Hello Again On A Very Important Date

Friends of Portia has been silent for well over a month. This is why. As I frequently mentioned in early postings on this blog, for years, I walked my dogs in the wee small hours of the morning most days and once a week in the park with Marilyn and her pack. From time to time, I had to take time off, because of a "groin pull". I'm not an athlete, but my husband, John is. He assured me that a chronic groin pull is a very difficult injury to mend and he would spell me on my morning walks until I felt better. Then, in early April of this year, the "groin pull" came back and didn't respond to rest. It refused to go away. Mid May, I finally hobbled into the doctor's. An x-ray revealed that my "groin pull" was actually a badly deteriorated hip joint. Replacement was my only option to a life of pain and disability. But first, I had a trip to Israel that I had no intention of cancelling. When we came home, I began the slow process of referral and certification through the HMO that decides our health care. My date with the orthopedic surgeon was October 15. The surgery is looking like a complete success. I cannot express the depths of my gratitude to Dr. Michael Kimball, for his near obsession with millimeters, angles and levels. And to the nursing staff at Scripps Memorial Hospital, La Jolla, who gave me the best care I could have asked for. It's going to be a while before I take over the early morning walks and to my dear husband, John, I express the very most gratitude for looking after me, the house, the dogs during the extended time that I have been incapacitated. But today is an important day that MUST be marked. Four years ago today--or rather, this evening--Magic came to live with us. What a happy, happy day!! We love you, Miss Magic. And we are very lucky that you are our doggie.

Hattie, R.I.P.

A wonderful creature, Manhattan, known to all her friends as Hattie, a white Greyhound with tan markings, crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Wednesday, October 2. I first met Hattie in the Spring of 2008 the day I met Marilyn and her pack to walk our dogs in a park close to my home. Marilyn's dogs were Franklin, Ruby and Hattie. My dogs were Portia and Bingley. Bingley is the only survivor of that group. Like most of Marilyn's dogs, Hattie was a dog who had had difficulty finding a forever home. She suffered from an auto-immune disorder that made her a little "touchy" and cranky. She required special care, both medically and emotionally. And she was most fortunate that she found Marilyn, one of the best humans in the world for being able and willing to offer that care. Both canine and human health issues have created a long hiatus in Marilyn's and my weekly walks in the park. I am reminded of the line from Emily Dickinson: To make routine a stimulus, remember it can cease. Farewell, dear Hattie. May you run and play free of pain in the meadows beyond the Rainbow Bridge.

Thank You, Dr. Pearson

I love dogs of all ages. But, most of all, I love old dogs. After having lost three dogs at relatively young ages, I have been relishing Bingley and Magic. Eighteen months ago, when we discovered that Bingley had heart troubles, my anxiety level went up. But having a veterinarian like Dr. Dorota Pearson has been a great comfort. She has been right on top of things and knows how to minimize the risk of necessary procedures for Bingley. Like most retired racers, Bingley has teeth and gum issues. So every year, he has to be anesthetized to have his teeth cleaned and any needed extractions. Every time one of my dogs has to be anesthetized, my heart is in my throat until they wake up. Sight hounds, and particularly Greyhounds, are notoriously sensitive to anesthesia. Dr. Pearson has really extended herself to minimize the trauma for my hounds. She takes them in for surgery as soon as possible after they arrive, and she discharges them as soon as they show any sign of stress after they wake up. Yesterday was the big day for Bingley's teeth cleaning. I breathed a little easier when I got the call that he was ready to come home and prepared myself and the house for a groggy, stressed dog. Instead, when Bingley came home, he was almost his normal self. Amazing. When Dr. Pearson called a little later to check on his condition, I told her how happy I was. I could almost hear her smile on the telephone. "Good! I tried something new today." When we adopted our first Greyhound eight years ago, we almost switched vets--to the "Greyhound experienced vet" closest to us. But when I called to make an appointment, I was put on hold for a very long time--something that almost never happens to me with Dr. Pearson's well run office. That convinced me to stick with Dr. Pearson, and I am so happy I did. After we moved to our present house, it took us trying four different veterinarians before we settled on one. But it was worth it. If you love your pet, make the effort to find the vet that is right for you.

Happy Birthday, Bingley!

Today is not just any birthday for our favorite boy Greyhound. Today is Bingley's TENTH birthday! A ripe old age for a Greyhound. He is celebrating, doing what he likes to do during the middle of the day: snooze on the living room love seat. This evening, things will liven up a bit and he'll take a few circuits around the living room, and might even toss the odd stuffed toy in the air. We have it on no less authority than our trusted dog walker that Bingley is the liveliest ten year old dog he knows. Happy, Happy Birthday, Bingley. We are grateful to have you in our lives.

Happy (Official) Birthday, Miss Magic!

What do Magic and Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II have in common? They both have official birthdays. The difference is that Her Majesty knows the actual date of her birth. But the date of Miss Magic's arrival is lost forever. Furthermore, I suspect that there is some slippage in the date of Magic's "official" birthday, because I'm not at all sure about the precise date that she, two of her puppies, and the puppies' father were rescued from outdoor cages in the High Desert of Southern California by volunteers from Greyhound Adoption Center. A few days later, a third of Magic's puppies was also rescued. After we adopted Magic, I decided to place her birthday in July, the month of her rescue. But the precise date of her rescue eludes me. So it's sometime between the 13th and the 15th of July--as best I can tell. This year, Miss Magic's Official Birthday is today, July 15. She is officially nine years old today and wears her age gracefully. She still trots with a little spring in her step, and just yesterday, she jumped over some flower pots on the deck to be first in the door before the amiable Bingley, who only gets competitive about chasing small furry critters. As Mike Dougherty, Westminster Best In Show Judge and proprietor of Windsong, says, "Dogs are not for the faint of heart." Dogs bury themselves in the innermost parts of our hearts, and then they leave us with indescribable pain, because their life-spans are a fraction of human life spans. Some people react to that pain by refusing to ever have another dog. But for some of us, the only way to live with the pain--there is no cure--is to welcome another dog into our lives. Not as a replacement, mind you. There is no replacement for a lost dog any more than there is a replacement for a lost human being. But a new dog brings new joys and challenges and helps us to stop wallowing in our grief. Magic came into our lives after our traumatic loss of Portia. She is nothing like Portia. She doesn't look anything like Portia looked. She doesn't act like Portia acted. She isn't even all Greyhound. She's a "fuzzy", Greyhound-Scottish Deerhound mix. But as much as I mourn the loss of Portia, I would not have wanted to miss the company of Magic. Happy Birthday, Miss Magic! May you have a long, healthy life!

Bingley Report

Many, many thanks to all who prayed for Bingley or sent good thoughts his way. He is now completely recovered from his gastroenteritis attack. Although frightening, it did not reach the extreme level that it sometimes did in the past. He continued to drink water while he was ill and that made all the difference. We are happy to say that we have our Bingley back.

Bingley's Troubles Return

More than once in this blog, I have discussed Bingley's delicate intestines. Before rescue, he was one of five racing Greyhounds purchased by a compulsive gambler, certain that if he had his own string of dogs, he could make his fortune. The inevitable happened. The gambler ran out of money. He ran out of dog food. Maybe he didn't even bother to give the poor dogs water. When the rescuer from Greyhound Adoption Center opened the dog hauler containing the five dogs, there were three survivors. Bingley was one of them. Shortly after we adopted him, he began to have frightening episodes of hemorrhagic gastroenteritis. If you have never witnessed a full blown attack of hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, take a moment to thank your lucky stars. Bingley's episodes recurred over two months, and we were in great fear of losing him. Ultimately, Dr. Candy Lewis, THE sight hound specialist of San Diego, put him on a prescription diet and "as much liquid Pepto Bismol as he needs". No treats. No exceptions. Since that time, Bingley has been healthy most of the time, but he has good and bad days and, occasionally, he will have an episode. It's been a long time since his last one, but late Thursday night, after waking me to go out, he stomach began the ominous growling and gurgling associated with his intestinal distress. Yesterday was not a good day. But he brightened up a little yesterday evening and has eaten a little today. He hasn't stopped drinking water, which is good. So far, this episode is mild and he seems to be slowly improving. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, say a prayer for our boy, if you are inclined to do so.

Ralphie: In Memoriam

It is with a breaking heart that I typed the title of this post. Ralphie, a wonderful Wired Hair Fox Terrier crossed the Rainbow Bridge early Sunday morning, June 2, 2013, leaving a bereft family and grieving friends. Ralphie was the epitome of the best of his breed: independent of spirit but affectionate, loyal but not cloying, full of the pure joy of life that was infectious when he was in a room. Our heartfelt condolences are extended to his immediate family, Linda, Ryan, Jen, Jason and Brecken. Each of Ralphie's multitude of friends and admirers will have his or her personal memories of him. I had long dreamed of having a Wired Hair Fox Terrier of my own, but my canine choices had taken me in other directions. So I was thrilled to meet Ralphie and get to know him. He didn't disappoint. He embodied the panache that is unique to his breed. Farewell, dear Ralphie. We love to think of you, restored to perfect health, romping and getting into no end of mischief on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

A Dog With A Big Heart

Last year, when Dr. Pearson examined Bingley in preparation for a dental cleaning, she discovered that he had a heart murmur. A canine cardiologist was called for a consultation and it was discovered that Bingley's heart was much enlarged and he had a malfunctioning valve. But his condition was not to the point where medication was recommended. Yesterday, Bingley had a follow-up. The good news is that there has been no change in his condition since last July. But he has a very enlarged heart, an "athlete's heart", and there is slight leakage in the malfunctioning valve. He still does not require medication. Bingley began his racing career when he was still, essentially, a puppy--less than two years old. His high prey drive and love of running helped him win his first race against more seasoned racers, and many races thereafter. But that kind of stress on a still growing system extracts a price, and Bingley is paying that price now. He still loves to run. Every day, he runs circuits around the living room just for the joy of it. He's a big-hearted dog. In every way.

The Importance Of Good Breeding

For those of us of a certain age, "Good Breeding" calls to mind our mothers' admonitions about good posture, prompt thank you notes,and crossing our legs at the ankles rather than at the knees--while keeping our knees together, of course! But this is a dog blog, and happily when we consider "Good Breeding" in dogs, we do not have to think about how far we have fallen from our mothers' expectations. Recently, I stopped by my veterinarian's office for a re-fill of heart-worm preventative. Seated in the waiting room, on her human's lap, was a vision of perfection: an exquisite Papillon--white, with black ears, perky and confident, polite to strangers, but not yippy or assertive. She was the embodiment of the breed standard. Happily, Bingley and Magic were not with me, and I did not have to beat a hasty retreat for fear of their making a light snack of this little darling. So I was able to discover that she was bred by a local breeder who truly loves and respects Papillons. This means that he is careful and selective of breeding pairs. He knows not only the physical conformation of prospective parents, but also personality and disposition. He breeds very few litters and selects homes for the resulting puppies with care. I have long been enchanted by Papillons, but had never seen a truly well bred representation of the breed. Like other toy breeds, Papillons have been the victims of gross over-breeding, careless mix breeding and--the ultimate horror--puppy mills. The vet tech who supplied me with all this information offered to give me the breeder's card. I thanked her, but told her that, much as I would adore the company of such a rare creature, I am dedicated to rescue, and I doubt that such a carefully bred and protected puppy would ever find its way into a rescue. When I got home, just out of curiosity, I searched out Papillon rescue on the internet. There is a nation-wide Papillon rescue sponsored by the breed club. And unlike many breed clubs, these dedicated Good Samaritans rescue not only needy Papillons, but also Papillon mixes. Among the forty-three expectant faces posted on their site were numerous "pure bred" Papillons that were cute and sweet, but obviously the product of ignorant or callous breeding. One of the "Happy Tails" was about the successful placement of a senior female whose life before rescue had been bounded by a small cage in a puppy mill, producing litter after litter of the sort of puppies who, themselves, had required rescue. And then there were the mixes. Why do people think that it's a good idea to breed two "cute little" dogs, regardless of their individual breeds? And some of these mixes weren't all that little--which speaks of still another form of neglect. In light of the desperate circumstances of millions of homeless dogs, many people involved in rescue are opposed to all planned dog breeding. The reasoning is that the over-breeding of dogs is so out of control and causes so much canine misery, no dog should be purchased. All dogs should be rescued. I understand that impulse. But, even though I will never again purchase a puppy from a breeder, I am glad that there are careful, responsible breeders who maintain the wonderful diversity of all the dog breeds we enjoy. The world would be a bleaker place without well bred Papillons, and German Shepherd Dogs and Pembroke Welsh Corgis and on and on. Furthermore, rescue is not for everyone at every time in their lives. Buying a pure-bred puppy from a responsible breeder offers a much more predictable canine companion than adopting a dog from a rescue or shelter. That's a fact that needs to be recognized. At this time in our lives, John and I have chosen rescue. But I am glad that there are careful, responsible breeders, who love dogs enough to perpetuate the breeds that make all our lives richer.

Happy, Happy Day!

Five years ago today, John and I took Portia back to the kennel at Greyhound Adoption Center to select a playmate for her. We came home with Bingley. We were not to know that in less than eighteen months, Portia would die from a massive wound sustained in an attack by an unsocialized, off-leash dog. Bingley was also injured in the same attack. But he survived, and, now, he he setting new longevity records for our rescued dogs. Happy Gotcha Day, Bingley! A sweeter tempered dog never drew breath. Our only wish today is that we could have you with us for another five years.

A Cautionary Tale

The phone rang at about 6:30 this morning. A call at that time rarely brings a message of comfort and joy. Sure enough. A very small dog, Toffee, who is the companion of very good friends was vomiting blood and my friend needed to know the location of the emergency vet closest to her home. My identification with the situation was immediate and total. We came very close to losing Bingley shortly after we adopted him, when he developed a severe case of hemorrhagic gastro-enteritis. If you've witnessed that particular canine affliction first hand, I don't have to describe it. If you haven't, I'll spare you details but assure you that it is something you really want to miss. I just talked to Toffee's human and things are now under control and we can hope for a complete recovery. But in considering what might have triggered the episode, it was remembered that Toffee had been exposed to some new treats and novel foods. When I heard this, I thought, "Bingo!" It has become fashionable to feed dogs the way we feed children: offering them variety and "taste adventures." Toffee's guardians hadn't done that, but a hostess they were visiting had. Nearly all dogs respond to novel foods--and even non-foods--with enthusiasm. But for a certain number of dogs,novel food can lead to life threatening misery. Their systems cannot adapt to change and the intestinal track becomes irritated. In extreme cases such as Bingley's, the entire track becomes an open sore. So go easy on any dietary change for your dog. The most wholesome treat for one dog might spell an emergency vet's visit for another. And in case I haven't scared you enough, just a day or two ago, I read about another recall of dog treats that are imported from China. I can't remember the brand, but it was from a well-known company. The only reason I didn't pay attention is that my dogs eat only the prescription dog food that Bingley can tolerate, so I wasn't worried about them. Sometimes sameness has its benefits.

Glitch

The road to recovery has not been easy for Bingley. Early this week, he became reluctant to use his left front paw. We couldn't find any sign of trauma, and he didn't react when we examined it, but he would not put weight on it. So, today, it was back to Dr. Pearson. It's always heart-stopping when a Greyhound limps or refuses to use a paw. The specter of osteo-sarcoma is ever present. Happily, Bingley's x-rays were clear, so Dr. Pearson is hypothesizing a soft tissue injury. John is pretty sure Bingley did the damage running circuits around the living room. The two hardest things to get a Greyhound to do are 1) Stay off sofas. (We don't even try) and 2) Not run. Up to this time, we haven't really tried to stop him, but this is getting old and vet bills are piling up. Dr. Pearson has ordered rest for Bingley. I know he will happily comply about 97% of the time. It's what he does during the other 3% that concerns me.

Approaching Normal

The Saga of Bingley's toe has been ongoing since just after Thanksgiving. He continues to improve, use his left front paw more and more. We have taken two complete walks, and although he clearly tires before we get home, he really, really wants to climb the hill. Today I thought I'd give it a rest, and he was very reluctant to turn around and come home early. He's still in an e-collar and a very unhappy camper, indeed. But he will not leave the last sore alone, and when he works on it, he postpones his ultimate freedom. I know there is a life lesson in that for all of us, but I won't delve into it. Anyway, he looks at me sorrowfully when I replace the collar, and I earnestly explain that if he wants to be free of it, he must leave that sore alone. Unhappily, there is a failure to communicate despite our mutual earnestness. We are also on our last bottle of Keflex. But long days of pill delivery have taken their toll on Bingley's willingness to swallow pills wrapped in dog food. He has always been so good, so trusting. But yesterday morning, he refused to take his pills. So now we are left with "pilling", a process neither he nor I like: prying open his jaws, sticking the pill at the back of this throat, and holding his mouth closed until he swallows. Life could get more complicated, even after Keflex is a memory, because Bingley requires Soloxine every morning and evening to treat his thyroid deficiency. Perhaps when faced with only a tiny pill in a lump of dog food, he will change his mind? One hopes.

Progress!

We just returned from having Bingley's stitches removed. Dr.Pearson was smiling when she told me that Bingley was doing very well and she was very pleased. Great news. And we can stop putting baggies on him whenever he goes outside. However, we have two more weeks of Keflex--open another large bottle of Pepto,please--and who knows how long with the e-collar. Bingley is now using his left front paw quite regularly and I imagine it won't be long before he feels as confident with it as he did before this long process began.

Bingley Report III

Tomorrow, it will be one week since Bingley's surgery. We are very encouraged with the progress he has made in that time. After his bandage was removed on Wednesday, his paw was bleeding from multiple sores and it sported a fresh incision with blood incrusted stitches surrounded by bruising. In spite of the fact that we have yet to go a full day without his finding a way to adjust his collar so that he can lick one of his wounds, the healing has been swift and remarkable. His incision looks very clean and there is little swelling left. The large, deep sore is actually closing slowly. Today, he is experimenting with putting weight on the paw. I'm guessing that within the week, he will be walking on it. As Mike Dougherty of Windsong has told me repeatedly, "Bingley is one tough dog.

Bingley Report II

Bingley is now "resting comfortably", I believe is the standard phrase. We have a new regimen of meds, and it looks as if the bandage will have to come off Wednesday, so the healing will require constant monitoring. But otherwise, the bandage sores will become a serious problem and might compromise the surgical healing. Thank you to everyone who expressed concern and offered prayers and good thoughts. This evening, John and I are very relieved.

Bingley Report

Bingley is out of surgery and in recovery. The next few hours will be important while his system clears of anesthesia, but so far, so good. We are inching toward feeling relieved and waiting for the call to let us know he is ready to come home. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. All paws crossed.

Week Four: This Is The Week That Was

I have been marking off the weeks since Bingley broke his toe. Seven more weeks till normal. Six more weeks till normal. Today, I expected to say, Four more weeks till normal. But instead, we're looking at a New Normal--ominous words. Tuesday, when Bingley went in for a bandage change, he came out with no bandage, no splint. In spite of keeping the bandage absolutely dry, he had developed numerous sores under the bandage. To complicate matters, even the most gentle tape--paper tape--peels off the tissue thin skin that covers his ankle and paw. I brought home a dog with a paw bleeding from multiple sores, and a new medication in powder form to be applied twice a day--AND--the old nemesis of all Greyhound guardians--the e-collar. Show me a Greyhound guardian with any length of experience with the breed and I will show you a person with a collection of failed collars that their sleek canine companion has outwitted, resulting in the serious compromising of healing injuries or surgical incisions. Standard issue e-collars are designed proportionally. The longer the collar, the wider the neck. I'm guessing that the circumference of a Greyhound's neck is not much larger than that of a Miniature Poodle. AND, their heads narrow from ear to nose. That in combination with thin skin, short, fine fur, and no body fat, and you have a recipe for long, complicated recovery. It was no time at all before John and I concluded that Bingley could not be left alone for any extended time. I figured, four more weeks of this drill. HOWEVER, when we returned yesterday for an evaluation of Bingley's progress, having at least staunched the bleeding of his wounds, we were faced with another unwelcome development. An x-ray revealed that no healing had occurred to the broken bone. Poor Bingley had suffered all pain and no gain. This sad situation confronted us with an option of Plan B and Plan C--or I think, more accurately, Plan C and Plan D. (Plan A was splint and bandage. Plan B was Open Wound Healing) Plan C was an attempt at pinning or plating the toe in an intricate piece of canine orthopedic surgery, which involved extended time of recovery, including extensive bandaging and anti-biotics. (I am sparing you, dear reader, the details of the impact of anti-biotics on Bingley's sensitive digestive/elimination system.) Plan D was amputation of the little toe, which promises a speedier recovery time and restoration of the use of the paw.

Bandages and anti-biotics are still in the picture, but for a shorter period of time. It was a painful decision. We consulted with our Greyhound adviser. One of the advantages to adopting a Greyhound through a well organized, cautious rescue is that you are assigned an old Greyhound hand to help you through just this sort of problem. After considering all factors, we have decided on amputation of Bingley's little toe on his left front paw. Prognosis is excellent. The risk of general anesthesia to a Greyhound is always a factor, but the surgery we have chosen is briefer than the other surgery, so we are minimizing that risk as much as possible. The surgery is scheduled for shortly after 7am Pacific Time. If you are so inclined, whisper a prayer for our beloved Bingley, Dr. Pearson, and assisting vet techs. All paws crossed.

Week One

Having dogs in one's home is much like having toddlers--especially with dogs like Bingley who enjoy toys and leave them scattered all over the living room and dining room floors. But, when a dog is sick or injured, the concept of dog as very young child can rise to a whole new level. It's always a little stunning to come home from the vet's with a dog woozy from sedation and a little bag full of medications to be given in precisely the proper amount at the proper times. For example, Bingley has a liquid anti-inflammatory that must be extracted from the bottle via syringe, with markings for weight on its side. Mastering how the top of this bottle opens was a challenge. But, after a few days, I have learned the drill and Bingley is receiving his anti-inflammatory in the proper amount at the proper time. "Bagging" his bandage for walks was another matter. I assumed (wrongly) that rain was the only moisture that required his bandage to be bagged in order to keep it dry. But, evidently, just walking on damp grass compromises the bandage's proper degree of dryness. This was discovered when his first bandage was changed on Saturday. But--bless my wonderful vet's team--Bingley was outfitted with a super strong plastic bag, complete with torn panty-hose tie, which he now sports every time he sticks his nose out of doors. It was also discovered that he had not been put on an anti-biotic, so that was rectified. And, with Bingley's delicate tummy, you can imagine the result. Diarrhea! I'm being generous with the Pepto, but it's very touch and go--mostly go. At 1:45 this morning, Bingley woke me up with a pleading whimper. I staggered around, pulled a long coat over my nighty, bagged his bandage, hooked up his harness and leash and discovered, yes, indeed, he was desperate. When we returned, Miss Magic was awake and made it clear that she, too, had to be walked. I really worked on trying to be grateful that my dogs let me know their needs rather than just relieving themselves in the house. The complication is that the recent rains have made the backyard a mud flat and I cannot let Bingley out there because I can't clean off his paws when he is lacking one paw to balance himself. Today, rain is predicted, but later in the week, we are supposed to start a sunny, dry period. Hope, hope hope. I'm marking off the weeks. Two weeks of anti-biotic. Seven more weeks of splint, bandage and bagging. As my research adviser kept reminding me when I was designing, running the study, and writing my dissertation, "This is a finite process." I keep reminding myself of that.