Tucker

In early November, we finally decided it was high time to get another dog. We lost Molly all the way back in July. And along with missing having that furry companion around who is just so glad to see you every time you turn around, I missed having the security of a dog in the backyard and house. We recently had a steady stream of daytime break-ins in our neighborhood, where the thieves took big-screen TVs, laptops, jewelry, etc... They usually hit between 1 and 5 in the afternoon, but never in occupied homes, and never in houses with dogs. I swear having a dog is a better deterrent than an alaram system.

We narrowed our types of dog mixes that we wanted to German Shepherd, Doberman, and maybe Rottweiler, although we read some disturbing things about having Rotties with kids that made that group a big maybe. We decided that if it was a German Shepherd we would be ok with a slightly older dog (no more than 3), but a Doberman or Rottie would need to be a puppy so we could train it from day one. We did some research online, asked some questions to our vet, and then Jav went to the Humane Society to check out some of the ones we were interested in. It was a grueling process to see all of the sweet dogs needing homes, and I couldn't spend any time on the Fort Worth Animal Control site. There were so many, and half the time they wouldn't even bother to determine much about the dog to try to get it adopted. Depressing.

Jav came home talking about a dog that wasn't on their website. His name was Stallone, and he was a 5-month-old Rottie mix. He thought that of all the dogs he observed, this one was the calmest and seemed to be sweet and well-behaved. He also fell in love with a Husky mix that was 7 or 8. And he was the one insisting that we not get an older dog. Hah! When he went back the next day, the Husky mix was gone, but Stallone was still there. Some of the Humane Society employees, the ones who really work with the dogs and KNOW, claimed that he seemed to be a really great dog. He decided to get him, but they don't let you have the dog right away. Most dogs they have to spay or neuter before you can take them home. We asked that since he was only 5 months, could we please let our vet take care of that once he was six months old. They said sure.

Well, I went to pick the dog up with the boys two days later. When I walked in the girl started telling me that since he had surgery he didn't need to eat much that night, etc. They had neutered him. I was pretty upset, then they brought him down the hall. Other than his coloring, he didn't look like a Rottie. Not big enough. He was woozy, which was to be expected, but he was also coughing. I've always heard that heartworms can cause coughing. I put him in the car, and proceeded to try and drive home while crying and trying to call the vet's office. The front desk girl assured me that it might just be kennel cough, which many dogs that come from shelters end up with. I had an appointment to see the vet the next day and tried to be patient. And not too upset with Jav. After all, I was too emotional to go with him to help with his decision and was totally trusting him. I couldn't really blame him for choosing a too small, sick dog, could I?

Dr. Norris determined that he did have kennel cough, made worse by the anesthesia of the surgery (it would take him a month and tons of meds to get over it), he was probably closer to 6 or 7 months old, and thought he might have some Gordon Setter in him due to his beautiful coat, and feathering around his ears and haunches. He also thought that his temperament was amazing for a young, very sick dog. He made me feel so much better I could have kissed him! I also knew that I didn't want to keep the name Stallone. He obviously was NOT a Stallone. After some deliberating we decided on Jake. I still think this is a perfect name for him, but then we made the ridiculous decision to change it because one of Jav's close friends has a son named Jake. I would not be mad in the least if someone I knew named their dog after one of the boys. But we changed it to Tucker. Which now has stuck.

We knew that a puppy would cost us some money up front. But we never imagined that along with the kennel cough meds, he would end up needing meds for tapeworm, and then most recently mange. Sigh and double sigh and triple sigh!!!!! He only has it around his face, common for puppies whose mother may have been infected with the parasite. So he's on a six month trial to see if this one type of heartworm medication works to clear it up. It's very expensive of course.

Then there's all of the things he has chewed up. Numerous puzzle pieces, about 20 socks, some Christmas ornaments with hooks spit out to the side, thank God, an old tiki torch stand, a wooden handle of a rake, the ends of the pooper scooper set handles, some plastic flower bed siding, an old soaker hose, the camera USB cable and my new Nook USB cable. Those last two cost some money to replace. Every time I look in the yard he has found something else to chew on that he's not supposed to. We've been walking him almost every day and I try to throw the ball with him to burn off some energy. I've spent oodles more money on countless chew toys, most of which he chews for a couple of days then either gets tired of them or I have to throw them away because he's chewed a hole in them or something.

So instead of ending up with one of the breeds we talked about, we have this crazy mix of a dog. The girl who bathes him said she noticed qualities of about six different breeds, including Basset Hound (long tail, big feet and short legs), Chow Chow (dark spots on tongue), Golden Retriever (shape of head and beautiful coat), Dachshund (coloring), and even, yes, Rottie. The way he's been chewing that didn't surprise me.

So, instead of a big dog, we have a medium sized dog (he's gone from 33 to 41 pounds) with short legs. He has a LOUD bark, but instead of a good watchdog, we have a dog that barks whenever the other neighborhood dogs bark. Which I guess could be ok. I was pretty upset with the Humane Society about 1) how sick the dog was when they let him be adopted and 2) the fact that they fudged about his age and his breed background. Jav says if I were to see how hard those people work for NO pay trying to find homes for all those animals that I would be a little more sympathetic. He's probably right, but still.

He's been nipping at Gabriel pretty bad, too. It's so interesting to me that Joel must give off some signal that he won't put up with that nonsense, because Tucker never bothers him with nipping. Gabriel is more sensitive and nervous about telling him NO and Tucker takes full advantage. So of course Gabriel is not too happy with Tucker. He asked me yesterday if Tucker would be getting sick anytime soon so Daddy could go pick out another dog. Ouch.

All of these are things we need to work on. We need to take him to a class, but are so tapped out from all the vet trips that we just don't have the money. And despite all of the negative things I've mentioned, I think he is a really cool dog and will end up being a great pet for our family. He is very laid back and has the sweetest temperament. He seems content being outside or inside. He LOVES Jav and his little hiney goes crazy back and forth with that huge tail when he comes home from work. He already follows me all around the house. He is really good at walking. Everyone at the vet's office dotes on him, thinks he is beautiful dog, and has a fantastic temperament. ESPECIALLY with kids. So I guess Jav really did a terrific job.

Saying goodbye

It's just so hard. After a gut-wrenching couple of days we had to say a sad goodbye to our sweet Molly. Our last three days with her were hard but also wonderful. We all got to spend tons of time petting her, and telling her how much we loved her. But we also had to watch her pain get gradually worse, until the last day she couldn't take more than a few steps without stopping to rest. Dogs are so loving and she wanted to be right in the middle of wherever we all were, so even though I was trying to keep her in one place resting, she would always get up to be wherever we were (I guess where I was is more accurate). We grilled burgers that Saturday night, and she hobbled out to the porch in 103 degree weather to be with Jav and wait for her samples that he always gave her. When she was not on her feet, she seemed perfectly fine. We would wonder if we were making the right decision, until she tried to get up again and we knew we were.

The vet was at church when I called him, but being the wonderful person that he is he agreed to meet us at the clinic. Molly LOVED going up there, and I had been distraught thinking that we might have to take her to a strange place with people she didn't know. But she was wagging her tail just like always and happy up the end. Jav and I, though, were despondent at the thought of losing her. It seemed like she went from being fine to not being fine so fast. I kept getting almost angry thinking that she probably would have had a good two years left if this had not happened. But it did happen. I guess most people who end up with cancer and their loved ones feel that way.

I've been through this before, and know that the first week is the hardest. I keep expecting to be in her favorite spots: under the dining room table, waiting just outside the kitchen while we eat, in the hallway while the boys played with their cars. She would come in every morning with me to get Joel up, and would be in Gabriel's room every night while we were putting him to bed. I can't stand to come home and realize that our big sloppy greeter isn't here anymore. I don't like to look in the backyard and remember seeing her lying in the sun, or grazing like a big cow. I want to reach down when I'm just waking up and pet that head. I want to feel that big tail all of a sudden gently whipping my leg while I'm watering outside. All of it just hurts.

I'm trying to take comfort in the fact that for the last five years I've been home, and not working. We got to spend SO much more time with her because of that. And this past weekend I spotted a quote that has helped me more than anything:

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. "

I just love that. But my goodness I miss her.

Monumental day

Gabriel around 7 or 8 months old.

Wow. Yesterday was quite a day. I spent the whole second half of the day fretting about the dog's poop and trying to get Gabriel to pee in the potty chair, which he did several times before Jav got home.

Molly has had what we'll just call tummy issues for about two weeks. At first we just assumed she had eaten something crazy that messed her up for awhile. But when we realized it still wasn't better I called the vet. He suggested taking her off food completely for 24 hours (which was awful). Then the next day she got 1/4 of what she usually eats, then 1/2, etc... I was really concerned that something serious was wrong with her since this has never gone on for so long before. But finally, yesterday afternoon, (and an hour after I had called the vet to see why she still hadn't gone), all was better and seemingly back to normal. So now we realize our original diagnosis was correct: She ate something crazy. She's such a hound. But I sure am glad she's back to being a healthy hound!

After trying to be pretty laissez-faire about potty training for the past two months or so, (Mr. Metcalf would be so proud of me for the proper use of that term!), we decided it was time to get a little more pushy about things. It's now becoming a hinderance. I was going to sign Gabriel up for his first soccer class at the Hurst Rec Center, but they only take potty trained kids. So Jav and I came up with a strategy of telling him, "you have 5 more days with diapers. Then they're going away." Plus we got him a really neat toy that he could play with for a short time every time he used the potty chair. He found a mobile crane at Target that he just fell in love with, and off we went. We weren't supposed to start until Saturday, but he woke from his nap wanting to try. He was successful (for the first time, ever) around 6pm last night. I tried to call Jav but couldn't get ahold of him. He called on the way home and congratulated him like crazy. After that we took him every 20 minutes or so to try.

Today has gone well, although we're continuing the bribes for now. Gabriel got bored with the crane at some point this morning and asked for a diaper. So we had to come up with a continual "prize" strategy. He's gotten a new puzzle, an Elmo potty book, and a whole bunch of matchbox trucks, buses, motorcycles, etc.. And he got a chocolate cupcake with pink frosting after dinner tonight. He goes in every 10 minutes to see if he can go enough to extract a prize from the prize cabinet. Tomorrow we'll try to back off of the bribes a bit and see what happens. I'm truly amazed at how well it's gone, although it has been exhausting. But he's made great strides and hopefully is building his confidence every time he goes. We'll see.

Now if Joel starts crawling tomorrow we will have ourselves one humdinger of a weekend. I'm just joking, really. We already have. I'm just bursting with happiness because my Molly girl is better, and of course for what Gabriel's done.

Weight

The vet informed me that Molly had gained 10 pounds this winter. With her arthritis, this is bad. The fact that we haven't been able to walk her much since Joel came and because of cold weather has apparently taken its toll. Now that the weather is finally warmer, I hope to walk her three times a week, adding to Jav's twice. This should get her back in shape pretty quickly. We want our hound of a dog to be around a few more years at least!

And I hope I will reap some of that benefit too. Gabriel's favorite thing to do outside right now is to run from me all over the yard. Having two babies has changed my shape and the extra weight I am still carrying is so bad that I literally cannot run anymore. I used to be in really good shape so this has come as kind of a shock. I keep trying, but I just end up loping for a few steps then resorting to walking really fast to catch him. It's truly pathetic. I know I don't have time to exercise any more than walking right now, and I don't really want to cut back too much on calories since I'm still nursing. But as soon as that's done, watch out you extra 20 pounds. I'm coming after you.

Hazy shade of winter

I'm still in a fog from lack of sleep, spending all day indoors due to weather, and dealing with two kids all day and evening long. I told my brother it's like hibernating in a baby cave, where you are isolated from normal people and news events for awhile. We had a rare nice afternoon this week and going outside for an hour makes all the difference in the world, probably not just for me but for Gabriel too.

Joel is such a good baby in many ways, but he is a difficult nurser. He likes to eat totally on his own terms, and that means after about 8 to 10 minutes, he's through. In the mornings he will go two hours or more without wanting any more. In the late afternoon/evenings he usually eats for a longer stretch, but only makes it about an hour to an hour and a half before wanting more. But then he sleeps at least 5 hours through at night, which I cannot complain about AT ALL. One night this week he went 7-1/2 hours. Of course, I got up thinking he would wake up at any moment instead of sleeping in with him. I do get a little tired of nursing him so often in the evenings. It basically means I can't play with Gabriel in the afternoons and Jav is pretty much in charge of Gabriel until bedtime. If I can get Joel to sleep before Gabriel goes to bed, I can at least go in and read and sing to him before it's lights out for him.

I feel like my lack of attention to Gabriel has taken a small toll. He has been hitting lately. He's only hit Jav and me a couple of times, and the stern talks and time-outs that he received seems to have had some affect on him. But I see him hitting his stuffed animals, slamming his hand into the floor or walls, and I believe it's because of aggressive feelings about the baby. At least he is bright enough to know to never take it out on Joel, but I still would never leave them alone together just in case. I don't think Gabriel has a sense yet of what "hurting someone" actually means. This is really tough for me to see. I have been much better about taking the small stolen moments when Joel is sleeping to try and play with Gabriel, but half the time he doesn't want to play with me, like he's already given up on me. And I am truly trying to not lose patience with him, even when he squares off and says, "NO!" when I ask him to do something. Which he does all day long, especially if Joel is crying or I am nursing Joel because he knows it's difficult for me to get up and make him. I noticed that I was doing much more yelling from the couch trying to get him to mind, which isn't a good thing to do either. My goal for Lent is to stop yelling so much at everyone, especially Gabriel and Molly, and then to stick with it after Lent is over. I think this is much more productive than giving up sweets.

And speaking of Molly, our poor pets are pretty neglected these days too. They live for all of us to go in the backyard and play. That's when they are all at their happiest. But this cruel winter has not allowed for that very often, and with all the Joel/Gabriel attention it's left them a little lost. I manage to walk Molly once a week, but will be doing that more with Joel once it warms up. Jav tries to walk her another two nights a week, which helps keep her arthritis at bay. Zoe seems to tolerate anything we throw at her, but it makes me feel so guilty to see how excited she gets when it's time for me to brush her for two minutes before I go to bed every night. All of that happiness for only two minutes of attention? Bones is the only pet who has shown some aggressive behavior, but luckily, like Gabriel, knows better than to take it out on the baby. He takes it out on either Zoe or my favorite red chair in the living room. He'll walk around the house meowing for someone to pay attention to him for a half hour, then he starts to snap and run around the house making that weird "Cat on Attack" noise.

I know all of this will get better. Joel is getting sitting in the swing for longer periods of time, and is starting to enjoy time on the activity mat. And no matter how hard the day is, I always remember two things in the back of my head. One is that I'm so thankful for these two kids that even though it's hard I can't imagine my life without them now. And two is that they stay little for such a SHORT amount of time, and I need to relax and enjoy it while it lasts.

Dogs

After returning from a visit to Christi's house last week, where I used to live, Molly kept sniffing me up and down.  My first thought was that she was picking up Thomas's (Christi's ever-so-cool cat) scent.  But then I started wondering if maybe she was remembering the smell of that house.  We know dogs have an amazing sense of smell, especially my half-hound dog.  How long do scents linger, especially inside?  I'm sure the outside ones have all been washed away by rain by now, but how much vacuuming and cleaning does it take to wash away inside scents?  

I used to wonder about this right after I lost Stanley and I would be walking Molly.  Could she still pick up his scent, and was it making her wonder where he was?  This is probably putting a human spin on a dog's thought process, which I have a bad habit of doing.  But it was still interesting to think about.  

Cats and birds

A male cardinal on Gabriel's swing.

One of the neatest things I did last year was to add some water dishes for the birds all throughout our yard.  We already had two big birdbaths, but we had a bunch of little birds that couldn't drink out of them.  It has been amazing to see how many more birds we've had in our yard with the addition of these smaller dishes, especially the smallest bowl, which is part of our St. Francis statue (in the background of the above picture).  I've seen big birds like bluejays and cardinals drinking from that tiny bowl, along with wrens and these tiny black and white woodpeckers.  I was out the day after the ice storm chipping away with an ice pick to make sure they had water, and also making sure there was plenty of birdseed in our two feeders.  It's kind of like our birds are an extended pet family.  I don't think people realize when it's been as dry as it has been in Texas, that not only do birds have trouble finding water, but their food sources start to disappear too.  Gabriel's been watching them more and more, and is starting to talk to them.  "Hey Bood!  Der ya are!  Hi bood",etc ... It's pretty cute to watch.

Also, I've decided to try to get my female cat, Zoe, to be an indoor/outdoor cat again.  She went out whenever I was out at the old house, but when we moved here she seemed so happy that we decided not to let her outside.  Now she stands at the back door and watches us when we're all outside with this really sad look on her face.  But I'm not just doing it to make her happier.  I don't want to have to worry anymore about whether or not someone accidentally lets her out.  This has been a tough decision because we really can't afford more yearly shots and heartworm/flea meds every month for another pet.  But if I can train her to only be out while we're out (which I really think she'll be ok with), then I'll probably only add the monthly flea medication and hope that she never gets into a fight with a rabid squirrel.  So she is currently enduring the humiliation of being on a leash until she gets more of her scent around the yard.  But even with the leash she seems to really love being out there so far, chewing on grass, kneading her claws into tree bark, and listening to all those birds.

  

Molly sings the Big Dog Blues

Molly started limping two weeks ago.  I first thought she had just pulled something, because she seemed better a couple of days after not going on any walks.  Jav took her a week ago Tuesday night, and she was fine.  Then after he took her again the following Thursday night, the limp came back.  It remained all last weekend, and I started worrying about hip problems.  I took her Monday to see Dr. Norris, and he started thinking hip also.  They had to put her under on Tuesday to get good x-rays, though.  (Our girl is so playful she won't sit still that long).  

Sure enough, it's dysplasia in both hips, which we weren't expecting.  Her femurs should fit nicely into her hip joints, and be rounded on the edges.  The x-ray showed that the edges are rough and worn down, and so the bone isn't sitting very well in the socket on either side.  He said she was probably in some pain before now, but it must have just recently really started bothering her.  At this point in her life, he recommended a daily joint supplement, and some stronger pain medicine whenever she seems to be having a tough day.  We can still walk her; in fact we need to walk her every day, but maybe for shorter distances.  He said even long walks are ok, as long as it doesn't appear to bother her the next day.  The thing she should avoid is jumping and running, which means no more chasing down the ball.  

I never imagined how emotionally tough and expensive it would be to deal with having multiple middle-aged and/or older  pets.  I knew Rottweilers are prone to the problem, but I guess I was hoping because she was a mixed breed she had enough hound in her to avoid it.  This has been such a tough year on us, pet-wise.  But I'm thankful it wasn't something like bone cancer.  This, for now, seems manageable for the time being.

And we are still considering a puppy, believe it or not.

Bones: From crotchety to cuddle muffin

For some reason, I had a very sad Henry moment this morning.  I was watching Elmo with Gabriel and I got really sad all of a sudden and missed that big drooly purring lump in my lap.  I was crying, but trying to pull myself together so Gabriel wouldn't wonder why Elmo was making Mama sad.  Luckily he was oblivious, but I noticed Bones staring at me.  I asked him if he missed Henry sometimes too.  

Well, when we got home from doing our Thursday thing several hours later, we walked into Gabriel's room and there was the fishing pole with the curly ribbon tied to it.   I couldn't play with the cats using that fishing pole for about a month after we lost Henry.  Then I decided to switch out the little fish with the bell that I had custom made so Henry could hear it with some curly ribbon that someone had left after a birthday party.  I have been making a concentrated effort to play with Bones and Zoe more lately.  But, not only has the fishing pole not made it's way into Gabriel's room since Henry died, Bones has NEVER left a toy for anybody before in the house.  You really could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw it.

Then as soon as Gabriel was asleep, Bonesy came and curled up in my lap and let me pet him for the longest time.  I'm not sure if Bones was letting me know that he's a little more content now that there are fewer pets and I have more time to play with him, or if he knew how much I needed that little extra lovin'.  Either way, it sure did make me feel better.  And it just further confirms my belief that animals are instinctively so much smarter than most people give them credit for.

To puppy or not to puppy, that is the question

My sister-in-law's boxer, (the one we thought was really sick with a liver problem), just had 7 puppies.  It turns out her distended tummy was not liver related after all.  The father is presumably a boxer/great dane mix.  I had talked with Jav about getting another dog early next summer, but I wasn't really ready to consider one now.  We've had a month and a half of relative pet peace since we lost Henry.  I've even had time to play with Zoe and Bones and Molly more, now that we're down to only three.  

And I know a puppy would turn our peaceful pet world completely upside-down.  It takes time and energy to train him (we would prefer a male at the recommendation of our vet), and to watch out that Molly doesn't get too jealous and "accidentally" step on the new addition.  We would probably also need to watch Bones and Zoe to make sure they didn't slip something into his food.  But there are pluses too.  Gabriel would be able to grow up with the new dog.  Molly could start training a new watch dog.  And, even if Molly doesn't realize it, she would probably enjoy the company of a scrappy little guy.  

We went to see them today, and everyone seems to be doing really well.  I've never seen puppies that new.  (they are 3 days old and so cute and tiny).  Jav and I both liked the male with the lightest color, a really light brown - the same color as the supposed Great Dane dad.  He also appears to be the longest of the puppies.  Sandra said she would give us first choice, but I'm still a little concerned about the health of Ruby, the mama.  Once we determine that she's ok, then we'll have to make a decision.  

 

The eye of the tiger

It's been a week since I lost Henry, and I've had some time to reflect on what made him the most awesome cat on the planet.  

He had what some would consider a disability, especially since he lost his sight when he was around one year old.  But he never, ever let it slow him down.  He had an amazing ability to map out spaces in his head, so much so that he could hide from me in the house or outside.  I can't count the times I thought he had gotten out of the house or yard, only to find that he had figured out another foolproof place to hide.  How he knew that he was camouflaged will always remain a mystery to me.

Supposedly, blind animals don't like to climb or get into high places.  Henry didn't know this fact, and loved to get up into the top of our scratch posts, and to climb on top of things outside.  As long as he could feel his way up, he would try.  Sometimes he'd try even when he couldn't scale it.  I'm thinking about the propane tank at the old house.  Being round, he couldn't scale it.  He eventually let curiosity get the best of him and jumped on top of it.  And the courage it took to leap back down from these places when he had no idea what was below is something that will continue to inspire courage in me for the rest of my life.

When you watched him prowling around in the yard, it was like watching a tiger (although somewhat smaller).  Maybe it was because he was a short-haired cat, but you could see every muscle when he walked.  His hunting ability was uncanny, since he only had smell and sound to guide him.  (Cats hunt with their eyes above all else).  I loved watching him run at top speed around the yard to successfully nab a locust.  He even liked to hone his skills at night.  If I left out small stuffed toys, he would hunt and find them, then start yowling.  We will never know if the yowling was to let us or the other cats know about his conquest.  His yowling sounded just like a crying baby.  Jav and I had only been dating about two months when he heard Henry yowl for the first time.  He looked absolutely shocked that I was hiding a baby somewhere in the house.   Henry would also take the toys and drop them where we could see.  After Gabriel was born he started leaving all his toy conquests in his room, which I thought was so cool.  

Henry had all that bravery and wildness, but he loved to cuddle up with you, sometimes for hours.  He was truly the best things about cats all rolled up into one.  He had the eye of the tiger, and the soul of a cuddly kitten.  

I had a friend at work who claimed to love animals.  But she only owned one dog when she was in high school that got heart worms and died.  She said the pain was just too much to put herself through again.  I never understood this.  The pain is awful when you lose a pet, but there are always so many more needing homes that will provide them love.  And think of all the things I would have never learned about dealing with blindness, or courage, or heart if I had not brought Henry into my life.  

 

       

Unanswerable questions

I'm trying to quiet my head from all the "why"s floating around inside.  

Why did Henry get so sick, so fast, when he's always been such a healthy cat?

Why were there so many things that happened over the past few months that gave me good reasons for Henry's changes in behavior?  I moved one of the cat scratch posts from his favorite room, the front office, back to our bedroom.  He seemed a little mad about it, and may have been at first.  But then the reason he didn't climb to the top anymore was apparently because it was too hard physically.  Also, I changed the cats' food a month ago, which is why I thought he was losing a little weight.  I thought he was mad because I cut out the canned food altogether.  

Why did I let myself get so busy that I didn't see how sick he was?  Although Jav and I have figured out that he really only started to get really thin and slow down over the last three weeks, why didn't I take him in then?  

Why didn't we read up on kidney removal to find that the kidney is one of the most delicate organs to remove due to all the attached blood vessels.  Would this have made us decide to use a specialist instead of Dr. Norris?  Jav and I both still think we would have wanted him to do the surgery.  We know he would never have offered to do it if he felt he wasn't qualified, and that he feels just as awful about what happened as we do, and we wouldn't have gotten that empathy from a specialist.

So many questions, and it really doesn't matter what the answers are.  Maybe that's just the way I am trying to deal with my loss.  One of the only things I feel good about today is the fact that I decided to start letting Henry go back outside last year.  He was allowed out at the old house, but when we moved here we decided to make him stay inside because he seemed to get obsessive about going out.  After a year of living here, I just couldn't take his sulking anymore and started letting him out again.  He truly was happiest in life when he was outside, and got to spend alot of time in the backyard.  My last happy memory of him will be looking out my kitchen window and seeing him laying under our biggest oak tree Monday night, sniffing all the fun scents in the air and listening to the birds as they ate their evening meal.  I really didn't want to bring him in that night, he looked so content.

I was just reading one of my Yoga Journal articles about dealing with grief, and I saw this passage that is helping me to feel a little better for the moment:  "Every life has an arc - however prolonged or truncated - and every soul has a path."  Henry seemed pretty happy until just recently, and his path was a rich and full one.  And he made my path SO much better for having him in my life.  That's what I'll have to think about to get me through this sadness.

Sadness

Henry didn't make it. When my phone started ringing at 10:30 I knew it was bad news. Dr. Norris had checked on him at 8: 30 and he seemed to be doing pretty good. Then he went back at 10 and he had passed away. I had really started to get my hopes up, and feel like I'm living in a horrible nightmare. We've lost three bright lights in this house in less than a year, but Henry's went out way too soon. The pain is really too much for me right now. He was the bravest soul I knew.

Surgery today

Henry update:  (8pm)  He made it out of the surgery, but is still in very critical condition.  Dr. Norris removed his left kidney, which was attached to a huge tissue mass.  He sent it off to be biopsied and won't have the results back for several days.  Dr. Norris said he didn't see signs of tumors or irregularities on any of the nearby organs, although his spleen looked a little discolored.  Alot of Henry's blood vessels had attached themselves to the mass, so Dr. Norris had to cut them and close them back up again (sorry I don't remember the medical terms).  The danger is that having such a large mass removed from his insides (and one that had sort of become a part of him) might send him into shock.  So far his heartbeat is strong, and he was starting to come out of the anesthesia at 6.  Dr. Norris was going to check on him several times during the night, but was hopeful that at this point Henry would make it until morning.  Then we have to wait to see if he starts to get stronger tomorrow.  At least the first goal, making it out of the surgery, has been made.  Now we wait and keep praying.

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Henry goes in to have his kidney removed today.  He has still been eating some the last few days, although about half or less what he usually eats.  He hasn't been moving around much, just getting up to come and eat and go outside.  Once outside, he doesn't prowl the yard like normal, but just picks a nice spot somewhere in the yard and camps out.  Ever since he was little, I've carried him over one shoulder, and he feels so light and bony compared to the big, husky cat I'm used to holding.  We have just been blindsided by how fast this has come up.  We think it's only been about a month that we noticed he had lost weight, and I keep telling myself that if I had any inkling it was something this serious, of course I would have taken him sooner.  But I'm still having a pretty big battle with guilt right now.

This will be a massive surgery, and I hope he has the strength to pull through.  And of course, I hope Dr. Norris doesn't get in there and find that things are much worse than we thought.  I keep thinking about the early months of Henry's life, when he was found starving and dehydrated by the Eastern Hills High School field house with his sister.  She didn't make it, but Henry proved to be a fighter.  I know he still has that fight in him, but I hope it's enough to fight through all of this.  I'm praying for a miracle.

Henry the Brave

This has been a hard year for our four-legged family members. We lost Stanley in August, thought we might lose Bones, but he ended up being ok, then lost Fred in December. Now we are praying for Henry to make it.

I noticed he had started being a little more reclusive than normal the last few months. I chalked it up to moodiness over Gabriel getting bigger and stepping on him occasionally, and perhaps to age (he turned 8 this month). Then I noticed he didn't seem to want to play with me at all, which is really unusual. Then about a month ago, I picked him up one day and realized he had lost weight. Alot of weight. Once again, I tried to rationalize that maybe he didn't like the new low-cal food I had started all the cats on.

I finally took him in Friday, and our vet found a huge lump where his right kidney should be. X-rays found something that is probably a tumor, and has gotten so large it's pushed his intestines over to his left side. He's lost almost 4 pounds since last September when he had his last checkup. (This would be like a human losing 30-40 pounds). I couldn't wrap my brain around what the vet was telling me. Other than being blind, Henry's always been the healthiest pet we've had. He keeps in shape, eats right, drinks lots of water. I always expected him to outlive all the other pets. I really couldn't think straight in the vet's office, I was so shocked and upset. And feeling very, very guilty about not bringing him in earlier.

Our vet rarely does organ removal, but he is willing to remove Henry's kidney for us. We could take him for an ultrasound to see if it looks like there's any spreading to other areas, but that will be at least $300-$500, and our vet has graciously said it isn't necessary for him to proceed with the surgery. I totally trust Dr. Norris, and have great faith in his abilities. I know he wouldn't have offered to do the surgery if he thought he wasn't qualified. And not that another vet wouldn't do his best, but having someone do the surgery who knows us and knows what an amazing animal Henry is just means SO much to Jav and I.

I know you aren't supposed to pick favorites, but I have to say that Henry and I have a really special bond. He's sitting in my lap right now, and it just seems like my lap was made to hold him. The minute I start petting him I relax and breath deeper. It's been that way since the day I first picked him up, almost like we knew each other in a past life. So this is hitting me really hard. I know he's strong, and all we can do is pray that once his kidney is removed that I'll have my strong, brave and amazing Henry back in my lap, healthy again.

Our new Molly

Molly ponders the perks of being in a one-dog family.

Ever since we lost our sweet Stanley last August, we have been amazed at the changes in Molly. Apparently she was so competitive for our attention while Stanley was around that we never knew her true personality. She seems so mellow now in comparison. So much less jumping and hyperactivity, although she still doesn't understand our need for personal space and wants to be sidled right up agin' us if we're anywhere near the floor. She also has reduced her barking at every little thing, so we guess that also was a competitive thing with Stanley. She is a terrific watchdog now, and it's so comforting to know no one in their right mind would ever thinking about coming into our yard or house with that huge, growly and vicious-sounding bark.

She has trouble with other Alpha dogs. I've tried the dog park, and she is so nervous she never can loosen up to have any fun. The second trip she got aggressive with a much smaller dog. It was embarrassing, considering everyone was already watching her closely just because of her size and Rottweiler looks. I'm not sure that she'll ever enjoy it, but I'm going to get a book on trying to get her used to being around other dogs and see where that takes us.

The neatest thing about Molly is her temperament with Gabriel. I knew that it was risky to bring her home from the streets, not knowing her background at all. But who would have thought that she would end up being the perfect kid dog? He crawls all over her, tries to ride her like a horse, pulls her ears and her tail. She never minds any of it, in fact she loves the attention. The best thing is when he hugs and pets her with his head down on her back. They have become best buddies. God was watching out for me when he brought her into my life.

My 200th post

Ever since I started categorizing my posts, I've been subtracting my pictures to keep track of my actual word postings so that I'd know when I hit this milestone.

I wasn't sure what to write about for such a monumental occasion, and I was going to do a sort of a Christmas letter and sum up the past year. But the circumstances of the last 24 hours have led me to want to write something alot more personal and spiritual.

Do you believe in ghosts? Or Heaven? Or at least that our loved ones who proceed onto the next plane before us are still around? What about reincarnation? I would have said no way to these questions years ago. But now I must admit that I sure do like the idea of it, and this may have something to do with getting older. But the first time I considered reincarnation was just after my maternal grandfather died. I had never lost anyone close to me before, (other than my paternal grandfather who died of a heart attack when I was 7). Ever since then, no family, no friends, no pets. I was walking Stanley around the apartment complex I was living in, and this blue jay kept showing up every time we took our walk. I got it in my head that it was Bapaw, coming back as a bird he always complained about, which I thought was kind of funny and ironic. But no matter how crazy it sounds, the idea made me feel so much better and really helped to ease the pain.

The event that really made me start wondering, though, was our wedding. When we started to take pictures, this little stray cat appeared out of nowhere and seemed to want to be in the group pictures. She actually made it into a couple. Then even stranger, when Jav and I were having some taken of just us, the little cat kept wanting to crawl in my lap. Several people afterwards told me they believed that cat was my maternal grandmother, which almost made me fall over because that's what I had been thinking that whole evening. Mamaw would have had to find a way to be at my wedding - she wouldn't have missed it for the world.

And finally, after Gabriel was born, we noticed him doing a strange thing every now and then while lying on his changing table, sometimes crying (he couldn't have been more than 2 or 3 months old or so). He would stare at the ceiling and start to smile. There were no shadows, or ceiling fan, or any movement that Jav or I could see. But he seemed to be really watching something or someone. I liked the idea that maybe that was one or some of his great-grandparents, stopping by to smile down at him. He still does this every once in awhile, and he will go from an all out scream to very quiet and still, then to a smile. And just last week, he was in his high chair and looked down just like one of the pets had come into the room, held up some food, and started his dog talk. But I didn't see anyone. Maybe Stanley dropped in for a quick hello.

I know all of these ideas are probably just things to comfort me and make me miss people or pets just a little less.

So last night, when we knew that Fred had stopped eating for a day again, and seemed to have a fever, I had to rely on all of these things to come to terms with realizing he was too sick to go on. I believe in the power of prayer, but don't normally pray for specific things for myself. However last night I prayed for some kind of miracle to help Fred. But, sadly, he still couldn't eat this morning. We took him in, and the vet listened and understood. He can never make that decision for a pet owner, I guess, but I got the feeling he knew I was making the right decision. When Fred left our world in my arms, all I could do is hope and pray with every fiber of my being that he's now somewhere where he's happy and his mouth doesn't hurt, and he can grow big and strong, and be outside and climb trees and hunt bugs. I hope this very moment he's doing all the things he couldn't do during his short five years in our world. And I hope I meet up with him again to look into those blue-green eyes and scratch that sweet little face. Maybe he can even take a nap with me curled up on my chest. Somehow, someway, I have to believe.

Little Fred

We are having trouble with Fred's gums again. I was confused after he got some of his teeth pulled, thinking this problem was solved for good. But just after our Padre trip he started eating less and acting really skittish again, and sure enough the vet said his gums looked awful and he needed a steroid shot. Jav and I decided we'd start taking him again every 6 weeks to get a shot. His gums must hurt him really badly, because he stops taking care of himself - no grooming or anything.

Well, he didn't even make it a whole month. The week before last he just stopped eating. It was too painful. He didn't even try a couple of times, and I knew it was really bad this time. I took him in and he had a low-grade fever along with awful looking gums. I asked the vet (a wonderful man named Dr. Robert Norris-we've practically become family because I'm in there so much), what kind of damage the steroid shots could possibly do, especially having them so often. He said eventually Fred could develop liver and heart problems because of them. Sigh. So then I asked about whether pulling out all of his teeth would be psychologically hard, and he told me that because the gums are still really red even where his other teeth were pulled that pulling out all of his teeth wouldn't really make any difference. Sigh. Sigh. (with a few tears at this point). So Fred is pretty much screwed, I asked (not in those words). Yes, there's really no other treatment possibilities for him. More tears. Plus I was supposed to try and give him antibiotics to get his fever down. Good luck with all that!

The next day was Sunday, and I tried to crush the pill and mix it into Fred's food. He took two bites and walked away. I tried a couple of hours later to just poke it in his mouth and rub his throat so he'd swallow it. I thought this worked, but then Molly walked in the room and ate something that must have been the pill. And Fred was terrified and hiding under the bed. At this point I was so despondent I became hard to live with. My Mom helped me by suggesting that I forget about the pill for now and just make sure he starts eating again, and maybe nature will take care of itself and his fever will go down. I calmed down and Fred ate and ate.

Monday I was able to cut the pill in half and sneak it into two servings of Fred's food. And that worked all week long. He's had a great week. We've seen more of him than usual, and he's been playful. His coat looks wonderful too. I have to just take it a day at a time, and be glad that he's feeling good right now.

I can't keep up

Gabriel has matured in so many ways since he started walking I can't even keep up with them anymore. I never realized that opening that one developmental door would advance him in so many other ways. He can turn things on and off now, especially his noisier toys. He can open up certain doors in the house, which proves that he is getting taller by the day too. He can rip off his bib, which is his new clue to us that he is finished eating. It's been really amazing to watch how he fine tunes his communication skills, especially when it comes to what he likes and doesn't like. Anything he doesn't like is met with his very loud and whiny one syllable cry. This is his BAD noise. He has a much wider range for GOOD noises. Anything outside wins instant approval-it's all GOOD. Coming back inside is BAD. Putting on shoes and socks is BAD. Taking off shoes and socks is so GOOD it inspires giggles. Pasta, bread, cheese, peas, carrots, brocolli, sweet potatoes and all fruit is GOOD. Mushrooms, lunch meat, fish and cauliflower are BAD. In this case, the whiny noise is accompanied by a healthy toss of the offending food onto the floor.

The most interesting communication Gabriel has, though, is with the pets. Several weeks ago we realized that he has developed a language for Molly that he doesn't use with anybody else. It involves keeping his mouth closed while flicking his tongue off the roof of his mouth alot. This sounds a bit like Hindu chanting. We can't figure out if he is trying to emulate a barking sound, trying to say "Molly" over and over again, or if there is a deeper and more complex set of words being said. He has used this language around some of our neighbors' dogs, too, leading us to determine that it must be canine in nature.

On the opposite spectrum, his feline language is all very high-pitched, short noises. Mom hears this over the phone and says it sounds like a jungle bird, but I've decided to start calling it his Cat-Chasing Comanche War Cry. The most passionate of the cries come while he is actually chasing one of the cats, arms held out and slightly up. He especially likes to chase Zoe, probably because she will run away at first but then always comes back for more. She LOVES to play, even with a terrifying stumbling one-year-old.

So all in all, my child is now learning four languages: English, Spanish, Dog and Cat. Even though English still gets a little complicated sometimes. Every time we read Goodnight Moon before bed, we get to the pages that say "Goodnight stars, goodnight air", and Gabriel starts patting his head to tell his hair goodnight. The song from My Fair Lady, "Just you wait 'enry 'iggins, just you wait" always comes into my head when this happens. I knew all of that Harry Potter audio would turn him into an Anglophile!

Woof-wonderful

Mom and I took Molly and Hannah (her border collie mix) to the Fort Woof Dog Park for the first time today. (Why don't I ever think to bring the camera for things like this?) The dogs were a little nervous and didn't quite know what to think about being off a leash and allowed to run rampant with a bunch of other dogs. The setup there is great. There are several faucets with large buckets full of water under them for all the dogs to drink. And there are strategically placed baggie dispensers with wooden waste bins underneath to help pick up after the pooches. I was a little worried about Molly getting aggressive towards the other dogs, but her hackles only went up one time, and then she and the other dog must have worked something out. She actually stayed pretty close to me the whole time, so we never even made it back to the back of the park where the obstacle course area is. There must have been around 25 big dogs galumphing around at one point, and this was during a weekday! I can't imagine what the place is like on the weekends. I was having such a good time watching all the different breeds and being proud of my Molly-girl that I didn't really want to leave. But Mom pointed out that the girls were exhausted from all the stress of this first time, so we packed up and went home. We all can't wait to go again!