Monday Mischief: A Puppy’s Midnight Adventures

How can something so cute be such a menace??

Elsie has discovered how to nose the bedroom door open in the middle of the night.  I leave it open a touch so that Fergus and George can come and go as they please.  On Thursday night she nicked through to the kitchen and ate all the cats’ food.  When I realised what was going on I dashed through; obviously she saw my approach as

Who’s been eating my biscuits?

a challenge to polish off the rest of the biccies super fast while watching me out of the corner of her eye before I could escort her from the premises.

The next night I was surely more wiley than an 11 month old puppy.  I pushed the door of the living room closed so that, in the event that her great escape wasn’t a one-off, her route to the kitchen would be seriously impeded – the living room door doesn’t pull open as easily as that of the bedroom.  Alas, not one to be thrown by such a disappointment and ever-resourceful, she found her snacks elsewere – the litter tray in the loo.  Ewwwwwwww!  If she was really smart she’d cover her tracks a bit better and not leave littery nose marks all over the place.

Needless to say, after a couple of disturbed nights, come Saturday night I was tired.  Before bed I (a) pushed the living room door so that it was only open a crack, and (b) pulled the loo door closed so that there was enough space for a cat to go through, placing a heavy object behind it so that I would hear it scraping across the floor should Elsie try to implement her cunning plan a second time.  Given that I was so tired and therefore lacking a sense of humour, when neither Elsie nor Flo would settle on their beds I turfed them outside to bring in again later once they had had time ‘to think about their actions’.  At 5.50am I was awoken by a loud gnawing.  Throwing the light on at the same time as leaping out of bed I was horrified to see the bedroom door open AGAIN.  Once more I dashed through to the living room, this time following the sound of gnawing, my imagination turning somersaults as to what it may be that was being ‘Elsied’.  The house was in darkness and I didn’t want to wake Flo or the kitties, so I’m whispering ‘Elsie, Elsie, ELSIE!’.  It was then that my consciousness clicked in and I realised that I had, in fact, put them outside and then fallen asleep several hours before.  They were still outside.  Princess Flo and Princess Elsie had spent their first night on the deck.  All by themselves.  Unloved.  Abandoned.  Neglected.  Elsie had obviously woken up, trotted downstairs and found a tasty old bone which she’d brought upstairs at ridiculous o’clock to chew on.  Sounds perfectly reasonable.  So, even though I’d turfed them outside, she still managed to disturb my sleep.

Driven by guilt I did bring the dynamic duo in, but Elsie only settled for 10 minutes – when I switched the light on she was sitting on Flo’s head – and Flo only settled for 30 mins, so we had an extra early start to our Sunday after all.  Flo and Elsie reckon it serves me right.

They stayed on their beds last night.  It’s amazing what you can do with duct tape. 

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Faces of Flo: Abandoned

Flo Flo is feeling very abandoned at the moment; I keep going out and taking The Ritalin Kid but not her.  Even though she gets something tasty before we go, this is the pathetic sight at the gate when we leave…

Please can I come too – I promise I’ll be a good girl…

To add insult to injury we’re picking Sunny up as well because Aunty J is away on hols which means that when Elsie and I come home she can smell her friend all over us too.  It’s soooooo unfair.  She has been getting a bit naughty with all this inexercise and has been bombing out the gate and across the road when I drive the car in at night.  Given that the idea is to keep her blood pressure down, bombing out across the road isn’t what the v-e-t ordered so I took her for a short, sedate walk on the lead a couple of nights ago.  She was very good but I could tell she wanted to get off for a run.  The v-e-t did say that this would be okay and I think I’ve done a good job resting her for an entire 8 days with no walks at all.

Yesterday was Flo’s last full dose of vitamin K1 so now I am beginning to feel nervous.  If there is something wrong with her blood and this haemorrhaging hasn’t been a one-off poisoning or infection event then I guess we’ll find out over the next few days.  I have everything crossed.  She is still on anti-biotics and the dreaded anti-inflammatories.  We’ve cut the anti-inflammatory dose back to every second day and that, combined with the hormone tablet, seems to have made a difference to her plumbing.  The pee pads on her beds are all dry… I’m trying not to get too excited or jinx it but I really hope we’ve sorted her lady issues!

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Monday Mischief: George Gets His Own Back

When Flo finds George on her bed she (wisely) won’t go near it. Elsie has the stupidity foolishness innocence of youth on her side. She’ll learn.

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Can We Please Have Our Normal Back?

This week has been a little on the scary side.

Everything was normal with the House of Flo until Wednesday night.  After a very normal piggy ear when I got home from work we had a very normal trip to the dog park followed by a very normal evening of dogs flaked out on their beds.  At about 8.30pm I noticed something on Flo’s stomach and when I looked more closely I saw that it was covered in little sub-cutaneous bleeds measuring anything from 1mm to a couple of centimetres.  They were also all over her legs, chest, flanks and in her ears; basically she was covered from head to foot.  I phoned the after hours vet (there is only one on-call vet and it won’t necessarily be one of the vets from your practice) who reassured me that it was probably some kind of allergic reaction.  As I had some anti-histamines for Elsie she said to go ahead and give her a couple.  In spite of this, my gut instinct was that this was not an allergic reaction so I spent the night checking on her which meant that neither of us got a good night’s sleep!

Of course this happened the night before what was already scheduled to be a long and inflexible day; I had to be on duty at 7.45am and, because of a day-long function, wasn’t going to have any breaks until 2.30pm.  I had a window of 10 minutes between 8am and 8.10am during which to organise a trip to the vet and organise for Aunty J to check on Flo during the day to make sure she was okay.  Thank goodness for friends.  Flo loves Aunty J and when she went over to check on her, Flo was apparently very excited to see her and was clearly happy enough in herself with plenty of energy.

When we got to the vet later that day she was immediately given shots of coagulant, vitamin B complex, steroids and anti-inflammatories.  I also have a host of things to give her at home including vitamin K1 which will continue to help her blood clot properly.  We had a revist early this morning and I am pleased to say that there are no new bleeds and the old ones are fading nicely.  She’s to be kept quiet to prevent her blood pressure going up which means she’s going to have to miss out on the annual RSPCA Million Paws Walk next weekend.  Elsie and I will have to do our best without her.

As to why this has happened… it’s a mystery.  She’s never had any signs of blood problems before so, the first vet could be right and it could just be some sort of allergic reaction.  It could also be a bacterial or viral infection, so she’s on anti-biotics as well.  The other thing that it could be, and I’m thinking it may be more likely, is that she has somehow ingested rat poison.  I don’t keep anything like that around the house or yard and I don’t think many of my neighbours would either as lots of them have dogs themselves.  However, you will know from one of my recent posts that I have had rats in my storeroom, which means that other people probably do too, which means that someone nearby may be trying to poison them.  If that is the case, I thank goodness that she is a big dog whose system has been able to handle it.

My beautiful bookends

On the plus side, I’ve also come away from the vet with hormones to give Miss Fabulous which will hopefully help sort out her plumbing issues, which, as we all know, are made a thousand times worse when she is on anti-inflammatories like she is now!  I am very keen to see if they work because it would really make a difference to day-to-day life!  I’m trying not to get too excited at the prospect of life without pee pads…

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For Typist

We’ve all had to give something up at some point and Georgia Little Pea’s Typist from Little Dogs On Long Leashes recently had to say farewell to something she loved.  You can read about it here.

Typist, I’m not sure that this will really help but if nothing else I hope it makes you smile!  I took this photo when I was out in Brissie recently because I recognised the name of that thing that you do.  Perhaps your (drinking 7 days a week) past can meet your (ridiculously fit) present so that your future can still have capawhatnot in it.  Even if it is in alcoholy name only.  I am not suggesting that you embrace the drinking 7 days a week thing again.  Unless that’s what you want. 

Monday Mischief: Elsie’s First Night Of Freedom

Tonight is the first night that Elsie hasn’t been confined to either a crate or pen overnight. It’s half past eleven. Here are some pics of the early part of the night…

Five minutes in and Elsie’s bed is empty except for her little fluffy toy dog (it is NOT what it looks like)

Now we’ve got to go over and check that Flo is alright in her bed…

“So all I have to do is lie here all night? Voluntarily?”

 

“I can do that… it’s nice having all this room to stretch out”

 

Meanwhile, over at Flo’s bed…

Five minutes later…
“Psssst. You awake? Elsie’s not in her pen thing.”

Five minutes later still…
“I’m serious. She’s like totally unconfined. I think she’ll probably be up and down disturbing you all night.”

And another five minutes later…
“I really think we should pen her in”

GO TO BED FLO!  YOU’RE GOING TO WAKE ELSIE!
I didn’t expect Flo to be the one who would be up and down!

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Monday Mischief: What’s Worse Than Finding A Rat In Your Golf Bag?

Today’s mischief wasn’t caused by any permanent occupants of Flo’s house, but by unwanted house guests.

I have known there’s been a rat in the storeroom for several weeks.  It was nibbling away at the lambs’ ears I had for the dogs.  In the past I’ve used an ultra sonic pulse thingie which is supposed to encourage rodents to seek out alternative living arrangements.  When that didn’t work, about a month ago I put a humane trap down, baited with the last of the ears.  The lamb’s ear is still there, untouched so I thought Ratty must’ve moved on.  That was until I started to get a distinct whiff of eau de rodent earlier on this week.  Thursday was a public holiday so I had a few jobs that needed to be done, one of which was waterproofing a couch that is to go up on the deck upstairs but which has, until now, been hidden away in the store room, out of reach of the jaws of destruction.  It’s removal gave me better access to the room, so George was brought down to earn his keep and find the rat.  Slightly surprisingly and to his credit, he instantly picked up on the scent and went off into the corner, where he sat and stared.  I could hear a little scritching and scratching but couldn’t work out exactly where this blasted thing was.  Until I moved my golf bag.  And George’s gaze remained fixed on it.  Let’s just say it was an interesting manoevre that saw me exit the door over the golf bag.  I did manage to get the bag out as well, without any rodents running up my arms or legs.  I lay it down on its side and out ran the offending beast, off into the bushes.  Phew!  To my horror another rat exited the bag while I was taking the clubs out to give them a wash and straight back into the store room, where I suspect it still is.  What if there was a nest of them?  Urgh!  I know, I know, I’m supposed to be a zoologist, but that doesn’t mean I want a family of furry, stinky little mammals living IN my golf bag.  The clubs were unceremoniously yanked out at arms’ length and the whole bag tipped upside down and banged on the floor.

At that point the snake skin came out.  Minus the snake.  The bag lay downstairs undisturbed for several hours while I poured myself a stiff gin worked out what to do with it.  Four gin and tonics later I eventually plucked up the courage to have a good look inside and am pleased to report that there was nothing else living in there.  I haven’t been brave enough to unzip any pockets.  I’m not sure whether or not the snake skin is an attempt at rodent humour and they’ve just found it somewhere and used it to line their nest, or if the snake was in there at some point too.  I’m also not sure where they found the skin, if it wasn’t already in the bag.

Proof, were it needed, that I don’t play enough golf. 

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The Tyranny of Snot

Oh dear, oh dear.  What a slack a**e!  I have been suitably pulled up on a lack of bloggy movement by The Typist. As usual it is not the animals’ fault, they have given me plenty of laughs over the last while, my dull mind has just been unable to translate their activities eloquently enough to justify posting on the worldwide interweb.    I have spent a bit more time in in the garden, although you’d never know it – I’ve filled the garden rubbish sack so full that I suspect the bloke who comes to remove it will be swearing at me.  It amazes me quite how many palm fronds, leaves and other such ‘rubbish’ can lie around in there.  It has also been stinking hot and the pool looked more like a swamp, so I’ve been putting a fair amount of effort into getting that swim-ready, which I am pleased to say it now is. Flo doesn’t try to get in the water but Elsie was in a couple of times, then she couldn’t get out, got a bit of a fright and hasn’t wanted to get more than her front feet wet since.

All beasts chez Flo are in one piece.  We have, of course, had our trips to the v-e-t and we are, of course, hoofing back anti-biotics.  This time it is Elsie who is on medication, though sadly not the variety required to transform her into a calm puppy.  She has an allergy which usually manifests itself as dodgy skin and little bald patches in her fur.  The v-e-t has resorted to giving me steroids for her in the past.  I generally keep them as a last resort.  A few weeks ago, just before I started having to go away here and there, she had a bit of a flare up and, as she was due to go into kennels, I gave her a couple of her pills to settle her skin down while I was away.  Around that time she also started sneezing.  She was still at it when I got back so after a few more doses of the dreaded ‘roids she had lovely clear skin but they had had no effect on the sneezing.  The liberal and violent depositions of snot bullets on every surface, including the cats, began to wear thin.  In addition, every time she lay down she would rub her nose all over the rug, transforming it from lovely and soft to crusty and crunchy, so it was back to the v-e-t.  After a good examination he prescribed some anti-biotics in case it was a bacterial infection, plus some anti-histamines.  All it took was one dose of the anti-histamines and she stopped sneezing.  She has hardly had one nasal explosion since.  I have been able to put the mop away.  I think we might be free from the tyranny of snot. 

Beware those nostrils; she could be loading up another snot bullet…

Wordless Wednesday – My Dogs, Spoiled? How Very Dare You!

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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday – Quiet Schmiet

Following on from Saturday’s post… we’ve just come back from the v-e-t where Elsie has had between 40ml – 50ml fluid drained off her wound site.  This is with keeping her relatively quiet.  The v-e-t has recommended sedatives. 

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Just Keep Her Quiet, he said…

Despite feeling nervous about getting Elsie spayed it is not something that I would ever avoid.  Living here where hunting pigs with dogs is popular and where, quite frankly, most of the people I’ve met who engage in the activity are half wits, I would never be responsible for allowing ridgeback puppies to come onto the market; I’m not going to sit on the fence here, I have an issue with hunting pigs with dogs.  If you met some of the types of people who did it up here you would probably understand.  Let’s just say that if some of these folk had another brain cell they’d be able to bark (without intending any offence to dogs).  I know not everyone is the same, but there are enough out there.  If you’re going to use dogs to hunt then both owner and dog have to be highly disciplined and trained.  That doesn’t happen here.  Below is a conversation that a local vet had with a pig dog owner.  It is not a wind up.

Ok I’m awake now – Just got off the phone from a surreal/stupid/funny conversation. Guy rings up all angry and ranting because he has just noticed his dog that he got CASTRATED (he used this word) a few weeks ago is “missing his balls”….I’m like “yes and” Apparently according to this guy desexing a dog if done properly does not involve removal of the testicles. (“your not supposed to cut their balls off”) When I politely explained to him that yes actually thats exactly what it involves. He then called me an incompetent vet who doesn’t know the first thing about castration….. While trying to discuss this with him it suddenly also dawned on him if his dog doesn’t have testicles anymore how is it going to breed. Which of course made him angrier – apparently its a top pigging dog and he wants pups from it – when I asked him why he got it desexed in the first place if he wanted to breed from it he then said if a proper vet had desexed it correctly then he would have been able to father puppies. When I explained to him that desex means DE-SEX he said he had plenty of dogs desexed before and they had all had their balls still in tact and were able to breed and apparently any half decent vet would know that. I tried to explain if they still had balls then they weren’t desexed. He again repeated I clearly know nothing about desexing. When I asked him what he thought desexing was for he just got abusive. He told me he would come down in the morning to sort it… so I decided to put a note on his file – turns out he didn’t get it done here anyway but at another vet clinic so he is going to have words with them in the morning. Not sure what to say or think – can anyone really be that stupid to not know what desexing/castration actually refers to? (end rant)

I rest my case.

Back to Elsie.  I really wanted to leave it as long as I could because, from what I have read, that is better for the puppy and, as bigger breeds tend not to come into their first season until they are a bit older, there’s been no pressure.  Ideally I would’ve liked to have been able to have it done when I could take time off work to be around for a couple of days, unfortunately that couldn’t happen.  I also have a couple of trips planned over the coming weeks which mean that the dogs are going to have to go into kennels and I thought it would be better to have her done and on the road to recovery before that.  Were I to have waited until I came back then she’d be a few weeks shy of a year, which might be cutting it a wee bit too fine.

So, I dropped her at the v-e-t’s early on Wednesday morning.  All went well and I picked her up in the afternoon.  She spent the rest of the evening channelling Jack Nicholson.  When the anaesthetic began to wear off properly she was obviously uncomfortable and a bit confused; most of the night was spent with me sitting in her pen with her because she was whimpering, so I couldn’t sleep anyhow.

I look at this picture and Dylan’s ‘Everybody Must Get Stoned’ jumps into my head!

Now the mission is to keep her quiet and dry until her stitches are removed on Tuesday afternoon.  To help in this endeavour, Flo has been spending the day at The Furry Godmother Pet Resort, and to keep her dry Elsie has been confined to the deck, so she can’t access the pond.  I have expected to come home to destruction up there but she has behaved very well and so far so good – deck intact, puppy intact, puppy DRY.  The toys seem to be in pretty much the same place that I left them so I suspect that she’s just gone off to sleep.  I am VERY pleased to say that she has also held her bladder until I’ve got home each afternoon.  I had expected to come home to puddles and that hasn’t been the case.  My biggest post-op concern was her plumbing because Flo has leaked urine ever since she was spayed.

I will continue to try to keep them separated as much as possible due to Elsie’s propensity to use Flo as a trampoline.  Having said that, they haven’t tried any rough play since Wednesday.  Flo is a little under the weather – she’s had a bout of the runs… not a pleasant thing to have to be cleaning up at 4.30am, especially considering that the night before had been sleepless.

Roll on Tuesday.

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Almost Wordless Wednesday – Bed? What Bed?

I wish she’d get us a bed.

Apologies for the poor quality – it was night, there was no flash, George and Elsie were squirming… I did my best!

Elsie is at the v-e-t’s today being spayed.  She’s not like Flo (as well we know) and didn’t go with the nurse willingly but I’m sure she’ll be fine.  Poor little lamb. 

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A Letter To A Special Little Cat

My beautiful, special little Fergus,

You’re the first cat that is really mine.  I’d had another cat before you but when I moved out of home she stayed; not, you understand, because I wouldn’t have taken her with me but because, in the words of my father, ‘you cannae take her away from her little garden’… I got that cat in my teens and she died when I was in my mid-30s.  She had a good life in her ‘little garden’ with my parents.  Fergus, you are nearly 9.  I’ve owned you for 8 of those years.  Together we have made 3 house moves.  You like to be outside and you’ve never been afraid to wander afar.  Do you remember when I had to go looking for you to bring you in overnight, and I eventually found you stalking around in the university grounds at midnight?  You set off one of the building alarms and I had to hide in the shadows bushes as the security people checked things out… that was a close call.  I’m not sure how I would’ve explained that one if I’d been caught – you’d run off by then!  When we first moved into our present house you spent a few nights stuck up trees before you learned how to make a controlled descent.  You also worried the neighbours the night you spent on their roof; I knew you would come down by yourself in the morning when you could see more clearly, and you did.  You’ve reluctantly tolerated George’s arrival and I think you might even like Flo and Elsie.  You don’t bite or scratch, no matter what.  You take everything life throws at you in your stride.  Even the accident that so very nearly ended it all.  I am sorry about that.  It’s put an end to your outside escapades and I know that is hard for you, especially when I’m gardening but let’s face it, that doesn’t happen very often.  Inside you have the run of the house, plenty to eat, toys with which you refuse to play and lots of window sills to lie on, relaxing.

I love the way you squeak when you are picked up – we used you as stand in bagpipes at our Burns Supper.  I love the way you run to be brushed and drool all the way through grooming.  I love the soft fur of your belly and the smell of your paws.  I love that little noise you make when you’re really content.  I love that you try to bury your way under everything.  I love that you go wild over a damp towel.  I love that you mince around walk like Hercule Poirot.  I love that you surprise visitors by licking their feet.  I love that you endear yourself to everyone who comes through the door.

I will never move anywhere that I can’t take you.  I will never abandon you.  I will always feel dreadful about the accident.  You can do no wrong, so please, please stop peeing on the rug!

Love,
Mum.

Wordless Wednesday – I Know You’re There

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Monday Mischief – Elsie’s Collared

It is becoming a regular occurence for Flo to turn up at the door completely naked… Elsie has been honing her skills in collar removal, which is then followed by chewing them juuuust to the point that the buckle no longer fastens.  She’s decollared Flo twice in the last 12 hours.  It seems to be her new obsession.  Some time ago (months), working as a team, Flo removed and then Elsie chewed Elsie’s own collar, but that was before she was an expert in buckle decomissioning, so she’s still wearing hers.

These aren’t supermarket collars, they’re good Rogz ones.  One step further away from retirement again.  Thanks Els.

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Monday Mischief – Spot The Dog

October to May is ‘stinger season’ here in Darwin.  Stingers are box jellyfish.  It’s a good time to stay out of the water because it is not a creature you want to meet.  Most of the time it’s not a problem for dogs as they’ve got a covering of fur, but there have been quite a few jellyfish in the water recently and with Elsie being so young and curious I decided to give the beach a bit of a break, so we haven’t been for a while.  My fear is she bites one, which could be disasterous.  One dog was killed at our beach as a result of a jellyfish sting last year.  So we’ve been swimming at our favourite spot at the creek, and we’ve been to the dog park a lot which has a huge billabong where the dogs can swim.  This is Flo and Elsie in full ridgeback mode, spying their quarry, who carries on sniffing, oblivious.  If you look reeeeeeeeeealllllly closely you might be able to see the speck of dog on the other side of the billabong which caught their attention. There is some debate as to whether ridgebacks are sight hounds or scent hounds.  I’m thinking that their sight is pretty flipping good though I probably need to show them flash cards of african wildlife so that they don’t waste their energy on black dogs who couldn’t care less.  A little less of this mischief and a little more playing would be good thanks ladies.

Monday Mischief – It Wisnae Me!

Elsie assures me she has no idea who dug about in all my carefully placed sand, but she thinks it might have been Flo.  Or George.  Or even Fergus.

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Wordless Wednesday – It Makes You Look So Much Younger!

This is all The Ritalin Kid’s doing.

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Wordless Wednesday – The Cone Of Shame

Flo’s hurt her eye. She keeps scratching at it. Time for the cone of shame.

 

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If You Could Have One Wish This Christmas…

Last year Fergus, George and Flo made Christmas lists.  To avoid clumsy repetition, this year we’re going for a Christmas wish.

Fergus would like to be furball free.

George wishes to be left alone.  Or for world peace.  Maybe both.

Flo would like the world to slow down and sleep a little more.

Elsie would like the world to speed up to keep pace with her.  Or Flo’s dinner.

What would your wish be?

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