Happy (Weekly) Birthday!

You know that your dog is old when you throw a little party every week, just because he made it another week.  Time to refill the pill dispenser!  "Operation Spoil the Shit Out of Andy" has gone into extra innings.  We did have to increase his dose of kitten food, though.  Small price to pay for this fuzzy muppet.

Rug Rats

As soon as we stepped foot in our new house, we immediately began ripping out the carpet.  If you've ever done this, you totally understand how disgusting carpet really is.  Yes, you can see the pet hair on our hardwood floors all of the time, but I'd rather see it than hide it.  Plus, we didn't want to constantly be cleaning carpets when the dogs tracked in mud - or worse.

Fast-forward three years, and we have some aging dogs that sometimes have difficulty getting (or staying) on their feet on those same hardwood floors.  We have been solving that problem, one area at a time.  First, it was a welcome mat (with dog bones, of course) next to the couch to assist traction when the "running" start failed to boost Andy as much as he expected.  Instead of having his back legs end up underneath him (and the couch), he was able to stay on his feet and make a second attempt.  Next, it was a large outdoor rug in the middle of the living room to help Andy get on his feet when he wakes from his nap on his bed.

Now, we have added another rug in the bedroom for the same reason, a mat by his food bowl so his hobbit feet don't slide out from under him as he eats, a runway of rubber mats and bathmats from the rug in the bedroom to the back door, and another mat behind his bed in the living room for when his back end slides off.  My Sweetpea had already built a ramp off the back door, which also has welcome mats screwed to it for traction.

Our house is starting to look like a remnants sale at a carpet and flooring store.  If our visitors don't like it, I'll happily pull the welcome mat out from under their feet and find a more suitable spot inside for the old dogs.  Problem solved!

 

Rabies and Foster Failure

Fourteen years ago, I received a call to foster a puppy that had been dumped in the country in Guthrie, Oklahoma.  He had been squatting under a porch at a home with four other dogs.  When I arrived to pick him up, the husband crawled under the porch and retrieved a terrified, 6-month old, 35-pound furball.  His velcro fur was studded with leaves and twigs and whatever else that was under their porch.  This was not the little puppy that I had in mind.

Sad for the pup, and hating the sucker in me that kept falling for calls like these, I drove home with the "puppy".  He didn't make a sound the whole way home, I didn't either.  I got him home and he proceeded to pee himself every time I touched him.  Not only was he NOT a puppy, but he was black, he was part chow, and he was a nervous pee-er.  There's a long waitlist for people wanting dogs like these, right?

I named him "Anderson" for the road where he was dumped.  Andy's eyes were crusty, so I made an appointment with my vet.  The vet immediately suspected distemper.  His prognosis was not good.  I was told that it was extremely contagious, especially for my other foster dog that may not have been vaccinated before I got her.  Distemper is almost always fatal, and if he happened to survive the disease, then he would likely have seizures and other serious health issues for life.  The recommendation was to euthanize.

I asked what my other options were.  In the end, I took him home and quarantined him in the bathroom for the next few weeks while dosing him with antibiotics.  Quarantine proved to be difficult with two dogs of my own and a foster or two.  At one point, we were under direct threat of a tornado.  I had my own two dogs and couple of cats in the hallway in crates.  One foster dog was on a leash in the hall with me.  I kept picking up Andy and putting him in the bathtub with a blanket over him, but he kept jumping out.

Three weeks passed and Andy's eyes cleared up.  He never developed any other symptoms of distemper.  We went back to the vet and I had him neutered and vaccinated to prepare him for adoption.

Every two weeks, Andy and I would go to the adoption outreach.  Every two weeks, Andy and I would come home from the adoption outreach - unsuccessful.  This continued for the next few months.  Finally, I made a pact with Andy on our drive to the outreach one Saturday.  I told him that he needed to either get adopted that day, or I would just need to keep him.

That day, Andy did his usual and hid under the tablecloth at our adoption table.  Occasionally, someone would notice this teenage puppy and would inquire about him (as he peed himself).  My answer was consistent that day - "I think he has rabies."

I sure got some funny looks, but at the end of the day, Andy went home with me for good.  He was my first "foster failure", but not my last.  I have no regrets.

A Friend Indeed

Sir George Boogers and Anderson are an unlikely pair.  There is the significant age difference - Boogers is just seven months and Andy is 14 years old.  Their activity level is at opposite ends of the spectrum.  Andy doesn't always make it up on the couch on his first try, or second try.  Despite their differences, these two are inseparable.  A good friend sticks by your side.  A GREAT friend tries to bury your poop when you have an accident in the house.  Thanks, Booger-buddy!

Effervescence

Do all old dogs burp a lot?  Not sure, but Andy sure does.  Not only does he burp like a man, but he will wake up from a dead sleep (we are never sure if he is sleeping or taking the big sleep) just to sit up and burp.  Good thing he's cute.

Well-Trained Guardians

Operation Spoil-the-Shit-Out-of-Andy is fully underway.  He is in maintenance mode and we do whatever we can to make him comfortable.  He has a ramp out the back door (even though he proceeds to go up the stairs to the deck in front to be let back in).  He gets twice the treats that the other dogs get.  We even carry him up the steps to the front door if he is too tired after a walk.

The one thing that is getting ridiculous is his feeding routine, though.  He gets a medley of essential oils, anti-inflammatories, and pills for joint health, with a topping of canned kitten food.  We're pretty sure that the kitten food has done as much good for him as all of the other junk combined.  He went from being hand-fed one kernel at a time, to doing a happy dance while we prepare his feast.  His Papa spoils him so much, that he insists on letting him sniff the cat food lid to make sure that it is to his liking.  He really gets excited when you tap the fork on the side of the bowl to signal that it is ready.  I think he has us trained.

Combustible

We got home today and were greeted by three guilty dogs (Andy is too old to care about being guilty).  It seems that a brand new bag of birdseed for Zacques, the amazingly dumb house sparrow, spontaneously exploded all over the house.  I'm pretty sure that Happy will have similarly exploding diarrhea all night long.  For now, we are being tortured by room-clearing dog gas from more than one source.  I think that they are trying to blame the cats.  I would too.

The amazingly dumb Zacques, and his BFF, Sir George Boogers

Unsolved Mysteries

Does your home suffer from unsolved mysteries?  Ours does.  Over time, we've solved a few of them - like when food disappears off the counters, it is most likely our counter-surfing pup, Sky.  Especially if it is carbs that vanished.  She is truly our carb hound.  And, the others are a bit too dumb to know where to find the good food.

Every once in a while, we have unexplained happenings around here.  Like yesterday, when a mysterious, lone turd was found in the hallway.  It was fresh, soft, and a bit smaller than a cat ball (the toy, not the reproductive part).  Did Jack decide that he really doesn't like the snow, like his last family warned us?  Did a dingleberry fall from Andy's hairy butt?  Did one of the cats do it and try to frame the dogs?  Where is the rest of it?  Do we have a poop-eater in our midst?  We may never know the answer.  Shit happens.

Sky, the carb hound

Oh, Crap!

We got up and let the dogs out this morning.  Anderson was quick to run around the house and want back in.  A few minutes later, he had pooped on the floor.  He is a traveling pooper, so he left four strategically placed turds on the floor - one for each dog in the house.  I guess he was hoping to spread the blame.  All the other dogs looked guilty when we came back in the house after shoveling the driveway - except Andy.  They started dancing around the turds like it was a pow wow, while we tried to turd-herd them away from the mess.  Andy didn't give a shit - well, he gave us four shits.  Got to love old dogs and their poor sphincters!

Anderson

Anderson is a forever puppy.  At 13 years old, he is still muppet-like.  He has been mistaken for a black bear on more than one occasion.  When he gets his annual haircut, he is a chupacabra.  These days, he keeps the couch warm and collects leaves, branches, and snow every time he ventures outside.  He is better than velcro.  Even kittens stick to his fur.