Tag Archives: pet

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. The occasional bout of insomnia. I usually sleep like a brick, but twice this week I had the opportunity to see 1AM, 2AM, 3AM and then the final alarm at 5AM. Much as I’d like to think I can get by on two hours of sleep a night, you’re safe in assuming that I can’t. It might be ok when it’s a one off, but when it happens back to back, by the second day I’m worse than useless. If there’s a redeeming quality it’s that I generally sleep well the following night. It’s still a hell of a price to pay for a good night’s sleep.

2. Runaways (and the people who let them). Speaking as a dog owner, sometimes they just get way from you. I got it. Once Maggie squeezed through the 1/4 open back window of the truck and bounced off the pavement at a gas station somewhere along the interstate in middle Tennessee. Fortunately, she didn’t make a dash for it. That’s the only time either one of these fuzzballs was ever really in danger of getting away. As it turns out the black lab who made himself in my yard last night belongs to a family two streets over. The lady who lives across the street saw him in the yard after I left this morning and returned him. She said that was the 5th time this summer. I’m not sure why you’d bother to have a dog if you’re not interested enough in them to make sure they don’t wander off in the first place. It seems the first or second time they were returned by someone else these people might get the message. One more example of why I like dogs more than people. It’s a pity such a good looking and sweet pup gets to spend his life with asshats.

3. Motivation. I’m not sure where it went this week – probably the same place my ability to sleep has disappeared to, but wherever it is, it needs to make its way back. I’ve got the proverbial laundry list of things I want to do this weekend and not so much as the first drop of will to get them accomplished. As much fun as a good weekend on the couch sounds, not having anything to show for it will just piss me off come Sunday night.

By George…

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From time to time I’m criticized for not posting enough pictures, stories, or thoughts about George, the Russian tortoise who’s been in residence here for almost two years now. Rest assured that George is alive and well. He’s living in a 100 gallon Rubbermaid tub in the living room, eating a eclectic mix of greens, and spending his days pushing things from one side of his tank to the other. He’s basically doing what a tortoise does. For the record, they’re not a pet I’d recommend for someone looking for an activity partner – unless your preferred activity is basking.

With fall and winter coming on (not that you’d know it from the temperature around here lately), the days for getting him outside to roam around the yard are coming to an end. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to building him a bigger indoor enclosure to replace the three giant blue containers sitting in the corner. I was looking at materials and what others had done online, but really struck on what looks like the future the last time I was wandering around Home Depot. I think the solution might just be the plastic pond liners people use to add water features to their back yards. It’s got high sides, lots of interior space, and should be easy enough to configure into multiple levels to give him room to maneuver. With a little work it also looks like it would be less obtrusive in the room than what I’m using now.

OK, so technically that’s more of an update on what George’s future home is probably going to look like, but hopefully it’s enough to earn some credit for discussing the least mentioned of my 4-legged kids.

Doggone…

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Last night was the first time in over a year that I didn’t have two furry little heathens keeping me company. It felt surprisingly unsettling. Once you’re use to waking up to a cold nose in the middle of your forehead, the buzz-saw like snoring you can hear from three rooms away, and having a couple of shadows following every step, it seems thoroughly unnatural not having them around.

What surprised me most, though, was how much my schedule was influenced by having them around. Morning, afternoon, and night, all my activities are apparently informed by their schedule of meals, needing to go out, and endless toys dropped at my feet. I had no idea how much time they bite out of the day until I showed up at work half an hour early this morning. I ran my normal weekday routine, minus the dog-related stuff, turned off the coffee pot, got in the truck, and drove away not realizing I was way, way early for everything. Feeding, medicating, and then trying to corral everyone back inside apparently takes far more time each morning than I thought it did. I’ve been doing it the same way for so long now that most of it happens on autopilot.

They way I figure it, I have just enough time to adjust to them not being around that it will be a shock to the system when they come home this weekend. Then I’ll get to muddle through a few days of running behind schedule for everything. Even with the expense, hassle, and (apparently) sheer volume if time they consume, I have to admit I like it better when they’re around than I do when they’re not. George is pleasant enough company, but at heart I’m a dog person. As giddy as I am about getting some well-deserved down time this week, I’ll be just as giddy to get back to drool covered floors and tireless barking at the neighbors.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Unpredictability. Being a creature of habit, unpredictability makes me nervous. I don’t like it. I can deal with it, but all things considered, I’d rather not. Summer days, and particularly days that end the week are nothing but unpredictable and will send you from running 1000 miles an hour with your hair on fire to a dead stop without so much as a friendly warning. If I were king for life, I’d set them up to have a nice easy flow leading into the weekend. Yeah, that would suit me nicely, thank you.

2. Gay Pride Whopper. Facebook took note this week of a “gay pride” Whopper wrapper. I’m not sure why it’s a thing, but apparently it is. All I can tell you for sure is that the wrapper doesn’t change whats inside. Set a gay pride burger next to a normal burger and I have a sneaking suspicion no one complaining about the wrapper could tell the difference. Maybe I’m an anomaly, but I don’t care about a company’s politics so much. As long as they’re providing me a product or service I want at a price I consider fair, I say God bless and go support whatever cause your heart desires.

3. Winston. I love the little furry bastard, but for the love of all things good and holy it would be nice if he could stay healthy for more than 7-10 days at a time. More trips to the vet, more shorts, more sprays, more pills, ad infinitum. A middle aged bulldog isn’t so much a force of nature as it is a sucking black hole into which you will throw all manner of money. Bulldog people must be different by nature and temperament, because no sane person would willingly subject themselves to the trials and tribulations of life with a smush-nosed beasties.

Tales of a Sickly Bulldog #487…

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English bulldogs are freaks of nature. I mean that in the nicest way possible, but the fact remains that anatomically they’re a creation that would not exist in nature. That’s what makes them endearing to “bulldog people,” but it’s also what makes them prone to all manner of genetic illness.

Currently, my Winston is battling another skin infection. That’s nothing unusual. Bulldogs seem born with skin problems that only get worse as they age. At nearly seven, my boy isn’t a youngster by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve been dealing with skin troubles with him since he was 2. The challenge this time is that the bacteria causing the infection has progressively gotten more resistant to typical antibiotic treatments. In fact we’re basically down to the last one that the vet considers reasonably “safe.” Beyond minocycline there are two others we could have used, but their side effects in dogs are generally worse than what they cure. Other options include a couple of daily IV therapies, but those have the unfortunate side effect of destroying the kidneys while they save the skin. That didn’t sound like a worthwhile trade off.

The long term prognosis for Winston fighting off this particular infection is officially “We’ll see how things look after he’s run the full three week course of antibiotics.” That’s not what I wanted to hear, but if there’s anything I appreciate in a vet it’s giving me an unpleasant truth head on and then working into what options are left from there.

Winston has come through infections before, he’s come back better than I could have hoped from leg surgery, he even fought off a MRSI about 18 months ago. I also know each infection and operation and round of meds take their toll. I’m not ready to start thinking about the decisions I’ll need to make if the options box dwindles down to medicine-induced kidney failure or an infection that will slowly spread across every inch of his skin and make him miserable in the process. We’re not there yet, but the vet’s Very Serious Voice on the phone this afternoon told me that we’re not as far off from there as I’d like to be.

All I can really say as we sit and wait is that I’m determined he’s not going to be left to suffer out of my own misguided desire to keep him around forever. But we’re not there yet and I’ll just have to burn that bridge when we get to it.

Hello, George…

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We all know I like animals way more than I like most people. If money were no object, there’s a pretty good chance that I’d be living on 500 acres surrounded by a herd so varied as to make Noah himself blush with shame. As it is, I’ve decided to add a 3rd mouth to my brood.

photo (8) George is a Russian Tortoise and from what I’ve been able to gather from research, his shell size indicates he’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 4-5 years old. Conveniently, he’s an herbivore who favors the same dark greens that I like in my own salads (translation: feeding means picking up an extra bag of spring mix and mustard greens when I go grocery shopping. He doesn’t do ant tricks, or really do much of anything other than hang out under his heat lamp and look like a tortoise. That’s about as low maintenance as you can get in an animal.

Before you decided to leave any smartassed comments, remember there’s every likelihood that George will outlive me, so one of you suckers might just end up with him camped out at your house one day. Talk about things you never worry about when picking out a puppy.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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By this time on Thursday, I like to imagine the internet is clamoring to know what annoys me this week. As much as I would have been happy not sitting here at the table dredging through my head for the stuff that I forgot to write down for the last six days, I’d feel bad disappointing the two or three of you who always notice when I don’t get around to posting. So since you’re already here, here’s what annoys Jeff this week…

1. Lack of proper planning. I was off today because I live 40 minutes from work and the vet I needed to go see has an office 30 minutes in the opposite direction. Adding at least an hour to my commute and then only working for a couple of hours seemed like a patently bad idea. What I didn’t take into account when I took the day off is that tomorrow is the Friday before a three day weekend. Why on earth I didn’t think of that in advance and go ahead and make this a five-day-weekend is simply beyond me. I feel a little bit like I failed somehow.

2. Parking lot walkers. The people who walk (slowly) two abreast down the dead center of the travel lane in a big box store parking lot. Either walk like you have something to do, develop some kind of awareness of your surroundings, or don’t act surprised and indignant when I sneak up on you in my 5,250 pound red pick up truck and lay on the horn three feet from your fat asses. On a positive note, I’m grudgingly impressed with how fast you two can move when you’re given the proper motivation. Keep up the good work.

3. On leash walks. It’s great that Winston is feeling better and is healing well. It sucks that his three no-more-than-five-minute bathroom breaks per day are now supposed to be 10-15 minute walks across as many different kinds of flora and fauna as I have available. The walking itself isn’t so much the issue. It’s the fact that when two of those walks are supposed to take place (before work and before bed) it’s pitch effing black here in the backwoods of Ceciltucky. Yeah, this guy is going to be real thrilled tomorrow to be schlepping around the yard for 15 minutes an hour before the crack of dawn tomorrow… and every day for the next two months.

In summary, that is what annoys Jeff this week. Thank you for your attention.

Gotta new game…

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Aside from his tendency to rack up monumental vet bills, Winston is pretty much the most awesome, laid back dog ever. By that I mean he’s mostly happy just laying around and keeping an eye on things. I’m lucky that my lab seems to have taken on that personality trait as well. The current issue with Winston isn’t medical (surprisingly) – It’s that for the last two weeks he’s learned to enjoy a new morning game.

As close as I can tell, the rules of the game are simple. In the morning, as close to the time I need to leave for work as possible, Winston will run to the far end of the yard and lay down against the fence. No amount of calling, coaxing, scolding, or attempted bribery will convince him to move from his spot. The game only continues when I schlep off the deck, around the house, and 75 yards across the wet lawn and give him a gentle nudge. This is the point where the game gets fun, because that’s when Winston decides he’s going to growl at, chase, and attempt to chew on my shoes – all while I try not to either trip myself or kick him in the face. The game ends when we get back to the deck when he stands at the door waiting to go inside to get a drink. After the drink he’s ready to settled in for the day with his Kong.

It’s possible that this activity is more fun for him than it is for me. It’s a strange thing living with dogs. It’s a good thing they’re incredibly endearing to some part of our big human brain, otherwise no one would put up with the fuzzy little hoodlums living in their home.

Destructo…

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What the hell is it about dogs that gives them desire to destroy anything at eye level? I mean you send the little bastards to school and they eat the books… Or in this case the better part of a kitchen chair. In a room full of items they’re supposed to chew on like nylabones, squeaky ducks, rope knots, and a bevy of other things in assorted peanut butter, liver, and chicken flavors, why go after the large wooden object that I can only assume tastes like wood? For the most part Destructo has been reasonably well mannered (except for the ongoing obsession with hands), but after Sunday’s little exercise in woodworking, I’ve had to clip his wings. Being at the top of the food chain, sometimes I really wonder why we tolerate animals living in the house.

Better than me…

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Well, we can add another item to the list of things a hick from the sticks of Western Maryland never thought he would be doing. I just bought pet insurance for Winston. At $480 a year and a 70% reimbursement, this shit is actually better than my own insurance from Uncle. With medical care for pets coming close to what we provide to humans, insurance just seemed to make sense. My vet has access to an MRI… so you know she’s gonna order a few runs through that to take care of the overhead expenses. The good news is that all of the major bulldog hereditary diseases are covered by this policy and since they tend to be sick little buggers over their lifetime, a few dollars invested up front seemed to be a good idea… Yes April, I know I could have found a less problematic dog, but bullies are just so damned cute!

Now if I can just get off my duff and start interviewing cleaning services, I’ll feel about half squared away.