Category Archives: Pets

The previous post was really just the first part, but I published it so I could break up my computer time with my “take the dogs out, bring the dogs in” routine; and so I could sit under the ceiling fan with my clipboard in my lap and write with my big fat pen.  I still prefer to compose with my low tech tools.

My point in going on about all the stuff I have to do for the next few weeks for the Puppy was that it’s not really a big deal. I’ve been here before. My first dog was a dachshund with a chronic/recurring case of some mild form of mange — his vet called it “red mange.” Almost every summer we would have to put him on a schedule of twice or three times weekly baths with medicated shampoo that had to be left on his coat/skin for ten minutes, then rinsed out. This was usually my job, although my brother or one of our parents would often be on hand to help (mostly to keep him from running off while soapy and rolling in the dirt somewhere). At some point he apparently outgrew the condition, or the repeated treatments eventually eliminated all the mange bugs and all generations of their offspring, because I remember a lot of summers in his later years when I didn’t have to bathe him every other day.

At some point in their lives all my dogs have become high maintenance.  Even my easy, breezy, beautiful basenjis have had their share of glitches, although until now they mostly showed up as the dogs got older — like 13 or 14. And I always just figure out how to deal with it. Like these baths. Giving dogs baths in the tub in the house KILLS my back. Don’t want to go there. Same for a tub on the ground out in the yard. So I found a little plastic table about knee high that the tub just fits on. The little monsters darlings are less likely to jump out of a tub a little higher off the ground, especially if it also wobbles just a tiny bit.

When the Old Guy had his second stroke last fall I had to help him walk by holding his leash taut enough to hold his head steady. I had to carry him down the front steps and set him on his feet in the yard. Then I had to carry him back up the steps and set him on his feet in the house (I’m so glad I graduated from great Danes to smaller dogs). And I used a towel as a sling under his middle to hold him up on his feet while he ate. It’s just what I do. What anyone would do for someone who gives so much trust and affection and asks for so little in return.

It’s what I thought I was doing when I came home from Kentucky to look after my father after he had his stroke. But was it that simple? Oh, no.

(To be continued…)

The holiday weekend just past (July 4th) and a trip to the vet with the Puppy on Monday have put me behind on my blogging. I knew I’d be too busy over the weekend watching “Independence Day” for the umpteenth time and eating barbeque to do any writing — which is one reason I published “Bicentennial.” It was already written, was about the Fourth of July, and I’ve been planning to release some of the chapters from my novel before I finish it to see if I can create a frenzy for the finished product…okay, maybe a small flutter.

I took the Puppy to the vet for a non-life threatening condition, so, not to worry. One hind foot had become puffy and inflamed-looking and I couldn’t see an obvious injury. His chest and neck were also looking inflamed and itchy — an indication that his allergies were flaring up beyond the ability of the benadryl-three-times-a-day to control. The vet said he had probably picked up a skin fungus from the yard, and since he’s got highly susceptible, sensitive skin, it made him break out.

So now I get to bathe him twice a week with special shampoo that I have to lather up and leave on for ten minutes; I’ve got some steroid spray to spray on his foot twice a day; and for good measure, I got some ear drops for the Old Guy, who seems to be having a milder case of the same thing and has been shaking his head a lot (which sometimes makes him fall down).

I consider myself lucky. For most of the first year of his life, the Puppy had one skin condition after another, and was almost always having the special baths — this was before I got him. The breeder had him evaluated for food allergies and ended up putting him on a vegetarian diet. After I got him — at age ten months — I added the benadryl because there was obviously something else “in the air” of Central Texas that he reacted to. Not surprising. A lot of people have told me that before they came to this area they never had allergy trouble. I started having to take allergy medication regularly before I left Kentucky, but could sometimes skip a dose and not really notice the difference. Not so here.

Now we’re in this prolonged drought, and there is dust everywhere, mold spores everywhere, general yuckiness everywhere. Not to mention the triple digit heat and 80-plus percent humidity. Uber yucky. So the Puppy gets his special baths on Tuesdays and Fridays, and since I wouldn’t want him to feel left out (and because he’s a dirt magnet anyway), the Old Guy gets one on Sundays. And I’ll be taking a lot of cool showers and eating a lot of popsicles.