Dog Days of Summer

This summer has been a blur. For sure because of the kid-craziness that accompanies this time of year, but also because of an eight-week struggle with our puppy, Jesse. On June 1, she began having all sorts of recurrent and seemingly unrelated problems including eye, ear and skin infections, unstoppable vomiting and other GI symptoms. After a million useless tests (they were sure the vomiting was from a blockage), lymph node biopsies for possible lymphoma (all her nodes were enlarged) and eventually a full GI work up (yes, endoscopy and colonoscopy included), we finally have a diagnosis. Jesse has inflammatory bowel disease, just like her human mommy, but hers is caused from a severe allergy to proteins used in dog food.

Her inflammation is so severe that she’ll be on eight medicines for the next two months, including several that I have taken for years on a regular basis. The chances of me contracting this disease were so small, but to actually choose a dog who has it? I can’t imagine how small the chances of that are! Luckily, in dogs, this is an acute condition and once we find the right food and taper her off the meds, she’ll live a normal life with no meds and a boutique dog food. Could be worse.

Until then, the poor thing is enduring prednisone at high doses and most of you know how I feel about that drug. I can tell Jesse feels the same way. And the kids are under serious training measures to ensure the dog does not eat table scraps. This, by far, will be the most difficult part of the process.

So without further ado, I give you the new face of inflammatory bowel disease…

Man's Best Friend

One of my weekly jaunts takes me to obedience class with Jesse. I love this time for a number of reasons, most notable being the hour of walking that gets us there and back and the time alone with Jess devoted to her training. (As you might guess, at-home training sessions are a rarity.) She is a smart cookie and demonstrates each week that her breed was definitely born to work with humans. This floppy, uncoordinated juvenile delinquent makes me proud each and every class as she transforms before my eyes, picks things up effortlessly and focuses, like a sharp shooter, on the task at hand.

There are several Rowdy Rovers in our current class. It’s been eye-opening to watch them and I’ve realized that the rowdy ones are usually not the bad ones; they’re just reacting to a look or mannerism from a quietly aggressive classmate. And as I listen to our trainer, Mare, I realize that the rowdy dogs are the ones struggling with confidence issues, from lives spent in foster homes or unloving ones, that they need work through. Mare says that nearly all of them can overcome these issues and become happy, well-adjusted pets.

Funny how we have so much in common with man’s best friend. So many of us carry around baggage from the past, struggle to be confident or fight to keep old demons at bay. I’m amazed at how these diligent and loyal hard-workers are able to learn to trust, in humans and in themselves, and rise above whatever happened in their pasts. If only us humans could be as successful!

I am a dog person. And a human person, too. Here’s to all us humans moving forward!

This Dog's Life

Serioulsy...it ain't so bad!

My 4 Kids

For those of you who saw this on Facebook, I apologize for the duplication. This shot was just too good and I had to have it on the blog as well.

My mom coined the perfect caption:

"Grumpy, Smiley, Sleepy and Puppy"

Bite Me!

You get used to the looks and scowls you receive while walking your Rottweiler around. After twelve years, it doesn’t even bother you when people instinctively cross to the other side of the street when they see you coming. You laugh when you think back to friends and family suggesting you might find her a new home when you decided to have kids. You’re thankful every moment you have her that you didn’t listen and that you gave your children such a strong, loving animal force to have and hold and remember. When she leaves you, you can barely stand a moment without a dog to love so you soon break down and get a puppy. The puppy is not a replacement and she is nothing like your older dog. You are shocked, but you adjust and she matures slightly faster than your children, which is a nice surprise. Despite the interruption of her “puppy-ness” in your life, you end up loving her like crazy. Still, her teeth are razor sharp for the first few months and you have to be on alert. For a mom of three, there are just times that you are not where you should be and this was one of them.

Finn won’t listen. Jesse won’t listen. While I chatted on a five minute phone call yesterday afternoon, they wrestled in the backyard - unbeknownst to me. Finn came in bleeding from the ear and my friendly neighborhood nurse confirmed my thoughts about stitches. We were off to the ER.

It honestly went off without a hitch; he didn’t shed one tear while they cleaned the wound and stitched him up. Logan and Riley (and Uncle Dan and Grammy) watched and cheered him on along with Whoa Whoa. The docs and nurses were so great, only threatening to call DCFS regarding the green nail polish Finn insisted I apply to him while doing his sisters’ for St. Pat’s. Three stitches later, we were out the door and out for pizza to celebrate Finn’s hospital bravery.

And now Jesse has a “record”. Yes, any dog bite (it really was just a snag of her tooth – she couldn’t be less vicious!) must be reported for the “three strikes and you’re out rule.” For all of you who balked at our thoughts of another rott, I’ve got to laugh as I announce that our wonderful family dog – our black lab – is the one that has landed us in the ER! Unbelievable!!

Apparently whoever is in charge did not read my recent post on illness, doctors and hospitals – I have really had enough now!

Puppy Amnesia

I have firsthand knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth amnesia, but I had no idea there was something called “puppy amnesia.” You’d think after being a dog owner my entire life, never really going longer than six months without a canine pal, that I’d have some memory of the unimaginable youth of a dog.

What is it about this animal that wakes her up in the wee hours and kicks her into turbo mode, without fail, every single day at 4 am? Why is it that for an hour or two during that sleep-needed time of day, that she wants nothing more than to tear the skin from my hands and shred whatever I’m wearing to pieces? Why, at this hour, does she feel the need to bark for attention in high-pitched squeals and wake every other living being in the house? What causes her to behave as if she has a tapeworm, scratching and pawing and barking incessantly at the Rubbermaid container that holds her food? And then, how is it possible that around 6 am, as she has certainly roused everyone from their cozy beds to start the day much too early, and has ripped a tiny hole in each of the backs of their shirts, this pitifully cute puppy falls asleep, hard?

I can’t answer these questions and can only say again that I have NO memory of these days with Harley, Maggie, Sadie or Ginny. Mike assures me that we’ve experienced this all before, but at that time, there were no children to tend to, no articles to write, no snow to deal with, no emails distracting me, no inauguration to be glued to. In those days, I wasn’t already operating at sleep, energy, healthy food, time and probably water deficits. (Although I assure you my alcohol consumption was much higher!) Yes, things were different twelve years ago when rescuing a puppy from under a used car in Florida made perfect sense. The timing is more complicated now, but if there’s anything we learned from Harley, it’s that the best is yet to come. Jesse will get there, too, that I know for sure.

Home

In hindsight, it’s a miracle we waited a month! Not able to withstand one more dog-less moment, our thrilled family lovingly welcomes…..

Jesse Grace

8 weeks, female black Labrador Retriever

Our home feels ten degrees warmer already.