Mondays!  No one seems as happy for Mondays as me!  Don't get me wrong, I like lounging around the den as much as the next dog, but after a few days I'm ready to make an impression on the world again.
Mother never seems as happy about Mondays.  We get to wear our work clothes and head off to the clinic. 

Dad says "At least there's football", but I don't understand what that means.  I don't get any new balls on Mondays, and none that smell or even taste like a foot-- believe me I would remember that!  I love to lick feet!

A cute little cottonball of a dog came in to the clinic today.  She wasn't happy that it was a Monday either.  When she first arrived she was dazed, and shaky.  She had holes all over her back and sides, and little pieces of meat and fat sticking out too.  She was breathing fast and smelled of fear and sticky red syrup.  Mother said "the poor little girl's in shock".  Most of the team had left for the day, but Vonnie and my dad went to work to try to put the little piece of fluff back together.  She wasn't talking, so I decided that Fluffy would be a good name for her.   Fluffy was one tough cookie too:  she got tubes and wires connected to her, and then she took a nap for a bit while doctor dad removed some of the dried-up looking meat pieces and used string to hold together the rest.  He also put some long strips of plastic under her skin,  "to help it drain", he said.  After my parents were done with her, she had more holes than when she came in, though she did smell a lot better and her breathing had returned to normal.

Fluffy woke up as quietly as she had gone to sleep and I had new-found respect for white little cottonball dogs.  Fluffy mumbled some things after she woke; talking about her whole chest being sore, about the giant black dog that bit her over and over thinking she was a rabbit, and only once wondering where her mom was.  The fluff dog did get to go home that night, but I knew that it was going to be a sleepless and sore night for her.
After everything at the clinic was clean and tidy again we got to go home.  When we finally got home Bea was upset that our dinner was late.  Dad missed his football.  I couldn't help but think of poor Fluffy and all her wounds -- too sore to even lick them. 
I realized that I was right after all -- there are a lot worse things than Mondays.

So the clinic is back to humming with the sound of wagging tails and purring cats.  Never a dull moment here.  Today, Crash, a young boy Visla came in for his first procedure.  He didn't seem very smart.  He drooled a lot, and stepped on everyone's paws including his own.  But he must have had some kind of sense that he was at the clinic for a reason, because he was not going to go quietly.  He had a rope for leading people around his neck, but instead of his doing the leading he planted his feet and tried to drag the humans backward.  When Vonnie crouched down to hold his head up, he would roll over.  When they tried to keep him on his side, he would stand up!  Everyone thought that he was just being difficult, bulldog-headed as some might say.  Sweet Sally just figured that Crash was smart enough to have figured out that he was set to get some pinch medicine, and was fighting to get out of it.  I, on the other paw, have unique insight into the communications styles of the dog, and I speak canine body language better than anyone.  Crash was having fun. 
Some dogs grow up always rough playing with their brothers and sisters.  Bea yells at me at least once a day when I bite her too hard.  It's just fun to get a rise out of her!  I never really get to play with the people like that though.  Sometimes my dad holds me down when I nibble too hard in the mornings, but I don't ever get to fight back.  Dad's just too strong.  Today I saw what real strength was;  Crash was being held on the front by mother, on the back by Sweet Sally, Vonnie was working to cover his mouth with a blue mouth-closer and Dad was figuring out how to get in on it too.  That boy jumped, played, twisted and turned.  Finally, Dad gave him one big pinch in the back end and it was game over.  Crash slept so quietly after that too, long after his procedure was over.  I took a long nap myself after all the excitement.  Tonight, I think I'll pretend to be a Visla when Bea comes around the corner.....

Friday

Friday, Friday, Friday! I love Friday! I don't know why but mother says so, so it must be true. Fridays start the same as any other day. But on Fridays there is a warm feeling in the clinic, more smiling and it's the only day to find tasty muffin crumbs on the floor.
Fridays are usually the day when the fewest number of pets visit the clinic. Today was no exception. Vonnie brought Nicky her chocolate lab, to help keep us company. For a big dog, he really acts like a puppy! He follows Vonnie, whines for Vonnie, and shakes a lot when my mother does her testing. Nicky is covered with bubbles all over his body and mother tried her best to pop every one of them. None of the bubbles would pop, so after nine tries, she gave up.
Becky came for her weekly bath. I still didn't a chance at her eye goop, but it's always fun to watch another dog get the soap treatment. Better her than me, I always say.
The day was pretty uneventful until the end. Irwin the golden retriever came in to pick up some medicine. But instead of the normal panting and shaking that the nervous dogs have, Irwin was awake one minute and fast asleep the next. He must have been dreaming instantly too because his legs were running, his mouth was chomping and drool was flying everywhere. Most dogs don't sleep like this in the front of the clinic and pretty soon everyone was out there to watch. Mother put some liquid medicine up Irwin's back end, and then he was awake again; dazed, but awake. Irwin stayed with us until the end of the day. He was really confused and kept wondering how to get home. "Home, home, home" was all he would say. What felt like weeks later, his dad came to take him home. Why he fell asleep at the clinic, instead of his own den is something I'll never understand.
All I can say is that I hope mother doesn't try waking me up like that tonight. Maybe I'll sleep under the bed with Bea.

A Beau for Bea

There was only one visitor staying at my clinic this morning. His name was Thor. I'm not really sure what kind of dog he was but he seemed long and pointy in every direction. He was already at the clinic when Bea and I made our morning entrance. I think my whole body was the same size as his head. He brought that big pointy nose right down to us in greeting too; not in an angry way, but in that gangly curious way that some of the young people have. I am very forgiving of these kind of introductions and usually just raise a paw and give a cautious tail wag so no one gets offended. Bea, on the other paw, is not always so forgiving, but today was a different day. She did not snap, or crouch away. She just took two curious sniffs and proceeded on to our villa with a notable shimmy to her gait. Later Bea told me that the large dog was a boy dog, and he had boy parts that reminded her of her days at her first home. She said that there was a time when a boy like that would have got her really excited, but for some reason she just never feels like that anymore. I, of course, had no idea of what she was talking about.

Thor was at the clinic today for a procedure. He took his pinch like a real dog though; never so much as a whimper. He must have had a lot to fix too because he went from the no-non-sleepy-dogs allowed room to the water table with all of this tubes and wires. Mother worked on his belly parts and his teeth parts. He woke up like a champ too; none of that whiny “I want my mommy” stuff that so many dogs go on about. Thor was regal, and tough. I was just starting to think that Bea must have some good taste if she fancied a dog like that. It wasn't until he stumbled by later, hopping a little as he walked because of the sore spot between his legs that Bea noticed something was missing. “His boy parts, he's missing his boy parts!”, she panted. And that was it, as quickly as the acceptance had come, it left. Bea was no longer smitten. Just as well I thought, only room for one dog with my Bea.... and that's me!

Long Weekend!

This was definitely a long weekend! We stayed at the den for days on end.
Now, I realize that as dogs our concept of time is not the same as it is for people. For dogs everything seems to take a long time; like when mother makes breakfast or dinner, it seems like it takes forever! I sit pretty, do my best dancing and gently tap her leg over and over in the hopes that she will hurry up with the food before I completely pass out from the hunger! And when mother leaves the den without us, Bea and I have to sit in our snuggle cave until she comes home, it seems like she's gone forever! Bea and I have a dance that we do to welcome her back home. Mother always appreciates the dancing and gives us all back scratches.
Anyway, I think this weekend was a particularly long one. This was due to the fact that we had a visitor at the den. I don't know much about her because mother and father kept the little one all to herself in the raining room.
Mother saw the little dachshund puppy, named Lacey, at the clinic last week and Lacey was sick, sick, sick. I didn't need mother to tell me that. The puppy was slow, and cold and her eyes seems to sink back in her head. The rumble sounds from her belly could be heard from the back of the clinic. She had long strings of cold drool hanging out of her mouth and she smelled of red syrup and liquid nuggets. Last week, there was a stiff, hard lizard that slept in the same spot upside down on our patio, and this Lacey puppy was starting to smell like that. Bea told me to roll on the lizard and that way we would never smell like that ourselves. Mother always yelled at me when we tried to do it though.
So Lacey stayed at the clinic the first day, but she had to be in the special room because mother said she had the Parvo. But despite the Parvo, when it came time to come back to the den, she brought the puppy with her! She didn't even ask me and Bea if it was ok. After all, it is our den too. But knowing mother even if we'd said no, she probably would have done it anyway.
The puppy stayed in our raining room all weekend. They took up all the rugs and made the whole place smell like soap. Mother and father would go in every few hours to change the papers, make sure that the water bag was still running in to Lacey's leg and give her pinch after pinch. Little Lacey was one tough cookie though because she never cried. Maybe it was because the pinches all went in to the same spot on her leg – where the bandages and tubes were attached. By the last day, it seemed like all of mother's work started to pay off. Little Lacey stopped gagging up the white foam and started wagging her little tail. I could hear her belly less and less and her heartbeat more and more. Pretty soon, mother was breaking out the food in the can – the stuff Bea and I never even get to have – and the puppy couldn't seem to get enough. After all that, you would think that Lacey would have been thankful, but yipe, yipe, yipe is all she would do.
So it was one long weekend for more reasons than one, and I'm happy that Lacey got over her Parvo, but I'm really glad to have her out of my den!

It's not as easy as it looks

This blog is the first sad story I've had to tell. You see, despite my happy-go-lucky life here at the veterinary clinic with my mom and dad, not everything that happens here is fun. Today was a perfect example of one of those days.
The morning started out as any other with dog and cat visits; lots of wagging tails and barking banter. Thankfully, we had completed our lunch trot around the building, making sure all the the right spots were appropriately scented, when the sick cat came in.
I know it was sick because he wasn't moving, or breathing, like any cat I had ever seen before. Instead of a normal cat voice, he had a low gurgle that seemed to bubble as he breathed. My mother and her team quickly surrounded him and soon, out came all the tubes and wires. The look on my mother's face was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. She was worried. What exactly what she was worried about I wasn't sure, but it's not often that I see her worried, so I knew it wasn't good.
Once all the machines were set up, the cats' breathing seemed to calm down, but then so did all the other parts of him. With each breath he seemed to be saying, "Rest, just rest". I don't think mother speaks cat any better than me because she did everything but rest. She kept looking first at the sick cat, then at some books, then at the machines and then back to the cat. Soon another cat arrived and red syrup was being taken out of one and then given to the other.
"Rest, just rest... just rest" was all that cat would say with each labored breath. Before long, that's just what he did. I heard his heart stop before mother did, and still the worried expression never left her face. I thought that she would have been happy that the cat got what he wanted. As she talked into the black button machine on the wall, I could see her sharing the story all over again.
It's weird that the cat was the sick one, but everyone else seemed to be feeling the pain.
That night at home the water came from mother's eyes, and I did my job and cleaned her face and let her hug me. Although I wish I could have done more to help her today, I know that my very presence that night was enough. After all, this is me we're talking about.

Heartworms. That's why Shakespeare was here today. Heartworms. Neither he nor I knew what that meant. I'd heard mother talk about heartworms daily at the clinic but still had no idea what they were, or how they were related to Shakespeare.
Whatever they were, they had Vonnie quite upset. She had adopted Shakespeare about 4 months ago. Prior to him living with Vonnie, Shakespeare had lived a wild life in the outdoors not far from here. He was always coming in the clinic trying to spread his scent all over my territory. He used to look so strange too; big fluffy black head and bald along the back. He had so many little bugs crawling on him that you could here their heart beats louder than the dogs'.
It was all Vonnie could do not to steal him on those earlier visits. Mother doesn't realize that many of her helpers confide in me. One look at my face and out it all comes. They just know that I will be able to help. And wouldn't you know it, but next visit, there he was, being handed over to Vonnie. Shakespeare's parents couldn't keep him anymore, and they knew that the little black dog would find a perfect home with Vonnie.
Of course, Vonnie agreed out of blind love and then began the work of nursing him back to health. This process started with her taking nugget and red syrup samples. Shakespeare took it like a dog though, and didn't cry once. “Hookworms AND Heartworms” was all we heard the rest of the day. Vonnie couldn't stop barking and howling about hookworms and heartworms. Again, I wasn't sure what it meant, but I knew it wasn't good.
Worst of all, I was worried that whatever it was, Shakespeare was going to give it to me! Bea assured me that her and I were both safe. “We take a brown yummy once a month and we're protected.” she said. I couldn't understand why, if it was that easy to avoid whatever it was that made Vonnie so upset, every dog didn't do it. According to Bea, “It's up to your people. They have to know to give it to you. That's why dogs bring their people here to the clinic, to learn about that stuff.” Sometimes the sheer volume of information Bea has astounds me.
So, today Shakespeare was being treated for heartworms. He'd already been on the humming table for heart pictures and now was the day of his pinch.
I watched as he got the poke with the metal stick. He cried a little but then he didn't fall asleep. In fact, all day long he just yelled at Vonnie to pet him, and to take him outside and to feed him and to brush him... I don't think he stopped yelling all day! It took everything I had not to join in. As we were leaving for the night, Shakespeare said his back was sore, but all in all, he felt fine. I'm glad Shakespeare got to get rid of his heartworms, and that he found a happy new home with Vonnie. I just wish that his treatment had cured him of his voice too.

Life is never dull at a veterinary clinic. Sure sometimes all I do is lie here and daydream about chasing lizards. Other times it is my sole responsibility to protect this clinic from all intruders. Today, two men came to fix the rumble machine in the back; the one the technicians put all the wet clothes in. I warned him when he came in that I was watching him. But I waited until all his work was finished and he was walking back by me to let him have it. My timing was perfect, and my voice hit just the right note to make him jump straight in the air! As expected he quickly left my domain, so I would not have to repeat myself. I honestly don’t know what they would do here without me.

Sometimes, I think they should let me help more. One of the pets that came in today was not as happy as most. It was one of those cats. Now, I don’t profess to be very knowledgeable about cats the way I am about most things. But this one was especially difficult to figure out. He began yelling at mother and sweet Sally from the moment they entered the room with him. Sally must have been especially concerned because she layered on some thick green hand coverings before going in. I don’t know why the cats would prefer those to being petted with bare hands, but then again cats don’t make a lot of sense to me. One time, a wise old cat came in to the clinic. I tried to play with him and he just wanted to smack me in the face. Now I like a good game of face smacking as much as anyone, but I sensed that his intent was different.

Anyway, I don’t speak cat very well, but I can discern a lot just from how things are said. That cat was yelling at the top of his lungs all sorts of things like: “Get your hands off me”, “I didn’t say you could touch that”, and “Just wait until you take those gloves off”! I just knew that if I had been allowed in that room that I could have straightened the whole thing out. You see, most pets don’t realize that mother doesn’t really want to hurt them. It just looks that way. Finally, the visit ended without incident. The cat crawled back into his mobile home and didn’t say another word. Sadly he did not leave behind any of those tasty nuggets that they make. Oh well, maybe next time.

Monday August 31st

I had a great weekend! Usually I just hang around the large den mother calls home; lie around, chase Bea until she hides under the bed, eat, sleep and hunt for lizards around the small blue lake behind the house. This weekend, I actually got to leave the den and go somewhere other than the clinic. Don't get me wrong, I love the clinic, but if I can sniff out new territories to conquer I gladly accept the challenge. Admittedly, this challenge proved difficult.
We went somewhere called the PetExpo. It was in a big building I've never been to before and was filled with more dogs than I had ever seen together in one place. I was sporting my school girl outfit that everyone seems to love to see me in. Of course the scary part was that I was there without my best friend, Bea. Since Bea came to live with us about 9 months ago we've been literally inseparable. That's in part because Bea has what mother calls “separation anxiety”, which just means she gets terribly upset if I get to go somewhere and she doesn't. But this weekend, my sisters Becky and Tara were staying over, so Bea could stay with them. I know that they're not a real substitute for me, but Bea doesn't always pay attention to the details.
With Bea at home, that meant that I had to tackle the PetExpo by myself. So I tried to put on a brave face, but mother must have known that I was scared and carried me around instead of making me walk. I think that she was afraid that some of the big dogs would think I was a squeaky toy by mistake. The PetExpo had dogs, dogs, dogs, and more dogs. It also had a few of those short-haired whiskery things with the humming machines inside that Bea calls “cats”, along with feathered creatures, cupcakes, fancy outfits and comfy beds; so many things to sniff and investigate it was a true pet paradise.
I got to meet quite a few people too, everyone always going on and on about how cute I am and what a fascinating dog mixture it took to make me. I would be lying if I didn't admit to loving every minute of it. I just wish those people would show their love for me with treats instead of rubbing my head. Don't get me wrong, I like a good head rub as much as the next dog, but treats people, treats -- that's what I live for.
After awhile my buddy Ruben (of my previous post Broken face Ruben) showed up and I was SO glad to see him. My tail came up and I jumped right out of mother's arm to bite his fluffy head. I can't really explain why I was so happy to see him, but I knew everything would be alright with him there. I guess maybe Bea isn't the only one with the separation anxiety. Just don't tell my mom.

Monday, August 24th

So, I've been coming to work with my parents for almost a year now.
Me and my best friend Bea have an apartment at my parents veterinary clinic. Our pad is the best seat in the house to watch life in a pet hospital. Most dogs and cats seem scared to be here. I can't figure out why. Pretty much I just lie here, clean Bea's ears faithfully twice a day, bark a greeting to all that enter, go for walkies and eat yum-yums.
Now that I'm a year old and have everything under control, I thought I'd blog about what life behind the scenes at a veterinary clinic is like. Maybe if the other dogs and cats read it, they won't be so afraid.

Today, was a weird day for me and Bea. It started normally enough. It only became strange when there were no other dogs in the clinic. Even with no other dogs around, my mom and Sweet Sally, one of my mom's technician helpers were busily setting up for a "procedure". That's what they call it when they make a pet sleepy. I don't really know how they do it. It only happened to me once, awhile ago. I felt a pinch in my back and the next thing I knew I was chasing pink bunnies through the clouds. I must have really chased them far because when I woke up my belly hurt a little.
Anyway, Bea and I soon realized that we were the only dogs in the clinic.
It was Bea's turn to feel the pinch. I admit, I was nervous to see her asleep on the special table, covered in tubes and wires, with the special machines that make the beeping sounds. But Sweet Sally was so gentle with her and made sure to hug her the whole time while she woke up. Bea told me later that she was chasing rainbow colored lizards and that explained why her mouth was a little sore when she woke up. All I can say is her mouth smells so much better now, I even let her lick my ears now, sometimes.