When he first came in to the clinic I wasn't sure what he was. A bird, a plane? He was able to leap tall counters in a single bound! He had long flowing hair and muscular arms. I was in puppy love at first site. It was Superdog, and I was a super fan.

His sidekick looked like a big bug and I wasn't sure what a dog like him was doing with a bug like her. I started dreaming up ways for Superdog to save me, when mother came out with the large one-eyed picture taker. Superdog stopped acting super instantly. He started to pant and hide under his dad's legs. “I think it's time to go now dad” he panted “definitely time to go”. I recognized that whine right away. This dog wasn't Superdog at all, this dog was Taco disguised as Superdog! I can't believe I fell so easily for a dazzling smile and a red cape.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Halloween. And remember, even though that chocolate smells yummy delicious DO NOT EAT IT! Trust me, your belly with thank me later.

Stones from where?

Another day and another story about a cat. If I didn't know better I might start to think that the humans like the cats better than us. Luckily, I know better. Cats don't wag their tails, or kiss hello, they don't sit pretty for treats or try to alert everyone when there's a new person in the building. In fact, most cats seem to just want to hide and hope nobody seems them. What's so special about that?


I am secure enough in my canine identity to tell you about the cat that came for a visit today. Thief, was a fluffy black and white cat that did not enjoy coming to our clinic (big surprise there, I did say he was a cat!). A few days ago, Thief was having problems getting the yellow marking liquid out – at least that's what Patient Pam said. I could smell the odor the minute he walked in the door, so I knew getting the marking water out was not the problem. “He going all over the house” Thief's dad pleaded, “it looks like there might be blood in it too.”. So my dad got to work trying to sniff out the cats problem. Thief was no help at all. He grumbled all the while the helpers took the pictures with the humming machine. And even though he kept leaving his liquid all over his house, he didn't share a drop for my dad.

Fortunately, the black and white pictures told the story. “He's got bladder stones” reported my father, “and they are the type that will have to be removed surgically”. I've learned enough human pet doctor talk to know that meant Thief would be back for his turn in the no-awake-dogs-allowed room.

Today was that day. Thief was not any happier to back in the clinic for his second time in one week. My dad gave him the pinch medicine but his attitude barely improved, and he kept grumbling right up until the point he fell asleep. I have to say, sleeping cats are the only cats I really like.

My dad made quick work of the procedure and came out of the room with two perfect little pebbles. The stones looked just like the prickly stickers that attach themselves to Bea's fur in the morning. I couldn't help but wonder how this cat managed to get them in his bladder. I vowed right then and there to be extra careful when I squat in the yard.

“Most of the time cats get these stones due to their genetics and their diet. If we keep Thief on special food, we should be able to keep the stones from coming back.” dad instructed. “The most important thing is that he drinks lots of water, and eat canned food.” It looked like Thief's parents were listening to everything my dad had to say, but I knew that Thief would be the one making all the decisions; and from the moment he woke up from his nap he did not want to hear what we had to say. He scratched and clawed at Vonnie and Sweet Sally when they took the wraps off his leg. I know that Thief was feeling sore and out of sorts from his special nap, but I'd like to think a dog would have been much more reasonable in the same situation. Well...at least a dog like me.

Middle of the week and nothing much exciting going on here. Our morning began as it always does: morning walk, breakfast, second walk, car trip to clinic. I was pleasantly surprised to see some familiar visitors: Shakespeare and Charlie. As you may remember, Shakespeare has visited the clinic many times to get his heartworms out. Vonnie thinks they're finally gone, so he was in to have some red syrup taken. Don't tell Shakespeare, but Vonnie's getting things ready for mother to remove his boy parts. Maybe someone already told him because he was barking and yelling all day long. Charlie is a friend of mine since puppy hood. We grew up here together and after some short play sessions I re-established my complete domination of her.

Mother, Vonnie and Sweet Sally worked happily in the morning: a little white dog named Corkie took a nap to get her teeth cleaned, and several cats came in for the happy visits. One of these was “the cutest kitten I've ever seen!” said mother. A tiny gray cat named Tinkerbell drew sounds of “awww” wherever she went. I didn't see what the big deal was. She didn't dance or wiggle, no playful pawing or tail wagging. It made me realize that I probably don't need to work it as hard as I do for attention, little Tinkerbell just sat there and no one could get enough!

Aunt Becky, the hairless dog that smells like cheese, stopped by over lunch. She comes weekly for her bath because her skin is “such a problem.” It's not surprising though, I'd hate to think of what my skin would look like without my beautiful hair to protect it. Come to think of it, lots of mother's time is spent looking at pets skin. Some pets come in scratching, chewing and pulling their hair out. Some pets have sores but no itch, while others have itch but no sores. One little dog today was trying to chew her paw pad right off! We've seen flea bugs, and tick bugs (those are fun to squash), even bugs so small mother can only see them with the special glass eyes on the counter. But most of the pets have no bugs at all. According to mother, most of them have allergies. Near as I can figure it, allergies make you want to chew your skin right off for no reason at all. I'm glad that I don't have an incurable condition like allergies. I know that if my skin smelled like cheese all the time, I'd wouldn't be able to keep from licking it either!

Hell hath no fury like a cat

So today was the day. This day comes once a year. It's a day that is not discussed; no whispers or whimpers, no growls or grumbles. It is a day that everyone dreads for weeks before, but is not mentioned. Dancing Debbie and Laughing Laura make the arrangements quietly, and they neither dance nor laugh when the do it. It is a serious event, that makes everyone wide eyed, with the fast heartbeats and sweaty paws. It is the day of Dante's annual visit.  Many of our visitors come more than once a year; they trot or are carried happily in, they enjoy spending time with my parents and all of the friendly helpers. Not Dante. Dante's visit is an event.

I first met Dante last year. I came face to face with a darkened travel den containing a set of green eyes and a constant low growl that threatened to escalate at any moment. Mother told the story of “catzilla”, as his previous veterinarian had referred to him. Dante was a big orange full grown boy cat that still had all of his boy parts. His first visit to our clinic three years ago was brought about because Dante had been in a fight and his eye had been the victim. Mother was able to look at Dante's eye just enough to see fluid leaking from it and sent him straight to the eye doctor for surgery. But despite his tendency to battle the neighborhood cats, and despite the recommendations of every veterinarian who had seen him since, Dante still had his boy parts. “It's the other cats that pick on him.” his doting mother explained. “He's a complete sweetheart, he never starts it”.

The sweetheart was sitting across from me this morning. He was sitting way back in the corner of his travel den, waiting for any sign of human flesh to launch his attack. “Just try it” he growled, over and over with his voice rising with each passing moment. It had taken several visits to figure out how best to handle Dante, and fortunately now, my father and Vonnie “had this down to a science”. Many cats are handled with the thick green arm coverings, that give the cats something to bite on while they're being held for my parents to do their work. For some cats getting to bite is enough. Dante is not one of those cats. Dante will try to bite, but he will also roll, spit, claw and fly around the room all the while spraying yellow marking liquid and brown nuggets in a flash of teeth and nails. It was this sort of scene that everyone was hoping to avoid today.

Vonnie put on the thick green coverings, but only to make Dante move from his travel den in to another box; this box was clear all over. Surprisingly, Dante agreed without a fight. At first I didn't even know that Dante was in the box until I realized that he was just sitting there with people all around and nobody was being eaten. Somehow Vonnie attached the sleeping machine to that box and before I could clean Bea's ears once, Dante was fast asleep. Lying there completely still he was the perfect pet for his exam. They were able to get the red syrup, the yellow marking liquid and give all of this other pokes. When they were finished, Dante got moved back in to his travel den. Within a few minutes, the growling started again, “I just nodded off, but now I'm awake. Don't think about trying anything, I'm watching you.” but the intensity was missing. “Hey, why is my leg wet” he grumbled on, “if any of you tried anything while I was asleep, I'll get you”. Shortly afterwards Dante was carried out, still grumbling empty threats. I was happy that my dad had figured out how best to work on the angry cat without making him angry. Now if we can only figure out how keep him from fighting all the neighborhood cats we'd really be on to something.

Mondays...

Mondays are really becoming the days to catch up with old friends.

Fluffy came by for a visit. I know that she doesn't consider us friends but I'm always happy to see her. Something about the way she shakes and is always looking for her mom and the front door tells me that the feeling is not mutual. Her skin is growing back now, and she doesn't smell like the old meat in the garbage any more. I guess I should be happy for the white ball of fluff, but I am going to miss seeing her around.

Taco and Alice also came by. Alice wasn't near as worried as Taco, or if she was she didn't show it. Last time she was here she had to get lots of pinches and pokes and didn't even get to go to the happy napping place. Taco on the other paw got to have a nice long nap, but was too busy looking for his dad to really enjoy it.. He must have liked the way it made his mouth feel because he was all smiles today.   He wasn't about to let his dad out of his sight today either. Mother barely got to look in his mouth and he was back under dad's legs saying, “Is it time to go Dad? I think it must be time to go? Alice can stay if you want, but me and you really need to get going!”. This time Taco was right; he and Alice got to go right back home.

We also got to meet some new friends, and by new friends I mean the kind that still smell new with the sweet breath, the tiny sharp teeth and that playful pawing way they introduce themselves. Bea knows all about the new dogs. She had several litters of baby dogs herself. She doesn't miss them at all. Bea says, “Puppies are nothing but work, work, work. They just get to eat and sleep and I have to do all the work” Funny though, as soon as Bea sees one of the new dogs she wants to hold it down and start cleaning it, almost like she can't help herself. Sometimes, I let Bea pretend that I'm one of her puppies and let her clean my ears. I figure that it's the least I can do.

We met one big puppy today, a yellow Lab named Marilyn. She was as happy and friendly as any puppy I'd ever met. “I've been coming to clinics like this a lot” Marilyn offered as she was introducing herself, “it all started when I had to make the yellow liquid all the time, and it tickled when I went. My mom had told me over and over to only go outside, but I couldn't help myself. That was when I had my first visit to one of these pet clinics. I've been getting the special bitter treats ever since. I guess mother's getting tired of giving them to me, that's why we came to your clinic.”. I overheard mother discussing the problem with patient Pam: “They've been medicating this dog for over a month now. The puppy's better but according to her records the urine samples still show evidence of pus.” Pam informed Dr. Mom. So mother went into the examining room to take a look at Marilyn. “I think I've found the problem” mother advised Marilyn's mom “her girl parts are all tucked up making pus in the folds. That's probably what they're seeing in the urine to make them think the infection is still there. Allow her to grow up and come into heat and likely everything will unfold.” mother advised. Both Marilyn and her mom were relieved that there would be no more bitter treats. I was confused about the girl parts and coming in to heat. I tried to ask Bea. She just held me down and started licking my ears again.

So yesterday I told you about the Dents family; about them being all growling and upset, and that their dogs were sick too. Mrs. Dents had agreed to allow Freddie to stay in my clinic to get filled up with fluid, while Frannie got the fluid under her skin because she wasn’t as sick. Mother spoke to their parents every night about doing more tests to find out why the dogs’ kidneys had stopped working. When something like this happens to two unrelated dogs living in the same house, “It’s either something they ate, or something trying to eat them,” mother tried to explain. “I’m waiting for a call back from my veterinarian in Texas” Mrs. Dents declared, “He’s going to tell me what I should do. He’s the only one I trust”. Unfazed, mother tried to explain that the dogs might not have time to wait. The blank expression on the Dents family’s faces gave mother her answer. So it went on like this for the next two days. On the end of the second day, mother retested some of Freddie’s red syrup, “His values have barely improved.” mother reported “I’m worried that we’re losing valuable time waiting to hear back from your veterinarian.” Of course, Vonnie had wondered on more than one occasion why the trusted veterinarian had not yet returned the Dents’ phone calls.


In the end, mother was allowed to run one test while Mrs. Dents took Freddie home to wait for the results. “I just can’t watch him be tortured anymore. I can’t believe that he’s been here for two whole days and he’s not any better.” she said, clearly unhappy. But in the end mother’s suspicions were confirmed. “It’s Leptospirosis!” mother reported. “Those antibiotics I sent home with you should do the trick. Just make sure you don’t miss any doses. Also continue being careful around their urine, that’s how it’s spread. Wild animals like raccoons and possums carry the bacteria, and spread it by urinating in standing water. The bacteria can enter through breaks in the skin but also membrane surfaces like eyes and gums.” When mother was finished, she hung up the phone, with a smile but also a look of disbelief. “Mrs. Dents didn’t start any of the antibiotics I prescribed, she said that she thought we were just out to hurt Freddie with the medication. I only hope that I convinced her, especially since they could get infected from the dogs.” mother announced as she gave an update to the whole clinic.

I don’t know what’s worse for Freddie and Frannie, the lepto or their parents. I think either could prove deadly. At least we can get vaccinated for the leptospirosis.

A new threat....

One thing about life in a veterinary clinic is that everyday you learn about a new and different way you can get sick. On the one paw, I happily wag my tail for each day that Bea and I are healthy, and can chase each other around the house. On the other paw, I can’t help but worry about what’s going to get me next; attack by Rottweiler, worms living in my heart, my tongue growing purple and lumpy? Today, just gave me another reason to worry. It’s in the water. Not the cool water that mother puts in our bowl everyday but the warm, murky brown water that fills all the holes outside after a rain; the water that calls to me, the water in which I must splash, and drink and enjoy. I don’t think there’s one fun thing left that can’t hurt you some how or other. So, as the story goes, something called Leap Toe Spirosis waits for you in the puddles. If it gets inside you it makes you sick, sick, sick.

I first learned about this problem from the Dents family: two mean little Lhasa dogs and their even meaner parents. This family all looked alike: flat frowny little faces that would try to bite you when you weren’t looking, and dogs weren’t much better. Mrs. Dents was certain that her precious puppies, Freddie and Frannie had been poisoned. “Their not eating and their losing weight”, Mrs. Dents exclaimed “they’re getting dehydrated and are going to need fluids.” Mother had the worried look, unsure if Mrs. Dents was just a special brand of crazy, or if the dogs were really sick. It took some convincing, and two separate visits, but then Mrs. Dents finally agreed to let mother take some red syrup and yellow marking liquid and run some tests. Shortly after that, mother announced, “You were right, not only are they dehydrated but their kidneys are not working properly. Freddie’s situation is so serious that he needs to stay in the hospital!” Satisfied, but starting to smell of fear, Mrs. Dents started to bark on about new concerns, “Was it poison? How are you going to fix it? We can’t spend too much money if they’re not going to make it? Why didn’t you run these tests a few days ago?” After lots of minutes in the exam room, mother came back out with Freddie. He had to stay to get the fluid tubes put in to his arm. He was so ornery that he had to wear a white room on his head just to keep him from biting everyone. It never ceases to amaze me how some dogs won’t even let you try to help them, and others like Fluffy who have every reason to be angry, never even lift a lip!

So that’s how the Dents’ dog came to stay at our clinic. Of course, at this point no one knew why his kidneys had stopped working. We wouldn’t find that out for a few days.

To be continued tomorrow……

Who ever would have thought that I could learn something from a cat?

I learned that not all of the procedures mother and her helpers do make you sore. According to Boyd, the visiting orange cat, he felt better after waking up from his drooling dream, than he had in years.
I knew that there was something wrong with Boyd after his first visit. Most of the cats that come to the clinic to have their teeth looked at by mother have the smelly fish face. The same kind of smell that comes out of the big green bin on garbage day. The same kind of smell that Bea rolls upside down in, any chance she can get. But Boyd did not have the smelly fish mouth, his smelled more of red syrup than fish. You could also tell that he had a different problem by the way he talked. Honestly, I find cats hard to understand most of the time anyway. They tend to talk slowly and draw out all of their words, they add inflection where it doesn't make sense so that everything sounds like a question, and worst of all, they do this thing with their throats that makes it sound like they swallowed one of those vibrating hair clipping machines.
Boyd was especially tight lipped when he talked, and as he got nervous, he would grind his teeth and gums in a way that made Sweet Sally shudder. This morning Boyd was in to have his mouth looked at up close. I have learned that in order for mother, or father, to look at any pets mouth up close that means nap time for the pet. Boyd was no exception. He took his pinch medicine bravely. He even sat quietly while the tube and wraps got put on his legs. His mouth must have been very interesting too because mother and Patient Pam worked on it for what felt like weeks.
“Boyd has resorptive lesions” I overheard mother telling Patient Pam. “These are like sores on the teeth that are really painful. There is no way to cure the sores so we remove the affected teeth to remove the pain.” Patient Pam worries so much about her patients that I thought the water might start coming from her eyes. That was until Boyd was all finished and he was waking up from his nap. He sat up pretty quick and acted like his mouth felt better already. I can tell you he was a lot more talkative: “ What kind of nap was thaa-at? I dreamed I was chewing on jelly-- fish? My mouth kind of stings now but it doesn't hurt like it did?” I couldn't tell if he was asking or telling, but Bea says that's just the way cats talk.

Dancing Debbie's cat Reese was visiting a few days ago and he told a similar story about his sister cat, Willow. She had the sore teeth too, and mother removed them all. Now Reese says Willow has become a real bother. She's always stealing his toys and fighting for all of the attention. Reese liked it better when Willow hid under the bed all the time. When Bea hides under the bed I miss her terribly and have to drag her out by her face. Just another difference between cats and dogs I guess.

I guess the backyard bash was not the big hit everyone thought it was. We talked to so many people while we were there that everyone thought that pets and their people would be filling up the clinic today. Instead, this place is emptier than the dog park after someone barks “There's a cat, let's get it!”. I don't worry though, I know that more and more dogs and cats will read this blog and start to figure out that my clinic is where the smart pets bring their people.


We got another visit from Fluffy, and I've got to give a big bark out to that little white cottonball because she is doing a great job healing now. Mother says it looks so good, she doesn't have to come back for a week. Fluffy will just be happy to get that white room off her head, but she has one more week of that. Sweet Sally has been taking pictures with the square flashing eye machine, and next week mother says we'll show the whole story of Fluffy from start to finish. Mother says that I have to warn people before I do it though, because some people might want to bring up the kibbles after looking at some of her earlier pictures.

At the end of the day, Bea and I got to have a family reunion party. One of our kind, a Brussels named Ewok came for a visit. Bea wanted nothing to do with him, and just did tricks for the people. I tried to make him feel welcome and we played the pull-you-by-your-face-hair game that Bea loves so much. I'm not sure that he even knew he was a Brussels, but by the end of our time together he seemed to be enjoying himself. After all, time spent with me, how could that not be enjoyable!

I was a Smash at the Bash!

Saturday was amazing. I know that I was complaining on Friday that I had to sit at home all day, but let me tell you that it was all worth it. We were up at the crack of dawn on Saturday getting ready. Mother had the car all loaded and with Bea and me dressed in our spooky spider costumes we were ready for a party; and this party did not disappoint!
Mother brought our travel cave, along with a big white roof to keep the sun off our heads. It turned out to be a beautiful day; not too hot and not too cold so I didn't have to hear Bea complaining the whole time.  The whole gang was there too – Sweet Sally, Vonnie and Dancing Debbie! I know mother was touched to see them all there. I wasn't going to hurt her feelings and tell her that they probably just came to hang out with me.
Now, I'm not one to go on and on about how completely adorable I am, but I like to let my work speak for itself. Not a single little person was able to walk by our table without stopping. I threw it all at them too; the puppy dog eyes, the whole body wiggle, the non-stop tail wagging, along with the fastest dog tongue in the south. Kids are powerless to resist, and I don't think they really try that hard. Now the bigger people, the owners of the smaller ones, are better able to fight off my cuteness, but even they have a hard time. Bea and I were on our best behavior. We barely barked at anyone, other than the scary clown dressed up as an old man, or maybe it was the other way around; either way he was terrifying so I had to protect the team with the only weapon I had, my voice.
I did get some good treats out of the deal. Mother brought Halloween cookies to give out to the visiting dogs, but seeing as Bea, Shakespeare and JujuBee were the only dogs there, I received lots of those. Add that to the hot dog bun, popcorn, brownie crumbs, two bugs and some crabgrass, I had a full tummy to go with the days' festivities. I was dog tired (I finally figured out what that means) when it was all over, but I can't wait to do it again. Thanks to everyone who helped make it such a fun time!!

So today was the most boring Friday on record!  I did not even get to go to the clinic.  Instead, Bea and I were forced to stay home in our cozy cave while both mother and father went off to work.  I honestly don't know how they think they can manage without Bea and me.  Well, really it's just me.  I don't like to throw other dogs under the bus, but if we're being honest here, Bea sleeps most of the time and it's up to me to scare off the UPS man and greet everyone as they come in.
Mother wasn't actually working today.  She was all busy getting ready for a "Backyard Bash" tomorrow at the North Port UCC, on Biscayne.  Mother says, "Tell everyone that they can visit the Heron Creek Animal Hospital page on facebook for all the details".  I guess it sounds like fun; a day out to meet new dogs and their people, probably lots of the little people will be there too.  The little people are great for dropping food.  It won't just be toenails for me tomorrow.  Bea and I will be there, live and in canine, so if anyone wants to come and sniff hello, I'll give you one of my signature body wags.  And if you're really lucky, and you're busy talking to someone and not watching, I just may stick my tongue in your mouth!  Good times!

So things were a little calmer today. We heard happy news that Taco and Alice were happy to be back home, safely away from mother and all her pinches and pokes. According to their parents, Taco is pretending like nothing ever happened, in case the story should get out and cramp his style.

Fluffy returned for more fluids, and I think her bandages came off for good. I was happy for her, but sad that I never got the chance to roll in those used bandages. That smell has been calling to me for weeks!

I did get to meet a very distinguished older gentleman dog. He came in chipper and wagging, although you could tell that he'd been around the block a few times. His name was Ernie and he was a Yorkshire terrier. You could tell that he came from somewhere far away because his bark had a different accent to it. He was a chatty fellow, with an upbeat way about him. “I've been in and out of these clinics a lot lassie, ever since I developed this pesky cough that wouldn't go away”, he started. I don't know why he thought my name was Lassie. His eyes had the cloudy look so I thought maybe I reminded him of a dog he used to know. Ernie's heart didn't sound right; it was extra loud with a sloshy vibration that could be felt clear through the walls into our villa. He had to stay for the day while my dad rubbed the goo covered stick all over Ernie's chest to watch his heart beat on the moving screen. I was impressed with Ernie, he didn't seem fazed by anything. “When you've been around as long as I have, love, you learn not to worry about the small stuff. I'll get to kick back later and take a rest.” he rambled on. Father completed all of the tests on Ernie and I overheard him later talking to Ernie's parents; “His heart is still doing pretty well. The coughing you hear is because his heart is so big, it's pressing on his windpipe from the inside. But otherwise his heart isn't doing too bad. There's medicine for the cough, and some to keep his heart from beating too fast.” dad advised. Even hearing the word medicine didn't bother Ernie. “Nothing I haven't had before”, he said “I thought it was bad when they took away me beggin strips, but I kind of like the cheerios I get now”. As I watched the old man dog trot out with his mum I got the feeling that Ernie's heart was still going strong because he wouldn't have it any other way; the power of positive thinking can be powerful indeed!

Poodles

Busier than fleas at a flea market, that's what mom said the clinic was today. Fluffy was back for more of the medicine that goes through the tube into her leg.  She's been here everyday this week, though you would hardly know it, she never makes a noise.  Dancing Debbie and Sweet Sally are always oohing and ahhing when her bandages are changed too, so I think she must be getting better.  Too bad, I think I might miss her when she doesn't have to come here anymore.  Somehow, I don't get the sense that the feeling is mutual.

We also had a brother and sister family stay with us too.  I think they are related like me and Bea are; just meant to be together.  The younger one, Taco, was a high spirited, tail lifted, prancing white poodle who pretended to be tough whenever his parents or sister was around.  Alice, the much older sister, walked in with a stiff upper lip, knowing full well what a visit to a clinic like mine usually involves, and willing to just get it over with.  She had very little concern for Taco's worries, and tried to pretend that they weren't related. 

Alice was here for "testing".  I have learned over my year at the clinic that testing means having red syrup taken from you, over and over and over again.  I don't know why they can't just do all the testing the first time.  Alice was the model patient, every one said so, but Taco refused to take her lead.  He was absolutely convinced that his presence at the hospital was some sort of mistake.  When he first entered his apartment, he howled, "There must be some mistake.  My dad wouldn't leave me here.  Not here.  I don't see any of the hair cutting tools, or my shower tub, or anything.  I know there's some mistake".  Taco carried on this way for some time, the whole while being disowned by his older sister.  Then when Taco had to get his pinch medicine, he continued to hold out hope, staring longingly out the front door.  "My dad will be here any minute.  Maybe that's him now.  I think I hear him coming.  He wouldn't leave me, I know any minute now he'll open that door."  Taco even continued after getting the sleeping pinch, although still hopeful his energy started to fall.  "I know my dad.....my dad is coming....I feel sleepy but I have to stay awake for my dad....(front door opens)...dad is that you?  See I'm still awake dad!"  I guess Taco just continued his thought process the whole time getting his teeth cleaned, because as soon as he woke up, he could barely even stand and he started again, "See dad, I'm awake, ready to go when you are" . 
So in the midst of Taco looking for his dad, we saw four healthy pet visits, with lots of toe nails flying about.
A new friend of mine, Cookie, had to stay for the day because after she got one of the small pinches years ago she got sick, sick, sick.  So mother had Cookie stay for the day and gave her three pinches in addition to the "Rabies" pinch.  People math must be different than dog math, because three is more than one, and I would have thought Cookie would have got three times as sick.  She was fine though.  Cookie even did tricks to make mother and Dancing Debbie laugh. 
"Dad.... is that you?" we would hear every time the front door opened. 
A long-bodied dachsund came in with a sore neck, a shaggy golden dog came in with a sore ear, and a fuzzy looking Shakespeare-like dog came in panting, and acting real thirsty.
"I'm over here dad, I'm awake, don't worry about me, I'm ready to go..." Taco would chime in.
Finally, at the end of the day, Taco and Alice were reunited with their parents.  I admit, I expected a big reaction when Taco realized that he was actually going home.  But instead of the jumping and kissing I had expected, Taco seemed to just want to head out the door.
That's when we finally heard from Alice, "He does this everywhere we go.", she explained, "it's how he gets whatever he wants.  Poodles... they can be so dramatic".  I could be wrong, but I swear I caught a wink from Taco as he pranced out of the clinic.

Communication. Dogs do it, cats do it, and people try to do it. The problems come when we try to communicate between each other. I think we dogs have refined our means of communication down to a simple yet transparent system. I can tell you what a dog is thinking from across the room, he doesn't even have to bark, or howl. One look and I know what's going on. We dogs save a lot of time that way. People just don't seem to get it. They tend to bark and howl a lot more than they need to. They seem to work pretty hard on all of the different sounds that they make, but only take the time to teach us the important ones. Actually, we dogs prefer it that way. According to Bea, the cats don't even bother learning that much. Cats get to do whatever they want, and people have learned not to expect anything from them. I think dogs could learn a lot from that. If it wasn't for my inexplicable desire to be next to my mother at all times, I would consider trying to be more like that.

So, back to communication. I decided to spend today listening to what some of the pet visitors were saying to show some of the gaps between dog and human communication.

A perfect example was the dog, Hobo. Hobo has been coming to our clinic for several weeks now. He says he started to feel strange after visiting another clinic and getting the usual pokes. Within a few days, he had no energy and didn't want to eat or do anything. Hobo's mother told my dad, “He's got anemia”. From what I gather, that has something to do with the red syrup; that there's something wrong with it, like it's missing or something. But what me and Hobo can't seem to figure out is why if his red syrup is missing, do my dad and his helpers take more and more out of his arms every week. How is it supposed to come back if they keep taking it? I can tell you one thing, Hobo sure doesn't know. He's a good looking dog, don't get me wrong, reminds me of the dog Bea had a thing for a few weeks back, but as far as figuring things out, I don't think he's on top of things.

Here is a good example of how dogs hear things differently. Before Sweet Sally went to get some red syrup from Hobo's arm she said in an upbeat singsong voice: “What a handsome boy you are. What a good boy you are. I hope you're feeling better today. This will only take a second and then you can have some treats.”. Now, what Hobo and I heard was – happy voice, happy voice, happy voice...treats! At that we were both paying attention. The rest of the stuff just doesn't translate.

And poor Fluffy, is still coming to our clinic everyday. She is convinced that she is being punished for letting that Rottweiler bite her. I've tried to tell her otherwise but she won't hear it. I think that's why she is so nice to Sweet Sally, mother and Vonnie when they do their work, she somehow thinks this is payback for not running faster or fighting back. Her wounds are healing now, but she has to get special injections because mother says, “she has a resistant infection”. I would have thought it was good to resist infection. Sometimes I don't think I'll ever understand what these humans are talking about.

Squish, slosh, slap! Squish, slosh, slap! These were the noises that awoke me from my nap this morning. In between the normal sounds of face and body shaking the large red hound-looking dog, named Gabby, sloshed her way in to the clinic. “She keeps shaking her head” Gabby's mom pleaded, with a weary look on her face. “I don't think anyone got any sleep last night! And now one ear is swollen to three times the size of the other! Could it be a tumor?” Gabby's mom asked as the familiar smells of fear and yeast wafted out of the room. Sweet Sally did her best to reassure the lady that it probably wasn't a tumor.


Soon mother was on the case, and after some time looking over the Gabby dog she knew just what the problem was. “It's an aural hematoma” mother announced, “It's like a big blood blister in the ear. The more the dog's shake, the worse it gets. We can fix the hematoma, but we really need to figure out why she started shaking her head to start with.” I've heard this speech so much that I can almost give it myself now. This is where mother launches into the long talk about water in the ears, allergies in the ears, yeast in the ears, on, and on, and on. I often wonder why I haven't start growing yeast in my ears, or maybe I have and just don't know it. I'm pretty sure if I did, Bea would tell me. She's definitely not shy about stuff like that.

So Gabby ended up staying for awhile. Mother had to put Gabby in the tub and poke a hole in the squishy, sloshy part of her ear. I couldn't have been the only one who wanted to watch either because two of the helpers stood by. No sooner did the pointy tube go in the ear than a brilliant stream of red syrup shot out. Vonnie caught all of it in a bowl, so unfortunately they didn't need my help with the clean up. Gabby's ear suddenly went from a sloshing bag to a slow drip. Swabs were taken from deep inside her ear and then the greasy goo medicine was applied. Bea has had to have the greasy goo medicine before. When she came from her first den, she had small bugs living in her ears called “ear mites”. Ear mites must tickle when they walk around in your ear because Bea was always scratching back then. The worst thing about the greasy goo medicine is the taste. I tried to lick her ears clean, but if even I can't stand the taste, you know it must taste bad.

Gabby also had to go home with one of the white plastic rooms on her head. I really hate these rooms, they seem to follow you wherever you go, and there are no windows to see out. So Gabby came in with a slosh and went out with a bang, as she rubbed that white room all over the doors and walls trying determinedly to get her head out. I wonder if anyone at Gabby's den will get to have any sleep tonight either?

Ahh....the sounds of laughter

I keep thinking about laughter; about how Bea and I sit in our villa and watch all the humans around us laughing and I haven't figured out what causes it. Sometimes the laughter starts for an obvious reason – like when I lick someone in the mouth as soon as they open it to talk after they thought I was done licking their face. In that case, I assume that they're just happy to have been licked by me.


But other times, it doesn't make sense. Vonnie was helping mother treat a cat named Target that had gotten so nervous on the trip to the clinic that he had made the marking liquid all over himself. The cat was sitting quietly while the work was being done, but Target had a silent rage inside evident only by the wild swish of his tail. Vonnie was trying to keep her distance from the smelly wet fur, all the while howling on about how bad the cat smelled. Well, Target's tail swished just when Vonnie started to howl again and I watched as some of the smelly yellow marking liquid landed right on Vonnie's tongue! And that was it. I don't think I've seen the humans start laughing quite so fast. Mother could barely keep hold of the cat she was laughing so hard. Of course, Vonnie just kept on howling, but she did it while trying not to move her tongue so it sounded like “I got urwin on my ton, I got urwin on my ton!” Pretty soon, Dancing Debbie, Laughing Laura, and Sweet Sally were clutching their sides in pain, all the while laughing.

Later that afternoon, the mother of the wormy puppy named Bambi came back in to the clinic. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping well, and she had a plate in her hand covered in foil. My dad, always looking for a tasty treat, thought that the nice lady had been up all night making special kibbles. “I can't stop thinking about the worms” she said as she handed the plate to my father. “I'm really worried that my kids could have worms now, so I brought samples so you could check them too.” Now, I'm not a person, and I don't really get the whole laughing thing, but I'm pretty sure that the stunned look on my dad's face would have made me start laughing. He quickly told the nice lady that a person doctor needed to check for people worms, and while balancing the plate on the tips of his fingers tried repeatedly to hand the plate back to the lady. Of course, the gang in the back was busy laughing so hard by the time my dad came to the back, that even the sounds he made scrubbing his hands couldn't drown them out.

I don't think I'll ever figure out this laughing thing. I won't give up though. I figure if I learn to time it right, I'll be able to get some good mouth licks in!

I met the strangest creature today.  At first I thought it might be a little person because it only walked on two legs.  It must have been a very special person too because it was being carried on Vonnie's shoulder.   It seemed to be in charge of Vonnie too, because it would whisper in her ear, and was allowed to share her lunch!  Bea and I are lucky if we get a few liver treats for lunch; along with all the free toenails we can find of course.
Even Bea didn't know what the little green person was.  The worst thing about it was that it kept staring at me.  It didn't make any noise, just little black eyes staring right through me.  And just when I thought it was looking away, it spun it's entire head around backward just to prove to me that it was still watching.
I was beginning to think that this was some kind of super human with all kinds of new powers.  That was, until I saw Sweet Sally and Vonnie hold it down wrapped up in a towel and trim it's nails and some of it's bristly, floating hairs.  It squawked and squirmed, but it didn't matter, the humans just kept on with their work.
At that point I realized that the little green creature wasn't a human at all.  My dad came by and called it a "peach faced mean bird'.   Mother said, "Birds... never touch'em, unless we're talking about chicken, that's delicious."  Of course.....chicken!  I love chicken:  chicken jerky treats, chicken liver treats, squeaky rubber chicken.  All of a sudden, I knew exactly what the green little creature was.  If only I could've gotten closer to it's cage....

Got Worms?

Worms. There is a lot of discussion at my clinic about worms. Heartworms, hookworm, roundworms, tapeworms, and that's only the ones I can remember. These are not the kind of worms you eat, or the kind that you see wriggling from fishhooks, and although worms are animals, we don't treat sick worms here. Mostly my parents and their helpers are forever trying to get rid of the worms. There may be some misconception that we dogs, and maybe the cats as well but I certainly don't speak for them, enjoy worms. I agree they appear tasty, but when I did have them I don't remember enjoying it.

I don't know if I've actually ever seen a worm. I've seen Shakespeare, and he supposed to have worms living in his heart. And I guess that's a pretty important thing because everyone seems to watch him extra closely, especially when he coughs. But I don't think he's ever seen his worms either. Mother keeps some worms in clear jars under the sink. I think she brings them out to show the people that visit the clinic, just to watch their smiling faces change quickly into looks of fascinated disgust.

Sweet Sally must enjoy worms as well. One of our newer visitors, Bambi, a black puppy who's already twice as big as me and only nine weeks old came in with some worm problems. According to our resident puppy expert, Bea, nine weeks means Bambi was still a baby. Bea was a working mom and had already licked all her babies good-bye by that age. Bambi's family had gotten her from a far off land called Virginia. She was to be the new addition to the family of four – two parents, and two young people. Bambi's new mother was deathly afraid of worms and had even passed on several pups locally just to avoid any of the worms. But Bambi was at the clinic last week with a big round belly, and brown nuggets that looked more like a mud puddle. “She has the trifecta” Vonnie announced, “roundworms, hookworms and giardia”. I thought Bambi's new mom was going to bring up her kibbles when she heard the news. Instead the new dad had stepped in, and got all the information from Vonnie on how to treat the new puppy with some yummy white sauce. Well, now it was a week later and Bambi's mom was visiting the clinic again, with the worried look on her face and more brown nuggets in a bag. At least this time they looked like nuggets. “I'm still seeing worms” she said, clearly exasperated, “are my kids going to get these?”. Usually the white sauce takes care of all kinds of worms, and sometimes you see them for a day or so, but not for a whole week. This is when Sweet Sally stepped in, and I knew the worms had met their match. Sure enough, Sally tore apart the nuggets, found one of the stringy critters, pulled it, rolled it, smashed it and washed it and then announced “this is a piece of carpet”. And just like that, problem solved, and I heard a collective sigh of relief go through the clinic. Although, I was upset that I missed my chance to see a real worm up close, I was happy that Bambi's family was safe. So everyone got to sleep easy that night, and I started to wonder, just how do you get infected with “carpet”.

Ho-hum.  Tuesdays!  Never much going on at the clinic on Tuesdays.
We've been seeing a lot of the same pet faces so I guess I could let you know how everyone's doing.

Bam-Bam spent one more night at the overnight clinic, and did well enough to go home the next day.   I overheard Patient Pam discussing Bam-Bam with her parents, through the black plastic machine on the wall.  They are making her special dinners every night now, and Bam-Bam is doing well.  That deserves a big sloppy kiss and lots of tail wags for the people at the overnight clinic, as well as for my dad and Patient Pam. 

Fluffy has been in and out almost everyday.  Last week,  mother made Fluffy take a long nap on the surgery table while she worked to remove more of the black, smelly meat left over from the old bite wounds.  When she was done, Fluffy acted like she was still dreaming of chasing squirrels while her sides looked like one big zipper, with plastic bits hanging out "to allow for drainage", mother said.  I know about zippers because my cosy cave at home closes with a zipper and if you get too close when it's closing you can trap you whiskers in it.  Bea knows all about it, but I sometimes forget.  Ouch!
Anyway, Fluffy came in again today.  Mother pulled her drains and she smells a little less like the garbage bin, and more like a dog, but I think she still has a long way to go.  I rarely feel bad for dogs, but Fluffy is so sweet -- seeing her all zippered up with that plastic cover on her head just makes me want to lick all her wounds better.  And not just because I think they would taste good, because that goes without saying, but I would really like to help her.  I think good things should happen to good dogs, so Fluffy just needs to get over this.
Speaking of bad things happening to bad dogs, Bosco was in the clinic over the weekend.  You remember Bosco, the one that likes the taste of Ruben's face?  Well he has always had a nose problem.  The kind of problem that makes him sneeze large amounts of green goo out of his nose.  My parents have always said that Bosco has "allergies".  Recently, his problems got worse and he started coughing. He developed pneumonia, which Bea says is when you cough so much you keep your parents up at night.   My dad started Bosco on "Auntie Biotics" and mother says Bosco is going to be "just fine" and will be able to bite Ruben again in no time. 
So we pretty much have had happy endings all around, at least for today.  Keep your paws crossed that things stay that way, especially for Fluffy....

More than just hookworms...

I know that you're all dying to hear about mother's trip to the place called Arcadia. It's a place, far, far away called the country. Bea says the country is where old dogs go and never come back. Mother says Arcadia is the “hookworm capital of the world” which I don't really understand but it sure sounds like fun. Mother must agree because she says she likes going out there. My dad and Vonnie don't understand why, but I think it has something to do with the people she sees out in the country. Mother says the ladies out there are “sweet as pie”. So between that and the hookworms, I don't see how anyone could resist.


If you ask me it sounds like a good place to go if you're old and you're not coming back. Mother says a lot of the dogs and cats live outdoors, all the time! They get to lie in the dirt, bask in the sun, eat whatever animal alive or dead that comes in to their yard and basically get to do whatever they want. Despite the disapproving way mother tells the stories, it sounds fantastic to me!



I overheard mother telling my dad about one of her cases. A large dachshund named Snausage came in to the clinic for his routine visit and vaccinations. Snausage's mother mentioned that the pooch was having trouble getting the brown nuggets out and had a big “knot” back there for a few weeks. Mother said Snausage was a “twenty pound dog in a thirty pound body” and that knot that the owner had casually noticed was a hernia – something called a “perineal hernia”. Near as I can figure it, a hernia means that part of your body that's supposed to stay in, is sticking out. Well, Snausage's back end was sticking out and the more he tried to go, the more it stuck out. Now that sounds like a real pain in the butt! Mother was worried that Snausage's mom wouldn't be able to do the surgery required to fix his problem, but the sweet ladies in Arcadia can work their magic to get things done no matter what. I was happy to hear that Snausage would get a happy ending....literally.

Arcadia seems like such a different place, but I think I get why mother likes to visit. I also think I know why she hugs me extra hard when she gets back.

Bea and I had to hold down the pack today at the clinic.  Mother had to go to Arcadia to help some pets out there.  We weren't allowed to go, "Too many fleas and hookworms in Arcadia", mother said.  But that didn't decrease my interest any.
As luck would have it, the clinic had enough going on to keep me from having to give myself an entire tongue bath just to kill the time.  An old lady yellow labrador named "Bam-Bam" was carried into the clinic this morning.  You only get carried in if you're really sick or really special:  I had a feeling that Bam-Bam was both. 
As dogs go, you couldn't ask for a better neighbor.  She slept most of the day.  She woke once or twice and I managed to get a little of her story from her.  She said that her belly started hurting really bad last night and she thought she was going to bring the kibbles back up.  But she tried, and tried, and tried again and nothing came up.  The pain in her belly got worse and worse and the next thing she knew she woke up in an animal hospital in a sleepy haze with a different, but much more tolerable, belly pain.
Patient Pam, another of my parents nurses, took control of the case.  Patient Pam spent the last year with her nose buried in the books, and she took on Bam-Bam's case with the same zeal with which I attack my veggident treats.  There is no place I'd rather be than chewing on a veggident!
Patient Pam went to work connecting wires and beeping devices to Bam-Bam.  "We have to make sure her heart is ok after a surgery like that." my father explained, "Bloat affects a lot more than just the stomach.  The physical injury and the shock can damage the heart, spleen and other organs". 
Vonnie was doing her usual howling on and on as well.  I guess Bam-Bam was originally moved from the "emergency clinic" -- which is where you go if you're sick and it's nighttime  -- to her regular doctors clinic to be watched for the day.  But the doctor that had seen Bam-Bam from the time she was a playful pup turned her away, and so did the next place she went, until Bam-Bam finally found her way to my clinic, and the loving, caring arms of Patient Pam and my dad.   According to Vonnie, none of the other clinics were properly staffed to handle a dog as sick as Bam-Bam.
So the sweet sick old lady dog slept here for the day enjoying many doses of the sleepy pain medicine, and then was carried back to the emergency clinic for the night.  As the day went on I heard her heart beat getting stronger, and her breathing getting deeper so I know she's going to end up alright. 
I, too, will rest better tonight, knowing that if I ever get as sick as Bam-Bam, that at least I live at a clinic that could watch over me if I did.  I wonder what mother will say about her day in Arcadia?

Fall is officially here. I knew it from the moment I woke up today that seasons had changed. The air was different, thinner. Something about the new season makes me want to run, jump, and play more. I nearly bowled Bea over twice in the yard this morning. She's fast, but she's no match for me. I can run circles around her.... and I do, literally.


I must not be the only one enjoying the cooler weather. Mugsy the yellow lab hobbled in this afternoon. Dad was on duty and had a pretty good idea of Mugsy's problem from the way his back left paw barely touched the ground when he walked. Mugsy's dad said, “It was the weirdest thing, Doc, he went out to do his business in the yard this morning, and came back lame. He didn't fall down or anything!”. My dad knew just what to do. After a series of leg and back tests, Mugsy stayed with us for awhile to get leg pictures on the humming table. For a big dog, Mugsy sure was nervous; drooling and shaking, as if he was about to get a soap treatment or something. I spoke up to try to tell him not to worry. Mother must not know what I'm saying to these dogs, because she's always telling me to be quiet. She should know that I'm only trying to help; I don't think I could keep quiet if I wanted to, and admittedly, I don't want to.

So Mugsy got enough of a pinch to go for a nice nap, and my dad got to feel all of the large yellow dog's legs really well. When he got to the left knee, he was able to make it move back and forth in a way that a dog's knee should never move. I shuddered a little just thinking about it. The black and white pictures must have confirmed what father thought, because soon Mugsy was awake again.

“It's a cruciate tear”, I heard him explaining to Mugsy's dad later that afternoon. “This is the same injury that professional athletes get. The cruciate ligaments keep the knee held together and when one ligament gets torn it has to be fixed surgically.” While I don't understand all of what my parents say, I'm real good at reading body language. Mugsy's father read like he couldn't have gotten worse news. “I'll have to talk this over with my family” was all he said. So Mugsy lazily hopped back out of the clinic to rejoin his dad, still drowsy from his sleepy medicine. I knew that surgery or not, Mugsy would be around to enjoy more of the cool fall weather. Sometimes, you have to look on the bright side of things.