September 21, 2016
We dubbed him Seamus in the first, rough, weeks of his homecoming, a play on “Shamey-y”.
I can’t be more grateful that we weathered those days, welcoming him even when he broke almost every rule trying to learn the ropes, even when we had a baby on the way and weren’t sure how it would all happen.
From the moment he met JuggerBaby, the squirmy little bundle of noise and mess, with interest and hope, he’s been a trooper, the saintly dog you’d always hope for in just such a circumstance.
Life with DOG!
JuggerBaby and Seamus have a curious sibling relationship. You’d think they didn’t care whether the other existed, until you made the mistake of raising your voice or provoking screeches (which, to be fair, is really easy to do for a toddler of JuggerBaby’s age). Seamus would quietly insert himself into the room and check on everyone, clearly concerned that ze would survive the day, and leave just as quietly when it was clear no one was a casualty.
Likewise, you’d think JuggerBaby was kind of a jerk the way ze petted him like he was a first class drum set, until you notice that zir carefully leaning in to give him Mmmmwah! kisses, before and after overenthusiastic pets. And woe betide you if he looks bored and ze knows where the Chuck-its are hidden. Like an extension of Seamus’s will, ze unearths the toys, presents it to you with a demand: BA!! and points at zir brother. Throw that thing, parent, and do it now! He’s bored! And soon after, carrots! Ze pulls them out and points insistently, EY! Give him treats!
As part of my weekly grocery shop, I prep packs of carrot sticks for Seamus. They sit sit together on the floor, box of carrot sticks clutched in JuggerBaby’s still chubby fist, staring at me for permission to hand them over, one by one. Once in a while JB’s enthusiasm brims over and ze offers him the entire container. He’s no fool, he looks at me for the nod. Even when ze dumps the entire box on the floor in front of him, he waits for the nod before reaching for any.
We do bedtime together, he lays at our feet while we read bedtime stories and sing bedtime songs, then he and I decamp to the living room for his care: brushing teeth, pedicure, cream for his itchy and raw skin. He lays his head on my knee and naps for a while, before his last nighttime stroll with PiC.
Medical woes
His weight has stabilized, he’s lost much of that sympathy pregnancy weight, but he has had a rough road.
He’s had an ulcerated eye, twice.
JuggerBaby nearly poisoned him (maybe).
His skin looks worlds better than it did when he first came home but he still breaks out into hot spots so I’m always on alert for any new trouble areas. Twice a year it gets bad enough for the heavy hitting meds. They’re effective but we don’t want him on steroids more than 20 days a year, they aren’t great for his organs, so I aggressively treat all flare-ups to keep them from progressing past hot spots.
He’s had an endless stream of infections. They crop up when he gets scraped up playing too enthusiastically and sometimes just because it’s fun to make me jump. I’m his on-call emergency medic, always carrying a full kit of topical antibiotics, ointments, bandages and gauze.
We make it through each one because he’s generally an astoundingly good patient, for a dog who surely doesn’t understand why I’m making him lay still while I poke and prod his painful parts, and our vet is good about working with me in filling the appropriate medications when we need them instead of making me bring him in for an exam every time. This saves us anywhere from $200-500 a year.
A Dog and Our Money
I’ve been using the saved proceeds from the blog to pay for his numerous medical needs. Unfortunately, since this isn’t a cash cow, we’ll need another way to fund his care soon.
We can cashflow his food, supplements, the occasional toy, and any other gear a good pup needs out of our regular income.
I do most routine maintenance at home for the cost of materials: war cleaning, nail clipping, pilling, first aid. These could all add to the price tag but luckily I enjoy animal husbandry.
We’d love a companion pup for him, he does best when he has appropriate canine company, but I’m not sure we can take on Number Three any time soon. It’s nearly as much work as a kid in a lot of ways and the costs pile up quickly if you’re not careful.
And another pup would make travel even more expensive. When we go on vacation, so does he. Turns out all the dog sitting I did as a favor to friends back in the day, because I knew I’d appreciate it if I needed the same? Well, there is no dogsitting karma. Nor is there babysitting karma.
Please, keep reminding me of that, because I might still lose my head and adopt another senior dog one day.
:: Are you a dog / cat / other animal person? What makes them great?
February 3, 2016
It goes without saying that I feel like an idiot. But I’m saying it anyway: I feel like an idiot. So let’s hope this doesn’t become a series.
In the six months since LB has dabbled in non-milk foods, ze has been liberal in hir intentional and unintentional sharing with Seamus. Not once, not even when ze has offered his own treats to him, has he ever taken anything from hir without explicit permission from me. I know this because I keep a close eye on them both. Seamus has been nothing but an angel toward his grabby, unempathetic, sometimes grubby sibling. An angel that stays nearby, but sets boundaries so that ze is slowly learning from our prompting, scolding, and swoop in for the occasional rescue that he likes to be close, he likes to be petted gently, but he does not like to be grabbed, twisted or licked. Ze still licks him. There’s nothing can be done about that. But still, I watch them. It’s irresponsible to take his patience for granted and ze is not nearly old enough to be trusted to respect his boundaries without guidance.
Naturally, that means that the one day that I take them both for a really long walk and playtime, the one time my brain checks out when we’re in sight of home, LB chucks hir snack bread over hir shoulder and Seamus snags it. He never does that. Ever. But in the split second I had to tell him NO and DROP IT, which he would have done, my brain failed us both and I didn’t. So he gulped it down and then my brain started whirring again.
$@!@%!!(@
That was raisin bread. Usually ze eats all the raisins first before gnawing at the crust but this time ze chucked half the slice, which ze hasn’t ever done, before chewing on it. Crap.
Raisins can be deadly for dogs.
Some dogs can eat grapes with reckless abandon. Some dogs can eat grapes, experience kidney failure, and die. Raisins are worse. You need as little as half a raisin for a 300 lb dog and if that dog is susceptible? It can be really bad.
Seamus is a big boy but he’s no 300 lbs and I couldn’t be certain that the bread had been de-raisined. I called the vet to be sure of the facts above and they confirmed: most possible ingested toxic things, if just a bite or less, they’d just suggest we induce vomiting (or they would) and watching overnight. Raisins are Bad News.
Of course, this happens right at LB’s naptime. Since we haven’t replaced his car yet, PiC had taken the car to work and we were carless so I couldn’t race them both to the vet, naptime or no. We’d run out of hydrogen peroxide so I couldn’t induce vomiting unless…
I strap a tired and angry LB into the stroller and raced down the street. Huffing and heaving, we rattle to the nearest store to grab the first bottle of peroxide we could find, pay for it and run back. Wishing with all my might that I were in better shape, and for that idiot catclling from his car to choke on his own spit and pass out, we mad-dash all the way back home. Intrigued by the commotion, LB’s grumbles have faded to an interested chirp, but once we pass the threshold, ze was bound and determined to be involved. Ze quick-crawls after us as Seamus is sent to the bathroom. Quickly, pop a bottle of milk into warming water, then run to the bathroom to measure out a tablespoon and pulling it into the syringe that … was too small. ARGH. Find another or…. Time was ticking, the longer I took, the more likely he would digest that raisin and his kidneys could start shutting down. They say you’ve got two hours, but you’ve really got to get that stuff out ASAP.
I risk a run to the closet to dig out the bigger syringes and SMASH. Of course. Of course LB wanted to know what I was working on and dashed the measuring cup of peroxide off the counter. I should have remembered that ze could reach it now. KIDS.
No matter, I have more. But forget that larger syringe, I’ll just refill this one. Five times. The syringe was only 3 ml, I needed 13. Drat and damn. With each syringe-full, he’s grumpier and more foamy. It helps none at all that LB’s extremely curious, first climbing up my side trying to help with the syringe, then sitting on his back legs to get a better view. His misery is such that he doesn’t even try to move away. The full tablespoon down his gullet, he tucks his head under his back paws, almost pointedly turning his back on me.
Apologetically, I scoop LB up and plop hir on the cushion with the milk, then sit next to Seamus petting him while spreading out the newspapers for the pending regurgitation. In almost no time, ze tossed the bottle aside and comes looking for us so that’s my cue to put hir in bed, all protests and wails.
Ten minutes later, nothing but yowls from LB.
This time, I find the 12 ml syringe. Another two tablespoons, down the hatch. More foam, and with it, an almost satisfying heaving that I was sure would do the trick. Being a hero, he just swallows and swallows and swallows until the urge passes. Fraggit! I text PiC that he may have to leave work early and take over at home so I could take Seamus in for a real induction.
Ten minutes later, still nothing.
One last time.
Seamus is really out of patience with me but down the hatch it goes. And I encourage him to just let it out. Just don’t fight it. And there it is! A lake of foam and food spreads on the newspapers. Never has poking through a pile of vomit been such a relief.
Amid the foam, the carrot chunks and the kibble, I found our culprit. One half raisin.
Elation wars with a sinking stomach. Another call to the vet confirms we still should have him in for treatment. PiC texts that he’s on his way and by 4:30, this saga started at 2, Seamus and I are loaded up and rolling out of the garage. I’m packing a book, a bottle of water, and a phone that’s running out of juice. Of course it is. But with plenty of deep breathing and careful navigating, we arrive safely at our destination.
Social Time! Seamus’s ears say.
No, I’m sorry, not really.
The vet confirms that if it were her pup, she wouldn’t go so far as the “gold standard” of 48 hours in hospital with IV fluids, the next step down should be plenty since it was half a raisin and we retrieved it.
He happily runs off to be poked, poked again, and dosed with activated charcoal.
His kidneys, according to the labwork, seem to be ok, and they’ll want to see him back in 3 days to confirm they are still fine. 72 hours, they say, til we’re out of the woods. $250 today, and another $75 later this week, if he’s fine. Small price to pay, I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, but from now on, wheat bread for walks!
We get home at 6 and still manage to get dinner on the table by 7, and by 8:30, I finally get to sit down at the computer to get my work done. What a day!
March 30, 2015
Life with DOG!
Seamus has adapted to his life with his (ridiculous, loud, demanding) sibling without batting an eye. He shares his space without comment, lays around quietly just being with us as we tend to hir and focus on surviving. He leans on my leg or sniffs my head to wake me for attention every so often and plays with his toys alone when we’re busy.
He is hir protector, but he’s a little less concerned now. It’s like he’s realized ze’ll quite likely survive our shenanigans even when he’s disapproving of them. He has a particular distaste for when PiC swings hir either in his arms or in hir chair – I can feel his big brother eyes boring into the back of my head, questioning our fitness as parents.
He’s taken to walking with the stroller just fine as well. I worried about how that would work, but as usual, I shouldn’t have. He keeps pace with it, and works around it as appropriate so that I can manage the two of them alone quite handily. Even after romping off leash he’ll voluntarily come back to me and hir stroller, escorting us home.
As near to perfect a dog as you could ask for, under the circumstances.
Medical woes
Poor guy had a terrible infection that just looked like a nick on his paws at first. He let me clean and wrap them every morning with Neosporin, stumping around with club looking bandaged paws good naturedly, but then the swelling started so I knew it wasn’t working.
It’s taken a vet visit, a culture to confirm the staph infection, and three refills of antibiotics to get him on the right path.
We found out he’d gained 13 lbs in the last few months at this visit as well. I noticed he was getting heavier but at some point he cracked 100 lbs and we didn’t notice. Sympathy baby weight? I’m just surprised the vet was relatively unconcerned.
A Dog and Our Money
I’ve been using the saved proceeds from this blog, a mere trickle over the years, to pay his vet bills. Call it his allowance. We’re still doing ok but it’ll need some income soon to make up for the recent inroads!
He’s slowly getting more expensive to maintain between his supplements, chronic medications for his skin, and all that food he’s eating.
February 4, 2015
Life with DOG!
There’s no time that watching a dog sleep isn’t funny and Seamus is no exception.
He curls up so tightly that his back legs are tucked under his chin;
sticks his tongue out while sleeping;
snores, sleep-growls and barks;
startles himself out of sleep and he glares like I did it;
is likely to be on his back with all legs waving in the air about 60% of the time.
Also, I love it when he’s on his back, rubs his face with both paws, then topples over.
Medical woes
A bit of waltz with this fella. Skin looks horrible, skin improves, skin gets bad again, skin improves. We keep experimenting to see what gives him the most relief for the longest period of time.
A Dog and Our Money
This guy eats quite a lot. Easily 30% more than Doggle did and he still acts like he’s starving before the afternoon is over. His bones aren’t showing anymore, seven or eight gained pounds later, so we’re being careful not to overfeed him since his activity levels aren’t very high. He obviously doesn’t much appreciate that.
I had some luck picking up his special grain free diet at about $1.50/lb from petflow.com with a 20% discount, but aside from those one off special deals, our best bet for this particular brand is the local PetClub store. With a minor sale or coupon, we can get pretty close to $1.50/lb from them.
In case the medications alone aren’t doing the trick for his health and we need to change his diet, we may try a Twitter recommendation of the Kirkland Signature Nature’s Domain which is apparently just a repackaging of the Taste of the Wild brand. This recommendation comes from someone who only feeds her dog the best so I’m reasonably certain that it’s a decent high-quality alternative that would be good for him.
January 12, 2015
Life with DOG!
I can’t seem to get a dog that doesn’t turn into PiC’s dog. Within days it was clear that Seamus didn’t want PiC to be the alpha, he just wanted to be Daddy’s favorite. When PiC went away for a weekend, he pulled a classic Doggle, moping his way into bed at 7 pm: life isn’t worth living, I’m just going to bed early and maybe he’ll be here when I wake up.
So I get to be alpha in that I’m the discipline parent and PiC is the beloved parent. Which means I can always get him to take his meds, cooperate with a bath, ear cleaning, or wound care, and go to bed when I say, but any time PiC might be around, he’s a much much happier dog.
Out of the blue, Seamus decided to violate the no dogs on furniture rule, nearly destroying the slipcover in the process. When he screws up, he goes big!
Medical woes
To date, we’ve spent several hundred on his surgery, and a few more hundred on additional rounds of medications to soothe his skin as we slowly start to figure out what works to keep it happy.
After a rough start involving steroids and a stressed bladder, we went months without incident.
Clever boy tried to outsmart me. Having been scolded every time we hear him licking his paws, he tried to throw me off by licking the air for a while. I was stealth- watching and the second he thought it was safe to lick his actual paw, he was clearly shocked to hear his usual scolding. I don’t want him to aggravate his skin further so we have to regulate that pretty strictly.
His back is looking pretty wonderful, though, so there IS improvement. There are no inflammation, rashes, sores or weeping wounds – hurray!
A Dog and Our Money
I had a brainstorm when the County insisted that we license him, despite his being a foster for now. I’d just paid up for Doggle’s 3-year license this year and they don’t do refunds. But glory-be, they were willing to let Seamus take over the rest of the license! And they were amazingly easy to work with, we did it all by email and it was taken care of in just a few days. I’d be impressed by the efficiency of the local government but it was probably only because the licensing has been farmed out to a company.
November 14, 2014
Seamus is still with us, still going strong.
He’s a dear dog, in his own silly ways, and is doing surprisingly well with the transition considering he’s had to be shuttled hundreds of miles and spent a lot of time with near-strangers over the past few months.
We’re working through his health problems, it’s taking a lot of elbow grease, and an incredible amount of cooperation from him. Doggle was always a sweetheart but even he occasionally had opinions about being tended to.
His ears have probably never been cleaned. We spent an hour with his head in my lap as I worked out all the guck with cotton balls, gauze pads and the occasional Q-tip. (Word of warning: Vets don’t really like for people to use Q-tips. They’re easy to lose in long ear canals. But since I’ve done this a million times and have done it both professionally and with professional supervision, I’m comfortable with it.)
His nails have probably never been trimmed. I snuck up on him during a nap and trimmed them… a few minutes after I was done and left, he cracked open an eyelid.
His skin still looks pretty bad. All the scabs and bumps from his condition are still not resolved, but it doesn’t look red, angry and patchy anymore. We think he may always be on some kind of medication, given the as-yet undiagnosed condition and how slow it’s been to respond to a LOT of care.
Regular medications. Without Doggle around, it takes a LOT more effort to get this guy to take his medications. Doggle always lurked during the pill rolling (I use pill pockets so we didn’t always have to pill them), so Seamus was convinced anything I offered was going to be fantastic and he couldn’t swallow it fast enough. No competition = no motivation, apparently! The plus side, though, is that PiC has learned how to pill a fairly cooperative dog, so there’s that 🙂
Needles needles needles. With no vaccine history that I know of, we had to subject Seamus to the full battery of vaccines and he’ll have to get boosters next year. After that, he’ll be fine to transition to a 3 year schedule.
But the biggest thing was his surgery. At his age, I hated to put him under anesthesia but he really needed to be fixed for obvious reasons and as he was at risk for cancer. PiC’s convinced that being the drop-off man means that Seamus held a grudge about the surgery but after a few days on pain meds, the old boy is nearly good as new. The vet gave us a huge discount (about 33%) and the bill still pushed $900. Thank goodness for savings.
***
It’s been a rough few months but he’s such a trooper and chock full of personality. I’m still glad we decided to commit to it.
September 2, 2014
I’m still hardly about to talk about it, still leaning on PiC and some close friends very heavily to explain why I’ve been so quiet except for some heartbroken sobs on Twitter, but it feels wrong to continue on not saying anything at all.
I can’t memorialize him yet, I can barely accept that this is true, much less find the words to properly eulogize him that won’t further destroy me in the doing.
When I lost Mom, I almost viciously forced myself to say she was gone. It was both scourge and self flagellation to force myself to say those words I knew to be true and desperately needed not to be; a soul-scouring attempt to face the truth and absolve myself of my failings in taking care of her. It didn’t work but it kept the guilt and the grief somewhat at bay for months.
This is … in some ways, this is almost worse. In the suddenness, in the senselessness, in the overwhelming rawness of prostrating grief, I can’t bring myself to cope as I once did. Because he was our responsibility and I cannot absolve myself of the failure to protect him.
“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
We didn’t tame him, we just gave him a new life with us, somewhat pampered though he hardly seemed to notice, and he was coming into his own in these few short years as my wonderfully loving, opinionated and constant “coworker”, my therapy dog, we called him.
PiC was his favorite person in the entire world, you couldn’t match his dance of joy upon being reunited with his papa even after just a few minutes’ absence, and together we were a family. There wasn’t a person, dog lover or not, who didn’t fall for his charmingly quiet, happy personality; many became convinced they wanted a dog “just like him”, after a single visit.
He was our cat-dog, we joked, he being thoroughly exasperated by the hugs I always wanted to give him, and mostly keeping his distance lest I pet him too much. But he clearly loved us. He had a funny way of insisting on family time, staying by our side no matter how late it was, no matter how annoyed he was that it was another late work night; he kept us both in view at all times as if simply by being in the middle, he ensured we stayed “together”.
He’s licked me on purpose exactly once, as an apology for terribly scraping up my foot; he’s inspected PiC’s awful injuries and given them a healing lick but no more than necessary.
As clumsy as the classic bull in the china shop, and yet the most gentle, non reactive companion to any infant or toddler whether he knew them or not, we always knew he’d make the best big brother.
And now our beloved Doggle is gone. We have no reasons and we have no explanations. The heart of our little family is gone and we don’t know how to bear it.