Farewell to Reggie

So, it was a frustrating weekend to bark the least. I never did find the turkey. I sniffed, searched, tasted and tried every crumb and speck on the floor and still no turkey. Bea even got on the kitchen counter once but didn't find anything other than a quick way to get put in our cozy cave. It was nice of Bea to take one for the team that way, but I think her hunger for turkey is second only to mine.

Reggie spend the weekend with us, too. I'm not sure but I think he may have found some turkey. Mother spent hours sitting on the floor with him trying to get him to eat. I offered to show Reggie how good the food tasted and how easily it could be eaten, but mother did not seem to want my help.

I don't know what it is about Reggie that mother likes so much. He's a slow walker and he never wants to play. He was good for all the pills and drops she gave him, and didn't complain with all the trips back and forth to the clinic. The only thing Reggie didn't like was to be confined. Mother even made him a special covering so that none of the yellow marking liquid would leak out overnight, and Reggie was allowed free roam of the whole house; that's a privilege that Bea and I can only dream about.

Over the weekend, Reggie only wanted to sleep. He wagged his tail less and less and refused everything mother offered him to eat. I don't know what was harder to watch, mother's look of disappointment and worry, or all that delicious food going to waste.

This morning Reggie was not any better. Mother knew it was time for Reggie to go to sleep forever but still petted him in the same sweet way she had all week. After a conversation with Reggie's mom we all said good-bye to the sweet little gray old man. I watched as the water filled mother's eyes while she listened for the last of Reggie's heartbeats. “I really wanted you to get to see your mom again”, I heard mother whisper to Reggie as his body relaxed, “so you wait at the Rainbow bridge for her, ok?”.

I don't know what it was about that little man that mother liked so much. I guess I'm glad that I'm half Shih-tzu, because if mother even likes me half as much I'll be set for life! Too bad for Bea.

Turkey?

Not much going on the past few days.  Yesterday, the people went out for several hours and returned smelling deliciously of turkey and butter.  So far, I have seen no sign of the source of these captivating smells.  I seem to remember last year, getting to run around and play with my friends at Grandma's house.  Mother doesn't like to take Bea to people gatherings because Bea's "a nervous type".  Of course, for the same reason, Bea can't stay by herself, so I keep her company in our cozy cave.  She's usually really good at sniffing out all the food.  I'll have to get her to work on this turkey mystery.  It must be around here somewhere.

Although today was Wednesday, it did not feel like any other Wednesday.  First of all, it was raining all day.  I don't usually mind the rain, and really enjoy splashing in puddles once it has ended.  Usually the rain comes with the loud sky noises that make Bea run and hide.  There were no loud crashing noises today, just rain and more rain. 
Mother spent the morning doing procedures and the afternoon seeing pet visitors and their people.  For a Wednesday everyone seemed just a little happier than normal.  Everyone was chatting about things like turkey and football, and the day seemed much more like a Friday than a Wednesday.  I'm not sure, but I get the sense on days like today that there might soon be extra yummy things falling on the floor.  I'll be sure to keep a look out.

My favorite visitor today was a very large cat named Sean.  Vocal Vonnie called it a "Norwegian Forest Cat" because her favorite game is to try to bark out answers to questions that no one has even asked.  Sean was a very large, very daunting presence.  He was twice my size, and had a serious stare and low growl that made me keep my normal greetings to myself.
Sean's mother brought him in last week worried about a lump she had found.  "I noticed it after he got vaccinated two weeks ago.  I didn't really think about it until I read his chart and realized that my previous veterinarian had given him an adjuvanted vaccine.  Now, I'm  really worried that he has a tumor!".  Mother looked Sean over and examined the lump on Sean's knee.  "It's probably just a temporary vaccine reaction." mother reassured "but we can remove it to be sure." Sean's mother wanted to be sure.

Mother's helpers were awed by handsome Sean and puzzled about how such a common, and apparently safe thing like giving a vaccine could cause a problem.  I listened with pointed ears when mother discussed the vaccines.  "In cats, as many as 3 in 10,000 can have abnormal reactions to vaccinations, or any injection really, that can ultimately lead to a cancerous growth.  Many researchers believe the adjuvants, or additives, in the vaccines may be responsible for this.  It's the reason we only give cats non-adjuvanted vaccines here", mother was explaining to her helpers. Sean's mother loved Sean; really, really, really loved him.  She had read up all about vaccines on the internet, and found out that some cats can get strange vaccine reactions that turn in to tumors.  Sean's mother could not bear the thought of Sean having a tumor.  So today, Sean came in to have his procedure to remove the lump.
Sean was the quietest, most reserved cat I have seen have any work done here.  He made no noise for his first pinch.  He sat quietly while the tube was put in his arm, and woke up just the same way.  I don't think he complained once all day.  After mother was done talking to his parents, Sean walked himself into his portable travel den for the ride home;  no spitting or howling like so many other cats like to do.  I overheard mother tell them that the lump seemed small and confined and that it may be nothing at all to worry about.  Sean's mother said, "Well, that will really be something to be thankful for!"
I can't help but think of everything I'm thankful for -- my mom and dad, my best friend Bea, my villa at the clinic and the opportunity to meet the nicest dogs, cats and people every day.  There's really so much when you think about it.  I think that people should set aside a whole day, to sit down with everyone we care about and celebrate all we have to be thankful for.  I'll definitely have to suggest it to mother!

Since we were just reminiscing with Fluffy I thought it might be a good time to give you some updates on other visitors.  Downy spent the whole weekend at home with his mother, but had to have a red tube in his parts to help him get his yellow marking liquid out.  Finally he's going all on his own, no tubes, no mother pressing on his belly.
Reggie got to spend part of restful weekend at home with his mom, but then had to stay with some neighbors while his mom flew away.  He was having trouble seeing his way around the neighbors home so he has been staying with us now.  His neck is lots better but he's not much fun to play with.  All he likes to do is eat, and sleep and lick the pink chew toys on his skin.  He won't even share.

The case of the day was an old man poodle named Kent.  When I first saw him, I was sure that he was about to have babies.  His belly hung low to the ground and he was having trouble walking.  He was at my clinic for a "second opinion"; which means that mother had lots of papers to read and phone calls to make before she went into the room to talk, talk, talk.  Kent had been having a problem walking for awhile that now had him dragging one of his legs.  Mother had to get some black and white pictures from the humming table.  Father had to get some pictures of Kent's belly with the goo covered probe.  At the end of the day, mother spoke to Kent's parents, "His leg isn't working because of a problem with his spinal cord.  Usually this is caused by disk problems in the back, but since Kent is not painful we have to worry about either a blood clot or a tumor.  Based on the other tests, it looks like Kent could have Cushing's disease.  Cushing's disease makes the body produce extra hormones.  The hormones cause all kinds of issues, and would make his back problem more likely to be caused by a blood clot.  We can use medicine to control the Cushing's and if the back problem is from a blood clot, he should start walking better!".  I did not understand one bark of what mother was saying, but the hopeful look on everyone's face led me to believe that the next time I see Kent he could be trotting instead of dragging.  That would be nice, because I don't know how Kent is going to keep up with his babies if he can't walk. 

Fluffy's back!!

I was not looking forward to another busy Monday, with mother too busy for any play time.  But all that changed when Fluffy walked through the door.  It had been so long since I last saw Fluffy, I hardly recognized her.  Maybe it was all her new skin, but she looked like a different dog.  She smelled like a different dog too.  No more spoiled meat smell, no sticky red syrup or green bandage goo.  Just clean, white fluffy dog smell, which I guess is fitting.

Mother was so happy to see Fluffy too.  If she had a tail, I am sure it would have been wagging!  Of course, Fluffy was not any happier to see us today, as she had been on those days when she would visit for the bandage changes.  Fluffy won't even really look at any of us, and her tail definitely is not wagging, she always has one eye on her mom, and one eye on the door.  "She looks great!" I heard mother squealing in the room, so I knew the visit was a happy one.

Since we don't often get young, happy dogs with such bad things that have happened to them end up as well as Fluffy, you'll have to forgive me howling on about this.  Mother even posted all of the pictures on the clinic page on facebook so people can know what a hard road Fluffy had.  Way to go Fluffy!

Another busy day for mother, and another day of short walks and only brief petting sessions for me and Bea. Downy came back in.... again. Having trouble getting his yellow marking liquid out.... again. I hope that mother is as patient with me if I ever have problems like this. So it turns out that when Downy struggled getting his stitches out yesterday he messed up the new girl parts and now some of the yellow marking liquid was leaking into his legs! Mother handled everything though, after consulting with Dr. Quinn surgery woman, poor Downy had to have another red tube inserted into his parts until everything has healed again. I can tell you one thing for sure, I'm glad I started out as a girl because apparently getting turned into one isn't so easy.

Speaking of procedures gone wrong, we had another one of my favorite visitors come in today. Her name is Mojave and she's a Golden Retriever. In fact, she's “one of the sweetest Golden Retrievers in the world” as mother would say. Mojave was rescued at about one year of age by Mrs. Angel. When Mrs. Angel first saw Mojave she had hardly any fur due to skin and ear infections, was very thin and had injured her back right leg so badly she'd had a procedure to have 7 pins put in it.
 

Mrs. Angel worked hard to nurse Mojave back to health and succeeded in making her a truly beautiful dog, but her back leg still troubled her. “She limps on it more now and it looks as if one of the pins is starting to poke out. We were told that all the pins were removed, but who knows.” Mrs. Angel reported. Mother agreed to sniff around the crooked leg and put Mojave on the humming table to get the black and white pictures. After seeing the pictures, mother looked more confused than when she started. “It sure looks like a mess” she said “we'll have to talk to the surgeon about it, and see what can be done.” Mother and Mrs. Angel exchanged the lets-hope-for-the-best looks, and Mojave happily bounced out the door with her mom. Humans tend to feel so bad for the rescued dogs, for what might have happened in their past and the burdens they now carry, but seeing Mojave and other rescued pets like her, I can tell you they are so happy to find love in their new homes that the problems of the past are truly forgotten. I just wish there we more sweet ladies like Mrs. Angel around to rescue all the Mojave's of the world.

Today things were mostly back to normal. My dad had things flowing at a steady pace. We got the update that Reggie, and his mom, were able to sleep last night, and that he had eaten a good breakfast too.

Downy came back in to have some of the left-over procedure strings removed from his former boy parts. His back end looked much less swollen and according to his mom, he's been eating well and feeling pretty good. I'm just glad that cat won't have to spend another weekend at my den!

Mother also wanted me to tell the story of “Comebackhere”, the little black dog that wandered in the clinic today. He trotted right in and started to make himself at home, literally. He jumped up on the bench, barked a greeting to everyone and then proceeded to try to mark the front desk. “They call me Comebackhere because I like to run away, and my parents think by saying it over and over that I'll go right home. I have so many places to mark and things to sniff, I just can't stay around the den!” Comebackhere told anyone who would listen. Sweet Sally and Dancing Debbie thought he was “just adorable”. “Who do you belong to?” they asked, as if expecting him to answer. Sweet Sally ran back to the treatment area and returned with the round beeping device they pass over dogs backs to find out who they are. Sally waved the machine over Comebackhere and proudly annouced, “Oh, good. He's got a microchip, so we can get him right back home.” Dancing Debbie started talking into the number machine but soon had a disappointed look on her face. “The microchip is linked to the pet store that closed down last year. I can't believe that whoever owns you didn't register your chip.”

Me and Bea both have the “chips” somewhere over our backs. I don't know how it got there, but whenever people have questions, Bea and I are the ones to show the visitors how the chips work. They don't hurt, and now I can never really get lost because my chip will help me get home. Of course, I'm not one to run away to begin with. Bea doesn't really run away either, but mother is afraid that “Bea could get lost in our own backyard”!

So Comebackhere left with the nice man that had brought him in, but Dancing Debbie got the worried look when he said that if the owners weren't found he was taking the little black dog to the pound. From Debbie's expression I knew that the pound was not a place a little black dog wanted to go.
So mother wanted me to tell this story and have everyone register their pets microchips; it just takes a minute and can save your furry friends life.

We had another full house today. Thankfully, everyone was on their best behavior. We had the visiting Sheltie twins – Drew and Carrie, in for their teeth cleaning. The twins were very well behaved and quietly huddled together while they panted and worried about the pinches to come. Each took their pokes in stride, and woke up with clean teeth and fresh breath. Neither one made so much as a whine either, until their parents came to get them, and then they made sure they weren't going to get left behind.

In addition to the twins, a young girl Border Collie named Coco came in to get her spay done. She was as sweet as could be and until she left at the end of the day, I'd forgotten she was even at the clinic she had been so quiet.

The one loud visitor was a scrawny old man dog named Reggie. Reggie is a 14 year old Shih-tzu, “living on borrowed kidneys” as mother would say. He went to the all night clinic last night because, “He just can't get comfortable” Reggie's mom pleaded. “They said the shot they gave him would make him sleep all night, but he didn't get one minute of sleep and neither did I” she added. Reggie is one of mother's favorite patients, and the worried look on her face told me that Reggie might have to get the permanent sleep. But mother took her time, carried Reggie outside to watch him walk and gingerly moved each of the creaky body parts to see which was the painful part. “I think it's his neck” she finally declared. Reggie then got a series of pinches that made him go from the quiet whimpers of “nobody touch me” to the throw-the-head-back howls of “I can move, I can move, get me my mom, I want to go home!”. I overheard mother discussing her findings with Reggie's mom, “The x-rays came back clear, no signs of tumor or infection. I think he's pinched a nerve in his neck. I've given him medicine, including morphine, and put a special patch on his back to help with pain. You should all be able to get some sleep tonight, and in a few days, Reggie should be back to his old self.” Reggie's mother was surely relieved A perceptive pooch like me could tell that Reggie's mom knew her time with Reggie was coming to an end, but she was just not ready to have it come today.

Mixed in with our day visitors mother saw a French bulldog with a torn thumbnail, a cat having fits that made him bit himself repeatedly, a Yorkie with a red ear, a German shepherd with a red tail and some pets for their regular poking visits. By the end of the day, I was so tired from announcing everyone's arrival that I just curled up in the back of the villa and let two people go to the bathroom without so much as a peep! I sure hope that Reggie gets a good nights' sleep tonight, I'm sure I will!

It's so different how some dogs and their people get along.  Some people believe that dogs should act more like our ancestors; hunt for food, roam the countryside, and fend for ourselves.  Shakespeare used to live with a family like that.  I think he had it pretty good except that he said he was always lonely, and he didn't much care for all the bugs crawling on him.

 Other dogs live with people who seemed to wish they didn't have a dog.  We had a dog like that come in today.  Her name was Moon Pie.  She came in with a new person, but told a story of being kept in a closet and only getting milk to drink from her first mother.  Moon Pie thought maybe her first mother thought she was a cat instead of a dog.  She's much happier to be in her new home, although she's having a hard time getting used to kibbles instead of liquid.  Mother doesn't think she'll get to be very big, but that she should turn around just fine.

Finally, there are those dogs that live with people who seem to forget that dogs are dogs.  I admit that I am a smaller dog than most but I still enjoy chasing rabbits, barking at strange people, getting into any kind of food wrapper that still smells like food, and I enjoy licking myself wherever and whenever I want.  Dog with a capital D -- that's me!  I admit that I feel bad for the dogs that forget what it's like to be a dog.  Some dogs get soap and water treatments every week so there's nothing left to lick.  Other dogs get dressed up to look like anything but dogs.  My friend Ruben lives in a house like this.  His big brother Bosco is similarly de-dogified.

 Today, we met the new addition to the family, Kaylee.  I never really noticed that Bosco and Ruben didn't act like typical dogs, until I saw the reaction on Kaylee's face.   Because she's new, and only recently left her dog mom, she had no idea how other dogs lived.  Kaylee's new mother brought her dressed in a pink jacket, carried in a pink purse with a red bow in her hair. 

When everything was removed, she tried to play with us but being little (and out of practice acting like a dog) she had a hard time keeping up and I flattened her a time or two. 

Finally, after some repeated paws to the face her inner dog emerged and there was actual growling and teeth!  I have to say, I was fully impressed with the little spitfire.  That was until she was swept up in to the pink purse again.  The look on her face told the story.  I just hope she stays in touch with her inner dog.  I kind of liked her. 

I had a very long weekend.  I realize that when I bark about time that most people think dogs exaggerate.  When you leave a dog alone, even for 5 minutes in people time, an eternity has passed in dog time.  With that in mind, I tell you that it was a very long weekend indeed.

My parents insisted on bringing a cat home to our den.  The cat was the very same Downy cat that I told you about last week.  No sooner had he found his freedom and regained the ability to make the yellow liquid come out on his own, than his mother brought him back to the clinic.  "Something's not right" she pleaded, "he's acting so sleepy and when he tries to go, nothing comes out."  My parents looked at each other in that we're-worried-but-let's-not-show-it kind of way.  They took red syrup for testing and put another red rubber tube up the former-boy-now-turned-girl parts.  I knew that Downy was sick when he didn't spit and swear while the work was being done.  After the testing was finished, father reported the results to Downy's mom; "It looks like his kidneys are shutting down.  We'll have to keep him in the hospital again to try to get them going."  Sure, I felt bad for the guy, or girl, whatever, but that didn't mean I was willing to have him at the den. 

Of course, my feelings did not stop mother.  Downy moved right in.  He took over one of the raining rooms at night, and spent every day outside in the room with the blue lake.  I guess you have to scream and threaten to kill people for touching your belly to get special treatment around here!

So it was a long two days of watching fluid get put into the cat.  Two days of watching mother put medicine into Downy's mouth, under his skin and into the tube in this leg.  Two days of listening to Downy scream when his belly got touched, and two days of smelling some of the most delicious food I've ever smelled sit untouched in front of the angry, angry cat.  It was a very long two days.

Finally, today he went back to the clinic. Of course, Bea and I went back too, so it wasn't much of a break for us.  But Downy was different today.  He was holding his head up, and making the sound like he swallowed some kind of rumbling machine.  He still smelled of the yellow marking liquid, but there was much less anger mixed in.  Mother retested Downy's red syrup and happily declared to Downy's mom, "His values are almost back to normal.  I think he'll be ok if he'd just start eating.  We'll try sending him home tonight!". 

Now I don't know if cats can understand human speak as well as dogs, but as if on cue, Downy got up and started eating.  I've never been so happy to see someone else get to eat instead of me.  But if it means that I get a cat-free house, I say eat up Downy, eat up!!

Alien Invasion!

It's Friday the 13th. The aliens have landed. I didn't believe it at first, especially since I don't know what aliens are, but the low whispers and growls about an alien invasion started to take form today. What I learned from the talk around the hospital, is that aliens make you sick. They can come from anywhere. No one knows how they get inside you, in fact the pictures my people saw today of the aliens made them shake their heads in disbelief.

All I know is that for one sick little cat named Baxter, the aliens were all too real. “He hasn't eaten anything in days.” his mother said, “and every time he tries to drink it comes right back up! Now he brings up dark green liquid that smells disgusting!”. That is apparently the tell tale sign of an alien invasion. Mother knew it right away. She put the weakened kitten on the humming table to take a picture to try to identify the problem.

And there it was, in black and white.... alien invasion. No one in the clinic could believe it. Baxter's mom knew the moment she saw the picture though...”it's an alien, from right off our floor at home”.

I couldn't believe my ears! Aliens are on the floors? They can get in to your body and make you sick? I cowered in the back of my villa and kept all eyes forward. I was not going to let an alien invade me!

Mother had to put the fluid tube in Baxter's arm to fill him back up. Then he had to have a procedure in the special no-dogs-allowed room. Under all the drapes, I could just see as the alien came out of the cat's belly. Everyone in the clinic gathered around the window to see the alien arrive. I kept my mouth firmly shut. I was not about to let that alien get inside me.

I really hope this only happens on Friday the 13th.

Recycling.  It's time to set the record straight on recycling.  The humans like to think that they discovered this concept, and more recently it has become the popular thing to do.  The true story is that recycling is a dog core value.  Dogs have been recycling everything and anything since our great great grandparents were puppies.  We don't even look at it as recycling, we just don't like to let things go to waste.  Plastic bags and wrapping make fun toys.  Previously chewed food items such as chicken wing bones and corn cobs are delicious treasures that any dog worth her fur would never allow to go into a garbage bin.  And even when the food comes out of your body all used up as the brown nuggets, it can still be a tasty treat.  Yep, in the dog world, nothing goes to waste.

Patient Pam is the queen of recycling at our clinic.  Bottles and boxes all get put in their assigned places.  But recently mother showed us all that recycling can involve a lot more than things.

The Fatigues were an older couple that had grown tired of retirement and decided to devote their spare time to a cat.  They were definitely not dog people because they would roll their eyes when a dog approached them and I overheard them say once, "We just don't understand why anyone would want a dog!"  I could tell you more about the type of people they were, but that pretty much says it all.

The Fatigues were very particular people.  They searched far and wide and found a special kind of cat called an "exotic shorthair".  They named him Mr. Bud.  To me he looked like he had run into something with his face, and made it very, very flat.  But if that's exotic, I'm glad that I'm ordinary.   Well, not surprisingly after having the exotic cat for about a year the Fatigues had grown tired of him too.  They brought him in to mother to be put to sleep, for good.  Not just the sleepy pinch that lets her do her work, they wanted Bud to have the forever sleep.  Mother got the worried look and told the Fatigues that Bud could probably be happy in another home.  "Not Bud"  Mrs. Fatigue said, " he is very particular, he has to be hand fed every few hours otherwise the food falls out and he won't eat it again.  His eyes drain unless they're wiped five times a day.  And you can't do anything but pay attention to him, otherwise he'll stare at you!"  Mrs. Fatigue was clearly at the end of her rope.  That's when the idea of recycling came to mother.  "Trust me" mother said, "I'll find him the right home".  Sure enough, Bud found a home with 6 other cats.  His new mother says he does like to stare, but she's able to leave the house every day anyway.  She also doesn't hand feed him and today Bud's mom was getting an ear full from my father about letting Bud gain 3 pounds! 

It doesn't take a flat faced cat to prove the age old dog theory that recycling works!

I have to say that the past few days I have felt mostly ignored. I'm so glad to have a blog where at least I can be heard. Sometimes I try to be heard at the clinic, usually when strange people walk by the villa, but mother never wants to hear what I have to say. The past few days have been especially bad because we've had so many visitors. And not just the short-visit visitors that come for the treats, or to get their nails done, we've had overnight guests occupy the villas next me and Bea.


I've told you about Downy the cat. He finally got to go home last night. He must have felt more like his old self (despite his recent operation) and got the white room off his head once he got home. He wouldn't let his mother put it back on, so he came by today just long enough to growl, scream and flail while the white cone got replaced around his neck. Downy's mom gave Sweet Sally the update that he was eating and using his litterbox, although more often than before. Sweet Sally and mother were satisfied with this and allowed Downy to go back home again. I can't say that I was sad to see him go.

Mother spent most of her day fawning over a small curly-haired dog named Kumquat. Kumquat stayed for the day and had her spay procedure done. After her nap, Sweet Sally found the softest, warmest bed for Kumquat to lie in. When Kumquat whined, mother held her. Kumquat wanted for nothing. Sure she was cute and all, but I couldn't see why the mound of black curls was deserving of special attention. “Just because she's part poodle, doesn't mean she's better than everyone else” Vonnie chided my mother. This comment, like all the others before it were dismissed as if never heard. Vonnie told me later that mother once had a poodle dog, reportedly the best dog to have ever lived, and from then on any dog resembling a poodle held my mother's favor. If I hadn't seen her with Kumquat I would never have believed it myself: two adorable little dogs like me and Bea waiting patiently in our villa, and mother spent her whole day carrying and comforting the poodle. Just when you think you know who your mother is, you find out you don't know her at all! I may have to look into doing something with my hair to make it curly.

Shakespeare also came to spend the day....again. Shakespeare is the barking, whining, recovered from heartworms, can't live without Vonnie pomeranian. Vonnie brought him today to “finally have his nub-nubs removed. I've been waiting months for this” she announced. Shakespeare confided in me that although he's glad to have a new home with Vonnie, that he was confused about the repeat visits to my clinic. Every stay he gets poked with sharp metal sticks in new and different places. Shakespeare lives in fear of two things; time spent without Vonnie, and time spent with Vonnie at this clinic. I didn't have the heart to tell him what today's procedure involved. Smartly, mother and Vonnie gave Shakespeare enough pinch medicine to keep him in a sleepy haze all day. He dreamt of snapping turtles and was convinced when he woke that one particularly large turtle had bit him right between his legs. I never did tell him that what Vonnie referred to as “nub-nubs” were gone-gone for good.

While I was busy enjoying my weekend at the fall festival, our vocal visitor from Friday was not enjoying his weekend one bit. Downy had to spend the whole weekend at the special all-night clinic. Downy was the angry kitty who kept yelling at mother and her helpers to take the hard plastic tube out from his boy parts. The tube had been put in because Downy couldn't get his yellow marking water out.

Mother had sent him to the overnight clinic to be sure that even when the plastic tube came out that Downy would be able to start passing the water. No such luck. Downy had to have his parts cleaned and flushed all weekend long, “He has so many crystals that his urine looks like sand” mother read aloud from the papers that came back with Downy. “Looks like he's going to have to have surgery”, she concluded. It was no surprise to anyone that when Downy came back he was angrier than when he had left.

Sweet Sally quickly got busy setting up for the procedure in the no-awake-dogs-allowed room. She was especially particular because a special doctor was traveling down to work on Downy; Dr. Quinn, surgery woman. Dr. Quinn visits us about once or twice a month to do the special procedures that my parents can't do. She works quickly, leaks very little of the red syrup and uses a beeping burning machine that makes the clinic smell like smoky barbecue. Her patients wake up from their special naps well rested and barely sore at all.

Dr. Quinn arrived right on schedule and Downy was given white liquid in the tube in his leg to help him fall asleep. We were all happy to see the angry cat finally resting quietly. I'm glad he was asleep too because if he had any idea what they were doing to him he really would have lost it. Dr. Quinn and her assistant, Lenny, took all of the fur off of Downy's back end and had his tail strung up in he air! Cats are always so worried about how they look, I just know that Downy would have cried from embarrassment if he'd been awake. Luckily, he slept quietly through the whole procedure. Later, I overheard Dr. Quinn explaining things to Downy's mom, “Basically we do a surgery that turns the boys anatomy into more like a girls. He'll have a larger whole for the urine to come out, and he won't get blocked again.”. I couldn't believe my ears! I had Bea clean them twice to be sure I'd heard her right. Turned him into a girl?

I was relieved that Downy seemed less angry when he woke up than at any other time I'd met him. His sex change operation was already helping! Maybe it was because the plastic tube was out, or because he could finally get his yellow water out without help, or maybe he was just so tired of everything he'd been through. Downy also wore a big white room on his head to keep him from licking at his parts. I hoped that the white room would stay on his head until he went home. I did not want to be around when he found out which of his parts were missing!

I had the best time this weekend.  Me and Bea, and mother, father and the whole gang went to a big outside party.  Sally's boy dog, Gomer came along too, and he had almost as many admirers as I did.  Almost.
The sun was shining, there was enough wind to keep us cool, and all the ice we could eat.

Sweet Sally, Dancing Debbie and Vonnie were talking to all the visitors and telling them about our clinic.  So much for keeping it my little secret!

Bea hid in the travel den most of the time.  I, on the other paw, consider it my contribution to welcome all visitors with some kisses and a tail wag.  I was doing well and truly enjoying the spotlight until I saw the biggest dog I had ever seen.  He was bigger than the Newfoundlands or Great Danes that come to the clinic; this was due in part to the way he was walking -- on two legs like the people!  Of course, I was not going to let something like fear get in the way of me introducing myself to anyone.  Mother led me right over to him, but instead of the usual sniff-sniff-lick-lick greeting that is customary for our kind, he picked me right up.  Mother got out the one-eyed-flashing maching, and after a few clicks I was back on the ground and the giant dog was walking away; I didn't get so much as a tail wag.  I realized as he was walking away that he wasn't even leading a person on a leash.  Bea said that some of the really big dogs don't even know that they're dogs, they think that they're people.  Poor guy, I thought, he doesn't know what he's missing!

Today was one of those days when I wished I'd just stayed in my cozy cave at home.  It started with an angry cat named, Downy, who had spent the night at the all-night pet hospital.  He was very grouchy.  I wasn't sure what caused the anger; being up all night, being away from his mother, or having the red plastic tube tied to his boy parts.  Late last night Downy couldn't get his yellow marking liquid out and he had to have a special tube put in to help him out.  Downy didn't see it as help at all and was screaming to anyone and everyone. 
Mother gave him some special fluid in the tube in his leg, which slowed down the screaming to a slow moan.  "Out, out, get it out" he growled on and on.
Next a large fuzzy Husky dog named Beast arrived to stay for the day.  Beast was an 80 pound dog in a 110 pound body, and he was having trouble with one of his back legs.  Father came in to help give Beast the pinch medicine because in addition to talking lots, Beast enjoyed lunging with snapping teeth at anyone who came to put a leash on him.  Dad gave him the pinch and got lots of pictures of him on the humming table.  "Bad hips" dad said, " medicine will help, but not as much as losing 30 pounds!" dad advised.  It all seemed easy enough until Beast woke up from his nap.  Then the singing started, "Home, home, home. Time to go home, home, home.  Please, please, please, time to go home, home, home". Over and over, and over again.  Beast said nothing else for hours, in a voice so high, I thought maybe only me and Bea could hear it until I heard mother pleading with Beast to go back to sleep.
Blue was an old pointer that had been diagnosed with Cushing's disease about a year ago.  Cushing's disease is the one that causes dogs to get really hungry and thirsty, to make lots of yellow marking liquid and to pant a lot.  Blue had taken medication for the past year and was doing well, but he was visiting today to get the red syrup taken to make sure everything was ok to stay on the medication.  Blue had stayed here before and always been quiet.  After a few minutes of listening to Beast, Blue started in:  "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here too.  Pet me, pet me, pet me too". Blue had a surprisingly high voice for a large boy dog.
I tried my best to bury my head under Bea.  Vonnie, mother and even Sweet Sally took turns trying to make the voices stop, but they went on and on.
"Time to go home, home, home" whined Beast, "pet me, pet me, pet me too"  added Blue, "Get it out, get it out" howled Downy; on and on went the musical chorus of saddened pets.  You know it's a strange day when I'm the quiet one.  Mother held it all together as best she could, always holding one hand over her ear when talking into the number machine on the wall.
Luckily, Friday is our short day, and just when I thought my ears were going to start bleeding, everyone went home.  As mother would say, "Thank goodness for small favors."  Funny, I always thought she was talking about me when she said that!

I got a visit today from one of my tail wagging friends, JJ.  Well, his tail is more of a nub like Bea's but he can get it going as well as anyone.  JJ is a regular at this clinic, almost as much as me and Bea.  He usually comes to see Sweet Sally at least once week to have his teeth brushed and some waxy teeth sealant called Oravet applied.  JJ used to hate having it done, but now I think he looks forward to the visits.
I thought today that he was just happy to see me, but it turns out that recently JJ has started to worry about things in his house.  He says that more and more dogs are starting to live in his den, and the worst part is that all the new dogs look alike.  If that wasn't bad enough, none of the dogs look like him!  "I feel like I'm disappearing in my own den!" he whined.
The problem started a few months ago, and new ones keep popping up!  JJ is an adorable little dog like me, and used to being the center of attention (understandable, at least when it comes to me!).  Mother says JJ is "Adorable with a capital A", whatever that means.
I showed JJ a few of my tricks to keep attention centered on him.  Of course, he may have trouble with my whole body wiggle that moves in time to my tail wagging, especially with his little tiny stub of a tail, but I convinced him that any effort would be worth it.  Above all, I reassured him that even though he didn't look like the others that he would always be special. 

Despite my advice, JJ whined on, "No, you don't understand.  These new dogs lie all over the place....even on me.  I feel like I'm literally disappearing!"  The cat definitely took my tongue on that one.  I decided to put my mouth to better use and clean Bea's ears.  I just hope that JJ doesn't get completely submerged by the bunch of Beagles.

So today was odd to say the least; and when a seven pound little red blogging dog says things are odd, then you know strange things are going on. What really made things odd was not the visitors, whether four legs or two. What made things really odd was what went on behind the scenes.

An old lady dog, named Lady Diana, came in to have a large lump removed from her face.  The lump bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the dangling boy parts, but what it was doing attached to her face I can't understand.  Normally, pets have to get pinch medicine and go for a nap so mother can take the lumps off.  Not today.  Lady Di got a small pinch and then just lied there while mother cut the red syrupy bump off her cheek.  Lady Di was pretty old, so maybe she just lies like that most of the time, but I was still impressed. 

Later, Sweet Sally brought her son, Gomer. Gomer is one of those dogs that probably came out last in his litter and had his birth sack stuck to his face a little too long. Don't get me wrong, Gomer is as sweet at they come, just like his mom, but he'd never make it as a working dog, if you know what I mean. It had been awhile since Gomer had been in, so I had to refresh his memory about who ran things around here. He was quick to learn that though, so maybe he's not as thick as I thought.

I know I've talked before about the humans and their strange laughing behaviors. It seems that when they begin barking about things being cute, is when most of the laughing starts and the behaviors get more and more strange. When Gomer was visiting, mother kept following me around with the one-eyed clicking machine. Vonnie and Sweet Sally kept trying to get me and Gomer to hug each other, while they were busy giggling the whole time.  Don't they know that dogs are kissers, not huggers?

 

Bea was smart and tried to stay out of it. I don't begin to understand this type of human behavior. I have learned that if you just remain calm, the crazy humans will eventually stop laughing and things will get back to normal. Bea did say something about the moon being full, maybe that story about humans and full moons is true after all...

I just want to go on record saying that I've noticed a lot of things around this clinic to be unfair. There are things that other visiting pets get to do, that I don't ever get to do; or if I do them, I get in big trouble. Shouting for example: dogs come in here all the time shouting hello, or that they want to go out, get treats whatever. Mostly for this they get petting, or hugged, sometimes they even get the treats they so directly requested. I, on the other paw, get water sprayed in my face. Yesterday, mother got it right up my nose! Don't get me wrong, Bea gets the same treatment, but she doesn't feel as compelled as I do to speak my mind, so the water is rarely directed at her.
Another area of unfairness is bathroom breaks. Dogs, and cats, come in this clinic all the time and use it like it was the tree outside. If I try to do that, just once, it's whoa, whoa, whoa or wait, wait, wait – usually followed by getting scooped up and taken outside. I do not understand why visitors are allowed to mark what is clearly my territory, and yet I am not.

The funny thing is that I was never brought up with this concept of fair. Growing up it was whomever was big enough or fast enough to get the food first, got it all. Now, Bea gets a 10 minute headstart just so I don't get some of her dinner. It's not my fault she was born missing teeth.

Today, a cat named Slick came in for father to check over. Slick has a history of making too much yellow marking liquid on account of the fact that something inside doesn't work right. “Polycystic kidney disease,” father explained to Slick's worried mother years ago “it's something he was born with. Right now, his kidneys are functioning well enough that Slick doesn't feel sick. But it explains why he urinates a lot and that there's always blood in it”. Slick comes in now several times a year. He's supposed to give a sample of the yellow marking liquid in the box Vonnie gives him, but for some reason he doesn't like to. Just like a typical cat, if it's not his idea he refuses to play along. So, Slick stayed for the day and was allowed to walk all over the clinic until he felt comfortable enough to use his box! I don't even get to walk around this clinic. I could squat in that box, or any box for that matter, and still I don't get to strut around the clinic the way he did. Someday, when I grow big, I will make all the rules. Then we'll see who gets to go where.

I was hoping for a slow day today. My weekend was busy. My mother took me and Bea out for Halloween to a place filled with pets and their people. I have never seen so many different outfits – some with horns, and wings, others with green heads, white plastic heads, even extra heads. The people were dressed up too. Small people, tall people, rolling people, strolling people – strange made- up people everywhere. As usual, I was the center of attention. “Awww, what a cute little pug” the people would say. I think the word pug must mean stunningly beautiful dog. Bea thinks the people were saying, what a cute little pig, but her ears don't always work so well, and I may have to clean them out, again.
I got my wish. Every dog must have been home sleeping off the weekends parties. Dog tired, just like me. We did get a little surprise at the end of the day. I thought that the visitor was just another dog that forgot to take off his outfit. That was until I saw the look on mother's face.

A lady walked in with a brown-green animal in her arms, wrapped up in towel. “I just saw it get hit by a car. It couldn't get out of the way in time. What should I do with it?” The blank look on mother's face told me that this was not a dog, or a cat in a costume, it was something else. It smelled of sea water, red syrup and dirt. The mixture of smells made me curious and hungry at the same time. Patient Pam wasted no time. “I'll take care of it, I know just what to do.” Patient Pam put the green creature in one of the apartments and proceeded to make arrangements. “It's shell is broken pretty bad” I heard Pam say into the number machine on the wall. “Great, as soon as I'm done I'll bring it right over”, Patient Pam had found a green creature doctor to take care of the green creature. But no sooner did Patient Pam have the problem under control than she got sixteen new problems. “It's laying eggs” howled Dancing Debbie, “cool....there's another one... and another one...oh, I think she squashed that one”. Debbie was giving everyone a running commentary on the back end of the green creature.

Mother chimed in, “Awww, she was probably just crossing the road to find a place to lay her eggs. Poor girl.” At that, Bea even sniffed a note of sympathy. Undeterred, Patient Pam gathered the green creature and all it's round white babies and rode off into the dark night. It's good to know that even the smelly green creatures have someone to look out for them.