Puppy Class Photos from 19-APR-2016

Herbert – the endoscope.

When Herbert was dying and my vet was desperately trying to figure out the underlying cause, he purchased a fancy new endoscope. Sadly, it didn’t make it in time–but the scope was named Herbert as a memorial.
I just read an email from my vet that caused me to become quite teary-eyed:

“So- “Herbert” saved a life today. Our biopsies last week stained for protothecosis. It wasn’t even on our radar, and no way would we have diagnosed it without biopsy. And the patient wasn’t sick enough yet to justify a surgical biopsy. “Herbert” allowed us to get samples early in the disease progress, and diagnose our patient with minimally invasive means.”

There ya have it, my beloved butthead alerting before it got too horrible–his life’s work continues…

Oddest Service Dog Conversation I’ve Ever Had…

Yesterday I had the strangest conversation about service dogs that I’ve ever experienced. There are currently four dogs in my canine pack, but only one that I’m actively working towards training as a public access service dog – Zisa.

That’s her earlier this morning, resplendent in her “puppy ugly” age of 5 months. Anyway, this person and I were discussing Zisa and the rather unfortunate fact that she may end up, like many St. Croix dogs, short-legged. She is not anywhere near corgi level of short-leg-ed-ness, but she may be just a wee bit odd looking as an adult–we shall see.
This person asked me,

“well, will she still pass as a service dog then? I think you should use Humphrey, he looks more like a service dog…”

The sad part is, my brain didn’t fully process this question until after she had left, and then I was just flummoxed. First of all, here is a Humphrey:

And here is a Humphrey next to a 3 month-old Zisa:

Don’t get me wrong, he is a handsome boy! He is incredibly loving and strong and had the universe been kinder, he would have been mine after spending 12 weeks with his mother and siblings growing and learning some REALLY important things (bite inhibition, appropriate play, belonging to a pack, and a whole bunch more) and then he would have received training, healthcare, good food, and a very important job. Unfortunately, the universe had it planned that he be taken too early as a puppy (I know this because the loving doofus doesn’t understand the difference between a nibble and a crunch) and then, when he grew, “too large”; spend his life chained to a fence for their “security” (wtf?!). Being a dog, he was bored and stressed and to help with that he did the only thing he could – he chewed his chain and seriously damaged his teeth. Four years later the universe realized it was being an asshole, and moved a lovely older couple in next door to Humphrey’s fence. That couple couldn’t believe the deplorable conditions this dog was kept in and went about things the best way they knew how. Even though this was not their dog, they fed him, watered him, built him a doghouse, and even walked him daily….but Humphrey, being a big dog with absolutely ZERO training, was too much for them and he was getting very good at getting off his chain and heading directly to the road to chase cars. The older couple knew it was only a matter of time until he got killed, contacted me, and eventually Humphrey got to move to FoodLady’s house (aka dog shangri-la). So now he is being treated for his horrible heartworm infection, he will be having dental surgery soon, and he has learned the joys of pack, play, and toys. He’s not too fond of baths, but he puts up with it and would really prefer to be with his people 24-7. We are working on basic obedience, but it is incredibly challenging. Dogs are incredibly smart….at being dogs. But they learn by building on what they have learned before–the younger you begin, the easier it is. Humphrey learning that the washing machine was not, in fact, trying to kill him was a HUGE step. Humphrey learning to chase a tennis ball?! Holy Crap! That was a great milestone day! I’m incredibly proud of him and his progress. However, I would never want to attempt to train him as a public access service dog! Could it be done? Yes. With great effort, stress, training, and cost….it could be done. I would never do that to him. Why? Because it wouldn’t be fair to put him through the stress of it; his health would be adversely affected and with heartworms–that stress could kill him. When Zisa learns to alert me to a low and high blood sugar – she then has to be able to do it while walking in traffic, on an airplane, and while I’m attending or even teaching a class. At the same time she has to remain impeccably behaved, confident, clean, and unwavering regardless of surroundings. That’s a hell of a lot of work!
So, what does a service dog look like? To me, it looks like years (literally years) of training. It isn’t something chosen to be done lightly or halfway and it sure as hell isn’t about what the dog “looks like”. If Zisa ends up looking like an English Mastiff set upon 4-inch legs (dear universe, please no.) but alerts like a rock star regardless of surroundings while remaining healthy and happy – then she’s a working public access service dog. If she ends up looking like the most stunningly beautiful dog ever put upon this earth but has absolutely no interest in alerting – well then, she’s a much-loved very pretty dog.
Okie Dokie, rant over. *hugs*

When Mistakes Happen (Birth of Kittens)

So…there is a longer story behind this but HELLO WORLD! Lucille is having her kittens today!
Allow me to post about it as it happens:

14:05 – huh, do you have poop stuck in your butt fur? Nope, that’s a mucous plug. Okay, guess today is the day.
14:10 – hey, my shirt is wet…eww. I have cat amniotic fluid on me.
14:15 – Cat is now proud owner of shirt but has decided that she wants to be on floor. Move box, blankets, and shirt to floor. Sit on floor.
14:23 – kitten #1 is born. we have one widdle white kitten! Breathing and trying to nurse.

14:45 – kitten #2 is born! Another white one. Lucille is cleaning everyone (including herself) off with a look on her face like, “So much too do! So tired!” Poor thing, this birth crapola looks horribly uncomfortable.
15:11 – Lucille is still cleaning up while the two little wet-white-lab-rat-looking things are nursing (or trying to anyway). Mama Lucille is still working on the disposal of the placenta. There are noises….and smells. At this point I want to call my mother an apologize.
15:15 – I was just about to write how it would be so great if she only had two kittens (and if that is the case then wooohooo!), but she just did that *freeze & far off stare* that is fairly indicative of a contraction….but who knows, aftershock?
15:51 – I offered Lucille some canned food, water, and then some warmed kitten milk replacer. She refused water, ate some of the food and nommed most of the warmed kitten milk. She is snoozing intermittently while the two white kittens (rats) nurse. Everyone seems healthy and calm.

16:07 – white kitten #3 born!
16:11 – Lucille continues to clean the poor wee rats and take care of….uh….the other gross stuff. I would again like to commend any woman who propagates their species this way, it looks like hell.
16:20 – white rat #4 emerged breech and was fighting the membrane to breathe. That was a little freaky……but it’s okay now. Still waiting on the placenta to birth.
16:24 – okay, I’m just gonna say it, white kittens come out looking like a horrible melding of a chicken and a rat.

16:36 – Lucille drinking some milk replacer. Poor girl is so tired.
16:47 – they have all latched on. She is just so tired.

In case you’re wondering about the colored dots on their heads. Red was kitten #1, orange #2, green #3, and blue #4.
17:11 – since kittens have issues regulating their body heat I cleaned out all the wet bedding and Lucille was underwhelmed when I took her babies. But now they are all warm and dry and sleepy.

It is with a lot of laundry that I now leave you. There *may* be another kitten on the way, but for now….now they rest.

Herbert’s Cause of Death

So I cried a little today thinking about Herbert; yes yes, normal grieving stuff….blah blah blah. Herbert’s vet told me they were playing with their new endoscopy machine (which is apparently now named Herbert). It makes me happy he is so well remembered by people other than just me; but I still get all wet-eyed when thinking about him. I realized I never officially shared his cause of death (other than euthanasia, obviously). He was incredibly and horribly sick at the end due to a fungal infection of his respiratory system and his esophagus was just a horrifying mess. The root cause of the whole thing, to the best of the vet’s understanding after necropsy, seemed to be a grass barb embedded deep into his esophagus. Which, if you think it through, does explain everything. Grass barb -> irritation/infection -> immune system attacks esophagus -> strictures and mega esophagus -> steroids to stop immune system -> death due to secondary infections. This was a shitty, rare, unfair, and weird thing to happen. In the southern states many hunting and field dog forums warn about saw grass which can lead to horrible and in rare cases, deadly infections, because it will work its way into the dog’s body and not be able to come out without surgery. Was Herbert’s a saw grass barb? No idea. Before anyone panics about their dog eating grass, please remember this was something unseen before by more than one vet and is thankfully incredibly rare.
In related but generally more cheerful news, Herbert’s vet met Zisa today for the first time and rendered the official opinion that Zisa is, medically speaking, the cutest puppy to ever exist (naturally).
We (Zisa and myself) start puppy kindergarten tomorrow evening. Wish us luck!

Today Zisa Learned…

FoodLady Chronicles: Today Zisa Learned About Cats.
Dear Zisa, no.
I understand that your newest and bestest friend who makes those (gag!) delicious (disgusting!) treats in that fancy indoor sandbox is locked in the office, and you sitting in front of the gate mournfully wailing for your long lost friend would normally make me all “go play”, but you have CAT LITTER ON YOUR NOSE. So I’m beginning to think you’re only in it for the sandbox rather than the cat.
Love,
A-completely-skeeved-out-FoodLady.

Dear Zisa (ya dang klepto)

FoodLady Chronicles: Dear Zisa, you are still growing and learning every day; to that end, today you need to learn the following:
1. We do not steal the FoodLady’s shoe and run as fast as we can on wee little puppy legs across the yard. While it may have been adorable, that is one of the FoodLady’s favorite house-shoes and it was undignified for her to chase you with only one shoe on.
2. We do not steal the FoodLady’s bra and run as fast as we can on wee little puppy legs across the yard. While it may have been adorable, that is one of the FoodLady’s favorite bras. Not only is there a certain lack of dignity in her chasing you with no bra on–it’s downright dangerous for there to be any sudden movements without those things being strapped down! It’s all fun and games until someone loses and eye little lady!
Love, FoodLady.

FoodLady Chronicles – Pig Debacle Pt. 2

That was…..different.
Okay, so the last 30 minutes or so of my life was quite porcine-centric.
So, y’all remember the random pigs that showed up on the other side of my fence a while back? yeah, okay…..so I hear the dogs going batcrapcrazy; I go investigate and what do i find? The same two pigs trying so hard with their wee piggy snootles to break INTO my yard. The dogs were way too excited at the prospect of BACON-ON-THE-CLOVEN-HOOF!!! and this porcine gift from the bush, which must have appeared to the dogs to be something equivalent to going fishing only to have the fish jump into the boat, the doggies went pack-hunt glee crazy and were attacking the fence, each other, tree branches, whatever they could get to because, ERMAGERD!! Piggies!!
I wrangled/wrassled the fuzzy asshats into the house and secured all the doors, grabbed a handful of dog treats and 4 nature valley honey & oat granola bars (heretofore known as Pig-Crack).
Then it got weird.
I go back outside and the Piggies redouble their snootle attack on the fence, I distract them by throwing two granola bars out into the bush. The pig-crack incited Mr. & Mrs. Pig to new levels of snootle fence attackery, so I walked away and called one of the numbers I saved from the first Pig Debacle. The call was answered and I said, “Good afternoon, is this Owner-Dude? The pigs are loose again” and I’m told that no, Owner-Dude gave him this phone, do you have his other off-island number? Thankfully, yes I do, but it goes straight through to voicemail. I leave a polite version of, “Dude, yer damn pigs are loose. again.”
Meanwhile, I notice Mr. & Mrs. Piggie have begun speeding through the bush and for all intents and purposes appear to be FOLLOWING MY CAT. I think, shit! now the damn pigs are hunting my cat too! Cat goes up a tree (she ain’t stupid) and pigs just keep doing the pig version of speedwalking past her and onto the road. Well, shit. Now there are pigs wandering down the road at the busiest traffic time of the day. *sigh*
So, that’s how I ended up looking like a damn piggie pied piper using granola bars to lure pigs down the road. Traffic stopped, parents showed their kids the crazy lady out “walking her pigs”, other people wanted to feed them (sure? here’s a granola bar…), and then thankfully, a kindly gentleman stopped who happened to know Owner-Dude, tried to call Owner-Dude’s girlfriend, and then physically went to fimd Owner-Dude while I tried to keep them from wandering too far. It was making me nervous that they kept wandering too close to traffic and I was out of granola bars so I used the last of my dog treats lure them into my fenced-in yard. About 5 minutes later Owner-Dude arrived and then I watched him as he pied pipered his pigs home using a bowl of what I assume was piggie-chow.
I’m tired.
Love,
FoodLady

Humphrey’s Addiction

Dearest Humphrey, in the past month of your new life with FoodLady, et al. you have learned of the joys of food, beds, running around like a fool with other dogs, toys, opening doors on your own and most recently, couches. All of that happy has been brought to you for the low low price of baths, sitting on command, and an occasional cuddle. I know, you got a hellofa deal. Unsurprisingly, there is a hidden cost – that’s right, if it seems to good to be true, it probably is! Here is your new fee, due immediately: No. Hunting. Kitties.
Say it with me now Humphrey: Cats are friends; not food.
If anyone is looking for Humphrey, he is attending Puddy-Tats Anonymous getting his priorities in order.

Potentially Failed Foster

FoodLady Chronicles – Sleeping Ain’t Happening, So I Wroted edition:
Alright, so Herbert is super ill and had to be left at the doggie hospital. Unsurprisingly, I’m deeply affected and incredibly sad and by the time I got home after that I felt like a prickly ball of angry-sad. Words rather fail me to describe the emotion, but prickly ball of angry-sad is pretty close. When I have all the feels, I tend to want to be on the ground, I could try to explain this physiologically by discussing blood pressure changes, fainting, and the body protecting itself or I could try to explain it as a mystical need to ground myself; but for the purposes of this story it really doesn’t matter. I was sad, I lay down on the ground. Boyfriend, having seen the prickly angry-sad before, made sure to get the other dogs before coming over to help me up. SamSam the WünderAss did his normal “Hi lady! Hi hi hi!” before running off to sniff and pee on things (thankfully not me). Poor FosterPiper! There was a NewScaryLump in the yard! This poor dog loves to bark. She loves to bark at people walking down the road, cars going down the road, leaves falling from trees, stiff breezes, loud farts…..the poor little peanut will let! her! pack! know! should anything happen. Even SamSam the WünderAss who lives to bark at wandering people has begun to look at Piper with a “seriously? again?” expression. So, “there is a NewScaryLump! Bark!” SamSam does his HiLady! run-by, Piper gets closer, “Bark…bark?” Lady? Lump is Lady? “bark…?” FOODLUMPYLADY?!? and Piper turns into the most hilarious wiggle puppy ever, slides her derpy snoot under my face and wiggle-flips onto her side and pushes herself into a wiggle-snuggle until she successfully turns my tears into laughter.
I have never had a “failed” foster; from the challenging fosters (Betty) to the fosters I deeply adore (Petey) and all the ones in the middle of the Betty-Petey Doggie Foster Scale System I just made up right now–I found them all good homes.
Today, after giving me the gift of deep belly laughter after too many months of stress and tears, Ms. Piper Fuzzy-Britches Pantaloons (her show name, obviously) will either get the most perfect home, or she will “fail” and be mine.
[and before anyone suggests training her as my next diabetic alert service dog, her temperament is not quite right for public access work; although once we finish basic obedience I will start her on basic scent training using birch oil just for fun. If she then shows great aptitude for scenting I will scent train her for home-use diabetic alerting and maybe find her a forever home who wants/needs a home-use diabetic alert dog]
Love, Lumpy FoodLady ❤