Homecoming

Our pack was incomplete for a few months.  T went to visit her grandparents and enjoy summer fun like Zoo Camp and Science Camp at Auburn University.  She had a good time enjoying carefree summer days with little to do.  That's what summer means, after all.  But we missed her terribly.

For the first few weeks, Matt and I came home to quiet.  We thought we'd be excited to have time away from the 13 year old.  There's only so much excitement in watching True Blood in the middle of the day.  We looked at each other and felt sad.  A part of us was missing and far away.  As the weeks wore on, the sadness lessened and we enjoyed each other's company.  We're best friends, soulmates, so the time spent was wonderful.  But somewhere in the back of our minds, we were always missing T.

My boss rescued some kittens and brought them to the clinic.  She wanted to make them visible to clients, and I offered to bring little Haimmie's cage for them to use.  I didn't realize how hard it would be to clean out Haimmie's toys and hammocks.  I didn't expect Nyxie's to sniff and paw at the cage, stuffing her snooter into each hammock desperately trying to find him.  It had been a couple of weeks since he crossed the Bridge.  I thought she understood that he was gone.  It was bittersweet to see her concern.  I caressed her and distracted her with tennis balls.

T came home this past Sunday.  She ran to us at the gate and we hugged her hard.  We had breakfast at The All Good Cafe, one of our favorite diners in Dallas, and came home to relax.  She had missed her dogs, especially Nyxie who is always up for a cuddle or a game.  At the sound of her voice, Nyxie let out one stern bark and then started to whine.  We let them out of their crates and both dogs ran and danced, tails wagging, zooming with joy.  There's nothing quite like the joy of dogs.

Before she left, Nyxie was in the habit of barking at T when T would come out of her bedroom.  We couldn't figure out why, and it was an obnoxious behavior that we were continually trying to break.  Since she's returned, there hasn't been a single bark.  Not a single, solitary squeak.

Maybe like us, she didn't realize how much she's miss her when she was gone.

T and her shadow...

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Please keep in mind that this is prime heartworm disease time, and rad my article for The Examiner Dallas about heartworm disease - "What you don't know could kill your dog"  A refresher on the basics can't hurt, right?

Also, I wrote an article for Hello Dallas about dogs and water safety, "Doggie Paddling Through the Long, Hot Summer" about tips for water fun with Fido.

As always, please let me know what you think either here or directly on the sites themselves.  Thanks and happy weekend!

Haimmie the Great White Weasel

Today we helped Haimmie cross the Rainbow Bridge.  Haimmie was our 7 year old ferret, who for over the past year and a half, battled an ever-growing tumor on his pancreas that wreaked havoc on his insulin secretion.  If you've ever had the pleasure of sharing your life with a ferret, you already know they're fearless, joyful little sprites.  They dance, laugh and hop about in play.  Truly - they're able to hop in every which way at once, making "dook, dook" sounds of joy!  They do this with absolute mischief in their eyes, mouth open like playing puppies.  They're curious to a fault, landing themselves in some pretty dangerous situations in seconds.  Like the time Haimmie danced himself right off the bed and landed on the hardwood floor with a SPLAT!

We bought Haimmie in Maine, and he was just a little sprout - black and white like a panda.  As he grew out of his "kit" (baby ferret) stage, he became more and more white.  He retained a single black spot just behind his left front leg and towards the end, even that black spot dwindled to just a few dark hairs.  Haimmie's hands and feet were soft and would grasp your fingertips when you held him.  Haimmie had some seriously long canine teeth, which would tap the floor as he sniffed, earning him the name "The Vampire Ferret" by T.  His little whiskers were in a constant state of perpetual motion, sniffing out his silent world.  We believe he was deaf, but I always had my suspicions...

Insulinoma is the name for the cancer Haimmie had.  The tumor that ended his life stopped him from regulating his sugar intake - like reverse diabetes.  Regular ferret kibble was too high in sugars for him, so we began a diet of meat baby food; high in protein, low in sugars - what probably should have been his life long diet.  But when you see a name you believe to be reputable on a food bag, you trust it.  Ferrets are like cats, though, and primarily need meat, their natural, wild diet being mice and other small critters.  I can't be sure a meat diet from the outset would have changed his final outcome, but I wish I had known better then.  

Over the past year and a half, he's been fed at about 4-6 hour intervals - half a jar of baby food, mixed with water and warmed for 11 seconds.  Most of the time, he could ferret walk to his food bowl, but towards the end, we carried him to the food bowl on the 2nd tier of his cage.  The tumor grew to such a size, that his mobility was compromised and he mostly stumbled rather than walked.  For the last two weeks, he couldn't use his potty without messing himself, and as ferrets are clean creatures, this must have been miserable for him.  He adjusted to the daily baths with a calm reserve.

So today, we helped him cross the Bridge.  A ferret life without playing and dancing is no life at all.  We cried and held his soft little head.  I felt his heart stop and knew his pain was gone.  When we came home, we opened a beer each and celebrated Haimmie's life.  The last few sips, I poured into the earth - libations for the loved and lost.

Godspeed, to you Little Man, Great White Weasel.  You will be missed.

Stormy Road Ahead - The First Leg from Maine to New Jersey

Matt had brilliantly planned our route south from Maine.  He took into account the travel time and distance through each major city along our beloved East coast to meticulously avoid each rush hour and “sun in the eyes” time.  Our trip started around four in the afternoon, leading us through New York at dark. 

The girls seemed confused and edgy, certainly reflecting our own feelings as we left our beloved Maine.  What was ahead?  What would Texas be like?  We had no idea.  I can’t imagine the girls had any thoughts of this, but the drive early on was tense and uncertain.  We felt displaced and alone -tiny specks on a map line, eating mile after mile of road.  We wondered what our friends in Portland were doing as we lumbered on towards Texas. 

We kept our eyes peeled for rest areas that were well lit and busy enough to seem welcoming, but deserted enough to allow Nyxie to stretch her legs without creating a scene.  We stopped about every four hours.  We both love road trips, but Matt is definitely the one best capable of driving long distances.  The older I get, the more apt I am to feel dreadfully sleepy while driving unless something keeps me company.  Matt needed sleep on his breaks and the girls’ quiet panting was mesmerizing.  Haimmie slumbered in his hammock and Miss Poo continued being a snake – neither of which provided any sort of lively company.  My eyes started to droop somewhere in New Jersey until I saw the first streak if lightening.  Seconds later, I heard the thunder and knew it was time to stop again before the rain followed.

Haimmie snoozed in his hammock most of the drive, oblivious to the miles rushing past us.

The New Jersey rest stop was bright and gaudy, with neon signs advertising coffee and pizza.  I wanted neither but the girls needed water and a leg break.  Turning off the engine woke Matt and we carefully extracted the girls from their tiny half-backseat.  Each of these walks was nerve-wracking for me.  I imagined the girls dashing past me in their excitement to get out of the car.  I imagined broken leashes and injuries that would require emergency vet care.  I imagined losing my girls and that fear was physically painful.  As they were growing restless and undoubtedly infected by my own fear, I decided to slip them a sedative cocktail.  I gave each girl a Pill Pocket with dreamy drugs – just enough Ace Promazine for their weight range.  Another thunder crack, this time closer than the last.  With Arwen and Nyxie back in the car, and Matt still snoozing away his well-earned nap, I headed into the rest stop and did some comfort shopping – Twinkies, Cokes, a candy bar and a couple of bottled waters.  I couldn’t find anything I could justify buying in the rest stop, and just made it back to the xB (remember the magical car?) as plump rain drops pelted the windshield.  The storm was upon us. 

Note all the space around Arwen?  NOT taken while on our road trip.  Imagine Nyxie next to her, both squished by "stuff"

“Where are we?” muttered Matt, lifting his hat from his face.

“Still in New Jersey.  There’s a nasty storm rolling in so we’ll be here awhile.”

“Damn” he exhaled, settling farther into his pillow.  Behind him, the girls rested their heads and eyes began to droop.  I sat wide awake, scanning the parking lot and locking the doors. 

“Go to sleep, girls – Momma’s got you covered.”

Soooo sleeeepy.....

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Please check out a couple of articles I've written lately.  Feel free to "Like" or leave comments!

The 1st is about my imaginary summer vacation and is featured on the Fido Friendly Blog.

The 2nd discusses some of what we found in Dallas when we arrived and is featured on the HelloDallas website.

Doggie Laxative

Special thanks to Two Pitties in the City for a recent post about "Decorum" that reminded me of Arwen's "peculiar" behavior.  In other words, if it goes south, blame them.  Only kidding of course, and sending them and their 2 fabulous Nanny Dogs much love!

St Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square, New Orleans

A couple of years ago, Matt and I took a trip to New Orleans.  We met up with some friends of ours in Houston, and headed to the Big Easy for a long weekend.  While I was super excited to return to one of my favorite US cities, and share with Matt a place I knew he'd fall in love with, I was wrought with worry.  I was going to leave behind Haimmie and the Girls.

T was yet to live with us, so the only kids we had to be concerned with were our 4 legged ones.  I will never board my kiddos if I can help it.  (That's a post for another day)  Haimmie, our ferret, only required 2 feedings a day like the Girls at this point, as he hadn't been diagnosed with his insulinoma (a nasty pancreatic tumor that ultimately creates severe hypoglycemia).

My little Haimmie after a recent bath

To prevent them and me from having a nervous breakdown, I asked my friend Alexis to petsit.  She is one of them most dog-savvy people I know in Texas and I knew she could handle the beasties.  She's a tiny slip of a woman, but tough as nails.  She came over a few times before we left so she could meet and greet the girls and get the routine down.  As we're raw feeders, there's a few extra steps involved, like thawing the following  meal's food at each prior serving.  I walked her through all of it, obsessively explaining each and every bit of each and every step.  She patiently listened and took it all in.  I am so thankful for her in my life.

I'm a worrier as some of you may have gleaned from my posts.  You're shocked, I know, but it's true.  I was nervous about leaving the girls, but so excited for a vacation.  I was thankful for the ease of communication that technology affords while we were away, although I imagine Alexis might have felt otherwise.  I called her each day to see what had transpired with the girls and prayed they wouldn't give her too many headaches.  She obliged me each obsessive, lunatic phone call.

Upon our return, we were met with a detailed note (on the flipside of the 2 page instructional note I had left) from Alexis.  Apparently all went great with Nyxie, although on Day 1 she was greeted with the "German Shepherd Bark" which can be alarmingly intimidating as you all know.  After that, it was smooth sailing.  There was just one glitch.

Arwen didn't poop the entire time we were gone.

Four days!  She has this strange Poop Only for Mom Fetish that denies her the simple pleasure of relieving herself around anyone but me.  She will only rarely poop for Matt.  She's nothing if not "quirky".  Talk about anal retentive!  This dog is a champ at holding it in.  For the sake of my dog's bowels, future trips will need to be kept short.

Should I poo?

Maybe here?

Nah - I'll wait for Mom!

So what does THAT tell you about my priorities? 

Better add "Doggie Laxative" to my list of pet parent jobs.