An Open Letter to Small Dog Owners

Dear owner of a small dog,

I love your dog.  I really do.  She is small and furry, and I am an equal-opportunity dog lover.  I love to pet your dog, and maybe, if I'm lucky, get kisses, and though, as a large dog owner (an owner of large dogs, that is, not...ah, well, that one's kind of true too) I don't quite understand why you carry your dog everywhere, thus never allowing your tiny creature's feet to touch the ground, I really don't care what you do in your own time.  It doesn't affect me.  But you know where it does affect me?  At work. 

That's right.  Some of your wee children are super happy to see me, as I am happy to see them.  I am glad to be greeted with wags and kisses and an exuberant personality.  However, there are times that your dog is less than happy to be ripped out of the familiar, loving arms of Mom (or Dad) and handed over to a complete stranger, whom, they know by now, is going to do horrible, awful, unspeakable things to them like give them a bath and trim their nails.  (I would like to point out, for the record, that I am not the one to actually do these horrid things to you, furry creatures; I'm merely the middle-man)  When your dog is struggling to get away from me, more times than I can count, your dog's nails, which are due for a nail trim today, pierce things like skin and my shirt.  Okay.  These things aren't going to kill me.

But you know what totally sucks?  When your terrified, really unhappy dog is ripped out of your arms into mine, causing a very nervous bladder to suddenly open up in a gush of smelly, sticky ickiness, soaking through to my skin.  I am no stranger to pet urine, mind you, and while I'm not exactly afraid of it, and in fact think nothing of cleaning up the piles of urine left by just-as-upset-yet-leashed pets, but there is nothing quite so unpleasant as dog urine soaked into one's clothes.  Again, this isn't the end of the world.  Will I die?  No.  Stink?  Maybe, but I was minutes from going home and taking a shower/throwing every stitch of clothing in the washer anyway.  So no harm, no foul.

Yet, when I return home, I know I will be inspected by the canines in my life.  I'm pretty sure having another dog's pee on you is the doggy-equivalent of having an affair. 

So, my plea, dear small dog owners, is that if you know your dog is fidgety/leaky when you drop him or her off, please consider letting him use the four paws that God gave him.

UTI Woes

I suspected last week that Indiana had (yet another) UTI.  She had several accidents in the house, which is totally not her thing.  This dog was potty-trained in about three days when we first got her as a puppy, so I always know something is wrong when accidents occur.

I took a urine sample in to the vet last Thursday, and my vet was kind enough to start Indy on antibiotics to prevent something awful over the weekend, given her history with UTIs.  (This is probably her fifth one in about a year) 

I got the test results back today, and not only does Indy have a UTI, she has FOUR different bacteria growing, one of which "many commonly used antibiotics are ineffective against."  Hooray.  For those in the know, our enemies this week are Proteus mirabilis, E. coli, Pseudomonas aeruginosa, and Enterococcus.  And apparently they can't all agree on one antibiotic that will (or won't, as the case with Enterococcus may be) work, so she's on Baytril and Doxycycline.  Indy's had Pseudomonas before, and it's hard to treat.  The one drug that works on Pseudomonas, Amikacin, is kidney toxic, which is a major no-no in dog's with kidney disease.  So we're hoping that the antibiotics, along with a holistic urinary tract supplement, will be effective.  Another urine test in 7 days will give us a better idea. 

So, next up for me: to find out why Indy is getting recurring infections.  If we can prevent them, then we can avoid all this misery for her.  We have a vet appointment on Friday, so I'll find out more.  I have a feeling there is little we can do, because my very proactive vet probably would have already suggested it if something existed.  But still, maybe I can start to shave her around her lady parts or something. 

Despite all of this, Indy is feeling pretty good.  She has had a bright, happy look in her eye all week, and last night, she even played with Gus.  She still is getting up to greet us when we get home, and she's spending some time outdoors too.  She is so tough, and so amazing.

Speaking of which, I saw Indy's old vet today (whom I refer to as Vet #2--he left the practice, we didn't leave him).  He was seeing Gus for chiropractic but asked about Indy.  He had been talking to Vet #1 about her, catching up on how she was doing.  He told me that he talks about her all the time in his practice, and that in all of his years of veterinary care, he's never seen another dog like her.  I was super-proud Mama at the point, hearing all of these glowing things about my girl.  I don't understand what I ever did to deserve such an amazing dog, but I can say that everything I do, every sacrifice I make, I do it to live up to the standards that she has set.

Variety is The Spice of Life

While watching the local news early this morning, Jim and I saw a segment on Vitamin D and foods that you can eat to increase your Vitamin D levels (featuring a nutritionist from Jewel-Osco, oddly).  This is a popular theme on news shows; I guess they have to talk about something.  Plus, it seems like every week, some scientist has come out with a study proving that we have to eat more of this, less of that, blah, blah, blah.  Watching the segment on Vitamin D, I remarked to Jim that I would love to see someone put together a spread of the ideal food to eat for an entire day that fits every single requirement.  I'm pretty sure it'd be impossible to do. 

What we can take away from these scientific studies then, is that variety is key to a healthy diet.  If you eat a (fresh) varied diet, over time, you're going to cover all of your bases.  But that got me to thinking (because this is a huge soap-box topic for me) that it is absolutely no different for our pets. 

I work part-time at a pet food store--high end, human-grade, quality food, of course--and it still never ceases to amaze me how people are content to feed their pets the exact same thing every meal of every day.  Not only is this booooooooring for the pet, but it also doesn't promote health.  (And I won't proselytize on kibble vs. raw, at least not today)  Think about it: each company has their own proprietary blend of vitamins and minerals that it uses in its products.  If, with every new bag of dog food (or even every meal--really, my pets typically get a different food at each meal) you used a different brand, and had a rotation of a minimum of three or four, every bag of food would afford your pet a different mix of vitamins and minerals, thus eliminating any long-term deficiencies. 

A healthy pet can typically handle food rotation.  (Don't try this on a dog with confirmed GI disease without talking with a vet knowledgeable in nutrition first)  We like variety in our foods; our pets  like variety in their foods.  We thrive on variety; our pets thrive on variety.  It's simple, it's easy, it makes sense.  So the next time you head to the pet food store to pick up a bag of food, try something different.  You'll be promoting health and making your pet happy all in one fell swoop.

A Shameless Plug

This cute little kitten wants you to donate money to Paws 4 A Cure

Is it fair to use a years-old, heartbreakingly adorable picture of Gus to promote something near and dear to my heart?  My cat, my picture, my rules.  Besides, Gus hates animal cancer just as much as I do, so he's totally on board with this post.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the Paws 4 A Cure walk, founded by my good friend Keri, a fellow dog Mom.  Founded in honor of her son, Nikko, Paws 4 A Cure raises funds to provide treatment for pet parents who cannot afford treatments on their own. 

Anyone who has ever dealt with animal cancer knows it can be shockingly expensive.  Some cancers can be removed surgically or treated with drugs.  But other cancers, like lymphoma (which require months and months of multiple drugs) or osteosarcoma (bone cancer, which often requires surgery, radiation, and chemo) take months, or even years, to treat.  These costs add up.  And some families can't afford even the simplest of treatments.

Through nearly five years of battling cancer with Indiana, we've always been fortunate to be able to afford anything we wanted.  We've never had to make a decision based on finances.  But I've seen it happen.  Sitting in the lobby of the Purdue University Small Animal Clinic, waiting for Indiana to finish up some tests, I heard a conversation between two distraught parents and a vet.  Their dog was dying, currently in the ER, awaiting a much-needed surgery.  After a quick discussion with the vet, they left, only to return a short time later.  They had crunched some numbers and made some calls, and come to the realization that they couldn't afford the surgery for their dog.  They were both in tears, heartbroken over this.  The vet left to stop the surgery.  It was the saddest thing I have ever seen.  I don't know how it ended up, if the family found some way to help their dog, or, if in that moment of decision, their dog's life was ended.  I honestly couldn't bear to find out what happened.  I wanted desperately to help, but my own finances don't allow for taking on thousands of dollars of another pet's care. 

This happens more than we realize.  Loving, committed families forced to make awful choices because of money.  Wanting to save their pet, but having to decide between risky surgery or feeding their children.  No family should have to make that decision.  Paws 4 A Cure makes sure that they don't. 

If you are financially in a place to do so, I encourage you to visit the Paws 4 A Cure website and make a donation (no size is too small).  I'm already committed to the walk, and I'll be making a donation too.  The care we give Indiana should be available to everyone.  Please help Paws 4 A Cure make that a reality!

The Party of The Century

Yep.  It's a mega-themed party for Indiana's 13th Birthday.  We've had a big party for her every year since she beat cancer back in 2006, but this is the first (really big) birthday party we've done.  Thirteen is a huge milestone for any dog, let alone a dog who has tangled with cancer twice. 

For those who don't know, Indiana's "full" name is Indiana Bones, named not after Indiana Jones himself, per se, but after Indiana Jones' namesake, his childhood dog.  "We named the dog Indiana."  "I have very fond memories of that dog."  After commissioning this portrait for Jim's Christmas present last year, we were inspired to make Indiana Bones the theme of her birthday party.  It only seemed appropriate, since we'll be celebrating her and her life.

For those who have never attended a Schneider party before, you have to know this: we don't do anything simply.  Think children's party (lots of food, games, prizes, swag bags) but on a grand, adult scale.  Go big or go home, I say.

I can't talk too much more about the party without giving away all of the fun details.  What I can say is that it will potentially be the best party yet, honoring Indiana in true Schneider fashion.  I don't mean to brag, but, heck; let's just say it's going to be EPIC.

It's Always Something

Snuggle time with Q*bert

Yesterday, Indy had a really good day.  She had good energy, was eating well, and went on her longest walk yet this year.  The walk spurred her appetite, so she ate like gang-busters last night.  Today she got to go to Boommaw and Boompaw's house (that's Grandma and Grandpa), her favorite place in the whole word.  No sooner did I get Isis out of the SUV and into the house than I turned around and saw Indy in the driveway...instead of waiting for me to come back, as I told her I would, she got herself down the stairs out of the car.  I was simultaneously overjoyed and scared to death!  But she had gotten down safely, and I was happy that she was so eager.  I know she'll be tuckered out tonight, because she never rests when she's at Boommaw and Boompaw's.  Too much cool stuff going on.

The only bad thing is that I think she has a bladder infection again.  She has peed in the house twice now (something she never does).  She has a looooooong history with infections, especially in the last year, so I'm fairly certain this is what's going on now.  I took a urine sample in to the vet's office this morning for them to have a culture run to check for bacteria.  I also asked to start antibiotics ASAP, since the results won't come back from the culture until at least Monday, and I just know that it will suddenly turn bad on Sunday, when my vet is closed.  As it is, she's out of town this week anyway, but her staff is going to request the meds when she calls to check in.  So I'm crossing my fingers that we can get this thing nipped in the bud as soon as possible.  And that it's bacteria, and not something awful like a worsening kidney condition.  But it honestly doesn't feel serious.

On a personal level, I have been having trouble sleeping lately, which is a rarity for me.  Usually, I read for a while before bed, and once I turn off my light, I'm out almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.  But not lately.  I've been having difficulty turning my brain off, so it keeps cycling through all of the things I've been thinking about (i.e. worrying about) during the day.  That in turn makes me crabby and tired the next day.  So I think I've been a real joy lately.  I hope I can get the things that are worrying me sorted out soon so that at least my nights are left stress-free!  The darn cats haven't been sleeping with me lately either, so they're just no help.

Tomorrow, I'll be sharing Indiana's birthday party theme.  Be sure to check back--it's a fun one!



Learning to Accept It

Last week, I talked about our new daily ritual, taking a walk as a family.  It's nice bonding time for Jim and I and the dogs, plus it's good for Indiana's arthritis and Isis'...ummmm...winter weight.  The only problem is that Indy can't walk as far as Isis, so she and I turn around and sit in the grass and wait for Jim and Isis to come back.  I love watching Indy watch for Isis, and it makes me feel special, getting to spend time all alone with my girl. 

Indy usually is happy to turn around, because walking is hard work for her.  It usually takes a little coaxing to get her to actually turn back.  She wants to continue with Jim but knows she can't.  Most days I take this in stride, but yesterday, it broke my heart. 

Indy turned around willingly, but then she turned back to watch Jim and Isis, who were at that point running off down the road.  I could tell that Indy wanted desperately to follow, to be able to run along side Isis as she used to.  But I could also tell that she knew it was impossible.  I wanted nothing more, in that moment, more than I've wanted anything in a long time, for her to be able to continue after her sister.  My heart was breaking for her, and I was helpless to make it better.  I bent down and hugged her and said, "I'm so sorry you can't go with." 

We made our way over to the grass and sat down and watched for their return.  I gave Indy a massage while we waited, and she seemed content to sit there and wait.  (She's always engrossed in watching for them, obsessed really)   

Jim and I work really hard to make sure that Indiana is at peace with her aging body.  Our vet warned us that frustration could be the worst thing for her; a frustrated dog is a miserable dog.  So we take great pains to bring her comfort and keep her mind occupied.  In that moment yesterday, I wondered what she was thinking.  Did she understand why her body wouldn't move the way she wanted it to?  Did she understand that we're doing everything under the sun for her?  Did she know that I would give anything, anything, to make it better? 

I don't want to sound ungrateful.  In less than a month, my girl will reach the huge milestone of turning 13 years old, a feat for any large-breed dog, let alone one who was supposed to die at 8.  I know that this is a miracle, and that every day with her is a gift.  I really do.  But some days, I am selfish.  I want more, more more.  I want Indy to be able to walk like a normal dog, to get up at every whim, to wander around the yard aimlessly and with no purpose. 

Aging is a process, both mental and physical, for the pet as well as the caretaker.  We as parents have to come to terms with aging, to fight it and stall it the best we can, but ultimately, to accept that it is a part of living.  Because the alternative isn't something we want.  I am thankful that Indiana is still alive to age, and I will spend the rest of her living days making them the best they can be.

Explain To Me Why...

...cats like to sleep upside down.

...when I am giving pills after meals, wrapped in delicious liver sausage, only one of the three dogs in my house will come into the kitchen, thus requiring me to walk into two other rooms to deliver said pills.

...when we have over 1/2 an acre of land fenced in for the cats, they still insist on being in the same ten square feet, eyeing each other suspiciously and growling when someone gets too close.

...I am content to curl up into a tiny ball at the far, top edge of my king-sized bed to make room for the two seventy-pound dogs and one small cat.

...it takes the dogs a good five minutes sometimes to realize that I am home, yet all the UPS man has to do is drive into the neighborhood, and suddenly everyone is creating a fuss.

...the cat food tastes so much better when it's out of someone else's bowl.

...it tastes so much better out of someone else's bowl, even when it's the exact same food.

...an empty paper bag on the floor can be the coolest thing ever.

...some dogs will put absolutely anything in their mouths, edible or not.

...someone is whining right now, for no apparent reason.

...I love these creatures so very much.  Oh, wait.  I do know the answer to that one.

Meet Bill Wilson

This is Bill Wilson.  He is my brother, and Indiana's best friend (besides Isis, that is).  Bill is staying with us for a couple of days.  When he got here this morning, there was much excitement.  Indiana actually got up to greet Bill and my parents, and Isis and Bill tried to play (Indiana doesn't allow play between other dogs--it makes her nervous since she can't control them--so she gets between them to end it.  I guess herding instincts never go away!). 

Indiana has such a happy look on her face today.  She loves spending time with Bill.  Even if they're not actually doing anything, she's just happy to have him around.  He's big, goofy, loveable, and kind of dumb, but he aims to please, so everyone likes Bill. 

My Mom and Dad found Bill on the side of the road back in 2002.  He had escaped from a (probably bad) living situation and was sleeping in a ditch.  Mom and Dad picked him up, and after a long, bizarre series of calls, found out he was essentially homeless, and decided to keep him.  So Bill's been family ever since. 

Bill has this annoying habit of following you everywhere.  Seriously.  Upstairs, to the bathroom, outside.  It doesn't matter.  He also sleeps with us at night, which is interesting, because he weighs about 70 pounds and has to be touching you to really be content.  So tonight will be a bit...cramped. 

He does have a huge heart though.  He only wants to make you happy.  He doesn't have the slightest idea how to play with toys.  He is insanely jealous of his own (7) cats.  Some days he demands to be hand-fed.  He loves going for walks.  He has the loudest bark ever.  When my parents visit with him, after about half an hour, he goes and sleeps by the back door, waiting to go home.  He hates, and I mean hates having his picture taken.  He thinks he's a lap dog and often sleeps on my Dad's lap in his recliner.  He is really badly behaved at the vet's office.  And he loves, loves, loves to bark at trucks.

He is my baby brudder, and I love him to bits.

My Couch is Haunted

In the center of our living room sits our couch.  It's pretty new (I hated the old one and begged Jim for years for a new one), but I am now convinced that it's haunted.  Check it out:

Our Couch (let's capitalize it, out of respect--I don't think I can afford to make it mad) is flanked by two lamps, one of which died a couple of weeks ago.  We had replaced the bulb, but it died again several days later, which we attributed to faulty wiring.  As there's another lamp by the couch, we haven't made replacing them a priority (plus, we're lazy like that).  So for weeks the lamp as sat, a shell of its former self. 

Until last night.  In the middle of the night, I was awoken by cat growls.  I noticed that there was a light on in the living room.  Hmmmm.  That wasn't on when we went to bed.  Maybe Jim wasn't feeling well, and got up?  No, he's still laying right next to me.  Well, unless one of the animals developed opposable thumbs since I went to bed...Freaky!  So, instead of getting up to find out why the lamp is up (heck, no!), I naturally wake up Jim and make him do it.  It's not that I'm more willing to put Jim in danger than I am myself, but instead, I am convinced that husbands possess some natural extra protection against the scary things in life.  Or at least, this is what I tell myself at three in the morning when a lamp is mysteriously shining in the living room and it totally wasn't on when I went to bed. 

So Jim gets up, breaks up the incident brewing with the cats (because, really, I suppose that is the priority), and discovers that the lamp that is shining is the lamp that has been dead for two weeks.  We must have left it in the "on" position the last time we tried to turn it on, but that still doesn't explain why, after two weeks, it decides to turn on again in the middle of the night. 

Jim and I got up again a few hours later, and the lamp was still working.  Cool beans.  But get this--Mr. Squiggles has a morning routine where he comes and sits on my lap the minute I sit down on the Couch in the morning (my morning routine), which he started to do this morning but then stopped.  Instead of jumping up on the Couch, he laid down on the ground and stared under the Couch.  I said, "Jim, the cat is staring under the Couch.  What is going on?"  He was less concerned than I and unwilling to stop making coffee to come look under the Couch.  And me?  I sure as heck wasn't going to look under there.

And the lamp?  For the sake of research, I just turned it on again.  And it's dead.

Take A Walk With Us

Yesterday was the first truly beautiful day of the year, a day when I could finally believe that maybe, just maybe, spring is on its way.  We took that opportunity to take the girls for a walk.  Our vet didn't want us walking Indy during the winter, where she could slip on the ice and snow, so we've been waiting for good weather to come our way. 

Indy's stamina isn't very high, but the exercise will do her arthritis good, so we knew we needed to start slow.  It's tempting to let our stiff, arthritic animals just sit around, which is kind of what they want to do, but if you think about it, moving those joints is the best thing you can do for them.  Moving the joints encourages the production of synovial fluid, the natural lubricant in our joints that prevents bone from rubbing against bone. 

Indy was eager to get outside, as was Isis.  Indy was also moving pretty well, which was heartwarming.  The past year or so, she's had a hugely pronounced limp, which was significantly diminished yesterday.  Hooray!  We only walked her a few hundred feet before turning her around, so as not to overdo it.  She seemed ready.

Isis, however, was not, so Jim continued on with Isis while I went back with Indiana.  Indy's usually pretty uncomfortable with this arrangement, because (a) she is left out and (b) she can't keep track of her "pack."  So I was surprised that she only looked back a few times on the walk back home.  When I got her into the driveway, I turned around to look at her, and I see this:



She had gotten to the top of the driveway (our house is on a little hill, sort of), turned around, and laid down to watch for Jim and Isis.  My heart died at the adorableness of it.  So I walked back and sat next to her to wait.  We spent a lot of time snuggling, with me petting and kissing her.  She was ignoring me, instead choosing to focus her attention on the impending return of her Dad and sister.

Then, oh glorious day, she saw Daddy emerge from the trees, with Isis in tow.



See the intensity in her eyes?  That cracks me up.  She's staring at her Dad and sister to make sure they're actually headed home.  When they got close, Indy stood up to greet them.  She was pretty happy (and relieved) to have them back.  It was ok to head into the house now.



There's my sweet family, headed in from a great afternoon together.  I love how Isis' tongue is practically falling on the ground.  She definitely needs more exercise .  We're planning on daily walks now that the weather is good.  It will benefit us all, not just physically, but mentally too.

My Favorite Artist

These are two portraits by the wonderfully talented Rebecca Salcedo of Smelly Rhino Studio.  I had Indiana's done for Jim's Christmas present, and we loved it so much that we decided to have Rebecca do portraits of all of our pets.  Next up (age-wise, it's only fair) was Isis.  She is named after the Egyptian goddess of fertility, so we wanted a portrait that would reflect that.  Rebecca did an amazing job--beyond what I ever could have hoped for. 

I love that in both portraits, it really looks like our dogs!  Rebecca captured their faces so realistically.  I am in awe of her talents and creativity.  I wish you all could see the pictures in "real life."  As amazing as they look here, they look even better in person--the colors are so bright. 

Another thing I love--they are tiny!  They are ACEO, which are 2.5" x 3.5".  We frame them in plain, black 11 x 14 frames with a plain, white mat, which really shows off the color and detail of the pictures. 

Rebecca has also been a joy to work with.  She's super nice and quirky and fun, and it's so enjoyable to look through her Etsy store.  Check it out here.  I think you will love her as much as I do! 

Next up will be a portrait of Mr. Squiggles.  Jim and I are still debating what we want to do.  But I have no doubt, that in Rebecca's creative hands, it will be a gem as well.

Four Weeks In

We just finished up four weeks of Poly-MVA with Indiana.  The company recommends two months of treatments before evaluating the effects, though my vet loves it so much as a supplement, that she says we can keep Indiana on it forever. 

I can't say that I've seen much of a change in the tumor thus far, though it hasn't grown.  Indiana definitely has more energy and is getting around fairly well for an almost-13-year old.  She's also (thankfully) eating really well--and a raw diet at that.  Actually, five of my six animals are now eating raw as part (or all) of their diet.  Yay!  Our one holdout is Mr. Squiggles, who has never, ever liked raw. 

We've not made any decisions yet on what we'll do when our two months is up.  We're only halfway in.  But I have a feeling that as long as we can afford it, we'll continue the Poly. 

Rest in Peace, Rukkus

The PCS family lost another one of its own last night.  Rukkus, an almost 10 year cancer survivor, left this world yesterday. 

You can read Rukkus' story here.  If my math is correct, Rukkus was first diagnosed with cancer in 2001.  He beat that cancer and another one again in 2005.  He was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer earlier this year and lost his battle against it.  I really hate saying that.  Yes, he died because of the lung cancer, but saying that doesn't do any justice to what this dog has been through.  Sometimes the body just can't take any more.  One cancer is hard enough, let alone three. 

In my mind, and in the mind of all of my PCS friends (I'm sure I can speak for all of you), Rukkus was, and always will be, a cancer survivor.  Ten years is truly miraculous.  His story is such an inspiration to all of those fighting this disease, proof that cancer doesn't always win.  You can be diagnosed with cancer and still live a long, full life. 

Reading about Rukkus' passing this morning brought me to tears.  Not only because another family member is gone, and another Mom is in pain, but, selfishly, because it made me think even more about Indiana.  I think Indiana is the longest-lived dog on PCS now.  We're nearly five years post-diagnosis of cancer #1.  This seems like a lifetime to us, and in the grand scheme of a dog's life, five years is a lot of time.  But it's sad that so few dogs get that much time after cancer.  And it's scary for me.  Does this make Indiana "next?"

I know that's not how it works.  Indiana has outlived so many members of the PCS family.  That makes me beyond grateful but also guilty sometimes.  Why does Indiana survive while so many others are lost?  I know she too brings hope and inspiration to others, but it just goes to show that life, and death, can be so random.  We have little control. 

So today, while my heart breaks for Rukkus' Mom, it makes me even more grateful for Indiana.  And in honor of Rukkus, the great fighter of cancer, I will hold my own cancer survivor a little bit closer.

Walking For My Girl

I support Paws 4 A Cure!

I have the good fortune of being able to travel to the Boston area in May to walk in the 4th Annual Paws 4 A Cure Annual Walk.  Paws 4 A Cure is an organization started by my friend and fellow dog Mom, Keri.  Her organization raises funds for pet families who cannot afford cancer treatments on their own.  Cancer treatments can become very expensive, and the cost adds up quickly.  I can't imagine the heartbreak of having to make a decision for your pet based on finances; you want to fight, but you can't afford it.  That shouldn't happen to anyone.  The Paws 4 A Cure Walk is really successful, and it ensures that some pet families won't have to make that heartbreaking decision.  I'm so proud of Keri for turning her grief over the loss of her Chow-Chow son, Nikko, into something positive.  I've met a lot of strong, giving women over the years, thanks to the Delphi Pet Cancer Support forum (PCS), perhaps one of the best things that has come out of Indiana's cancer diagnosis. 

I've been wanting to attend one of Keri's walks since the beginning, and after hearing that another friend was going to attend, I knew this had to be the year.  My good friend Amy is going with me, and we're walking in honor of Indiana.  It's sad, because each of the PCS members attending, myself excluded, has lost a pet to cancer.  Our "family" has lost a few dogs this year alone.  So it will definitely be a bittersweet event, many of us meeting for the first time but feeling like we've known each other forever, as it always is when we meet.  We'll mourn the losses that we've experienced together over the years, but I also want to go in celebrating Indiana's almost 5-year triumph over cancer.  She is truly amazing, and I knew walking in her honor was what I had to do.

I spend a lot of time bridging the gap between cancer Mom and cancer activist.  Because something good has to come from my grief (and you do experience grief, from that first moment you hear the diagnosis), I have felt a compulsion to educate others about cancer.  I learned the hard way, but not everyone has to.  But during the walk weekend, I just want to be Jen, Indiana's Mom.  I want to celebrate what we've been through together, and what we've accomplished.  I want to spend time with my friends, reminisce about their loved ones, and just, for one weekend, simply be me. 


***If you are financially able, I encourage you to support Paws 4 A Cure with a donation.  Please visit here to do so.***

The Short List

Our first picture of our photo session.  See how he loves the can?



Our second photo.  Now this is getting a little old. 
I think Q*bert was walking past the doorway, which is waaaaay more important.



Ok, seriously, at this point, he's had enough.  See the eyes?  See the ears? 
It was time to put the camera down and walk away.



Everyone knows about the daily struggle Jim and I have to get Indiana to eat.  Some days leave me in tears, but since we discovered Evanger's canned "Hunk of Beef" food, it's made our lives sooooooo much easier.  It used to be, we had a list of maybe 4-5 canned foods that Indiana would eat.  Today, that list appears to be one.  And it's Hunk of Beef.

Evanger's is a good company--all natural, human-grade ingredients.  They stand apart from other companies because they actually make their food right in the can.  Plop in ingredients.  Cook in can.  Done.  So the texture of their foods is more like "people" food.  The Hunk of Beef is literally that.  A hunk of beef.  It has the texture of beef cooked in a crockpot.  No veggies.  Just beef.

Indiana will always eat it, which is good, because it's one of the few things that we are guaranteed to get into her.  Jim just expressed concern this morning about what we would do if it goes off "The List."  I told him we can't think about that.  But then I thought, "What would we do??"  And then I pushed it out of my mind, because, geez, it's not a pretty thought.  There's always something, I'm sure, but I don't know what it would be.  Thank God I work at a pet food store.

I definitely recommend this food to anyone with a picky pet.  The Evanger's rep I talked to several weeks ago at the IKC Dog Show said it is their top selling canned food.  I can see why. 

Grant Me Patience

Do you ever have days where you just feel like the next person to complain is going to drive you off the deep end?  I don't have human children, but I'm guessing it's the same whether your children have fur or not. 

Indiana and I prepare for battle against each other three times a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Some days she opts for peace, and that's happy.  Other days, we only battle over part of the meal.  And some days, oh my gosh, are a full-blown nightmare. 

Luckily, today, so far, is just a partial battle day.  She ate her breakfast well, which I was grateful for.  Then she took her pills, which went okay, but not awesome.  We already have to wrap her pills in liver sausage, and no more than two pills are allowed at a time.  And if you put too much liver sausage on it, she'll spit it out.  Or if you don't pack the pills right.  Or if she hears a squirrel fart out in the yard.  Whatever.  I haven't figured out all of the rules yet.  But Jim did discover that if she spits out the pills, then you can pick them back up, dip them in cat food, and she'll take them.  Which is true.  But it's totally gross.  Not only do I now have a handful of wet, slobbery liver sausage, but I also have to dip it into canned cat food.  And touch it again.  Yum.  But at least she'll eat it with no complaints.  So, there's that.

But during these times, I get so frustrated!  And then I feel guilty.  For eleven and a half years of her life, she never complained.  Not during chemo.  Not at vet appointments.  Not even when she had a biopsy without sedation.  So, if she wants to be picky now (and I'm sure she has a good reason, I just don't exactly know what it is), then I should thank my lucky stars that she's still alive to be picky and shut the heck up. 

But still, I'm human, and it's hard not to get frustrated.  Especially when one of your cats is inside wanting to go outside while another is outside wanting to come inside and instead of just GOING THROUGH THE FREAKIN' PET DOOR, they stand on either side of the pet door and smack at each other and make annoying (but kind of adorable and funny) spitting sounds at each other.  Or when you're trying to type up a blog post on your laptop but your cat, who was missing for over a year but miraculously came back to you via a friend and therefore has earned anything he wants for the rest of his life, ever, wants to lay in the middle of your lap, which is where your laptop is supposed to go, so instead your laptop has to go to your side, on a pillow, which makes your left wrist feel really awkward and uncomfortable, and it starts to ache after about two sentences, and you make a gazillion typos because you're at the wrong angle.  And it's 9am. 

It's going to be a long day.  But at least I have my family with me, safe and sound.  Alive for another day.  Except maybe for the cats at the door.  They're treading on thin ice.

Lazy Day

I'm feeling pretty lazy today.  I had a busy (and not entirely peaceful) weekend, and Jim's been working a lot.  So today we have a day off with few obligations.  So Jim and I have a date with the couch, the animals, grocery shopping, and maybe a load of laundry.  Otherwise, I'm keeping this day stress-free. 

So in that spirit, I'll just let you enjoy this adorable picture of Gus sleeping on Inexplicably Warm Bed (it plugs in and provides loads of kitty warmth).  'Til tomorrow, folks.

Changing the Way We Think

Indiana teaches me something new nearly every day.  Oh, and Dr. Becker, our vet, too. 

Now that Indiana is nearly 13 years old, and suffering from kidney disease (although she doesn't really suffer,  but she does have it), her eating habits have changed drastically.  It used to be that if she didn't eat or, specifically, didn't inhale the food put in front of her, that indicated something was wrong with her.  But not so much anymore.  She eats three times a day (thanks to a missing pyloric sphincter from cancer #1), and if it goes smoothly once a day, I consider that a success.  Some days, she eats three meals really well.  But other days, well, let's just say it doesn't bring out the best in me.  I try to be patient.  I try to be understanding.  But I really wish she had a way to clearly communicate with me 100% of the time. 

Readers of my blog know that I firmly believe in the power of a whole, fresh diet.  This is the building block of wellness for any living being.  So when Indiana doesn't eat well, I worry that she's not getting the nutrients that she needs. 

We see Dr. Becker twice a month now, and we spend a lot of time talking about Indiana's over-all well being (short-term is kind of more important than long-term these days), which, naturally, includes her diet.  Her lack of interest in eating has concerned me, not because I worry that she's sick, but because it's not what is expected.  We expect our pets to eat the same amount of food with the same gusto their entire lives.  But, apparently, this is not normal.  So we shouldn't expect it.

You see, living bodies contain something called leptins (enjoy this manically complicated Wikipedia entry--good luck understanding it), which are essentially hormones that regulate appetite. Dogs (or humans, even) who are leptin-resistant never feel full.  But as the body ages, and as the dog (or human) becomes less active, the leptins tell the body that it requires fewer and fewer calories.  Little to no activity = little caloric intake.  This is why, if you are fortunate to have elderly parents or grandparents, you see them eating tiny amounts and then declaring themselves full.  But you only ate half a sandwich!  And now you're full?  It's the same with our pets.  A 13 year-old dog shouldn't require the same amount of food as a 4 year-old. 

Yet, we feed our pets the same way their whole lives and expect it never to change.  But it does.  And that's ok.  We are now offering Indiana smaller amounts of food and not worrying when she doesn't eat as much.  Some days, she just gets a can and a half of food, or 2/3 of a pound of raw meat.  It doesn't sound like much, and back in the day, she could eat a whole lot more.  But this is what her body wants, and actually, all it requires.  And now that I've learned that, I will respect it.

*Thanks to Dr. Becker for explaining all of this.  Any potential errors in this post are a product of my crummy memory and are completely mine*

***UPDATE***  I should note that while Indiana's caloric needs have decreased, her nutritional needs have not.  Therefore, we're starting to give her a multivitamin to cover any nutritional holes.

Puppies in Dog Food

There's a story that appeared on Good Morning America today, about a puppy, dropped off with his littermates outside an Oklahoma shelter, who survived euthanization.  The puppy is sure to find a good home now, though that doesn't help his dead siblings.  I won't get into all of the other issues that this story brings up, but I was initially struck by one thing, and I wanted to talk about.

When I first heard the story, my initial reaction was, "All the rest of those puppies died, and now they'll become dog food."  Because that's what happens all too often to euthanized pets.  Read this article from the FDA back in 2002.  While they state that dogs and cats would suffer "no adverse affects" from sodium pentobarbital (a euthanasia drug) in pet foods, I think it misses the bigger picture.  Why are euthanized cats and dogs in pet food at all?  Why are we feeding our pets rendered food?  The pet food industry denies that dogs and cats are used in rendered products, but that begs the question of how the sodium pentobarbital ends up in the food in the first place.  And when a big batch of rendered crud is delivered to the food processing plant, how are the manufacturers to know what's really in it? 

Over the weekend, at the dog show, Jim spoke with a pet parent whose husband is a trucker and has hauled shipments of euthanized animals to rendering plants.  Needless to say, this woman avoids pet foods without human-grade ingredients.  And everyone else should too.

I prefer raw, but I do feed processed foods to my animals as well.  Raw isn't for everyone, but I firmly believe no one should be buying products with rendered ingredients.  If only we could spread the message and inform everyone we know, maybe more pet parents would feed healthier, safer foods. 

Everything is OK

We're into week three of Indiana's Poly-MVA treatments, and all is well.  She is handling the supplement well (we expected a period of detox but didn't really see anything), and also importantly, she is actually taking  the supplement.  It can be a struggle to get to her eat sometimes, so we're really happy that she's been cooperating where the Poly is concerned.  She gets it three times a day, and a day's worth of medicine costs about $20, so we certainly don't want to waste even a precious drop of this stuff!  Luckily, it looks, smells (and kind of tastes, according to our vet) like soy sauce--i.e. super salty, and apparently Indy likes that.  Good times.

I haven't noticed a difference in her tumor yet; it seems to be the same size as before.  The consultant for Poly-MVA told me it takes up to two months to see an improvement (and sometimes there just isn't one), so we're still early into this whole thing.  I have, however, noticed an improvement in her movement, which is, in my opinion, even more important.  Indy doesn't know she has cancer, but she does know that she has arthritis. 

Another good thing--she has started eating raw again!  Yay!  She stopped eating raw about a year ago (her choice--trust me, she definitely calls the shots around here) but we were curious to offer it again and see if she'd change her mind.  The thing is, dogs with kidney disease get aversions to certain foods--usually because they have felt ill while eating it at some point, and so now they associate the ill feeling with the food--and once they're off a food, they're off for good.  Indy has eaten just about every raw food out there, but we found one company--Oma's Pride--that Indiana had never tried before.  The owners, whom we met at the dog show, were kind enough to give us several free samples, which we fed--successfully!--to Indiana.  As much as we'd like to give it to her for every meal every day, we know that Indiana gets tired of foods pretty quickly, so we have to pace ourselves and remember to give her a variety. 

Indiana has a lot of rules when it comes to eating, but for now, we're following her rules, and she isn't changing them.  As long as we are respectful of her wants and needs, she will cooperate.  And I love her enough to do that.

Goodbye, Sofie

Last month, I wrote about my friend's dog, Sofie.  Sofie was a Saint Bernard fighting lymphoma, but yesterday, Sofie lost her battle.  My heart is heavy with this news.  Sofie's Mom, Terri, has one of the biggest hearts I know.  She has 5 dogs and only adopts older dogs--one of the hardest groups of dogs to adopt out.  While Terri has had several dogs with cancer, Sofie is the first that she's lost to the disease.  Terri has spent years as a moderator for the Delphi Pet Cancer Support Group (PCS), offering love and support to the many people who have made their way to PCS over the years. 

Not surprisingly, Terri has made a lot of friends there, people like myself who have benefited from her kind heart and selfless soul.  She's been there for all of us, but sadly, now it's our turn to be there for her.  She certainly doesn't deserve this pain, and I know all of us in the PCS family would do anything to ease her pain just a little bit.  But, unfortunately, we can't.  Pain like this has to be worked through and accepted.  They say time heals all wounds, but I know it never heals them 100%. 

I hope Terri knows how much love is coming to her from around the world right now, and I hope that love can help to begin to heal her heart.  The world is a little sadder today for the loss of Sofie, but I know a star will be shining brighter in the sky tonight, Sofie shining down on Terri, grateful for the unconditional love and tremendous happiness given to her. 

Rest in peace, sweet Sofie.

Oh, Brothers

Remember the other day, when I talked about my cats' obsession with Stella & Chewy's freeze-dried treats?  Well, it's gotten worse.  A whole lot worse.

My cats are still obsessed.  They still lose their sh*t over it.  But now, every time I walk into the kitchen, be it for a glass of water, to put something in the dishwasher, or, heaven forbid, to cook, I have four cats flying in from all parts of the house.

Seriously, I set foot in that room, and I have at least one cat there, meowing and looking at me with a crazed, expectant look in his eye. 

When I am actually in the kitchen to cook, that's a problem too.  Because the cabinet where we keep the Stella & Chewy's freeze-dried treats (which I will, from now on, refer to as "crack"), is also in the kitchen, and the cats know it.  Every time that cabinet door opens, the cats come running.  Also, if I should pick up a food product that is in a soft, crinkly package (like shredded cheese or croutons, neither of which is remotely crack), they come running too.  Heaven forbid I should put croutons on my salad, because I have four cats meowing and running around the kitchen, convinced I am putting crack on my salad.  Guys, I'm a vegetarian.  Mom doesn't put raw meat on her salad. 

It really, honestly is very, very funny.  But also very, very annoying, because Mr. Squiggles stands around, meowing at me in this desperate, heartbreaking meow that he has, and Q*bert runs around at my feet, begging to be accidentally kicked.  Gus stands around looking confused (per usual), but Samson tries to figure out how he can get to the crack.  Can I open the door?  Did the lady leave any on the counter?  Maybe if I whine louder, she'll give me some.  Maybe she forgot.  I'll remind her again. 

I've created four tiny monsters.  Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go purchase some stock in kitty crack.