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.