A boy and his dog

My friend Steve's beloved golden retriever, Professor Jiggs, died in the wee hours of the morning today. He was a grand old dog of 13 years. He breathed his last lying next to his best pal and constant companion.

You can read Steve's tribute on his blog.

When Jiggs entered Steve's life in 1996 a transformation began. Steve, a fastidious and, some might say (but I never would), obsessive complusive neat-freak, saw his lifestyle markedly changed by that golden puppy. I think in many ways Steve's priorities shifted that day Jiggs entered his life. He became more carefree and more spontaneous. He may beg to differ, but this is what I saw - the before and after.

Isn't it amazing that dogs can impact our lives so? The motto of this blog is: Dogs are not are whole lives, but they make our lives whole. They truly do.

Rest in peace, Professor. You led a long and glorious life and brought many smiles to all of us. Find comfort in your memories, Steve. You always did right by Jiggs and gave him a life to be envied.

To everyone else...hug your dog today and say "thank you."

Snug as a bug

For the first time since Gracie's knee injury in April, she was able to sleep in bed with me last night. I woke up in the middle of the night in that familar "spoon" - Gracie's butt in my face and the rest of her long body stretched out along side mine. It made me smile.

When we first went to bed she laid quietly beside me for a few minutes and then jumped down. She was in the living room for several minutes and then wandered back into the bedroom with her Pig. With Pig in bed with us, all was perfect for a goodnight's sleep.

To catch a fly

Gracie is my fly-catcher. She excels at hunting down the intruder and making it pay for its misdirected flight into the house. It's one of the few activities that actually holds her attention for more than 10 minutes.

Several months ago, when Gracie first tore her ACL, we were at the vet's office in Portland waiting for the official verdict. Gracie, who was limited to three good legs, laid on the floor between my sister and me. My sister said "oh, a fly." Gracie was calmly looked up and as the fly zipped past her, she nipped it in mid-flight. Such is her proficiency in fly-catching.

There are some days when I purposely let a fly in the house, just to provide a challenge for Gracie. Gee, I hope the People for the Ethical Treatment of Flies don't find out.

Minto Dog is back!

For the second Sunday in a row, Gracie and I have enjoyed a short (and leashed) walked at the Minto Brown dog park. It feels good to be back at our old stomping grounds. There have been some changes since that fateful day in April - our last visit. The parking lot is bigger...much bigger. (However, it still irks me that bikers and runners use that lot for parking when there are two other perfectly fine parking lots for them to use.) A water sharing program seems to have been instituted. Several large jugs of water sit out on a picnic table for community use. A few years ago a thought group of high school kids build some wooden watering stations and positioned them around the walking path. The wooden structures held four or five gallon jugs of water and a couple of dishes. They were perfectly placed for the dogs to grab a drink. It was really nice on those warmer days. But the city, ever mindful of risk, liability and lawsuits, removed the watering stations. It's nice, though, that the city is allowing the water sharing to occur. Or, perhaps, they've simply grown weary of trying to leash the humans at the dog park!

It was a great Sunday walk at the park this morning. Gracie caught up on the park gossip and left a few messages of her own. Walking the length of the park seem to be just the right amount of activity for her. I think she'll have a great nap today.

The mother of all tantrums

Gracie threw a tantrum last night...one that would rival even the most determined two-year old.

It began shortly upon returning from our evening walk. I gave her a treat and then threw myself into the recliner. It had been a long day. It got longer. Immediately, Gracie started in wanting more food. She stood in front of me and barked. She barked an excited, happy bark. She barked a low, menacing bark. She gave me the woooo bark of impatience. She made as if to bite the couch cushions. She stamped her feet. (I'm not kidding!) I did my best to ignore her, even though I wanted to burst out laughing at her. She was serious. She ripped the ear off of Pig. Dead serious. In a final act of defiance she trotted down the hallway to the bedroom. I was close on her heels but not close enough. She had jumped up on the bed and was using one of the pillows in a way that it was not designed to be use.

I grabbed her leash and pulled her toward me. My plan was to reach around her waist and help her off the bed and then send her to a time out in her kennel. Her plan was to bite the hand that doesn't feed her. (Well...she actually bit my arm.) Nevertheless, she found herself standing in her kennel as I stomped back into the house.

After regaining my composure, and icing my arm for a bit, I brought her back inside. She was fine. She made a half-hearted attempt to get another treat. I said "no" and she laid down by my feet.

What was that?

A young Gracie destroying my book on how to raise lab puppies.

Snorting cat

Maybe it was the hot weather this week. Maybe it was from being cooped up with little activity for 3 months. Maybe it was withdrawls from stopping the sedative. Whatever the reason, Gracie started snorting cat this week.

It seemed harmless enough. Gracie was wound up, as she usually is in the evenings. She saw Mungo lying on the floor and bounced over to him. She buried her nose in his belly fur and took a big sniff. Next thing I know, she running around the living at top speed. You've seen dogs do this before...you know, when they tuck their butt and scoot around as fast as they can. I had her leash on her, but was not holding it. In an implusive act, I tried to step on the leash to stop her run. I was barefoot. I didn't stop her. Enough said.

The next night, she did the same thing. This time I was holding the leash, so I stopped her in mid butt tuck. I showed Gracie Dr. Gustafson's latest instructions: "High-speed, quick turns, jumping, and wrestling could result in joint sprain or damage to the mensicus."

For now, I'm keeping my eye on her. She hasn't snorted cat for a few days now. If she starts again, I'll have to see if the rehab clinic in Corvallis treats this type of addiction.

Contemplating a snort

Patient has improved clinically

Gracie and I saw Dr. Gustafson on Monday for the 8-week post operative Xrays. He said the bones were healing well, the implants were in good position and the patella was stable in the trochlear groove.

We left the office with a bounce in our step. Well...I did anyway. Poor Gracie had been sedated for the Xrays and was still a bit wobbly. We now continue with rehab and start increasing our walking time. I've added a 5 minute evening walk to our daily ritual. Dr. Moore, the vet rehab specialist in Corvallis recommends increasing the walking tiem by 5 minutes each week. Our goal is to walk 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the evening. Hills are now permited so we can extend our neighborhood strolls to the surrounding blocks.

I thanked Dr. G for his excellent surgical skills and care of Gracie and told him: "I hope we never see you again." He smiled and said, he felt the same.

Walk the dog

Gracie and I have been enjoying our morning walks again. Last Friday we were treated to a spectacular red sunrise. Mt. Hood was in perfect silhouette. This is what I've missed most about our morning walks - being outside, seeing the changes to nature and the neighborhood.

Our walks, by necessity, have been cautious. Memories of her dislocated patella three weeks post TPLO are still fresh in my mind. I am probably too cautious for this stage in her recovery, but I fall easily for the "my leg hurts" look. With recovery comes some amount of discomfort. The challenge with dogs is knowing them well enough to know when it is pain and when it is simply not wanting to.

Living on a hill has presented some challenges. The vet advised the walking should be done on flat ground. There is some flat ground about a half block from my house. I must then weigh the risks: a slow, careful walk to the flatter ground, or loading her in and out of the Escape. The extra long, extra wide ramp I ordered for the SUV is in route. It should be here by Tuesday. Once we've had a chance to practice using it, I'll feel more comfortable (and there will be less risk) in taking her to a nearby park that has nice flat trails. For now, though, we do a couple of "warm up" laps by walking along side the house on the brick sidewalk. Then we walk slowly the half block up the hill to the flatter sidewalk. This stretch is about a block long. We will do two or three laps.

The deconditioning for both of us is apparent. After the second lap, Gracie starts to pant a little. Even though the temperatures are very mild, I feel a bead of sweat on my forehead. We then head back to the house for a "cool down" lap along side the house. Then it's back to the kennel for a drink of water and a nap.

The Sound of Freedom

Gracie and I sat out front yesterday evening just as the sun was setting over the west hills of Salem. The sounds of Oregon firecrackers began popping and whistling throughout the neighborhood. As mentioned in my last posting, this noise does not seem to bother Grace. True to form, she rested at my feet. Her concern was less for the noise echoing off the hills, than for the neighbor cat Romeo who was sauntering across the street.

It was early. Still light enough to see the crossword puzzle I was working on, but the anxious kids (young and old) could wait no longer and fireworks were exploding all around me. I could hear them, not see them. No one on my block was setting off fireworks...yet. (My neighbor, Jenn was busy preparing for her show, which she informed me would take place in 1 hour.) As dusk turned to dark, people were becoming more bold. Illegal fireworks purchased in neighboring Washington were now lighting up the sky. I'm fascinated by these roman candle type fireworks - first the flares brightening the sky and then a percussive bomb.

As I sat in my chair enjoying the Washington products and listening to the rat-a-tat of the legal fireworks, I began to wonder about the people in far away places from whom these sounds were not joyful or fun. People who hear these sounds more than once a year. People who hear these sounds, not as marks of freedom, but of klaxons of destruction. I thought about our marines in the Helmand province of Afghanistan. Just then a nearby burst of firecrackers went off. Is that what machine gun fire sounds like? That whomph sound as one of those illegal roman candles is launched - is that what mortar fire sounds like? The percussive bomb as the sky lights up with red, green and white flares - what does that mimic?

To say that I'm glad to be able to celebrate American freedom would be an understatement. But I can't help but wonder about, and worry about all the people in the world for whom these sounds are not happy. Who do not oooh and aah at the pretty colors and loud noises. Christmas is usually the time we all hope for peace on earth. I guess I'll just start hoping a little earlier this year.

The rockets red glare

Gracie was about 3 months old when July 4 rolled around. I had heard stories about dogs coming unglued at the sound of fireworks. Grace and I were already beginning some challenges as puppy and clueless companion. I had to wonder what the 4th might bring.

From my deck, I can see a fairly spectacular fireworks show put on by a private golf club two miles south. That first 4th I stood on the deck with a puppy Gracie sleeping - head on my foot. I had leashed her just in case. The first boom echoed acrossed the hills. I glanced down. She didn't even budge. She slept through the whole show. And for all the July 4ths since, she has barely mustered a half-hearted glance in the direction of the noise.

This year will be much the same. I'll stand on the deck and watch the fireworks...and, occasionally, nudge Gracie lest she miss the whole thing.

Walking on water

Editor note: I didn't have my camera with me for our first hydrotherapy, so this is from the vet's website.

Gracie had her first hydrotherapy appointment last Thursday in Corvallis. Trina, Gracie's new BFF and vet technician at the West Hills Animal clinic, helped her into the hydrotherapy tank. As the warm water started to fill the tank, Trina said "Dogs will do one of three things: start walking normally - very few do this; try to swim; or simply refuse to move at all." Gracie is not always the most compliant of dogs, so I feared she would opt for the third option. But no. Much to my pleasant surprise, when Trina turned the treadmill on, Gracie started walking as if she had done this all her life.

The process was simple. She walked on the treadmill for about 5 minutes. Then the treadmill was stopped and Gracie relaxed as the warm water swirled around her. Then she did another 5 minutes. And then we were done.

Yes, I suppose it's a long drive from Salem to Corvallis for 15 minutes of treatment, but I'm feeling optimistic that this therapy will help Gracie regain the muscle mass in her left leg and get her back into shape. We will also continue our home exercises and increasing our daily walking time at home. We are now 5 weeks post the femoral osteotomy and 8 weeks post the TPLO. Each day brings us closer to our goals.

Father's Day

"Just as we were reaching the car, we heard a commotion from the woods. Something was crashing through the brush - and breathing very heavily. It sounded like what you might hear in a slasher film. And it was coming our way. We froze, staring into the darkness. The sound grew louder and closer. Then in a flash the thing burst into the clearing and came charging in our direction, a yellow blur. A very big yellow blur. As it galloped past, not stopping, not even seeming to notice us, we could see it was a large Labrador retriever. But nothing like the sweet Lilly we had just cuddled with inside. This one was soaking wet and covered up to its belly in mud and burrs. Its tongue hung out wildly to one side, and froth flew off its jowls as it barreled past. In the split-second glimpse I got, I detected an odd, slightly crazed, yet somehow joyous gaze in its eyes. 'I think,' I said, a slight queasiness rising in my gut, 'we just met Dad.'"

When I first read these words in John Grogan's wildly popular book, Marley & Me, I experienced a sense of deja vu. Gracie's father is a black lab named Chopper. He was named after the popular TLC TV series Orange County Cycle, which follows the dysfunctional family antics of Paul, Sr., Paul, Jr., and Mikey, as they establish themselves as one of the nation's premiere custom motorcycle fabricators.

Chopper had that same slightly crazed, yet joyous look in his eye when I first met him. Of course, he was a new father with not one, but two litters of puppies yappying and dancing around him. When I lifted a squirming Gracie out of her bed, I was hoping she would grow to be like her mom -- quiet, gentle and subdued. After four years, I can see that she really is a daddy's girl.

So Chopper, wherever you are, Happy Father's Day.

Dog is my co-pilot

Gracie and I both have been experiencing cabin fever. So Wednesday evening after work, I carefully loaded Grace into the back of the car and we hit the road. With the windows rolled down, and the fresh air and smells of the surrounding farms, Gracie sat with her nose pointed high, taking it all in.

Gracie has always been a great traveler, for which I've been most grateful. I enjoy road trips and long drives. Gracie is a great partner. She sits calmly in the back of the Escape. While I watch the road ahead, she watches the road behind. I love having her in the car with me - whether running errands around town or hitting the road to the beach. She's a great companion and I've missed our drives. Wednesday was one of those "first time since..." moments.

Wednesday we drove down to Corvallis as a trial run for a vet appointment we have today. I found a clinic in Corvallis that offers physical therapy for dogs. West Hills Animal Hospital has full rehab services including an underwater treadmill for dogs with leg injuries. I'm hoping in addition to helping Gracie, the rehab specialists will be able to give me some direction on exercises we can do at home. The downside to most of these specialized clinics is their work hours - 8 to 5, Monday through Friday. And to date, the Family Medical Leave Act has yet to extend to our canine and feline companions.

With each day, Gracie's bones heal a bit more. The key is not rushing things, even when it seems like she is doing well. But I still look forward to the day that she and I can hit the road, stop when and where we'd like and resume our great adventures.

Thankful Thursday...and every day

Gracie and I made the hour-long drive to Beaverton yesterday to see the vet. She had her 3-week post-op Xrays. Good news! The TPLO sight is healed and the femoral osteotomy site is showing good signs of bone growth after just three weeks. Hurrah!

The vet advises sticking with her current restrictions and use of the sedative. The need for the sedative was apparent at the vet's office. Gracie burst through the office doors as if to greet everyone with a big "I'm here!!" I can't blame her though. After being cooped up for three weeks not only did she get a car ride, but a visit with people who think she's the cutest thing ever.

Sticking to the plan has paid off. Now that our routine is fairly established, we'll continue with it for another five weeks until we go back for another round of Xrays.

A big milestone is successfully passed...thank goodness!

Limping along

The title of this post refers more to me than Gracie. Since her initial surgery in April, I have found myself at loose ends on the weekends. Our regular Saturday morning routine has been thrown asunder. I feel like I'm limping along.

My friend, Steve, retired in April and moved to Mexico with his ancient golden retriever, Professor Jiggs. A few weeks ago, the Professor became quite ill. The prognosis seemed bleak. Steve's distress was evident in his blog postings. But Jiggs has become the dog of nine lives. With a new summer haircut, and a reduction in medications, he seems to be back to his old self. In Steve's post today, he talks about getting his "sea legs" back. With Jiggs on the mend, he is once again exploring his new surroundings and enjoying his adventure.

I hope to take a lesson from Steve and Jiggs. I find myself experiencing a strange sense of guilt when I do things on the weekends that Gracie and I once did together. Intellectually, I know that Gracie doesn't care what I do for an hour here or an hour there as long as her meals arrive on time, she gets to have some belly rubs and is allowed her occasional trips to the backyard to go potty. And, I know, we will one day get to resume our Saturday adventures.

So this Saturday, I'll do some of the things we use to do together. As soon as the June rain showers lessen, I'll wander down to Saturday Market and shop for fresh cut flowers and local berries.

I noticed yesterday as I took Gracie to the backyard that she was barely limping. As time marches on and she continues to improve, I suspect my limp will lessen as well.

Stick with the plan

I don't like plans. That may surprise some of my friends who think I'm the Chief Planner. I will step into the void and plan something if no one else will, but all in all, I prefer spontaneity. Why plan a weekend activity when you can wake up Saturday morning and decide?

Following Gracie's second surgery I devised a plan: Confinement to her garage apartment and outside only to go potty. My resolve was firm. After all, it was the break in this original plan three weeks post surgery #1, that she got away from me in the house, slipped on the wood floor and dislocated her patella - all leading to surgery #2.

I have to keep reminding myself that this confinement is for her own good and that her recovery will go more quickly. But despite all my best efforts to stay connect with her, I still miss her in the house.

My resolve broke Saturday. I snuck her in the house - against the harsh inner voice warning me against this. I made her go immediate to her crate though. There she laid while I putz around the house doing Saturday chores. After a couple of hours, we made the slow walk through the backyard (stopping for a potty break), along the side of the house and back to the garage. This route allows us to avoid the stairs. Nothing bad happened, but again, that inner voice reminded me that it could have.

Gracie and I had a talk this morning. I told her we need to stick to the plan. I told her I knew how hard it was to do this, but we must. She simply seem to shrug her shoulders and curl back on her bed. She is OK with the plan. It's me who's struggling.

Letting sleeping dogs lie

The tag long on this blog reads: Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole. Generally this is true, but since that fateful day at the dog park, April 19, and two surgeries later, I can definitely say that for right now Gracie is my whole life.

Since her second surgery on May 20, Gracie has been convalescing in her kennel. She has not seen the inside of the house even though she looks longing at the door every time I take her out to go potty.

I miss her being in the house, so I spend time with her in the kennel. I take a book with me and sit by her - sometimes for 15 minutes, sometimes an whole hour passes. We enjoy watching the neighborhood with the garage door open.

This past Sunday I found myself in the baby aisle at Target looking at video monitors...again. I've been in this aisle three times in the last month looking at the same product and each time talking myself out the purchase as being silly, obsessive or just a plain waste of money. Sunday I bought it.

The camera sits on a shelf in the garage. The small black and white monitor sits on the kitchen counter. With a glance I can check on Gracie. Most of the time she is sleeping. Sometimes she is hugging Pig or working on a bone. Sometimes she is just laying there, head up, staring ahead, thinking, I guess.

I still spend time with her in the kennel each day. But when I can't be out there with her, it helps me to see her on the monitor.

I'm not sure why, but it does.

Is the sedative ready?

This time around, Gracie is taking a sedative twice a day to help keep her a bit calmer during recovery. It's helped - both of us, actually.

However, each time I prepare her pill for distribution (Greenies' Pill Pockets are awesome, by the way), I giggle to myself.

Of course I'm thinking about one of the funniest scenes in my favorite movie, Young Frankenstein. Here's the set up...the monster is alive. The team of Dr. Frankenstein, Igor and Inga rush to the laboratory. Dr. Frankenstein utters the line "Is the sedative ready?" and then begins about 3.5 minutes of hilarity as Inga and Igor play charades with Dr. Frankenstein while he is being choked by the monster.

I haven't quite figure out the process for adding video to the blog, but if you haven't seen this scene for a while, you can find it on Youtube.

Good comedy reminds me that laughter really is the best medicine.

Slow and easy

Gracie seems to be doing much better after this surgery than her initial TPLO surgery on April 27. I left the e-collar off overnight, but noticed her incision was looking a bit raw and thought it wise to put the collar back on her. I like these soft collars better than the rigid plastic ones. Plus, it makes her look like a flower.

As you can see, she is not lacking for comfort. Her precious Pig is near by. Several times yesterday as I sat by her, she would reach forward and pull Pig close. I often find her asleep with her head on Pig.

Here's a close up of the incision site. Her TPLO was done on the inside her leg. Dr. Gustafson said had he done both procedures together, the incision would be on the inside, but with it being done separately, it was better to do the femoral osteotomy on the outside of the leg. He closed the wound with internal sutures that will dissolve over time. The incision site is closed with surgical glue. Dr. G recommends icing 3 times a day for the first three days. I have worked in about 4 times each day. She has not had near the swelling or bruising she had with the TPLO.

Better living through chemicals. This time around I asked for a mild sedative to help keep her more calm during recovery. Between the pain meds and the twice daily sedative, she is resting comfortably but doesn't seem to be "out of it." With the help of the belly sling we've made a couple of trips to the backyard to go potty. For some reason she is adamant about not going in the front yard. Most likely the result of those puppy training techniques that tell you to train your dog to go potty in one area of the yard. Unlike some of the other lessons she learned, she is consistent and firm on following this one.

I'm feeling better equipped to handle this recovery than I did with the TPLO. I was frantic all the time with her after the first surgery. I'm still concerned about her, but having gone through this once, I know more what to expect. It's OK if she doesn't go potty like her usual clock-work pre-surgery.

We still have a long row to hoe, but we'll get there. We're going to take it slow and easy this time.

Thankful Thursday

Gracie is home from the hospital. She seems to be do much better after this surgery than the first. She's not quite so groggy and her tail is wagging more.

The vet seemed pleased with the surgery and placement of the new implant in her femur. We go back in three weeks to see how the bone is healing. Some dogs, he says, will have good healing progress in three weeks, others take up to eight weeks for the healing to begin. Her level of future activity is based on the healing process.

Right now she is sleeping in her kennel. When I got her home she was ready for her afternoon pills and ice pack. I sat next to her icing her leg and then just to sit with her. We are using a sedative this time around to help curb her enthusiasm a bit. At least until we get further along in the healing process.

Right now I'm thankful she is home.