Goldilocks revisited...

Goldilocks tried the first bed, but it was toooo big. (Luther)



















Then she tried the second bed, but it was toooo small. (Lisbon)



















Finally she tried the third bed, and it was just right! (Bart)



















The funny part about this is that Bart's mom actually gave us this beautiful bed, because Bart vetoed it at his own house. We love it!

Connected by helping hands

This week, some lyrics of Bob Dylan have been noodling through my head - "May you always do for others, and let others do for you..." I appreciate all the encouragement sent to us this week, and last night as I collapsed at home, it was with a real sense of being connected by those acts that we do for each other. I am happy to know that Ginny was touched by the little quilt her Canine-L friends dispatched me to acquire for her at last week's auction, and I know Maribeth is also going to enjoy the ones I put in the mail for her too. Those transactions inspired me to purchase quilts for two other people as surprises and I'm looking forward to making those friends smile. As I struggled with Luther this week, I got a kind email from Maura offering to run any errands I needed, Terisia appeared at the shop yesterday to express her concern and to thank me for supporting her in a dog problem via a late-night phone call the evening before. And as I try very hard to ignore all of the pressing needs of the weekend, Sue has offered to help me with attending to Kearney's much-needed grooming, and Ina just told me she's bringing over a home-cooked meal for us.

May we always do for others, and let others do for us.

Misery

I'm posting the photo of Luther before surgery because the ones afterward are grim. Here he is with his "don't cut off this one!" warning label on his front leg (which they allowed him to keep through surgery - the label as well as the leg, I mean). He is in inconsolable misery tonight.

First: it was an abscess, a large plate-shaped one under the skin that had found the external cyst as a release valve. Dr. Ron said the abscess itself is larger than his hand and he couldn't just excise it because there would be about a 4-inch skin gap that couldn't be closed. He was concerned that he was seeing a mast cell tumor in the middle of the mess, but all of the cells he looked at under microscope appear to be infection, not cancer. (This is the only piece of good news so you can stop reading right here if you like.)

This is why I love a doctor who practices the art of medicine as beautifully as he does the science of it. I want a surgeon who knows when something could snowball and doesn't need to showboat over it. So this has become a two-surgery process. For today, just the external growth came off, the area was explored and a good deal of it cleaned by flushing, drains installed and antibiotics begun.

Managing drains for the next several days - I can probably pull them out this weekend. Two weeks of heavy antibiotics to try to knock down the infection. Recheck in two weeks to determine next steps; Ron says another surgery is likely, hopefully where more of the problem can be removed but with a more feasible way of closing him up.

He refused to get up when it when it was time to leave the clinic. I waited out front and finally Dr. Ron said come on back, maybe he will get up for you. There was really no reason why he couldn't or shouldn't, but he just wouldn't. We put him on his feet and he slowly got part of the way, carried him the rest. Ron says it isn't from anesthesia - it was pretty brief, minimal, and reversed hours ago - so maybe he's just exhausted and sick and miserable. On the way home he just melted into the car seat, and when we stopped by Dog Tired for some supplies and Miss Lindsay came out to say hello, he wouldn't even lift his head for her.

Once home, there was no moving him off the car seat without cries of pain and weak attempts to bite. Matthew and I just worked at it slowly, lifting him slightly and shifting him an inch or two, again and again until we got him out of the car. Again he refused to walk, so was carried into the house and onto his bed, covered him with a blanket and he has not moved an eyelash since. He isn't sleeping, he is just staring and....holding. very. very. still.

Now we just wait, and go through it together until we get to some place that isn't this place. I'm holding it together, but my stomach is just in tense knots and my jaw is locked tight to keep any feelings from falling out unexpectedly!

The shadow passes

I think Luther has finally let go of a grief burden today. Lately he had seemed so abruptly changed. Quite old all of a sudden, sleeping a lot, not even wanting to get up for school nor caring that he was left behind. Though it could be a natural part of old-age sinking, there also seemed to be a depressive aspect that I presumed could be from grief at Saylor's disappearance. Yesterday I saw very subtle signs that he was brightening, and today for the first time in weeks he got out of bed without coaxing, and moved with purpose into the day. More interested and engaged, snuggling and playing. I haven't seen this smile (Luther with Miss Sue, Dog Jog 2011) for two long months, but now I believe its return may come. Luther, my sweet boy, my best boy. You have such a dear, precious heart.

My 9/11

I remember waking up, cold and aching, on the floor of the crew connex box at Prudhoe because Logistics had blown my camp booking. I was puzzled to see that my email inbox had exploded, but with the stalled dialup connection, I couldn’t see why. Back at camp, I saw people standing twenty deep around the large-screen TVs. Besides the East Coast situation, news came of a Korean Air jet headed to AK and transponding the code for a hijacking. The rest of the crew were stuck in Anchorage so I did the field work alone. I remember sitting in the truck, eating an egg salad sandwich and listening the radio discussing the target potential of the oil pipeline over which I was parked. I felt extra alone because just a week before, the final death knell had sounded on 13 years of loving someone who didn’t care if I lived or died. I wondered what would happen to my dogs if I didn't get back home. Three days later I was in the first group to fly out. We were the guinea pigs for new security measures, and the two-room airport in Deadhorse had become a military installation.

A few years later, I stood at the temporary memorial at Shanksville, near where I was born. Down a dirt road past a junkyard with old refrigerators and dead Pepsi vending machines, there was nothing but a length of pink tape to separate us from the view of that scar in the land. I hooked an Alaska keytag to the sections of chain-link fence that served as a makeshift memorial cache.

My only contribution to the story of that day was later on, to write the "Hero" television PSA, which touched many people across the country and won some recognition. Mostly I just remember worrying about my family a couple hours west of NYC, and I remember eating that sandwich out on the tundra.

Êtes-vous out of your mind?

Nigel has been back with us for a visit, and it's that face that led me to the danger of perusing rescue listings for French bulldogs this week. I am not a peruser. That was bad enough, but at one point I found myself typing to one rescue group "At this point I would really only consider taking frail elderly or medically compromised / disabled dogs" aaaack-DEL-DEL-DEL-DEL-DEL-DEL-DEL-DEL

However, thoughts become things, and so. Not for a while yet, but it's coming.

a Puppy joins the pack

One of our daycare clients, the eponymously named Puppy, joined us at home a few weeks ago when his mom faced an emergency hospitalization. He was expected to be a guest for a day or two, but that has stretched into weeks, and as circumstances have worsened it looks that he will be with us at least for some weeks to come. But Puppy is a happy little man, seemingly unconcerned about his abrupt change of scene, and has done just great with the various dogs who come and go here. His zest for life is contagious and he's constantly delivering hugs and kisses. This is what happened when I said 'enough already' of holding him early this morning. (Can I just say that Luther is the best.dog.ever.)

Nose to tail

The Banks boys went in for their procedures yesterday and much was learned - so much that I have felt really tired at the idea of writing it. This is the breakdown.

Saylor:
- Dental cleaning, but no excisions because the ones that needed to come out fell out during the exploratory; abscesses under treatment
- Ear flush to get rid of a lot of debris and infection; Saylor has no left eardrum and only partial right eardrum; infection under treatment twice daily
- Bloodwork has high AlkPhos but nothing else remarkable. Thyroid okay, so problems with thermoregulation are probably due to the constant exposure of tongue and mouth tissue.
- Full body x-rays indicate no other particular concerns

Luther:
- Bloodwork basically okay except high AlkPhos
- Dental cleaning, removal (and a cosmetically beautiful removal) of gum tissue overgrowth which does not appear cancerous
- Ears were actually rotting from the inside, despite constant treatment since October. Doc was amazed at the amount of impacted debris that came out and says he can't wait to show me the video. Luther has evidently had serious ear problems all his life; ear canals are scarred and are only 25% the width that they should be. Both eardrums are gone. Ears were not surgically closed at this time because we need to treat them further first; they may not actually have been completely cleared despite all the time spent on them. This boy has been miserable for a very long time with no complaint.
- Left lung cloudy and scarred, possibly from a serious aspiration at some time in the past
- Heart is enlarged and elongated, but cardiac blood values were ok. Not sure what this may portend for him, if anything
- X-rays revealed shot pellets around his ribcage
- The most recent, large hot-spot-that-doesn't-look-like-a-hot-spot isn't a hot spot, it's a deep pyoderma. On high dose Cipro to see what that gets us. Ron felt this whole area should probably be excised, but after spending so long on the ears and knowing that was going to be painful and traumatic for some days to come, he said he didn't want to send him home with a 6 inch incision to manage too. This may have to happen at the same time as the ears get closed up. They tried some laser therapy to see whether that might help. Looking at it 24 hours later, I think it may have.
- Now the real problem. Spinal x-rays show severe spondylosis encompassing lower thoracic vertebrae, all lumbar vertebrae, and sacrum. Large bony growths at the lumbar/sacral junction. Causes? (age, trauma, overcompensation - did he get hit by a car and lose the leg as well as bust his back?) Arthritic hips but the issue of intermittent lameness in the right rear leg is diagnosed as neurological due to spinal degeneration. None of this has a good outlook (will his leg quit before his back finally snaps?, etc). He'll be on pain meds for the duration now.

Luther came home from the doctor acting like nothing had happened, but is rubbing his ears a lot. Saylor had a few hours of post-anesthesia psychosis and we just weathered that until he was done and we all got a small amount of sleep. Both boys seem to feel relatively well today and soldiered up for their ear cleaning tonight.

Followup in two weeks. More surgery for Luther likely. Discount on all services and drugs, and they did the laser treatment for free. (I love my vet.) My client and friend Dr. Kufel will take a look at Luther's radiographs to see what he may be able to contribute to his comfort. (I love my chiropractor too.)

Peg and kids

Saylor comes aboard

When I get back from my Texas trip at the end of January, this little guy will be joining our family. My friend Desiree is a frequent caretaker for Saylor, and as Des leaves for her new life in Portland, Saylor needed a new life of his own. Luther and I visited with him today and decided to invite him into our family, and Saylor's dad agreed to let us be the retirement home that will better match his needs.

Saylor is a Boston terrier about 14 years old, who lost his lower jaw to cancer several years ago and also has some spinal and neurological problems. Luther and I visited with him for awhile today, and that was enough for us. In truth, sparks didn't fly - partly because it will take me a while to learn to read his partial-face which is pretty expressionless. The whole situation reminds me very much of Piper, who was going to be a short-term medical project, and then became a precious part of our family for the 16 months we had. I made the decision because he's sort of a little train wreck and I can deal with that. We can wait for the love to grow.

And if you want to know more about oral cancers and how dogs live without their lower jaws, visit my friend Phyllis's article at Veterinary Partner...which happens to be illustrated with photos of my own little Courtney, who had the same surgery several years ago. (Saylor's amputation is much more extreme.) I am looking forward to getting his medical history, setting up a full re-evaluation, and asking Dr. Ron to take on another effort at making the best of this little life that we can.

The house begins to fill with hearts

Five of the holiday boarders are now here, with several more to come. It feels a little like the land of the lost tonight as everyone has some little angle to their story. Next week's arrivals will bring a little more life and laughter to what is right now a rather somber collection. The two tiny-littles have an ailing mom, recovering from surgery, and dad is gone for work for the next few weeks. One of the bigs is here until flight arrangements can be made for her to relocate out of state as her home has just broken. Another is recovering from ortho surgery while her mom is traveling. Luther still isn't talking about his backstory, but at least he appears to be over his intestinal distress.

And my love, Tess, is here and she is doing very, very badly. I long ago crossed over a professional line with this dog and have been in tears much of tonight, especially when she fought through her sedative-fog to drag herself off the nice ortho bed I'd set up for her, and struggle the 7-8 steps it took just to get to the bare floor at my feet instead. We don't deserve dogs. We really don't.

One miracle of the season

So this summer when I was housesitting for Tom and Annie, I was introduced to a cleaning product that changed my life. Now, understand...I thought I'd seen just about everything that's out there for cleaning of pet errors of the biological kind. As far as that goes, I think I've seen just about everything out there that IS a pet error of the biological kind. (Dear Santa, if that could just be a true statement I would be happy for every Christmas to come.)

Anyway. The stuff is Folex and it's probably at your neighborhood grocery. No frills stuff, in the cleaning section it'll be at the far left, lowest shelf where your eyes never look. Buy every container you see. When the apocalypse comes, I will have the hoard and I will hurt you if you try to take it away from me.

Now, as I said, I first encountered this in cleaning up the few accidents that happened during that summer housesit. But then the reality of Holly's death ended up all over their beautiful master bedroom carpet. This family has had the worst luck with housesitters, with tens of thousands of dollars of damage to their home in irresponsibility and destructiveness. This was not the impression I wanted to make my first time out. With tears of grief (and worry, and culpability, and more) I got out my little steam cleaner and gave the Folex an exceedingly grim test for something I thought possibly could not be fixed, at all. But with slow, careful effort, that whole scene was erased except from my memory.

Back at home this fall, I had my fave carpet guys come and do my little patch of house as usual. They weren't able to remove a couple of bad stains in Nana's bedroom and I'd never had any luck with them either despite some years of trying. Disappointed that the pros couldn't fix it, but again, maybe some things just can't be fixed. A month ago in making up the guest room for my brother's visit, Folex straight from the spray bottle got rid of all of it in under six seconds.

So today, I came home at lunch to find Luther had been quite ill. Although I block off my upstairs when I'm away so any guests don't wander around the house, I never do that when it's just Luther. So he chose the only carpet in the house to destroy.

Have I ever mentioned that I am a renter.

But at this point I am rather cocky. I am the owner of many bottles of Folex. Not to put too fine a point on it (and not to give you a wide angle shot which would be....really not nice):

That's part of the stain... and that's about 30 seconds later

DO NOT EVER TELL ME WHAT IS IN THIS STUFF. It's not labeled, I can't find an authoritative source on the formula, and Googling only brings up guesses. I want to believe in the magic.

Holiday bling

Luther got his holiday picture at our annual client portrait session at Dog Tired a few weeks ago. Handsome fellow.

Learning about Luther

This morning we made the drive out to Palmer for our first visit with The Holy Man. Luther had already had bloodwork and dental cleaning while in foster care, so today it was just about making an inventory and looking at his previous labs.

Dr. Ron gave him a good looking-at-and-listening-to. A hard thickness behind his jaws indicate a life of chronic ear problems, and we are doing an otic solution daily with the hope that Ron will be able to see eardrums when we go back in three weeks. (Digging in Luther's ears is the first time I've heard any sounds of discomfort from him.) He's missing some teeth and has a couple of pockets of concern in his mouth that may mean he loses a few more in the next six months. A few small growths that will come off whenever the first anesthesia opportunity arises. His heart and lungs are strong. His right shoulder bundle is massively developed, more than Ron has seen in a front-limb amputee (so much that it has deformed the upper arm bone), which indicates Luther was probably quite young when he lost the leg. The white marks all over his face and head are bite scars. From the level of lenticular sclerosis in his eyes, Ron puts Luther's age at older than we thought, probably 10+ years. Overall he was independently verified as a good old dog who's come through more than we know. As Ron's own path has been as a longtime devotee at the Church of the Labrador, Ron can finally count me among the converted, and blessed us both as we left today.

All in a day

I am declaring today an unqualified success. I treated my body well and felt relatively well despite the hip that has recently begun to shriek "Replace me!" I made good decisions and got several small errands and tasks done that felt like sweeping up a lot of debris. My staff did a really good job of managing 64 dogs and working together. I made a significant gesture of financial generosity to someone who deserves it, checking off one box of many still owed in the pay-it-forward column. I learned that Kari has saved every greeting card I've ever given her. I heard my eldest brother tell me "I love you so much for being there" and then he changed it to "I love you so much for being." I felt gratitude that I am blessed with two brothers who say things like that more frequently and openly than I have a right to expect. I didn't have to work to put a smile on my face today. I have a good old dog lying on my porch. I worked only eight hours today and came home with enough energy to get the yard mowed and ready for winter. I made a delicious healthy dinner. And it's only 7:30 pm and I still have some energy. I feel capable and serene and a humble recipient of grace. I feel ready for tomorrow.

On this morning's post office run

Two big bull moose and me without a good camera. Big guy on the right was trying to mind his own business. Bigger guy on the left had worked his way across the bog pretty intently, not going to let this situation stand. I left before the ruckus started!

Just three inches

That was the difference between life and death yesterday morning for a big stray dog that I came so close to catching. Just as he turned his head away, I made the grab and missed, he bolted, and was killed in traffic about 45 min later. Kari had gone out to check on a reported sighting and found the body; a passerby helped her load it up to go to animal control where a family contact was made. That failure is going to stick with me awhile. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.

Songs my mother taught me

There exist very few photos of my mother and me together. So much of my adulthood, years might go between times that we saw each other. One photo (for which I have just spent two fruitless hours searching) is of the memorable Christmas Eve that I surprised her by showing up in the living room at Kelly & Bev's, and I really love that picture that Bev snapped in the moment.

But I have thousands of moments in music to remember her by. I don't actually know many songs of contemporary worship. My history is full of old time hymns, and when I page through memory's songbook, I hear my mother at the piano and her high tenor in our family harmonies.

I find comfort in the old tunes and the plain words of belief, before boutique religion made such things obsolete. I have only to sing a few lines before the tears flow, and the connection to my mother is alive again.

Precious Memories
by J.B.F. Wright, 1925

Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger, ever near me
And the sacred past unfold.

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

In the stillness of the midnight
Echoes from the past I hear
Old-time singing, gladness bringing
From that lovely land somewhere.

As I travel on life's pathway
Know not what the years may hold
As I ponder, hope grows fonder
Precious memories flood my soul.

Memorials from Holly's ashes

I'm heading out shortly to meet with a local lampworking artist, Elise Strauss, to create glass beads from Holly's ashes. I found her at her Etsy store online, and then realized when I checked her main website that she was right here in Anchorage. That felt like I was being led in the right direction, but when I learned she's a full-on dog person (agility competitor), I knew Holly was guiding me to the right place. If you look at the Etsy store, you can see an example of the large glass beads; I'm thinking that's similar to what we will be doing for Holly's dad Gary and brother Beau as it has a beautiful but masculine look.

My own piece (a bracelet similar to this picture) is already underway at Art from Ashes. I am eager to see the results, but so far very pleased with the personal feel of the contacts I've had with them (caring, but also smart and funny), and the professional and sensitive way they handle the remains.

Is there a translator in the house?

The evolution of this bruise seems to be turning into kanji characters? I'm a little afraid to know what they might mean...

A prayer for Homeless Animals Day

God, creator and upholder of all creatures, make your peaceful presence known in this time.

We acknowledge, with distress and determination, our awareness of the plight of homeless animals in our nation. With shame we confess our guilt for allowing creatures of Yours, entrusted to our care, to be considered with such indifference and by such harsh and horrible ways. We recall before You, in this company, and with all others who share in this vigil, all companion animals who are forgotten, homeless, hurt, and vanquished.

God of Light, we bear in mind those animals who having once enjoyed the warmth of untold human companionship, have had their love and loyalty betrayed. We remember the untold millions of dogs and cats who, through human greed, ignorance, and irresponsible inaction, have been brought into life only to be destroyed. We recognize the terrible suffering of future generations of unwanted animals which will occur unless we change our attitudes and actions.

God of Mercy, we pray for the sanctuaries and shelters where loving workers care for these creatures during the last hours of their lives. Grant unto them the gift of continued compassion. Grant unto all abandoned animals the peace and protection which they did not know here.

God of Truth, strengthen all humane educators and laborers of the human ethic. Give them enduring courage, determination, and hope as they seek to end the suffering of your creatures. Touch and instruct our human hearts so that none of your beloved creatures shall be abused or destroyed.

God, Creator and upholder of all creatures, inspire us that we may, with optimism, shed light on the tragedy of dog and cat overpopulation in our country. Lead us from darkness to light, from death to new life.

Amen.

Reverend Dr. Marc A. Wessels
Executive Director
International Network for Religion and Animals

This theory needs a name

My line of work is fraught with injuries, but I'm still in awe of the inerrant ability of a dog to target the very softest spots on a woman's body to create the most painful bruises, like

But what I really want to understand is how Dog #2 knows to come along two days later andright on that very spot.