Prophet’s Tears at the Vet

It’s been a while since ol’ Proph has had an adventure–knock on wood.  Oops! Forgot that knock before we went to the vet this week. He was due for a Bordetella vaccine. This is the medicine you should give your dog if he or she plays in doggie day camp, goes to dog parks, or otherwise comes in contact with lots of canine friends.

photo of Prophet gets Bordetella Vaccine

“This won’t hurt a bit.”

Bordetella vaccine, in fancy terms, is something given in either a shot at the scruff of the neck or a squeeze of medicine up your dog’s nose to prevent infectious tracheobronchitis, or kennel cough.  I think the vaccine is like the flu shot, only for dogs and cats. No biggie, right?

Well, just as with any doctor visit, our first stop was the scales. Whoops!  Prophet–given his restriction on exercise last spring and my subsequent recognition of time savings and gas conservation in not going to Chatfield daily–had gained a little weight. Make that gained A LOT of weight. Nine pounds!  He’s up to 118 pounds of joy for him and guilt for me. Yuck!  No wonder I’ve been hearing so many “he sure is a big dog” comments lately.  I thought people were saying he’s generally tall, dark, and handsome.

photo of Dr. Weber with Prophet

“Okay, I’ve been a good dog–now where are the treats?” Prophet chats with Dr. Weber

Then there is the scardy-cat syndrome (sorry Nalla).  Prophet cried and cried–like a baby!  We were shown into the examination room.  Cried and scratched at the door to get out (smart dog). Then Katie, who’s training to be a vet tech, came in to generally get the low-down on “what’s wrong.” Prophet whined a little, but licked a lot. Luckily, Katie has a St. Bernard and knows what slobbery kisses are all about.

photo of Katie gets a dog kiss--eew!

“I’ll get even–I’ll give you a kiss!” – Katie & Prophet

I told Katie about a little lump that hasn’t gone away on Prophet’s side. She looked, and there it was. Prophet cried.

Then Dr. Weber came in.  Have I told you how much I like the doctors at my vet?  Dr. Weber is sweet with the pets, clear with instructions and information, and level-headed with the don’t hit the panic button kind of attitude.  She took a look at Prophet and found the weight a problem (“but as he ages, his metabolism will slow down”), the lump, and a build-up of wax in his right ear. Lucky me, I got to see the wax she pulled out–let’s leave the description for now, right?

photo of Katie examines Prophet

“You have my heart, but I’m still going to cry.” Katie checks Prophet’s heartbeat.

Throughout the examination, Prophet cried. Temperature taken? Cry. Check. Pelvic check? Good. Cry. Ear wax excavation? Cry. Done.

Surprisingly, when they withdrew a sample from the lump, Proph didn’t seem bothered at all. Dr. Weber took the “goodies”–the ear wax sample and goop from the lump back to examine for problems.

Prophet and I were left alone in the room.  Then it hit me. He cried for everything else, but not the lump.  Was that a good sign or a really bad sign?  Dr. Weber had said that lumps can mean any number of things–infections, benign cysts, or the big C–cancer.  Was the anomaly of Prophet’s stoicism in the withdrawal of lump goop a warning sign?  Was his ear infected? Was the weight gain going to cause a heart attack while we sat in the examination room, smelling of dog? I made a show of brushing off the mounds of dog shedding on my pants, just so that I’d have something to do while I worried.

photo of Prophet hiding from the vet

“Think they’ll see me? I am so small..I am so small…”

Luckily, in a very short time, Dr. Weber came back in with the all-clear sign, instructions to wash out Prophet’s ears a couple of times a week, and some additional vitamins for Nalla. Whew!

Seems with Prophet, there’s never a dull moment.

And I’ll keep Dr. Weber’s advice in mind. If your pet develops a lump, come in and get it checked out.  Save yourself some worry. If the lump is big, bothersome or infected, your vet can let you know to either watch it or have them cut off. Same goes for skin tags – elongated, wart-like skin protrusions. Dogs. You gotta love them–and take care of them.

I’m off to go hide the treats!

Heartfelt Doggie Portraits

I love it when people connect with me because of this blog.  Thank you to everyone who reads a post here and decides to follow me.  What an honor.

So now I need to slip into past tense.  A couple of weeks ago, someone from Littleton decided to follow this blog.  I went to Shaina Zimmerman’s Rescued Rover blog to find out a little more about her. What a wonderful surprise!  Shaina takes pet portraits as a sideline to her work as a veterinary assistant and student at Red Rocks.  Her blog is filled with beautiful work.  I knew I had to find out more about this woman, so I contacted her and she agreed to talk with me by phone.

Rescued Rover-Versailles at Coyote Song Trail

Shaina’s 3-year old shepherd, Versailles at Coyote Song Trail, Littleton

Shaina started loving pets at an early age and said, “I was the kid who would find a stray and catch it and bring it home. My parents didn’t seem to mind.  They always had four or five dogs at a time around.”

At seventeen, Shaina got a dog of her own, not shared with the rest of the family, and she was hooked for life.

“I can read them (dogs) easily,” said Shaina, “and I really enjoy them.  I volunteered at some shelters, and then worked at pet care places and doggie day camps.  I like to work with aggressive dogs particularly.  I like to rehabilitate them, giving them lots of love and treats.  If I can socialize them, it gives them a second chance in life.”

An old boss of Shaina’s introduced her to photography and a new love took off.  She is mostly self-taught in her skills, but you wouldn’t know it. She said she fell head over heels in love with the different lenses she now uses to snap her beautiful pet portraits ($100 per session, $25 of which is donated to her favorite charity, Outpaws Animal Rescue).

Rescued Rover - Bailey the Lab

Shaina’s Lab, Bailey, 5, keeps her smiling.

Some of Shaina’s photography time is spent taking portraits of the dogs and cats at Outpaws. This organization is a completely foster-based center, which means they try to keep dogs until a good home can be found. Their mission statement reads, in part:

“OutPaws places companion animals in foster homes until they can be matched with loving forever homes, educates the community about responsible pet ownership, advocates tirelessly for the best alternatives for both homeless animals and beloved pets and remains committed to fighting pet homelessness until every adoptable dog and cat has a home.”

One of the challenges for this not-for-profit organization, is getting adoptions up.  Many of the photos taken of the dogs in the past were dark, blurry, or taken spur of the moment, without great lighting or time.  Shaina said she’s trying to help here, too.

“All they have to promote their adoptions is their website, so taking good pictures of available dogs and cats is huge for them,” said Shaina.

I congratulated this young person for all the energy and love she gives to the pet community, and she replied, “I only wish I could do more.”

Amazing.

Wishing you a day full of good doggie stories, great friendship, and the positive energy that Shaina brings to our world.

A Tail’s End

It all started with the discovery of small bits of blood on my walls.

Hmm. How did that get there? Guess somebody in our house had an ow-ie. For once we had no drama to go with it. I counted my lucky stars, wiped up the dots, and went on with life.

Then came a little chewing. Prophet has always chews on himself–guess that’s entertaining for a dog riddled with allergies. We’ll be watching television and he starts in–chew, chew, chew, lick, lick, lick. That sound–the click, click of teeth on fur, and slurpy, desperate noises as his tongue laps up his shedding–that sound is indelibly burned into my memory banks. Hollywood should come record my dog doing this. Add a few dog licking sounds to any torture scene and you have real entertainment–rated Y for yucky.

“Stop that!” I shouted with all the love in my heart. Prophet got up and walked away. More dots. Hmm.

Finally, I caught him in the act. Proph was actually chewing the tip of his tail! And, he managed to make it bleed. Oh happy day. Add a trip to the vet before sending him off to PetSmart so my good guy and I could enjoy a weekend away. I took him in.

Sure enough, a hundred and some dollars and a funky looking band-aid later, we had a dog with an infection on his tail and a scramble for a pet-sitter for the weekend. Petsmart doesn’t take in pets with band aids. Who knew?

A week or two later, and all the antibiotics used up, we went back to the vet for the bandage removal. The dog made more fuss getting the thing off than on.

“I’m not sure this is a good sign,” said the vet. “He shouldn’t be in pain any more.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “I love my dog, but he’s a bit of a drama queen. Perhaps the vet tech didn’t say pretty please when she took his tail in hand?”

We did an X-ray. Two or three bones up there was a little crack. Hairline. I could hardly see it. Back on went the band-aid. I wasn’t going to even consider amputating the tail as she suggested.  People heal pretty quickly from broken bones to arms and legs. Surely, Proph’s tail should be better in no time.

Guess the healing angels didn’t hear me. With the anti-biotic used up, Prophet became more and more aware of his broken tail, and he ripped off the second band-aid. Back to the vet for a new one–$37 for an empty syringe and self-adhesive ace wrap.

We had company that night. Prophet was so excited. Our friends brought their dog along. No matter how that other dog tried to set a good example–sitting quietly, staring at his owner with a please-can-we-go-home-now look, laying on his bed with the resignation only a dog can project–Prophet wasn’t buying it.

As the volume of Proph’s barking increased and picking up of shoes and other inappropriate objects became a hopeless invitation to play, I kept wondering where my well-behaved middle-aged dog had gone, and who was this exuberant little kid before me? Into the kennel he had to go. At last he settled down and we could enjoy our company.

A dog's band aid

Remnants of a tail wrap, number four–or was that five?

Later, we let Proph out, but the band-aid stayed behind. Goodness! No way were we going to go to an emergency vet to have the thing put back on. Home remedy time. We wrapped up the tail–two, three, four more times in the next day or two.

At last my guy got out the ever-powerful duct tape and wrapped that tail so that it would take a nuclear explosion to get it off. Proph slouched and sagged around a lot, but the band-aid stayed on.

A couple of days later we took the wrap off to change it. But the happy little tail end had turned purple. I cleaned it and the dog didn’t flinch, but he licked open a wound with just one or two swipes of the tongue. Back to the vet.

The tail end comes off

A little shorter, but still a cute tail, don’t you think?

“It’s dead,” she said. “No, it’s hard to wrap a tail too tight. You’ve done what you could.”

Times like these, I think of all the Reader’s Digest articles I’ve read where homeowners perform miracles with creatures that no vet will touch. Love, band aids and voila! Healthy pets and wild critters emerge from these times.  Not so with poor Proph.

We took him

in one more time. Snip, snip and five inches of tail were gone. But gone is the chewing as well. He’s smiling again, even from within the “collar of shame.”

Prophet in the collar of shame

Peek-a-boo! I’ll be busting outta this contraption any day. Watch out, tail!

Oh! That collar? It’s on because when the vet took the operation band-aid off, Prophet managed to lick off two stitches  while we were in the reception area making the next appointment!  His tail had been healing nicely. It’s back in a band-aid. Maybe next week we’ll get back to normal.

Until then, lick, lick, lick will be ever in my brain next to the wree, wree, wree of the shower scene from Psycho.