Category Archives: Dogs

Out of the Salt Mines and On to the Treadmill

Imbolc                                                                 Valentine Moon

Well, I’m close, but not finished.  As the books got shelved, the remaining space seems to be inadequate for what I have left.  Probably a way around it, I’ll find it tomorrow.  Right now.  Tired again.

(a salt mine cathedral in Colombia outside Bogota.  I visited in 1987.)

Just brought in more bags of feed for the animals.  40 pounds at a time.  Then salt for the water softener, 50 pounds a bag.  But.  They have nice plastic handles.  Working in the salt mines doesn’t mean what it used to.

Discovered that my glucometer needed calibration.  Once calibrated it told me a story I was glad to hear.  At least by today’s reading my low carb diet has lowered my blood glucose level.  And, I’ve lost a bit of weight, too.  All in all a good thing.  Though Kate, a carb lover of some note, has expressed some dissatisfaction.  No pasta, no breads, no cakes or pies.  We’re figuring out now how to add carbs back into her diet without creating a cook two meals at a time situation.  We’ll figure it out.

Right now I’m getting on the treadmill.  Which, for that matter, doesn’t mean what it used to either.

This is a Landice treadmill, the brand and model I’m about get on.

 

Gertie Update

Imbolc                                                          New (Valentine) Moon

Gertie has become funnel dog again, wearing the E-collar, E for Elizabethan.  The plastic cone used by vets to stop the obsessive licking dogs get into when they have wounds.  And Gertie has many.

Her tail wags today.  She eats well.  She moves better.  Her resiliency amazes me.  She’s a strong little dog.

The Next Day: Gertie

Imbolc                                                                     New (Valentine) Moon

Gertie whimpered much of the night, resting her head near Kate’s, her bed on the floor next to ours.  She got up this morning and, in the way of dogs, Vega tried to play with her.  Gertie was too much in pain to respond.  She will, however, get back to playing with both Vega and Rigel.  The dog world tends not to carry grudges.  They are, in many ways, our moral superiors.

This morning we tried to get her back in the bedroom, but she wanted to go outside through the front door.  That’s where we let her out after her ACL surgery.  She’s in pain; so, she goes out the front door.  Only problem is our front door has a broken lock and we’ve not gotten it fixed yet.  So Gertie stands in front of the door, waiting for me to open it.

After finally convincing her to go out the back door, she wanders around a bit, slowly, then returns to the inside and, after several ginger repositionings, plops herself down in her crate.  That’s her home and her refuge.  She feels safe there.  I imagine she’ll sleep much of the morning.

We have hypotheses but no definite proof about how she ripped her right canine free from her jaw.  This is a tooth that goes up into the bony structure of the face as far as it extends outward.  It’s made for tearing, pulling, fighting.  It’s designed, in other words, for stress.  What kind of event could wrench it out of its forever home, and cleanly at that, we’ll probably never know.  But it must have been something.

Gertie

Imbolc                                                                       Cold Moon

Went upstairs.  Heard sounds of a scrap outside.  Opened the sliding doors to the back.  Vega and Rigel had Gertie on the ground, tearing into her with vicious abandon.  Though I know better, I waded in bellowing and got them all separated.

Gertie had multiple lacerations, a tummy wound bleeding in large, red blots and her right upper canine stood horizontal to her jaw.   After crating Vega and Rigel to calm things down, I found Gertie’s most serious wound, staunched it with a towel which I had to secure with a dog leash wrapped round her middle and proceeded to check her for other injuries.

There were several.  Kate was on the way home from a day of sewing.  I cleaned up the floor.  It looked like an abattoir.  When Kate got home (we only have one vehicle now), we took Gertie to the emergency vet.  This was around 5 pm.  We just got back and it’s now 10 pm.

She’s got a cross the heart bandage, several drains, no more right canine.  It slid right out.  We have it in a blue pill bottle.  Antibiotics.  E-collar.  Pain meds.  The usual drill.  We’ve been through dog trauma many times.  It passes.

She’s groggy, but in good spirits.  She’s a sweet girl, but damn she’s expensive.

A Productive Day

Winter                                                                          Cold Moon

Kate spent the day at a sewing retreat.  All day.  From 9 am to 9 pm.  She came home exhausted, achy and smiling.  “I got a lot of work done.”  That’s Kate for I had a really good day.

Meanwhile I worked upstairs reading the Eddas and editing my presentation for Groveland tomorrow.  The dogs tend to get a bit rowdy if one of us isn’t upstairs with them.  With Kate gone, that needed to be me.

We did our dance together, the dogs and me’ I napped and worked out.  Watched a TV series on Netflix.  A laid back but productive day for me, too.

I have posted a link to Living in Season here.  It’s yet another segment in my continuing work on reimagining faith.  This one focuses on developing a pagan liturgical year.

Lalalalala

Samhain                                                    Moon of the Winter Solstice

Earlier this summer I went outside and found holes dug under the orchard fence.  Vega and Rigel had figured out a new way inside.  Once in they dug up the earth around three of our apple trees, in one case exposing about half the close in root system to the air.  When I saw this latest breach of our attempts to lead two live, dog owners and gardeners, I froze.  Something just crumpled.  I couldn’t deal with another one.  Not again.  This was one time too many, the straw…well, you know how it goes.

I told Kate how I felt.  She said she understood since it was the way she had felt the last couple of years working for Allina.  That got me.  What I experienced was almost disgust, a visceral abhorrence and she had felt that toward her employers.  Wow.

Later on, after the feeling waned, I once again repaired the breach, came up with a new system of entrance denial, which Vega and Rigel promptly conquered.  So, I went at it again, then winter came.  We’re on hiatus now till spring with the ground frozen.

When I flipped on NPR today, as I drove over the pharmacy to pick up my drugs, there was a debate beginning on gun control.  When I heard the opposing arguments, I had that same reaction.  Disgust.  Ultimate weariness.  A not again feeling.  I turned it off immediately.  This is not the first time I’ve had this feeling about political discourse.

Each time I have it I turn off the radio, put down the newspaper.  Put my fingers in my ears and go lalalalalala.  Then, I think about all the years when I didn’t react like this.  When, instead, I joined with others of like mind and took political action.

Each time I turn my head away from a political debate, I feel a frisson of guilt.  If folks like me don’t stand up, then who will?  And, the only necessity for the advancement of evil is for good men to do nothing.  I know this.  I believe it.  I even realize the self-righteousness trap in this logic and know it must not defeat action.  Still, at times, like yesterday, I turn away.

Am I certainly right?  Of course not.  Is my opinion as important and as valid as anyone else’s?  Of course it is.  And I’m not alone.  Yet, at times, my feeling is that the political world has moved past me.  That I’m too old, too short term, too distant, too something to do anything.  At some point, I know, as with Vega and Rigel, I’ll lean in again, listen, parse, perhaps even organize.

Right now though.  It’s lalalalalala all the way.

 

A Bit of Dog Medicine

Samhain                                                        Thanksgiving Moon

Up and out for the dogs this morning.  On the way over I was feeling a bit down, a little tired, didn’t workout last night, generally blahhness.  When I got to the kennel, Eric, the guy that runs the place, told me, “If you could breed these guys and produce all dogs like Vega you’d have a definite new breed.”  He’s right.  Vega’s a sweety, intelligent, just willful enough to be interesting and a dog of true leisure.

Feeling a bit better after that.  Always nice to have an outsider reinforce your own feelings.  Then the dogs came out with handlers.  Jumping, straining at the leashes, wanting to get at me, say hi, lick my face, bump me.  Right then whatever blahs remained drifted away.

On the way back with all four dogs trying to sit in the front seat, I realized what I was missing.  Companionship.  And someone who needed me.  The house is no longer empty.  And neither am I.

Central Dog Time

Samhain                                                      New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Kate introduced a new bit of nomenclature into our household:  Central Dog Time or CDT.  Dogs are creatures of habit, especially when it concerns getting up, going to bed and eating.

So are we, come to think of it.  Skype calls with my far-ranging sibs prove that point.  In order to connect on Riyadh time, 5:00 pm and Singapore time, 10:00 pm, I have to initiate our twice a month calls at 9:00 am Andover time.  Last week I came downstairs, fired up Skype and neither Mary nor Mark were online.  Why?  Because it was 6:00 pm in Riyadh and 11:00 pm in Singapore.  I hadn’t shifted my time back to Standard.

CDT operates on the same principle, but explaining the shifted time is much harder.  In effect the dogs have to be retrained to eat and go to bed an hour later.  Then, do the same thing again, backwards, in the spring.  Well, we decided to run our house on CDT, at least as it comes to canines.  We’re doing things on CDT year round now.  Much simpler for everybody.

 

Friday

Samhain                                                             Fallowturn Moon

Boy, my Latin was not working for me today.  Like I had elephants tugging to keep my thoughts from surfacing.  I failed to go back over it, to check my work.  Over confident, I guess. Anyhow, felt slow, thick.  Not a good feeling.  It does, however, make me want to double down, get more consistent with my work.

Kate’s been gone yesterday and today at a supportive care cme (continuing medical education).  She’s prepping for what we’ll need, hopefully a couple of decades from now.  She wants to renew her medical license when it comes up in three years and she has to have some number, I think 75, of hours of continuing ed to qualify.  Keeps her head in the world of medicine though she’s very happy that her body is out of it.

Gertie continues to improve, bouncing with a three-legged, then a tender fourth legged, gate.  She’s decided to ignore the plastic cone on her head so she just barrels into doors, gates, people, furniture.  This means she’s feeling better and that’s good; it also means she’s cranking her nuisance quotient up a notch.  Not so good.

Rock, then Roll

Fall                                                                  Fallowturn Moon

The way it goes.  Life rumbles along, eggs getting bought and eaten, trash taken out, kisses given, strangers greeted.  Then, a day like today rolls around.

Kate took me into the MIA today so I could attend the first of a day symposium on the Qin dynasty and matters related to its art.  Three great lectures in the morning, another after lunch and a couple of so so ones following Jenny So, the after lunch lecturer.

Concepts, objects, new history all shoved in as fast as a willing brain could absorb it.  And I was willing.  Eager, even.  However the bin gets full, develops what miners call an over burden and the mind says, no more, please not now.

So into the car with Kate to head out to France avenue for a memorial service for Regina Schmidt, Bill Schmidt’s wife.  Woollys and sheepshead folks in the same space.  Bill greeting people with his gracious dignity, pictures and videos going as is the new trend.

Then the service with songs and poems and testimony, a wonderful heartfelt poem by Bill.

All the while wrestling with Kate’s news that Gertie had taken a post-op turn for the worse, feverish and limp.  Kate took her to the vet, they cut off the bandage and she’d developed an infection.  Wind, Water, Wound is the post-op mantra for possibilities of infection.

(Bill and I on Big Island in Lake Minnetonka)

She got a second anti-biotic and Kate brought her home.  She thought about calling me and asking if I could find a ride home to Andover.

So we left after the service, got a bulb syringe to encourage her to drink and some fancy wet dogfood.  She’d not eaten nor drunk water.  Both obvious concerns.

When we got home, she ate all the fancy wet food and, after I syringed several tablespoons of water through her teeth, she drank all on her own.  Her eyes are alert though her temp is still high.  We’ll see, but my guess is she’s turning this thing around.