...those creases and folds that result in that adorably smushy face...hold a stench. bugsy carried around his eau de skunk for a good two months or more. whats worse, is i can still smell it on items that must have been in his presence during the 'incident'. for instance, my yoga towel. every week as i make my way in to my first downward dog (coincidence?) my brain does that thing where a scent triggers a memory so quickly you aren't completely aware that it was a scent that took you there. anyway, while i push the floor away with my hands and bring my heart toward the floor my mind flashes to bugsy and i realize, rather embarrassingly, that it is because my towel smells of skunk. my embarrassment is magnified by the fact that this happens at least once a week if not more....meaning, if you haven't guessed already, that each week i fail to do anything about it.
well, now you know a little bit more about me than i would like.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
saturday! saturday! saturday skunks all right!
we've done it million times before. we've taken the dogs with us somewhere. tonight, it was for frozen yogurt. we get home and let the dogs run from the car, up the front porch, to the door. seriously, a million times.
this time, oskar was first. he ran, past the door (that's odd, i think) scuffled and ran around the other side of the porch, through the yard back up to us on the steps. then bugsy went. bugsy also ran past the door, into scuffle zone. that is when i saw a tail. a poofy raised black tail. some strange, unrecognizable noises were emerging from the far end of our porch and bugsy wasn't moving. oskar went back to investigate.
by this point i'm screaming. i'm certain the dogs have encountered another living creature (something i'm not entirely convinced they are equipped to do) and i'm not sure what it is. my first thought is skunk. but maybe cat, or raccoon, or opossum, or (oh god) some gremlin creature from the depths of the earth....this is where my demented mind takes me.
we are both screaming for bugsy to get away from 'it' and bugsy, eventually, comes plodding through the yard towards us...vomiting white foam.
fuck.
it doesn't take long, like, a millisecond, to realize he was skunked. we are frantically trying to calm the dogs, get the skunk away from the front door, find our keys to get in the house, find a place for the frozen yogurt we don't want to melt....what seems like forever was probably all of a minute before we get inside.
i take bugsy in the bathroom to start rinsing him off in the bath. at this point, under light, i see exactly where he was skunked. his face is yellow. yellow! as i'm trying to wipe him down, i can feel the slime that apparently is excreted along with scent. so gross. and it doesn't smell like skunk. you know, that familiar "oh i think a skunk was here" sort of lingering aroma that conjures images of Pepe Le Pew with a green odor trail behind him. no. this was like sticking your face in a gas tank and inhaling until you are dizzy.
so, i'm washing the little shit. only a week ago he ate a whole chicken. the poor thing is shivering and gagging. we make the concoction found all over the internet that includes peroxide, baking soda and soap. we do the rub down and rinse. pretty standard.
however, for anyone with smushy faced dogs, you know that wiping the face is no easy task. there are creases and proximity to the (bulging) eyes to consider. for this part, i used a q-tip. luckily (?) since the scent is colored, i could see it on the q-tip as i wiped it from the eye creases. i had to be very gentle, when wiping away between the eyes and around the ears with the wacky concoction, but i found that it sort of calmed him a bit. i wonder if it felt good, because up to that point he was acting pretty miserable.
so, the dogs will NOT be sleeping with us tonight. we'll evaluate their stink factor in the morning. hey! its like vacation but in our own big bed. maybe i can feel like i have a partner rather than a menagerie!
in the grand scheme, this one isn't that bad. in fact i knew it was just a matter of time, and frankly, i'm glad we were right there to take care of it rather than having come home hours later to a stinky, barfed up house.
i just hope bugsy never meets a raccoon.
this time, oskar was first. he ran, past the door (that's odd, i think) scuffled and ran around the other side of the porch, through the yard back up to us on the steps. then bugsy went. bugsy also ran past the door, into scuffle zone. that is when i saw a tail. a poofy raised black tail. some strange, unrecognizable noises were emerging from the far end of our porch and bugsy wasn't moving. oskar went back to investigate.
by this point i'm screaming. i'm certain the dogs have encountered another living creature (something i'm not entirely convinced they are equipped to do) and i'm not sure what it is. my first thought is skunk. but maybe cat, or raccoon, or opossum, or (oh god) some gremlin creature from the depths of the earth....this is where my demented mind takes me.
we are both screaming for bugsy to get away from 'it' and bugsy, eventually, comes plodding through the yard towards us...vomiting white foam.
fuck.
it doesn't take long, like, a millisecond, to realize he was skunked. we are frantically trying to calm the dogs, get the skunk away from the front door, find our keys to get in the house, find a place for the frozen yogurt we don't want to melt....what seems like forever was probably all of a minute before we get inside.
i take bugsy in the bathroom to start rinsing him off in the bath. at this point, under light, i see exactly where he was skunked. his face is yellow. yellow! as i'm trying to wipe him down, i can feel the slime that apparently is excreted along with scent. so gross. and it doesn't smell like skunk. you know, that familiar "oh i think a skunk was here" sort of lingering aroma that conjures images of Pepe Le Pew with a green odor trail behind him. no. this was like sticking your face in a gas tank and inhaling until you are dizzy.
so, i'm washing the little shit. only a week ago he ate a whole chicken. the poor thing is shivering and gagging. we make the concoction found all over the internet that includes peroxide, baking soda and soap. we do the rub down and rinse. pretty standard.
however, for anyone with smushy faced dogs, you know that wiping the face is no easy task. there are creases and proximity to the (bulging) eyes to consider. for this part, i used a q-tip. luckily (?) since the scent is colored, i could see it on the q-tip as i wiped it from the eye creases. i had to be very gentle, when wiping away between the eyes and around the ears with the wacky concoction, but i found that it sort of calmed him a bit. i wonder if it felt good, because up to that point he was acting pretty miserable.
so, the dogs will NOT be sleeping with us tonight. we'll evaluate their stink factor in the morning. hey! its like vacation but in our own big bed. maybe i can feel like i have a partner rather than a menagerie!
in the grand scheme, this one isn't that bad. in fact i knew it was just a matter of time, and frankly, i'm glad we were right there to take care of it rather than having come home hours later to a stinky, barfed up house.
i just hope bugsy never meets a raccoon.
tastes like chicken
aaaah. vacation. six days of family, desert, sun, quiet and no dogs. i love them to death, but its nice to have a break from the nighttime contortionist tricks that they manage get out of me. its nice to not have to worry about clearing the counter, or leaving my camera on the table, shutting the door behind me, putting on my shoes prematurely....
so, we get home. thankfully, the dog sitter had a no-incident visit (and she loves them, which doesn't hurt) and we are eager to spend time with our boo boos. we take a long apologetic "sorry we left for six days" hike and come home for an even longer "we're sorry we weren't here to snuggle" nap.
in another effort to be good, proactive parents (again, with time off and some extra cash) we decide to rent a weed-whacker from home depot to chop down all the fox tails growing in the backyard. we had a very unfortunate occurrence last summer involving oskar, fox tails, ears and nose, oh and a HUGE vet bill. so while daddy goes to work in the yard, mommy attempts to be domestic and clean the kitchen. one nice happy friday afternoon family. while cleaning out the fridge, i throw away a chicken carcass that had been slowly decaying? rotting? basking? in the fridge while we were away. to be fair, by carcass i mean a whole cooked chicken that we ate most of but didn't quite finish. it was in a bath of solidified chicken fat and old potatoes. yum. so of course i threw it away.
dad finishes in the yard, i finish the final wipe down of the counters. we hop in the station wagon (honda accord actually) and drive on down to the hardware store to return the whacker. beaming with the sort of pride that comes only with accomplishment, we come home to...guilty oskar.
guilty oskar stays in the front room by the door while we walk further into the house to discover whatever he is guilty for.
(there is no guilty bugsy)
we find the garbage strewn across the kitchen floor. the same garbage that had moldy yogurt, 6-month old falafel mix, expired smoked salmon, oh yes-and a chicken carcass. bones and all.
well if watching your loved one go into a complete state of panic: shaking, tears, shouting, doesn't make you feel like disintegrating into the earth, then maybe the thought of both your dogs dying by chicken bone will.
we take action: we search for carcass remains, after all we were only gone for 30 minutes or so. apparently it takes less than that to eat a whole chicken.
i call the vet trying to articulate (non-hysterically) the situation. the girl eventually puts me on the phone with the vet. this is both comforting (hey! he really cares about the animals) and alarming (shit. its that bad the vet needs to get on the phone).
he says that as long as the chicken bones are cooked, they should be fine. to help them digest, feed them rice for a couple of days and call back if there is any vomiting or evidence of pain.
for the record, this goes against pretty much almost everything i have ever heard about dogs and chicken bones, but it was still comforting. it was been a week now and there are still no signs of barf or pain. i don't think oskar pooped for a couple of days, which concerned me, but he maintained an appetite and has pooped since.
so its all good. for now. and for those of you in your own state of worry, or just in case you are wondering....even after the vet said they would be fine, i still worried. i still sat in my bathtub crying, trying to imagine how i would cope with the loss of two dogs who died because of my dumb-ass leaving chicken bones in the trash and possibly ruining my relationship because he would blame me too...
but again, so far so good.
so, we get home. thankfully, the dog sitter had a no-incident visit (and she loves them, which doesn't hurt) and we are eager to spend time with our boo boos. we take a long apologetic "sorry we left for six days" hike and come home for an even longer "we're sorry we weren't here to snuggle" nap.
in another effort to be good, proactive parents (again, with time off and some extra cash) we decide to rent a weed-whacker from home depot to chop down all the fox tails growing in the backyard. we had a very unfortunate occurrence last summer involving oskar, fox tails, ears and nose, oh and a HUGE vet bill. so while daddy goes to work in the yard, mommy attempts to be domestic and clean the kitchen. one nice happy friday afternoon family. while cleaning out the fridge, i throw away a chicken carcass that had been slowly decaying? rotting? basking? in the fridge while we were away. to be fair, by carcass i mean a whole cooked chicken that we ate most of but didn't quite finish. it was in a bath of solidified chicken fat and old potatoes. yum. so of course i threw it away.
dad finishes in the yard, i finish the final wipe down of the counters. we hop in the station wagon (honda accord actually) and drive on down to the hardware store to return the whacker. beaming with the sort of pride that comes only with accomplishment, we come home to...guilty oskar.
guilty oskar stays in the front room by the door while we walk further into the house to discover whatever he is guilty for.
(there is no guilty bugsy)
we find the garbage strewn across the kitchen floor. the same garbage that had moldy yogurt, 6-month old falafel mix, expired smoked salmon, oh yes-and a chicken carcass. bones and all.
well if watching your loved one go into a complete state of panic: shaking, tears, shouting, doesn't make you feel like disintegrating into the earth, then maybe the thought of both your dogs dying by chicken bone will.
we take action: we search for carcass remains, after all we were only gone for 30 minutes or so. apparently it takes less than that to eat a whole chicken.
i call the vet trying to articulate (non-hysterically) the situation. the girl eventually puts me on the phone with the vet. this is both comforting (hey! he really cares about the animals) and alarming (shit. its that bad the vet needs to get on the phone).
he says that as long as the chicken bones are cooked, they should be fine. to help them digest, feed them rice for a couple of days and call back if there is any vomiting or evidence of pain.
for the record, this goes against pretty much almost everything i have ever heard about dogs and chicken bones, but it was still comforting. it was been a week now and there are still no signs of barf or pain. i don't think oskar pooped for a couple of days, which concerned me, but he maintained an appetite and has pooped since.
so its all good. for now. and for those of you in your own state of worry, or just in case you are wondering....even after the vet said they would be fine, i still worried. i still sat in my bathtub crying, trying to imagine how i would cope with the loss of two dogs who died because of my dumb-ass leaving chicken bones in the trash and possibly ruining my relationship because he would blame me too...
but again, so far so good.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
to vaccinate or not to vaccinate, that is the question
saturday: our intention was to be good parents. we got an email from the vet informing us of upcoming vaccination due dates for both dogs. what luck! we just got paid, we had time off, there was a vaccine clinic providing low(er) cost service-it was as if the stars had aligned and lit the path up the hill to the vet's office.
oh no. well, oskar was fine. we have come to expect some logie-ness post shots so that did not cause any alarm. i took note multiple times during the night, as i rolled over bugsy, that he would let out this excruciating yelp. again, i chalked it up to sensitive limbs due to shots.
saturday night/sunday morning: my real concern started when i noticed the swelling in bugsy's leg where the shots were given. huh. little weird i guess. then he started limping and favoring his swollen hip/leg. then he stopped moving around all together. now i was very concerned. this is when i began to look up 'side effects of bortedella shot' and really began to worry.
here is what i learned:
~ similar to the polarizing human vaccination debate, there is a community of pet owners who solemnly believe that vaccinations only harm your little one. it is considered to be a money making scam among veterinarians as your animal doesn't need vaccines, they are simply recommended. a vet insisting on one is only looking for cash and in the long run they make your animal sicker than they would have been had you never vaccinated them at all. well, regardless of your (or my) stance on this issue, i began to look for warning signs from bugsy that he may die soon. he had the following:
loss of appetite, no movement (which meant no bathroom), not interested in drinking water and occasional panting despite the fact he hasn't been moving.
of course, these are all 'bad signs' and i should 'call my vet immediately'.
sunday: so i call my emergency vet (who, side note, when i win the lottery one day i will give these people so much money as they have managed to calm me down for free many, many times). they give me the usual, "if it's not better by tomorrow take him to your vet, but he should be fine"
sunday night/monday morning: i can't sleep. i restlessly go in and out of bizarre dreams while trying to avoid rolling over bugsy. finally, i pull out the lap top and start researching 'side effects of rabies vaccination'. i find this charming discussion board where this woman gives the play by play of her sick boston terrier post rabies vaccine. he has trouble breathing, won't eat or pee, seems to be pained in his hind quarters. hey! just like bugsy! she recounts the vet visit where she is told it is actually some infection in the bladder and the dog is so sick and in so much pain at this point that she has to decide if it is better to just put him down. in the end she does. all carried out via the this discussion board. its three o'clock in the morning and i'm ready to cry and barf at the thought of putting my dog to sleep.
monday: there is a seemingly miraculous turn around. (thank you Jesus-Allah-Buddha). he is eating, roaming around the house, even doing a bit o' butt wiggle. as my fear subsides, so does my general anger toward the vet technicians who needlessly jammed my poor dog full of needles.
so, conclusion: (animal) vaccinations, many believe they are not entirely necessary...so do your research before you order a vac-cocktail. regardless of stance on this issue, it is important to keep in mind the size of your dog and maybe spread out the vaccines over a couple of weeks OR ask the shooter to at least change up the point of entry.
oh no. well, oskar was fine. we have come to expect some logie-ness post shots so that did not cause any alarm. i took note multiple times during the night, as i rolled over bugsy, that he would let out this excruciating yelp. again, i chalked it up to sensitive limbs due to shots.
saturday night/sunday morning: my real concern started when i noticed the swelling in bugsy's leg where the shots were given. huh. little weird i guess. then he started limping and favoring his swollen hip/leg. then he stopped moving around all together. now i was very concerned. this is when i began to look up 'side effects of bortedella shot' and really began to worry.
here is what i learned:
~ similar to the polarizing human vaccination debate, there is a community of pet owners who solemnly believe that vaccinations only harm your little one. it is considered to be a money making scam among veterinarians as your animal doesn't need vaccines, they are simply recommended. a vet insisting on one is only looking for cash and in the long run they make your animal sicker than they would have been had you never vaccinated them at all. well, regardless of your (or my) stance on this issue, i began to look for warning signs from bugsy that he may die soon. he had the following:
loss of appetite, no movement (which meant no bathroom), not interested in drinking water and occasional panting despite the fact he hasn't been moving.
of course, these are all 'bad signs' and i should 'call my vet immediately'.
sunday: so i call my emergency vet (who, side note, when i win the lottery one day i will give these people so much money as they have managed to calm me down for free many, many times). they give me the usual, "if it's not better by tomorrow take him to your vet, but he should be fine"
sunday night/monday morning: i can't sleep. i restlessly go in and out of bizarre dreams while trying to avoid rolling over bugsy. finally, i pull out the lap top and start researching 'side effects of rabies vaccination'. i find this charming discussion board where this woman gives the play by play of her sick boston terrier post rabies vaccine. he has trouble breathing, won't eat or pee, seems to be pained in his hind quarters. hey! just like bugsy! she recounts the vet visit where she is told it is actually some infection in the bladder and the dog is so sick and in so much pain at this point that she has to decide if it is better to just put him down. in the end she does. all carried out via the this discussion board. its three o'clock in the morning and i'm ready to cry and barf at the thought of putting my dog to sleep.
monday: there is a seemingly miraculous turn around. (thank you Jesus-Allah-Buddha). he is eating, roaming around the house, even doing a bit o' butt wiggle. as my fear subsides, so does my general anger toward the vet technicians who needlessly jammed my poor dog full of needles.
so, conclusion: (animal) vaccinations, many believe they are not entirely necessary...so do your research before you order a vac-cocktail. regardless of stance on this issue, it is important to keep in mind the size of your dog and maybe spread out the vaccines over a couple of weeks OR ask the shooter to at least change up the point of entry.
Monday, January 18, 2010
the background
the idea for this blog has been in the back of mind for years now and has even attempted to take shape a few times. lying awake many a restless night perusing the internet for answers to my dogs' ailments has left something to be desired. that is not to say that there aren't some equally hysterical doggy parents out there, frantically posting to discussion boards in search of some alternative to the vet....but....there is very little with a concern, an issue, a momentary freak out with follow up. it's all well and good to know that other dogs are inexplicably dry heaving at 3:00 am but what i am really looking for is what happened next?!
so, some background:
bugsy. boston terrier. 5 years old now. may as well be a roomba vacuum the way he skims the floors for scraps. however, unlike a roomba, he sheds and is not built to digest some of the charming bits he finds. he is also a chewer, a destroyer really, and has not yet figured out that plastic is hard (and painful) to pass. a sampling of things bugsy has tried to (with some success) eat: light bulb, rubber dinosaur toy, broken shot glass, wood scraps, eye glasses, wine corks, and rubber bands.
oskar. boxer. 3 years old. the muscle of the operation. he is big enough to pull food off the counter, open the cupboard where the trash is kept, and climb on the dining room table. unfortunately for oskar whatever he finds is quickly taken and destroyed by bugsy so he is often considered an accomplice. he, like his big brother, never learns. at only six months old, oskar got into a great deal of trash (i'll spare you the gory details) and ended up on the vet's surgery table to remove the foreign objects and a chunk of his intestine.
i have yet to see it all, but i intend to share what i have and hope to hear your stories along the way.
so, some background:
bugsy. boston terrier. 5 years old now. may as well be a roomba vacuum the way he skims the floors for scraps. however, unlike a roomba, he sheds and is not built to digest some of the charming bits he finds. he is also a chewer, a destroyer really, and has not yet figured out that plastic is hard (and painful) to pass. a sampling of things bugsy has tried to (with some success) eat: light bulb, rubber dinosaur toy, broken shot glass, wood scraps, eye glasses, wine corks, and rubber bands.
oskar. boxer. 3 years old. the muscle of the operation. he is big enough to pull food off the counter, open the cupboard where the trash is kept, and climb on the dining room table. unfortunately for oskar whatever he finds is quickly taken and destroyed by bugsy so he is often considered an accomplice. he, like his big brother, never learns. at only six months old, oskar got into a great deal of trash (i'll spare you the gory details) and ended up on the vet's surgery table to remove the foreign objects and a chunk of his intestine.
i have yet to see it all, but i intend to share what i have and hope to hear your stories along the way.
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