Two Little Cavaliers and Confessions of the Plume.  If you’d like to participate, please follow the rules and follow your three hosts, add your blog to the Linky and copy and paste the html code into your html editor.  Thanks again to our hosts for putting on the hop!

Wordless Wednesday

Coming Along Nicely

Adore me!

Monsoon is a special, special boy.

Of course I want to update you on his progress as he learns how to be a member of our family. Of course I do! So let me update: he's whining.

He's whining under his breath, watching me to make sure I know he's sad. I'm on the couch and he's in the hallway, crying quietly to himself. Between us, there is a living room and a coffee table and, worst of all, the four-year-old. The four-year-old, I add, is playing quietly with stuffed animals. I've checked to make sure that Monsoon can get to his open crate and to the water dish without having to traverse anything too frightening, and he's been thoroughly walked.

He just needs to be brave and go for it.

This coming Saturday will mark four weeks since Monsoon came home. Our family has experienced some life turbulence issues over the past couple of weeks but things are settling and I think our new little man is coming out of his shell. He's still skittish, but not fearful. I haven't heard a growl or nervous bark from him in weeks. He plays with his toys and he sleeps happily through the night.

Our smart little pup, who is already referred to in our house as "the baby," has the basics down. He walks well on the leash without pulling, for the most part. I'm relieved that didn't take him long. He pulled so strongly for the first week he strained my left shoulder. He's very responsive to quiet vocal reminders when something catches his attention.

Most of the time.

See, everything catches his attention. This morning he saw a squirrel. He heard angels singing; I heard my trapezius muscle scream as he lunged. Because he notices everything, I have to notice everything too. If possible, I have to notice it first so that I can shorten the leash, tighten my grip, brace myself, approach "it" cautiously-- whatever the situation requires.

Sorry, I'm probably not going to get any good at spotting the squirrels lurking in the trees before he does, not at six in the damn morning. And honestly how was I supposed to know our green trash bag out by the side of the road for pickup is a terrible dangerous monster?

Anyway, Monsoon is also house-trained already, with little effort from me other than watching his signals and making a billion trips outside at terrible, inconvenient hours. He has had precisely three accidents in the house. Once, I left the room for a while and my husband missed Monsoon's signals. Fittingly, it was his jacket draped over a chair that the baby decided to christen.

Nice photobomb, Lanie.

The other two accidents are hilarious stories involving liquid diarrhea. I have this sort of poop-humor aversion, so I don't know if I'll ever work up to telling my funny story of how Monsoon squirted the foulest substance ever imagined into the least, LEAST convenient place ever. Just... trust me. I actually cried.

It's a game of patience now. He has a bed in the back of the house where he can run and hide whenever he feels stressed, but he already loves being with people. As long as the people are calm and quiet and nobody makes any sudden moves. While I have been reminding people not to shout unduly, for the most part we're living our lives as normal (or as close as we can get, lately) and letting him adjust. Monsoon can hide, or he can choose his crate in the living room. He's happy in his crate with the preschooler playing on the floor nearby, but now the door can be wide open. (Oh, stop. I know. I'm closer to the crate than the child is and the child knows he'll get corrected if he gets too close to the dog.)

So all in all, I think he's doing spectacular, given how freaked out and sore the poor baby was when he arrived. Our next big project is training him to have free range of the house when no one is home. We've also realized that this is the year we need to fence in some of our property because this guy needs a yard to play in. Now. He and Lanie decided to have a full-on jumping-spinning-bowing-smacking play session -- while I was holding a leash in each hand. I'm just going to let you imagine the balletic poses and rapid spins I had to perform myself to keep an eye on them and keep everything from getting tangled. I didn't want to stop them.

So let me know if you want to buy us a fence. ;)

(Also: Don't forget, I made a page on FaceBook and added the widget over there ---->  for the one-sentence updates and the not-perfect-but-still-cute pictures I post slightly more frequently.)

Wordless Wednesday

Worldless Wednesday

Yes, yes. Lots of changes and excitement. Mm hm.

Impatience

Happy Saturday! I hope you're having a great day. According to the weather reports, I am likely experiencing a gorgeous sunshiney day of temps that are pleasantly mild for the end of January.

I can't tell you if that's actually true or not, since I'm writing this on Friday night. Remember, I had something to do on Saturday, something pretty important.

Watch this space!

We’re participating in this Saturday’s Pet Blog Hop, hosted by Life With Dogs, Two Little Cavaliers and Confessions of the Plume.  If you’d like to participate, please follow the rules and follow your three hosts, add your blog to the Linky and copy and paste the html code into your html editor.  Thanks again to our hosts for putting on the hop!
This is a Blog Hop!

Wednesday Morning

Her dad, all dressed in his work clothes, jingles Lanie's collar. He brandishes her coat. He calls to her and makes silly squeaky noises.

"Lanie! Come on! You MUST need to pee! Time for walkies! Potty? Hello?"

"*snore*"

More jingling and waving, but Lanie does not stir. Dad decides he will eat breakfast first and drag the old girl out later.

He opens the fridge.

Lanie appears. She is simply instantly there. And she won't be moving until she gets something out of the fridge, thanks. And weren't you EVER going to walk her? Where is her coat?! Boy, you humans can be slow...

Coming Soon...

My dear sweet gray-muzzled girl, my Lanie,

Changes are coming to the house soon. Historically, you haven't appreciated disturbances to your routine so I figured I should warn you.

You miss your boys. After Bullie passed in April, you became instantly less snarky with Drive. You let him cuddle against you and rest his head on you. I think I saw the two of you play -- however briefly -- more in those six months than in the rest of the six years you lived together.

I know it hurt you, when I didn't bring Drive home. I'm sorry. I know I told you that before, but I'm so, so sorry I lost him. I wish I could have explained it to you. I wish I had some way to make you understand.

So for three months now you have been the only dog in our household. You have grown exponentially more cuddly and sweet and, frankly, obnoxious. I can't remember the last time we had a meal that wasn't accompanied by deranged howling. Seriously, girl, it's gotten to the point where I'm considering making you your own dinner plate so we can eat in peace, but you'd just finish first and then demand the rest of ours. Let's face it. You are not now, nor have you ever been, a good dog.

Fortunately, you have been the perfect family member for our particular family. (And your uncanny talent for knocking your dad in the man-bits keeps the sadist in me amused.) No matter how much more senile or demanding you get, you are in our family for life. That's how we roll. There's no escape. ;)

So I wanted to warn you, my spoiled little queen, that the family dynamic will be changing again. I finally got over my anxiety enough to call an adoption kennel. I have an appointment before the month is out, and I'll be going to meet some potential new family members. If the stars align, I may even bring him home soon. I think we're ready.

Derp.

As our senior canine, this selection needs to be made with you in mind. Obviously, the biggest factor in my choice will be personality. There are a couple other things I'm remembering as well. For example, for some reason you don't like female dogs. While I'm sure we could train and work and force tolerance, I'd rather not stress you because not only are you deranged, you are in your golden years and you don't deserve a major upheaval at age twelve-and-a-half.

The truth is, though, I'm not worried about you. Your dad and I think having a new brother is going to revitalize you. Aged or not, you are as funny and bouncy and energetic as ever and adding a new young man to the mix promises to be fun for everyone.

I can't wait to meet him. I can't wait to introduce the two of you. I can't wait to share him with all of our friends.

Love forever,
Mom, giver of cookies and neck scritches

Note to Our Friends: This post was written under the influences of painkillers, as I had a gigantic tooth removed this week. I hope you will forgive any weirdness, should you find any, but I did want to share my news. Next Saturday, I will be meeting some hounds and hoping that one of them is a match for our family. I'm so excited!

Winsome Wednesday

Good-bye, 2011...

... I hated you.

I've been trying to motivate myself to write a blog post for almost six weeks. I wanted to give some sign that all was well, that I'm alive and fine and engaged. Probably the biggest problem is that hasn't been true. I've been depressed and over-extended, distracted by the holidays and disconnected from how I really feel.

Lanie is amazing. She'll be 13 in May and for the most part she's still energetic and insane. We've noticed lately she's getting quite a bit grayer on her chest and forelegs, the whole front end of her elegantly fading as befits a lady of her esteemed age. She has also, without doubt, become much more cuddly.

Just this morning she woke up early, peed on the living room rug, and then came and curled up between us in bed.

We agree that a new brother will be a good thing for her. Sure, she'll spend a while pooping in furious protest at the loss of attention and competition for resources. That's reasonable. She's entitled to let us know how she feels. Anyway, she only goes in one spot on the rug, so we keep that covered with plastic under a towel for easy clean-up.

A lot of my "dog friends" spoke to me, in the early days after I lost my Drive, about how the need for a new dog was intense and immediate. It doesn't happen with people, does it? I certainly don't want a new mother or new grandparents. But when I had to say good-bye to my Drive, the only thing I could think of to make any sense out of the world again was to put my arms around another dog.

What was best for me wasn't best for us as a family. That was harder than I can say, and I know that contributed to the depression I've been wrapped in for weeks. This was the first time in years that I've been in that terrible dark place and not had my Drive to whisper to. It spiraled quickly.

I want to stop this spiral. I want off. I want a new dog. I want to meet the friend that's waiting. I'm so very ready.

And I'm here to let you know that I'm alive. This year has to be better. And coming sometime in January I hope to be able to introduce you to the newest member of our family. Soon, soon!

I hope 2012 bring amazing things for you, my friends. I wish you all the best.

 

Ready for Fall

Good News and Dismay

The good news first: there is absolutely nothing wrong with Lanie's heart. She is, in fact, absurdly healthy.

The dismay: I'm looking for a new vet, after seven years. I'm uncomfortable with change and averse to trying new things, but I can't overlook how unhappy I am about a few things. My plan is to get Lanie's dental taken care of soon, but to start looking around for a greyhound-savvy vet. It'll be a little complicated, since we're in a semi-rural area and vets are exactly thick on the ground in the first place, but I don't mind driving a bit if I have to. There is an emergency hospital nearby for the unthinkables that might take place at odd hours.

When my Drive had his dental last spring (April or May, I can't remember), the same thing happened to him that happened with Lanie. They called in the morning to say that his EKG was a little "off" and they wanted to take an x-ray of his heart. We had just lost our Bullie, not two or three days before, so I was already a mess, and they scared me. The x-rays came back "inconclusive." The vet painted terrible, dire pictures for me and, terrified, I told them to go ahead and do the ultrasound. Of course his heart was perfect.

To recap, I brought Lanie in for her dental last week, got the "questionable" EKG results, had the "inconclusive" x-rays done... And refused to okay the ultrasound. I am not made of money, people. I may have mentioned that. If I'd thought for a moment that Lanie had any problem whatsoever, it wouldn't have been about money, but all I could think was, "Didn't I just do this?"

You know why the x-rays show a heart that is borderline enlarged? Because greyhounds have large hearts. I learned, after repeated phone calls and persistence, that the EKG results were "off" because no one told the EKG analysts they were dealing with a greyhound.

Once that fact was made clear they said, "Oh, well, that's all perfectly normal for a greyhound."

I am not a happy customer. In the end, what made the decision for me was an extra $19 on my bill. "What is this?" I asked, as I was already forking over $200 for the stupid x-rays that weren't even necessary. "I'm being charged $19 under boarding?"

"That's our policy. It's for cage use and technician time."

"She was here for four hours! Getting stupid x-rays!"

"It's just policy." (I will spare you the rant on how much I loathe it when people hide behind policies.)

"I've been coming here for seven years and I have never, ever been charged a boarding fee." (I even checked, because I keep all the vet information filed.)

"That was an oversight, I guess. It's policy."

So! If you happen to live near me and know a great greyhound-savvy vet, let me know.

Thank you so, so much for the support and thoughts and advice I asked for last week. I meant to reply much sooner but I was flattened by some weird viral thing and spent a few days in bed feeling sorry for myself. :)

It's Never Simple

Of course, Lanie's dental did not go off as planned.

The day before, I took her to the vet for a blood panel and an EKG. Her bloodwork came back perfect, but the EKG detect an abnormal beat or two over the space of 30 seconds. No big deal. The plan was to repeat the EKG with a longer duration in the morning.

The longer duration EKG was less than ideal. As seems standard with these things, the information is relayed over the phone to a company that specializes in interpreting it. They expressed concern over the results. Again, there was an abnormal beat or two; no clarification of what that actually means. They also said there were "indications" of an enlarged heart.

The vet working with me is trying to get more information from the EKG people, who insist that for a more in-depth analysis they will have to charge more. Meanwhile, an x-ray of Lanie's heart looks normal from the side and maybe, possibly "borderline" large from the top. Lungs are clear. She has no symptoms of any illness (other than the mental caseload she's always carried, obviously.)

So the vet recommends that we do an ultrasound of the heart to be extra-super-sure that Lanie does not have any enlargement issues.

If I were wealthy, this wouldn't be a problem. But I'm not. I'm really not. I checked. In fact, I checked right before I started writing this post and I'm still pretty not-wealthy. So I am left trying to decide if I want to give my dog a $300 ultrasound on a heart that might maybe be a little enlarged, so that we'll know that before she has dental surgery. Because she still needs her teeth cleaned and one of her canines probably needs to come out. That three hundred bucks is the money we have set aside for her dental.

She has no symptoms of anything. As far as anyone can tell, she's in perfect health and full of joyful, deranged energy. We're really unsure what we should do. Either way she's getting her teeth cleaned, but our choices are to get the ultrasound and put off her teeth until tax time, or get her teeth cleaned without an ultrasound and take our chances -- which we're doing anyway, given that Lanie is an elderly greyhound.

My favorite part of having this blog is reading the comments, especially when people share their own anecdotes. I don't think I've ever said that before. So I'm telling you now, I love the comments. I love the experiences, and I especially love the wisdom.

If you have any wisdom to offer here, I would love to hear it.

(Preemptively because I know some of you: Thank you deeply and sincerely but please don't construe this as a plea for financial aid. ;) )

My Only Dog

"I'll stop smacking you when you get it out of my face."

Lanie is not a fan of the camera. After all, it it not made of food and it does not squeak. All it does it flash in her eyes, eliciting a death glare that only ladies of a certain age can manage.

At age 12 and a half, her pointy little face is white and her eyes have clouded. She used to hunt frogs relentlessly, making walks in the spring and summer a constant challenge as she lunged and snapped at the hopping meat-snacks. This summer, we realized that she simply doesn't see well enough to do that any more.

It's harder to tell if her hearing has faded. I'm disposed to believe she just ignores me more, since if I think too loudly about opening the fridge she will materialize from the ether.

She is a grand, goofy old dame. She is a glorious mixture of bravado and insecurity, terrified of a slammed door but not thunder. Helium balloons are the devil to her, but she will snarl and lunge if we make the mistake of walking her by the neighborhood bull mastiff. I am her humble servant who exists to feed her, but when she is scared she shoves her head against my chest.

Since we lost my Drive, she's been the only dog in the house. Always a velcro girl, I've noticed the length of time she lets me out of her sight has decreased. She's less content lately to be within sight range and now feels the need to be within petting range whenever possible. She has absolutely become needier. I can understand. So have I.

The strangest difference is her sudden, avid interest in going for car rides. I think she just hates that I sometimes leave the house without her. She hates being alone, poor sweetie.

I'll address the issue of "When will she be getting company?" in a different post.

This evening Lanie goes to the vet for bloodwork and an EKG, so that tomorrow she can be safely anesthetized for a dental cleaning. (She won't be spending the night there.) She's in overall excellent health, especially for a senior dog, and her teeth are not the nightmare that some greyhounds' are, though she has broken a canine recently. She was probably checking to see if something was edible by biting it, like a great white shark.

I'm reminding myself of all the reasons I don't need to be worried, and I'm worrying anyway. I'll keep you updated.

And I think I'll take my dog out to lunch. She loves the drive-thru.

Words 2

Words 1

Roo Face

Drive has a squeaky, funny little bark. For a big male dog with so much chest cavity, I kind of expected more depth. More resonance. But no. He yips.

Lanie, on the other hand, has that gruff deep voice you'd expect. She talks all the time, like in the video I posted yesterday, usually variations on "Hurry up with that food, lady." She makes the greatest faces, so I talk back to her and keep up conversations with her. I would love to get in her doggy little brain and learn what she thinks she's telling me. Wouldn't that be awesome?

 

Lanie Explains it All

Translation: "Give me that. That cookie. I can see it. Give it here. NOW."

She's very vocal when she wants something.

Cast of Characters

I have to warn you, this one is a little emotional.

I'm one of those people that "forges on" when things get difficult. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to deal with my losses, I don't want a hug. When I need to talk about some ache that feels too big, I just want to put my arms around my dog and press my face into his fur.

I've lost dogs before. I got a little terrier mix from a shelter when I was 20, and I held her when I was about 30 as they put her to sleep. I lost one to a divorce, and found out later she was dropped at a shelter (rather than given back to me.) I lost the best companion off my childhood, a vicious Dobie-GSD-something-huge mix named Nibbles (not kidding) who passed away when I was in college.

And still, those were Before.

I've always liked dogs. What's not to like? They listen as if you're brilliant, they love everything you feed to them, they think you're a genius, they care when no one else does.

And then I met Drive. And just like that, dogs ascended in my view. I understood "dog people." I became one of them. There can never be another Drive, I know that, but never again in my life will I be without a dog. Actually, just the idea of having only one dog seems a little strange, but that's a matter of finance rather than preference for me. When I think of my future, of the "lifestyle" track I want to be on, there's dogs everywhere in my imagination. When I answer the question of a hypothetical lottery win, I get teary-eyed thinking of all the puppies! With a million dollars I could save so many puppies...

This new worldview has an unexpected bittersweet twist. I didn't just lose a pet a couple of months ago. I lost a person. I lost a living soul who took up a big space in my world and now, all these weeks later and after an emotional few days, it's hitting me how much I miss my Bullie.

I'm not even going to put his picture on this post; I linked to it up there with his good-bye post. Even looking at that makes me remember, I was holding him when he passed. I was looking into his eyes when the lights in them faded.

We go to McDonald's, and buy the $1 box of four chicken nuggets. I hand the extra one to my husband.

"What are you doing?"

"That's the extra one. You can eat it."

And about then, I remember that we only have two dogs. That they can just have two damned nuggets apiece and there's no extra anymore.

And then I think of Drive, who is 11. And Lanie, who is 12. And I take a breath and remind myself that I'm strong enough to love this much and then say goodbye.

Bullie was almost 9 when we (accidentally, I'm serious) adopted him. It was a few years for us, that's all. A couple years with an old stripey dog, followed by months of this heavy, pushing grief and a place for him in my heart forever.

It's worth it, because for Bulldozer, it was the rest of his life. He did not die a lonely and unloved dog in a shelter. He didn't spend his remaining time in a kennel waiting for someone to want an old, shy dog that didn't attach quickly or trust easily. He died held by arms that loved him. Someone wept for him, and still does. He died with toys. He died after a thousand wonderful meals and uncountable treats. The rest of his life was warm, loving, interesting, and full of delicious surprises.

It's worth it.