Things I've Learned From My Dog

Normal? (Gulp)

2011-11-22T06:56:00.000-08:00

Isis is licking off Indiana's breakfast.

Things are going shockingly well here. Life, in Indiana's mind, is back to normal. (With the exception of bandage changes--she does hate those) She is feeling good, eating well, getting around probably slightly better than normal (but still having trouble getting up). Maybe she knows she has a hole in her back. I know she knows she has a bandage on it. Indy has always hated wearing anything, be it bandages or clothes. This is why I walked into the hallway last night to find her fast asleep with her bandage pulled off and all the honey licked off. Booger.

Months and months ago, my family and I decided to spend the Thanksgiving holiday at my parents' cabin on a lake in central Illinois. Jim and I try to take the dogs there 2-3 times a year, to relax, and to get a change of scenery. It's kind of my happy place, a place that represents togetherness and family, and a lack of stress. We've never spent a holiday down there, but have been talking about it since my aunt died in 2009. Holidays in our own homes bring back too many memories, not that memories are bad. But the loss is still fresh enough that recreating the holidays, but without one of the essential parts, is just too painful. We knew we'd enjoy the holiday more by creating something new.

Our plans were thrown into question last week when Indiana got sick. We weren't sure if we'd still be able to go. But with Indiana's miraculous upswing, and the fact that her illness and our treatment of it wouldn't require an emergency vet visit, we realized we'd be safe to keep our plans.

The bandages are going with. So are all the medicines and treatments that are keeping her alive and healthy. But so are my parents, and their dog, and our best friends, and their dog. (And yes, for those keeping track, that's 6 adults and 4 dogs, all in a 900 square-foot, 2-bedroom cabin). And we'll be creating memories: new, happy memories.

Life throws you curve balls. Life is hard. Sometimes life sucks. But we soldier on. What was once normal no longer is, but we adapt and create a new normal.

This may be our last Thanksgiving with Indiana, but we don't want to dwell on the sadness of that. Instead, we'll be thankful to spend this holiday with her, making new memories and filling the time with love.

Keep on Keepin' On

2011-11-21T07:28:00.000-08:00

So much fighting spirit!

Big developments over the weekend: the skin over the tumor fell off Sunday morning, and most of the tumor did too. There's just a tiny bit left. (And I haven't looked at it yet this morning, so, who knows?) The last time I looked at it, which was last night, the mass was maybe the size of half a mushed-up kiwi. (Does that make sense? It does to me.) And this is down from its large grapefruit size on Tuesday.

I am astonished.

What we are left with now is a large, gaping wound. It's probably 4 inches in diameter, so, I guess, fairly big. But without flappy skin and a large tumor, it's actually pretty easy to clean. Nolvasan, Manuka honey, bandage. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I started a website to post pictures of the progress of the tumor. Because of this experimental drug we're using, I wanted to keep track of the tumor's death. I also wanted to keep track of how well the tumor responds to the Manuka honey, because I've heard it can do amazing things. Anyway, I set up the page but haven't made the link public other than to mention it, once, on Facebook. (If any of you want access, let me know, and I'll share it privately) I'm not one to hide who I am or what I'm going through. I blog about what's going on, and I post VERY frequent updates to Facebook to share with 215 of my closest friends. But the pictures? I was afraid to show that. I still am. I'm secure in what I'm doing, in the treatment choices that Jim and I have made. But I'm fragile, people. I'm an artiste. We don't like being questioned or, God forbid, disagreed with. What if the pictures got out and people didn't understand? What if they thought I was letting my dog suffer? That I was allowing her to be in pain?

I know what we're doing is right. Indiana tells me every day, and, believe me, I'm looking for her response. But I'm getting through this by sheer will and the love and support of more friends and family than I can count. (How did I end up with so many wonderful animal people in my life? I am overwhelmed!) But I don't have room for negativity or disharmony right now. If people think I'm wrong (and thankfully, no one has expressed that view to me), I don't want to know. Which is why I'm keeping the photos semi-private for now. Maybe I'll get brave later. Who knows.

Back on track to the tumor, and, more importantly, the dog: tumor = small/almost gone; hole left = kinda huge; dog = eating well, bright and perky, and completely kick-ass.

Oh, how I love her so.

Hope, or, When Will I Learn

2011-11-18T17:48:00.000-08:00

The Princess and The Papa

Cancer is always a roller coaster. I learned that five and a half years ago, and, it seems, it's still true today.

Though Indiana's been feeling pretty good, despite the soon-to-be-gaping hole in her back, it's always hard to tell what's going on inside a body. Bleeding? Organ failure? Other tumors? Plus, when you open up a large wound on the body of a living organism, other organisms, i.e. bacteria, want to live there. So despite the fact the the tumor itself is not going to kill Indiana, secondary infection might.

In my head, and, well, in my eyes--this tumor looks nasty--I've been wondering how much time we have left, and this is the consummate question for any parent dealing with cancer. How much time do we have? I've known forever that this is variable, and often dogs can do much better than their stated prognosis; I've seen it many times. But when it's your own pet, all previous knowledge is lost. Advice you've given to others over the course of almost six years? Out the door. Suddenly, you're back to square one, turning to your support system for help. You can't remember anything, and you're scared all over again.

So after speaking with both of our vets over the last few days, I had a really unclear picture of where Indiana is headed. What's going to take her, in the end? Systemic infection? Kidney failure? Anemia? And how quickly? Any day? Any week? Any month?

During a visit with our primary vet today, we discussed wound care and put a plan in place for keeping infection at bay. The tumor will be losing its protective skin any time now, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. We want the whole darn thing to slough off. Gross, I know, but it's our best chance for survival. But it opens up a huge wound--I'm anticipating about 4" in diameter--which will be difficult, though not impossible, to keep free of infection. Twice-daily debridement with Nolvasan, followed by a healthy slathering of Manuka honey, and thrice-daily bandage changes are the plan. This doesn't sound like a lot of work on paper, but I understand that wound care is terribly time-consuming. Essentially, I'm clearing my schedule for the near future to deal with this.

The best part? My vet told us to expect an open wound for at least two months. My reaction? "We have two months?" I seriously didn't think she'd last that long. Apparently, if we keep her free of infection, she definitely could still be with us. I was floored. And thrilled.

I know that our time with our girl is limited. I know that at any time things could change. I know that keeping the wound from becoming infected will be harder than it sounds. But I am up for the challenge. And so is Indiana. How could I ever have doubted that?

Continuing the Fight

2011-11-17T09:46:00.000-08:00

Can't tell she's sick, huh?

Indiana has cancer.

She's actually had it--well, we've known about it--for over a year. At the time, it was a tiny little dot on her back. Like a tiny grape under her skin. Biopsy came back as an unspecified sarcoma. The prognosis seemed good, as these types of cancer tend only to metastasize locally. We opted to leave it alone. Consults with both a kidney specialist and a cardiologist left us uneasy. Anaesthesia is hard on the body. What would it do to a 12-year old dog with a heart arrhythmia and kidney disease? In consulting with an anaesthesiologist, the best she could tell me was that Indy had only a "slightly higher" risk of death from anaesthesia. I didn't find that comforting. In the presence of a localized, small tumor, it seemed prudent to avoid that path that potentially lead to instant death.

Now, 13 months later, I am of course questioning that decision. I knew where leaving the tumor alone could lead. Did I choose this for Indiana? Did I give her cancer?

A good friend said some very comforting words the other day. She told me that at that juncture, where we had to make a decision, we were given two bad choices. There wasn't a good, clear choice. I didn't pass up a good choice and choose a bad one. I chose the path that, while it might not end somewhere good, was a happier path with a quality of life. But honestly, neither path had a happy ending.

Knowing all of this, I still struggle. As parents, as good parents, we should always question our own decisions, to learn and to make sure we're always thinking of our pet's best interest. It doesn't mean I won't feel guilt along the way, even if I know in my heart I did the right thing. We want our pets to feel happy, to always protect them. That's not always easy or even possible.

We've been through a lot with Indiana in the last five and a half years. She has proven herself to be a fighter, and indeed, even in this dark, scary time, she continues to fight. Her eyes tell me so. But it breaks my heart to see the open wound on her back, the hair shaved away. I probably will never see it grow back. As the blood oozes out of the holes in the tumor, the smell of death and decay oozes along with it, turning my stomach. I am sick at not only the mass of deadly cells on her back but also at my own weakness. I shouldn't be afraid of the blood, of the smell, of the torn skin. But I am. It gets harder every day, and I have to talk myself through removing the bandages in the morning, unsure of what I'll find. I am angry at my weakness. I am ashamed.

It's also hard to come to terms with the fact that we are in an endgame. What parent doesn't want their child to live forever, even if we know they can't?

This morning, when Jim and I awoke and walked into the living room, Indiana was lying on her bed, very still. Jim approached her first, and as I got closer, I saw she was breathing but not moving. We looked at each other, fear and heartache in our eyes. We tried to rouse her, and she was slow to do so. Was this her time? Was this the end? No, it wasn't. Indiana was simply sleeping peacefully, exhausted after a busy day prior. She eventually woke, and over the course of several hours, she walked outside, sat in the grass to survey her kingdom, and ate a hearty breakfast with much aplumb. She even took her pills.

Were we overreacting? Sure. But we also both know that our time is limited more than ever before. I can't think about that much, because I know my heart will break into a thousand pieces if I do. My coping mechanism? Making Indiana's life perfect. Jim and I are completely focused on creating a happy, peaceful home, free from stress. Making the most of every day. Of every moment.

Some things in my life will have to go. If it causes me stress, it has to go. I can't bring that into my home. I know that will make some people in my life unhappy. But I am fortunate to know a huge number of animal lovers, who understand what I'm dealing with. And ultimately, I don't care. I have to make decisions that I can live with. I alone have to deal with the consequences of my actions. When Indy is gone, I need to make sure I can do that. I will look back on my decisions and question them, dissect them. Some will be good and some will not. But I have to know that I gave all I had to her, that I fought just as hard as she, that when it came down to it, I gave her everything I had to give, as she has done for me every day of her life.

We are down, but we are not out.

A Lazy Copy and Paste of My Facebook Update

2011-11-16T20:08:00.001-08:00

I just got back with Indiana from a vet appointment with another vet. I ran into a friend who used to be Indy's vet over the weekend. (She only stopped being our bet because she moved away). Long story short, she saw my posts about Indiana's tumor and offered to give Indiana injections of a drug she is starting a trial on. It is pretty cool and seems like it could have fantastic implications for both humans and animals. Anyway, we went up to the suburbs to start the first of four weekly injections.

The trip was actually pretty great because (1) my good friend and personal vet tech Amanda went with us, (2) Indy had eaten well just before we left and was feeling really good, (3) another friend, who is a Reiki Master, was our vet tech, and we go to chat with her while Indy got Reiki, and (4) my vet friend is amazing.

She believes that Indy's tumor is just that--all new tumor growth. The quick advancement could mean that the tumor has become aggressive. She told me that Jim and I should begin to prepare...which I think we have already started to do anyway.

The tumor opened up some last night, causing an open wound and thus some bleeding. If we can keep it under control, the bleeding shouldn't be a big deal. If we can stop the tumor from growing, we should be able to minimize the risk of infection, which is our biggest long-term worry. I realize that wound care will be a part of the rest of her life. This is a bigger deal for me than for her. I know she's ready for a fight, and so am I.

I am hopeful that this new drug can help reduce tumor inflammation but will also help her arthritis. Indy is alert and happy and is able to walk and eat with gusto. I know our time is limited, and this is hard to wrap my mind around. I apologize in advance for being a bad friend/daughter/employee/mother to my other animals as I move into this new chapter with Indiana. I know I'm going to struggle for a while.

Thanks to everyone who has expressed their concern, love, and support thus far. It means so much. Truly, it does. Indy, Jim, and I are so fortunate to have so many people in our lives who are willing to help and support us.

Indy is a tough girl who has cheated death more than once. We're not writing her off yet.

Trial and Errors

2011-11-15T05:06:00.000-08:00

As many of my friends know, we're going through a rough patch with Indiana right now. Her cancerous tumor, known to us for over a year, and stable for at least six months, ballooned over the weekend. Friday morning, when I left for a weekend veterinary conference, the tumor was as it always is, able to fit in the palm of my hand. When I returned home Sunday night, the tumor was as large as my hand.

I was stunned. How could this mass, a sarcoma not known for aggressive growth, increase in size so rapidly?

I scrambled to find a way to protect it until morning, when I could take her in to the vet. The mass has always had a thin spot, where the layers of skin are weaker, more fragile. I knew that if the mass kept growing, the tumor would rupture in that spot.

Thanks to some friends, we got the mass protected and put a plan into place, should the tumor break open over night. It didn't though. I was able to get in to see the new vet in our practice, as my regular vet no longer works Mondays.

We've known for a while that there is a hematoma around the tumor--basically a capsule of blood caused by trauma. How much of the mass was blood and how much cancerous tissue, we've never known.

My first instinct when I saw this growing tumor was that much of it had to be blood. How could a sarcoma, not known for being aggressive, grow so exponentially? For over an hour, our vet tried to extract blood from the mass, wanting to provide Indiana's poor stretched skin some relief, wanting to provide relief to me, my panic and desperation evident. But no blood would come. No relief.

Our options: surgery, which we decided against a year ago, due to both the size of the tumor and Indiana's delicate health status, or letting it go, treating with a Chinese herb to reduce the blood. I felt there was a third option: debulking the mass under local anaesthetic, something Indiana has allowed on the past. I'll be calling my vet this morning to discuss this option, as the vet I saw yesterday, young and new to my medically-challenging dog, wasn't eager to take this treatment path.

The tumor continued to grow yesterday, and while I think it might be slightly larger this morning, the growth seems to have slowed, thanks to the Yunnan Paiyao we've been giving her. Indy slept poorly last night, wandering a lot, and this morning we found her against the wall, unable to get up on her own, urine leaking as soon as we lifted her up. Her legs aren't working today. This could be due to exhaustion, or even the UTI I am fairly certain she just developed. Or something worse, though I am hoping with all my heart that it is not.

I can't help but feel that I sent her down this path, knowing a year ago that this is where my choice could lead. I had hoped that it would not. I was naive. I still think we made he right choice. Surgery could kill her. But I still feel responsible for her current state. That's hard to live with.

For now, I am doing at least twice-daily bandage changes. Miraculously, her skin didn't split over night, as I expected it to. I am trying to keep her comfortable and to lift her back legs for her so she can go outside. Puppy urine pads can help in the in-between times, and grooming bath wipes can help clean her up. Thankfully I have all these supplies already.

I'll be calling the vet at 9am sharp to update them. Beyond that, I just don't know. I will do what has to be done. Though Jim had to leave for work, we briefly discussed a sleep plan so that Indy wouldn't have to be left alone. I anticipate little sleep in my future. That's okay.

And I'll not leave her side. The rest of the world will still be there when this crisis has passed. I belong with Indy right now, which is exactly where I want to be.

Why Lily Belongs With Your Family

2011-10-18T09:27:00.000-07:00

This is Lily, the precious pitbull mix looking up at the camera, sweet, gentle eyes staring right at you, with her adorable, floppy deaf ears high in the air. Yep, you read that right. Lily is deaf.

Lily came into my life three weeks ago, after she was dumped in the country, not far from my house, by a family who no longer wanted her. They were having a baby, you see, and simply couldn't manage a special needs dog and a baby at the same time. How could I possibly know this, you ask? Let's just say it's a phenomenally stupid idea to list your dog on a Facebook rehoming page and then dump her.

Lily was stopped in the road, confused and scared, and after the car in front of me simply drove off after she moved, I stopped my car and got out to check on her. She was terrified, as her body language clearly indicated, and I was nervous to approach her. But she looked lost, and I couldn't just leave her on the side of the road. After speaking softly to her for several minutes, she suddenly looked me in the eye, perked up her head, and was my best friend. I opened the door to my car, and she jumped in straight away. Suddenly I had a 40-something-pound dog in my car and no where to take her.

Because Isis is 12-years old and dog-aggressive, I knew she wouldn't accept a young female into her pack. So taking Lily home to live with us was out of the question (regular readers of my blog know that this is my preferred method of cat rescue). I also couldn't send her to Animal Control, given that she's both a pitbull mix and deaf. The solution, thanks to a few friends, was to house her in a horse barn for a few weeks. This was not ideal, but it was better than on the streets or in a cage. I visited Lily three times a day, for about an hour each time, so I got to know, and to love, her very well.

Lily is now with a foster home, though it is only temporary. They love her but have three large dogs already and are moving to a small apartment in Kentucky in a few short weeks. She can stay until this Saturday, but needs to find a new foster (or better yet, a permanent home) by then.

I still spend a lot of time with Lily. Jim or I go every day and pick up Lily for 2-3 hours. We go for a walk, a run, or take her to my Mom and Dad's house to play with their dog. Between Lily's foster Mom and I, we know just about everything there is to know about Lily.

What do I know about her? I know I love her and would keep her in a heartbeat if I could. I have cried many tears already over the fact that I can't keep her. I know that I am incredibly jealous of whichever family she ends up with. With a little bit of training and a lot of love, Lily is going to make someone the perfect dog. And I'm not exaggerating when I use the word perfect folks. She's amazing.

What else do I know?

The basics: Lily is an 11-month old pitbull/blue heeler mix who is completely deaf. She weighs somewhere around 45 pounds.
Lily's biggest pleasure in life is being with people and/or dogs. Preferably both at the same time. She loves to give kisses.
She has not an aggressive bone in her body. She loves people. She loves kids. She loves dogs. She loves cats. She loves horses. She needs to learn manners (but is greatly improving in this arena), but she is submissive and will back away when told to do so.
She will play fetch for hours if you let her. She can destroy a cloth toy in seconds (thanks to those pittie jaws) but does really well with rubber toys. However, if she puts something in her mouth that she shouldn't have (and she frequently does), those same strong jaws will easily let you pull tiny cat toys out of her mouth, with nary a scratch to your hand.
Lily will make a wonderful running companion. Jim has taken her running, and though she needs to learn a little more focus (she's still young, plus she needs to learn some more walking manners), she is great at running. She runs behind Jim so she can see where he's going, since she can't hear him.
She will play for hours and hours and hours without tiring. But she's also happy to snuggle up on the couch with you. In fact, as I write this, she's snuggled up next to me on the couch, with her head resting on my knee. Over the weekend, she fell asleep on my Mom's lap, in her recliner.
Lily is capable of being crated but much prefers to lay next to you.
She is housebroken.
She loves water. Pools, creeks, puddles. She will be a mess afterwards, but she has Teflon fur, and she will be clean and dry within hours. It's weird.
Lily is a bull in a china shop. Because she's so young, she doesn't have much control over her body yet. There is a huge mind-butt disconnect. This means she knocks things down wherever she goes, but it's so adorable, you don't get mad at all.
When she's really excited, she'll run and run and run. I've never seen a dog run so fast, in great big circles.
She loves sticking her head out the window when you're in the car. She alternates between sitting between the front seat and giving you kisses and sitting by the window with her head out. The wind makes her sooooooooo happy.
She has no food, treat, toy, or bone aggressions.
She has the cutest spots on her ears. Ever.
Lily likes being groomed. She stands perfectly still for bathing, isn't afraid of the dryer (because she can't hear it, of course), and when I saw her getting her nails clipped, I thought she had been drugged (kidding, kidding).
She is amazingly resilient and adaptable. In the past three and a half weeks, Lily has lived at two different barns and one home. She has been tended to by three different barn workers, loads of barn boarders, her foster family, Jim and myself (who take her once a day now), and she spends several hours with my parents. All with a smile and never any fear.
She is without a doubt one of the smartest dogs I have ever met. She is training very quickly and easily and already understands a lot of hand signals. What has she learned? She can sit, lay, drop her ball, come, go to her bed, and wait to go in or out the door. Someone who has her as part of their family could teach her all she needs to know within a few months. Seriously.
Even though you know Lily can't hear you, you can't resist talking to her. She's so adorable that you want to use a cutesy voice too.

Wanna see some more pictures?

Lily and her foster sister Mal. Lily apparently is with Mal 24/7.

They sleep together, often in a pile.

See?

Here are those ears I was talking about. I just want to chew on them.

A very tired Lily, getting belly rubs from Jim. I didn't mention in my

bullet points about, but she loooooves belly rubs.

So, a general overview: Lily loves everything. Lily will love you. You will love Lily. Lily will be an amazing family pet.

We are looking for a kind, loving family for Lily. You can have dogs or cats or not. Lily needs quite a bit of training at this point, and therefore, time. Obviously, it's okay if you work a full-time job, but she needs to be walked/played with/trained several times a day. If you have a fenced-in yard, this is a bonus. Mostly, we want you to love her as much as she'll love you.

If you're interested, please email me at cancersupport@greatgoodheart.org. I am seriously willing to transport her, anywhere in the Continental United States, for the right family. I am not even kidding.

Even if you aren't in a position to help Lily, please share this blog post with others, so we can find Lily the family she so richly deserves.

Bonk.

2011-09-20T08:41:00.000-07:00

Lets protect that pretty head, 'kay?

Indiana has a habit which, while strange and completely new to me, is apparently fairly common among older dogs. Jim and I will be peacefully resting on the couch, watching television, and we will suddenly hear the most brain-rattling bonk you can ever hope to hear. For a while it confused us. What was that noise? Where is it coming from? But eventually, we figured it out.

Our dog throws herself to the ground to lay down, and that loud noise we hear? It's her head hitting the hardwood floor.

Jim and I were horrified at first. Surely such trauma would cause brain injury? Oddly enough, I guess it doesn't. She continues to do it and doesn't seem to be any worse for the wear.

At my last vet appointment, I mentioned this odd habit to our vet. I expected her to be as incredulous about the whole thing as we were. But her response surprised me. "Oh, yeah. I see that all the time in older dogs. In fact, I have seen a few come in with huge bruises on their heads." Waaahhhh?

I couldn't wrap my brain around why my own dog was whacking her precious skull against the floor, on purpose, let alone why a whole subset of a species was doing it. And why didn't I know about this?

My vet replied that there was no hard-and-fast explanation for this odd phenomenon. Her theory is that laying down all the way is painful or uncomfortable for most old dogs. They know this, and so to avoid it, or at least combat it, they approach laying down with the ripping-off-a-band-aid theory--the faster you do it, the sooner it's over.

This theory makes complete sense to me. I'm still horrified by it, and I can't help but cringe every time I hear that distinctive whack of skull against wood. The best I can offer is a soft rug underneath, to at least turn that crack into a dull thud.

Busy Days

2011-09-19T07:56:00.000-07:00

Q*bert, not being busy

I've been long absent from my blog, even though I promised myself I would write every day. To paraphrase my friend Caitte, I've been busy living life instead of writing about it. Shame on me. Just kidding--I feel guilty, but only just a little.

I'll try to spend this week catching up. I've had a lot on my mind. This time of year does that to me. Lots of anniversaries of sad events, the holidays just around the corner, the changing of the seasons (which I love with all of my heart, I really do).

I know the first thing on my regular readers minds: how is Indiana? In a nutshell, good. Things were a little dicey a few weeks ago. She suddenly started struggling to lay down. Not stand up. Lay down. This is for several reasons. One, it has to do with tight muscles in her legs, which make laying down kind of painful, or at least uncomfortable. It got so bad that Indiana would wander around the house for a long time (and at 13 1/2, Indy doesn't wander much anymore at all), exhausting herself, panting. It was really hard to see. And it's not like standing up, where we can assist her. Laying down, she's on her own. It's crushing and sad to see.

So we've had her in for chiropractic and acupuncture, which have helped. But we also put her back on Adequan (which we had run out of a few weeks ago) and a new joint supplement called Glyco-flex III, a chewable pill that she actually likes eating. I think these things have helped. She's no longer struggling so much to lay down (it still takes her a while though, but she's like the equivalent of 80 years old in human years, so what can you expect?), and the wandering has all but ended, thanks to an herb we've been giving her called Rhodiola.

Jim and I determined that Indy's wandering was caused by anxiety, which sounds really weird, because, what does a dog have to be anxious about? But if you think about all of the older people you've ever known--grandparents, for instance--I bet you can think of several times they got nervous for no good reason. Wanting to stay close to home. Needing to be on a schedule. Feeling overwhelmed by lots of noise. It's the same for older pets too.

To combat the anxiety (which seems the worst during meal times), Jim and I have set up a quiet atmosphere. The TV goes off. All unnecessary lights are switched off. We both sit with her while she eats. (She likes to be hand fed, so one parent feeds her, and usually the second sits by, watching. It's torture for a herding dog not to be able to see all of her charges, so staying close reduces that worry). But I swear the Rhodiola has helped too. It's amazing the change we've seen.

We're lucky to have a vet who understands aging dogs, in a way I've never seen before. Having a senior dog is harder than I ever imagined. It requires lots of patience, lots of time, lots of attention, and the ability to turn off your "ick" sensor--you'll be touching things you never thought you would, and with your bare hands to boot. Raw meat, feces, urine. Whatever. It doesn't faze me now.

Indiana has a lot to teach us about growing old. But Jim and I try very hard to listen to her. She's clear in her communications, if you just pay attention. We have a lot to learn, but we're very eager pupils.

Best of Friends

2011-08-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

Cimba and Garth, with Boogie in the back

Cimba lives at a boarding facility and has done for 5-6 years. He's well taken care of there. He's happy with the owners and staff, and, best of all, he's made friends.

During the day, Cimba runs in a herd of other geldings. Garth is his best friend and is owned by the barn owners. Garth is the Alpha male of the herd and therefore calls the shots. Garth's call most of the time? Pay attention to Cimba. He loves Cimba, and Cimba loves him. This leaves the other members of the herd, Boogie and Pary, out in the cold more often than Boogie would like. (Pary doesn't care--he's happy to follow the rest of the herd around) The picture I posted with this story pretty well exemplifies the relationship of the herd. Cimba standing around, Garth nibbling on him, Boogie trying to get some attention too, and Pary off who knows where.

I find this relationship funny for several reasons. One, Garth is the Alpha yet lavishes his attention on Cimba. He's constantly gently nibbling on his back, nudging him on the shoulder, or resting his head on Cimba's back. And two, Garth is huge, and beautiful, and he's enthralled with a tiny little Arab. Cimba seems to like the attention, as he rarely walks away from Garth. I don't know if that's because my vain horse likes the attention, or if he's happier that the attention is driving Boogie crazy. I wouldn't put that past him.

Last week, Cimba was tranquilized for a veterinary procedure. After we were done, Cimba was starting to wake up, and we put him outside with his herd, so the fresh air and breeze could help him wake up faster. Nikki, the owner of the barn (and also Garth), said, "Cimba will be fine outside. Garth will take care of him."

And take care of him he did.

It's not unusual for the herd to rally around another member who is returning to the pen. What melted my heart is the fact that Garth wouldn't leave Cimba's side. He walked alongside him, lavishing his usual attention, but in a gentler manner. Keeping the other horses from Cimba, making sure he was safe. And when I left, an hour later, Garth was still at Cimba's side.

Cimba is lucky to have such a good friend.

Oh, It's a Guilt Trip, Is It?

2011-08-24T08:17:00.000-07:00

There's been a lot of manipulation around our house lately. And I don't mean between the humans. Oh, no. It's the four-legged critters who have been putting on their best guilt faces. And you know what? It works every time.

Indiana is, well, Indy. When you've battled cancer...twice...and won, you get pretty much whatever you want.

Isis has a new obsession with running. Jim started running with her several months ago in an effort to get her into shape. She's always been a horrible walker (she loves to stop and sniff every two feet, plus she has weird rules about where she will and won't walk--if you try to force the issue, she lays all 60 of her pounds down in the middle of the road.) But surprisingly, she's a good runner. And she loves it. Fairly frequently, she sees Jim getting on his workout gear and is convinced they're going running, even if Jim only intends to work out in the house. But when faced with such unbridled enthusiasm, and an, "Oh, Jim..." from me, Isis wins every time.

Mr. Squiggles, like Indiana, has a built in guilt-trip excuse--when you reappear after being missing for over a year, you want for very little. But still, he has a trick that gets us every time. Stage One of his trick is an expectant, very quiet meow, complete with an intense, expectant stare. This trick means he wants you to sit down on the couch so he can snuggle with you. Stage Two of the trick, from which we have no immunity, involves the quiet meow along with him standing up on his back legs, pawing at your legs as desperately as he can. I'm pretty sure I'd commit a crime, if that's what he was asking for.

Gus doesn't really pile on guilt, per se, but he's got the whole disability thing that makes him impossible to resist. Plus, he takes what he wants. So if he wants to lay on your lap, you sit there until he's done.

Samson's trick is really handy, as it's what got him adopted by us in the first place. Samson, like every Maine Coon, is very smart and very dexterous with his hands. So when he wants something, he reaches his huge paw out to get it. This includes people most of the time. Who can resist 15 pounds of cat reaching out and lovingly placing a paw on your arm? I sure can't.

Q*bert is newest to the household and therefore less equipped with guilt trips. He's not sick/disabled/previously missing, so those tricks are out. He's also not super smart, but honestly, that's what wins us over most of the time. He's so...ummm...simple, that we can't resist him when he wants something. His needs are so simple, basically food and an occasional lap, so who are we to say no? Bless his heart.

Though he doesn't live in our house, Cimba has tricks of his own too. I don't ignore him often, but sometimes I will walk away from his stall to pet another horse, and this makes him mad. I'm his Mom, after all. Most of the time, if he's craving attention, and some other horse is getting it, I'll hear a stern smack against his stall wall, and I'll turn around to see a very annoyed horse staring me down. Flared nostrils, perked ears, and the brightest, sweetest eyes you've ever seen on a horse. I am powerless against him.

Society has the idea that humankind is smarter and superior to the animal race. Looking at all of this, though, I often wonder.

Back to Work

2011-08-22T08:01:00.000-07:00

Sam's staring at a large bug on the other side of the

pet door. Can you see it?

The last few weeks have been crazy busy in the Schneider household, and by crazy busy, I mean I've been travelling and generally being a kept woman. Oh, and Jim started a sort-of-new job. Somebody's gotta pay for the horse, and it ain't me.

Anyway, in Jim news, the new job is really a new position within the same company/department, and it's been a looooooooooong time coming. When Jim was hired by Exelon (then ComEd) back in 2000, this new position (Licensed Control Room Operator) was the ultimate goal. We were told by the company that Jim and his fellow newly hired co-workers could expect to be non-licensed operators for 3-5 years. It's been 11. So we're very happy that this new position finally came open (and it's based on seniority, not merit, so that's partly what's taken so long). Jim is currently in Reactor Operator Training, which will take between 18-24 months. For the time being, he works 7-3 Monday through Friday, and cannot be forced to work extra shifts. He also gets holidays off. After 11 years, we're finally living what is a relatively normal life. Once he's passed the training, he'll go back to 12-hour shift work again, but it's still nice to have a break from that routine.

Jim is now able to pursue interests he previously had no time for (12-hour shifts don't allow for much else in your day), like training for a half-marathon. He also has time to take riding lessons and go for bike rides with me. We can run errands and go grocery shopping together. Oh, and lots more time for Criminal Minds. Whew. Don't forget that!

This new job will put a bit of a damper on our travel schedule, as he's not really able to take vacation days right now. He can't really miss classroom training, so our travel, for the time being, will be relegated to weekends and holiday weeks. That'll be the hardest part for us, honestly, but it's not forever.

Meanwhile, our critters are loving the new schedule. Daddy is home at 3:30 every day, so if Mom is out, Daddy can feed them lunch, and give them snuggle time. They have two parents home more of the time. It's a win-win for them.

In other news, Indiana is doing well. She's bright-eyed and alert, eating pretty well (though picky), and getting around as well as can be expected. She has recovered from her earlier UTI, and we're waiting on test results to tell us how her kidneys are doing. Her tumor on her back is larger now, and it's carrying a lot of heat. This could mean one of several things: that the tumor has grown larger, that the hematoma around it has grown, or that there is some kind of abscess around it. Our vet doesn't want to poke it to find out, so for now, we're simply putting a clay mask on it to draw out the heat, and adding in a drop of Frankincense, which is an essential oil with anti-tumor properties.

Our horse, Cimba, was diagnosed with bursitis in his neck last month. That's a swelling of the joint--for him, it's just behind his left ear. He has a rather large lump there, and I know it causes him some discomfort. Today, the equine vet is coming out to take an x-ray, to see if there is any arthritis, and to see what the extent of the lump is. My poor boy has to be tranquilized, which freaks me out a little but is probably totally safe. Anyway, I'm crossing my fingers for good results--nothing we've done to the lump so far has changed it in any way, so I'm anxious to find a treatment that works.

I don't know why my lot in life is to have animals with every sort of lump or bump known to man. Between Indy and Cimba, I'm gaining a pretty good knowledge of lumps. Surely we have to run out of types pretty soon?

OMG OMG

2011-08-18T07:33:00.000-07:00

What I've been doing instead of blogging.

I logged on to make a post this morning, and nearly gasped at the realization that the last time I posted was August 4. And today is August 18. Ugh.

Not that I think I have thousands of worshiping adorers out there, refreshing their browsers every 5 minutes, waiting for a new post about my animals to come up. But I did make a personal vow to post every weekday--that's five days a week--and now I've really broken that vow.

However, it's not completely my fault. After the August 4th post, my cell phone decided to stop charging, and I use my cell for everything--including internet service. So I was without the internet for over a week while I waited for Amazon to ship my new charger (because Verizon doesn't sell them anymore--and they won't let me get an early upgrade--thanks, Verizon. I'm glad that 10 years of on-time payments means so much to you.)

Anyway, once I got my cell up and working again, I went on vacation with my Mom to Wisconsin Dells. We had a great time, staying in a really nice motel with a great view, wearing belly packs, and touristing it up. Then I leave on a quick weekend 11th Anniversary getaway tomorrow, but I promise I'll be back to posting adorable pictures and stories of my naughty cats next week.

For those who are curious (and there are at least one or two of you out there, right?), my clan are all doing well. Indy is UTI-free for the time being and is eating relatively well. The cats are being fairly harmonious, Isis is Isis, and Cimba has been neglected by Midwest-travelling me but has been well cared for by friends Nikki and Cassie.

Until Monday, my friends...

Oy vey

2011-08-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

In the last week, we have:

been to the doctor/lab for an exam/urinalysis/CT, because one of the humans thought they might have a kidney stone
gone to dinner with some friends, and had a great time, despite back pain
called the vet, because one of the canines was exhibiting signs of a UTI, and we were going out of town that day and needed antibiotics ASAP
visited family out of town for the weekend
shopped at my favorite store in the world, Charming Charlie's (please tell me you've experienced it)
gone to a baptism/party
picked up our very first Western trail saddle
gotten bitten by a cat on the arm, requiring one of the humans to go to the ER, who were very, very unhelpful
had friends over for dinner, and had a great time, despite two humans being ill and one being injured
watched our equine family member getting shoed, which is basically a horse pedicure
gotten frustrated/worried because the aforementioned canine with the UTI hasn't really improved and is still wetting herself all over the house
taken said canine to the chiropractor and faced not one, not two, but three traffic delays, two being caused by accidents, which caused us to be ten whole minutes late
spent the evening quite uncomfortable, because someones cat-bitten arm was sore
woken up to diarrhea all over the floor, presumably caused by the canine with the UTI and on antibiotics
woken up to an arm which looks better and feels better, but which started oozing pus, thus requiring the other human in the house to squeeze the wound to expel all of the pus. This was actually more cool than gross.

Surely this next week will get better/be less interesting.

Happy Birthday, Gus!

2011-08-01T16:07:00.000-07:00

Seriously, is there a cuter cat on the planet?

Today is Gus' birthday. He's three-ish years old.

Jim and I always like to do something special for the animals on their birthdays. For the dogs, we go out for a Culver's hamburger, followed by Dairy Queen. For the cats...not so simple.

What do you give the cat who has everything? Hates riding in the car? Gets everything he wants? Hates affection?

We instituted a rule that you couldn't give a cat a hard time on his birthday, so in Gus' case, no making fun of his disability. Not that we do...ummm...

We also decided that since Gus hates affection, we wouldn't pick him up at all on his birthday. Or pet him unless invited to do so.

Indiana is playing her part and allowing Gus to snuggle with her whenever he wants, which has been quite frequently the last couple of days. What a kind sister.

But Q*bert just literally attacked Gus as I am typing this. Apparently he didn't get the birthday memo.

So Happy Birthday to my favorite orange cat. You are evil, but luckily so incredibly adorable.

Old-y Time-y Photos

2011-07-28T07:50:00.000-07:00

They're both super fuzzy. The dog and the then-boyfriend-now-husband.

Jim and I (okay, mostly Jim) are in the process of removing photos off an old computer onto our old-but-newer computer, so we can finally recycle the old one. I thought my readers might enjoy seeing some of the old pics, because they're of the dogs and cat (we only had Mr. S back then) a long time ago, when they were young and just as adorable. I'll post more over the next several days. I hope you enjoy this look back!

This is Isis, when she was brand new. How stinkin' cute was she???

Mr. Squiggles. What is it with cats and laundry baskets?

More brand new Isis and big sister Indy. Indy was sooooooo

patient and gentle with her. Look at my lovely second-hand

college couch.

The girls at our favorite dog park. We used to go every day.

That was back when you could trust Isis off-leash.

Heh.

Seriously, this picture of Isis...no words. Just...oh my.

Mr. S. I'm pretty sure he's begging for

some kind of food.

Monday Already?

2011-07-25T15:27:00.000-07:00

This is Samson. This shelf used to hold knick knacks but

now instead holds 15 pounds of cat and a blanket.

Oops. At the start of the year, I made a commitment to blogging five days a week, and for the most part, I've been pretty good about sticking to it. Because I know myself (and my ability to not finish what I start--ugh), I allow myself few excuses for not getting a blog post in each weekday. And, because I'm a morning person by nature, I prefer to write and post just after breakfast each morning. (I also can't function before eating--this goes for just about anything--I feed the dogs and cats, then I feed myself) Imagine my surprise, when I realized this afternoon, that, GASP! today is Monday! I forgot to post this morning! Is forgetting it's a weekday an acceptable excuse for not blogging? I like to think it is.

Anyway, I've been wrapped up in a remodeling project the last few days. On Saturday, a small vanity cabinet in our master bathroom fell off the wall. Well, it didn't exactly fall, but it came apart, requiring us to physically remove it, after which we found water damage from the nearby shower. Which reminded us that a tile in the shower was coming off the wall, another indicator of water damage. So now our shower is getting a remodel. Which means new tile, new paint, new a lot of stuff. And because I'm a glutton for punishment, I can't just replace the wallboard and tile, oh no, I have to do this baby right! Let's put in a tile bottom! And get custom glass doors! And, hey, let's make them round! And let's put in glass tiles! And travertine! And since the shower is getting new tiles, the whirlpool area needs matching tile too. But not the floor. Good heavens no, I am not ripping up 150 square feet of perfectly good tile. I'm crazy, but not nuts.

What was probably going to be a small project has now turned into a pretty big (read: expensive) deal. I am going into this whole remodel fully expecting more problems than I anticipate. I did build a whole house, by the way. I know how these things work. Nothing is ever as simple as you think they're going to be. Always be prepared. Expect the unexpected.

Then I realized this was totally an allegory to real life--and, quite conveniently, a perfect blog post subject. As a pet parent, heck, as a human being, you never know what's going to come up. Life throws you curve balls, and sometimes a lot of them. And while we can't ever be prepared for some of them--who's ever prepared for death? or cancer?--we can take some of the smaller things in our lives in stride. Some days, I feel tempted to feel overwhelmed. I have a lot of animals, a lot of time-consuming animals, and when one or more of them is sick, it can be hard to deal with. But not all illnesses are life-threatening, and I have to learn to take those with stride. Yes, my dog getting fleas sucks, but it's not the end of the world. Wash the bedding, vacuum the floors, use the chemical/natural treatment of choice, and the dog won't know any different.

Put everything in perspective, and go with the flow. So while I'm not overjoyed at having to redo my bathroom (though the planning part can be fun), I'm lucky that I have the time and resources to do it.

My Little Pony

2011-07-22T09:10:00.000-07:00

I've officially been a horse owner for just over three weeks now, though I started getting to know Cimba in the beginning of June. I spent about a week riding him, to see if we could bond. I needed to like him, but, just as importantly, he needed to like me too. It didn't take me long to decide that there was something between us, that special bond between a girl and her pony, a life-long dream come true.

I've really enjoyed owning a horse, which I anticipated, or otherwise I would have never taken this large step. But what has surprised me (besides how LITTLE I know about owning a horse), is just how amazing it is. I know my capacity to love, so it hasn't surprised me how much I love Cimba. When I adopt an animal, be it 10 pounds or 1000, it's forever. Cimba is my son, until the end. What's been truly amazing is how much he loves me.

I am Cimba's third owner (or maybe fourth? He might have had a trainer prior to his first owner). One a little girl, one a teenager, and now, me. Horses do recognize and bond with their owners, and I had been warned that Cimba might be a little "gun shy," having loved and lost before. I made it a point early on to talk to him, to let him know that once he was mine, he was mine forever. I knew that I needed to earn his trust, to treat him with love and respect.

And it's paid off. Cimba knickers when I come by. He recognizes me and acts excited that I'm there. He also is exhibiting signs of ownership over me. Earlier this week, while visiting him in his stall, I walked away for a moment to pet another horse and donkey, who were vying for my attention. I suddenly heard a loud "bang," a horse kicking the wall of a stall, and I turned around to see my little horse standing as tall as he could against the wall of his stall, with his head as far out the window as possible. With nostrils flared, and annoyance in his eyes, I knew then that my horse was jealous that I was petting another horse, and not him. I was, in his eyes, officially his Mom.

What an amazing journey we two have ahead of us.

Summertime ADD

2011-07-21T07:58:00.000-07:00

What everyone in my household is doing right now except for me.

I don't know about you, but summer time makes me feel frivolous. My singing position at the church is on hiatus, my Mom is on summer vacation from her teaching job, my animals are lazy, it's usually hot. Vacation is on my mind (though we rarely travel in the summer, preferring "off season" times instead), as is shopping, ice cream, air conditioning, books, cookouts, campfires, marshmallows. (That's a lot of food...perhaps "exercise" should have been on that list too, huh? Alas, it's not.)

Summer time makes me want to wear dresses. Put flowers in my hair. Paint my toenails wild colors. Spend time with my friends. Ride my horse.

Everything is more relaxed in the summer, especially on hot days. My entire house, full of three dogs (we're sitting an extra--no big announcement today, folks), four cats, and a husband, is perfectly silent. Everyone is happily asleep, lazing away the hot day in his or her own fashion. Gus and Q are still outside. Sam and Mr. S prefer the air conditioning. The dogs are in their usual spots, Jim is fast asleep after a night at work, and our canine guest is curled up asleep next to him. Me, I'm awake but still in my pajamas, my preferred summer outfit of choice.

It's on slow, quiet days like this that I am my happiest. My brood are all safe, tucked away in their beds, and this Mama is happy.

New Heights of Laziness

2011-07-20T06:11:00.000-07:00

Gus in a sleep coma

It's been hot around here, and today, so far, is the worst of all. Heat indices in the 100s make for very unpleasant outdoor time. Yet, I can't get the cats to come in.

Sam and Mr. Squiggles will come in periodically, especially around meal time. But Gus and Q*bert spend almost every waking moment outside. I don't get it. We keep the house nice and cool. Our house is a playground for cats. What's missing? What more do they want? What makes the hot, sticky outdoors so much cooler than inside?

I'm pretty sure Gus and Q find nice, cool spots under bushes, in the dirt, where they curl up and sleep in the peace and quiet. I go outside and call to them several times a day, just to make sure they haven't baked themselves to death. Sometimes they come, sometimes they don't. I usually call during meal times. Cats get hungry, right? But it's like I have to remind them to eat. Oh, yeah. I totally forgot. I guess I baked my brain in this 105 degree weather. Usually, if they do grace me by responding to my frantic calls, I have to walk over to them, pick them up, bring them in the house, and place them in front of their food. At that point, they do remember how to eat and chew.

After which, they promptly go back outside, to laze in their super-secret hiding spots. Until the next time a meal rolls around. Then we start all over again. I can't wait for fall.

Bittersweet Rememberings

2011-07-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

We're in the middle of a heat wave here in Illinois. Temperatures each day threaten to reach the mid-nineties, and with the high humidity, the heat indices hover between 100-115 degrees. To be sure, I was not meant to be a pioneer woman. I dread venturing out, even to reach my car, instead preferring the comfort of my well-insulated, air-conditioned home. Which, by the way, we keep at a comfy 71 degrees, because "Indiana likes it that way." Hah.

When I stepped out into the heat yesterday morning, I was first struck by the stickiness. It was oppressive, even at 8am. But the next thing I noticed was the distinct smell of a balmy day. I think heat and humidity bring out the "greenness" in the vegetation, so you smell the trees, the grass, the flowers even more than usual.

Stepping out into the green outdoors yesterday took me back into a moment (or actually, several moments) in time. I was suddenly transported to a lush green courtyard in Tampa, Florida. It smelled of vegetation, of grass, and of gardenias. I was in high school, or college, and I was staying with my aunt and uncle in their Florida home. I stayed with them several times once I got old enough to travel alone, and I relished those trips. They were the highlight of my year. My Aunt Carole was one of my favorite people in the world, and during those trips, we were best friends, taking day trips, going shopping, going to Busch Gardens.

Now my aunt is gone. All I have left are memories. So even though the heat is oppressive, and uncomfortable, it does take me back to those happy days, when I was young, and she was healthy, and it seemed we had our whole lives ahead of us.

Connections

2011-07-18T07:58:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I own a horse now. I've been taking riding lessons for about two years, so I've come to know a lot of the horses who live and board in this barn. One particular horse, Dolly, captured my heart from the first moment I met her. At four years old, she's a huge paint horse, higher at her withers than I am tall. Yet, she's one of the most gentle creatures I've ever met.

One of the highlights of visiting the barn has always been my snuggle time with Dolly. She sticks her head out of her stall and lets me stroke, kiss, and hug her huge head. Most horses like attention, but Dolly is one of the few who will actually let you wrap your arms around her face, as she nuzzles against your chest. I've always loved spending time with her. Everyone who meets her can tell that she's someone special. She's everyone's favorite horse.

About a month ago, Dolly got injured. Her family and vet thought that a month of stall rest would heal the injury, but over time, she's just gotten worse and is still lame. Now there might be a new injury, and Dolly is headed to Purdue University today for diagnostics, to see exactly what's wrong.

I'm a nervous wreck about this today. She's not even my horse. I know it sounds nuts.

Last night, I went to visit my horse, Cimba. On my way out, I stopped to see Dolly. She was laying down, as she often does these days, and she didn't get up when I came over. I wanted to stop and speak to her, give her a pep talk for her upcoming trip. I wanted to give her nuzzles and hugs, and tell her I love her, just in case. But since she wasn't standing, I wasn't able to give her those kisses. I did talk to her though. I told her she was a special horse. That fate didn't put such an amazing soul on this Earth, only to take it away so soon. I told her that her work here wasn't done, that she had to get better, to fight, to heal completely. I told her that I loved her. A lot.

In the short time I've owned a horse, I've learned that they are surprisingly fragile. They are injured easily and some injuries aren't recoverable. I am hoping with all my heart today that whatever is wrong with Dolly, she can heal.

So today I am sad, nervous, anxious. Maybe others look at that and say that I'm crazy. After all, she isn't even mine. But love is love. The heart can't distinguish between who "belongs" to whom. Dolly has my heart, and she always has. And she has to get better. Because I still owe her those kisses.

Many Happy Returns

2011-07-14T07:11:00.000-07:00

I'm baaaAAAaaack. Sorry for the long delay in returning to blogging regularly. (And blogging well--last week was barely good enough, people!) Doing the show was super fun but super stressful and super busy, and it's taken me most of the week to recover, both physically and mentally. Now, some updates on what you've missed:

Indiana is doing really well. Her hematoma on her back burst last about two weeks ago, creating a mess but unfortunately not a smaller lump. She had to go on 10 days of antibiotics, which always make her feel crummy. So she was picky-pants about eating for several days and even stopped taking pills again for a while. But now that the antibiotics are done, she's returning back to normal, eating well (actually, eating really well) and taking her pills like a champ.

I've been struggling a bit with how to give her the pills. Ages ago, we started using cream cheese, but that eventually dried up as an option. Then peanut butter. Then liver sausage. All are persona non grata in Indy's eyes now. What a turd.

We moved on to lunchmeat, which has been working pretty well. The problem? Just about every lunchmeat out there contains added nitrites. I'm not a big fan, so I've been searching our local grocery store high and low for something that doesn't contain them. I've found one. One, people. I can't explain why. It's not one brand. It's one type within an entire product line. Go figure. And wouldn't you know it, it's hard to come by. Apparently everyone else in Kankakee wants to buy nitrite-free Hillshire Farms ultra-thin sliced Roast Beef. Who knew?

Two days ago, our store was out of this particular product, so I had to buy a different product containing nitrites. Wouldn't you know it, Indy loves it. So now my dilemma is, do I continue to switch up different products, keeping her happy with the variety, or do I go back to the one product that doesn't contain nitrites, but risk letting her get bored with it? It's the never-ending question for us purity-seeking parents.

In other news, I am incapable of owning a healthy animal. My horse, Cimba, came to me with a large lump on his neck, just behind his ears. I knew about it when I "adopted" him, and I had every intention from the get-go of investigating it and healing it the best I could. So I suppose I have no real room to complain. But I will anyway, so hah.

I had a vet I know, Dr. Dan King, come out and take a look at Cimba's neck last week. He's had the lump for about a year, and while the local horse vet did an ultrasound (which indicated simply soft tissue), I wasn't convinced that was all that was going on with it. For one, it was hard. For two, it was giving off a small amount of heat. Plus, you know, that whole Mom instinct thing. I got it goin' on.

The vet did a needle aspirate (which the horse vet, though competent, didn't do--maybe that's the dog owner in me?). When he stuck the needle in, a yellow, sticky substance came oozing out. I didn't know what the heck it was, but apparently, it's joint fluid. Not what I expected at all. The vet sent the sample away for cytology, though he was fairly confident that it wasn't cancer. And as it turns out, it's not. It's actually a chronic inflammation of the bursa (the joint capsule) at the back of his head, just behind his left ear. It's not infected, but the lump is pretty large, and, according to Dr. King, probably pretty uncomfortable, which I already suspected.

Cimba got a shot of Traumeel, which is a homeopathic drug, to decrease the swelling. I'm also giving him homeopathic Arnica montana twice a day, as well as putting a poultice of wet clay on it, to draw out the inflammation. I haven't seen a big improvement yet, but considering the swelling has been there for about a year, I don't expect it to go away quickly. Luckily, I'm a hands-on Mom who doesn't mind the challenge. And my friend and mentor, Nikki, who boards Cimba for me, is helping every step of the way with her expertise in horses.

If Cimba's lump isn't improved in 3-4 weeks, he'll be evaluated again, and we might change treatment. But if our treatments appear to be working, he'll get another shot of Traumeel, and I'll continue with the homeopathics and the clay. I'm crossing my fingers that he gets some relief soon.

Nikki, my aforementioned friend with the horses, also has an injured horse at her barn. This horse has my heart and always has. It's hard seeing her struggle and be in pain, and it kills me that Nikki, the best horse owner I could ever imagine, has to struggle along with her. We wondered yesterday why things like this happen. But as a cancer Mom who deals with other cancer parents all the time, I know why: because we are special parents, and we'll fight for animals when others would not. I believe that our sick and injured animals are sent to us because they need us. While others would ignore the problem, or put their animals down, we fight for them and care for them, and go above and beyond to make things right. And usually, we can.

It's occasionally frustrating, dealing with sick animals all the time. But there are rewards. Knowing that we have done what others could not, or would not. Knowing that we sacrificed to make the life of another better. Knowing, at the end of the day, that we have given of ourselves, but have gotten back much, more more.

Remember, This is the Week of 'Good Enough'

2011-07-07T07:46:00.000-07:00

Why is it, that after that perfect first cup of coffee, which tastes so good, the second cup never quite lives up to it...I know there's a lesson in there somewhere.

You were warned.

The Week of Good Enough

2011-07-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

Okay. I'm letting some things slip this week. Being a little lazy. Making some mistakes. Okay, a lot of mistakes.

The play I'm doing this summer with my parents opens on Friday, which means this is crazy-busy-super-insane-lack-of-sleep-my-brain-is-going-to-explode week, i.e. Tech Week. I've gotten to bed post-midnight the last two nights, and it's only going to get later as the week goes on. Thank goodness my daytime schedule is (purposely) pretty light this week.

Last night, I got in after midnight, and I decided a shower was definitely in order before crawling into bed. I was caked not only in stage makeup (which is basically plaster, only not really) but also multiple layers of sweat and dirt. By the time I had something to eat (performing makes me oddly hungry) and got myself calmed down (performing also makes me wired), it was about 1am. Jim got up at 5:30am for work, and usually I get up with him, to have breakfast and feed the dogs. Then I go back to bed. But not today. I decided that just over 4 hours of sleep, when I had gotten just 5 the night before, was not sufficient. I decided to stay in bed and shoot for about 7 hours, which is much more respectable. The extra sleep was nice, but as soon as my cats heard me stir, they were on me like white on rice. Excuse me. Excuse me. Lady. Lady. LADY! It's 8 o'clock. We're hungry. You're always up before 8. Get up. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Oooh, that's my brother. I'm gonna kick his butt. It's his fault the lady isn't up. So up I got, with four cats in tow, to make breakfast. They all stared at me in judgement while I prepped their food, but, whatever. Don't judge, cats. You don't know me.

There are dishes in the sink and on the counter, and a dishwasher full of clean dishes, ready to be put away. I did a load of laundry this morning, in preparation for another sweaty rehearsal tonight. My house is a mess, and the lawn needs to be mowed. I'm working a few hours at the pet food store today, and I swear I've developed temporary ADHD. (For instance, I just noticed that, inexplicably, my laptop is showing up 100% charged. Which is hasn't done in about a year and a half. Why, suddenly, did it decide to charge? Can I finally unplug it? Use it as a real laptop? Dare I try it? What if the computer is lying?)

Thus, I've declared that this week, I will simply do good enough. Notice I didn't say good. I will keep my animals alive, fed, and medicated. I will not smell or wear stinky clothes. I will keep all of my appointments. I will get up one more blog post this week. I will ride my horse. Most of all, I will keep my sanity. Or at least some of it. That's good enough.

This Time, Cancer Didn't Win

2011-07-01T08:23:00.000-07:00

Our Princess, finally free of leiomyosarcoma

I had intentions of doing a big celebration-style post for yesterday's celebration-worthy happenings, but when it came down to it, that just didn't seem quite right. Of course Jim and I celebrated. We talked about that day, 5 years ago, that changed our lives forever. We took the dogs out for celebratory hamburgers and ice cream. Our hearts rejoiced at what we, and our amazing dog, had accomplished.

But ultimately, I still look back on that day with great reflection. For those who may not know, on June 30, 2006, Indiana was diagnosed with leiomyosarcoma, a cancer of the smooth tissues. She almost died, and, in fact, was expected to die. It took me three full years before I could write down the story and really talk about it. Want to read it? It's sad (I'll give you a spoiler: it ends well). But, in my humble opinion, it's worth reading. Read it for Indy. Five years is incredible, to be sure, but what's so significant about this milestone, is that after five years free of leiomyosarcoma, her cancer is considered cured. Gone. Forever.

In some ways, the five years seem like forever ago. Have we really made it five whole years? With the exception of our primary vet, no doctor expected her to live that long. Yet, here she is, five years later, still happy and healthy. We're constantly told by veterinary staff how incredible she is. Not just because she's sweet and gentle and never complains. But because, according to all odds, she should be dead.

Since her (practically) terminal diagnosis 5 years ago, Indiana has been diagnosed with a mass in her heart, hypothyroidism, atypical Cushing's Disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, chronic kidney disease, and, most recently, a cutaneous sarcoma. The Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and subsequent kidney disease almost did her in again. But in true Indiana form, she bounced back. I won't deny that the kidney disease takes a lot of care. Our saint of a dog has allowed us to administer subcutaneous fluids every single day, for the last 21 months. The fluids keep her alive and feeling well. She understands that, and I find that simply amazing.

Jim and I have learned so much since we almost lost Indy the first time. We learned, for one, exactly how precious she is to us. We also learned what we were capable of handling, what we were willing to sacrifice for her. During particularly financially lean times (it's staggering how expensive veterinary hospitalization is), we've given up all unnecessary spending, including meals out, new clothes, entertainment. Small things, really, when a life is on the line. We've learned to keep a large cushion of money in our accounts, knowing that catastrophic illness can occur at any time. We'll never make a decision for our children based on finances.

We've learned to be better parents. We know what to feed our pets, and why. We know the importance of exercise. We know, the hard way, the importance of listening, and I mean really listening, to what our pets are telling us.

Our lifestyle has changed dramatically as well. While we used to travel 4-5 times a year, we've cut that down to 2-3. Still a lot, to be sure, but definitely the bare minimum of what our wandering souls can handle. And now that Indy is old, we stay within a 2-hours flight, in places that have fairly frequent flights, lest we need to return home quickly. Our hearts yearn to return to places like Hawaii and Paris, to see new things, like China and Africa, but they'll all still be there when Indy is gone.

Because of Indy's tiny stomach (lost to surgery in 2006), she eats three times a day, at roughly 7am, 2pm, and 9pm. We've lived the last five years around this schedule. We are fortunate to have wonderful friends who understand this and are willing to plan excursions around those times, or who have made an unbalanced number of trips to our house for dinner, so we could be home to feed the dogs. Plus, my amazing parents, who have come over numerous times to feed the girls when our plans couldn't be made around meal times, or who took the girls for the evening, so they could still have their 9 o'clock meal. And having a dog on sub-q kidney fluids means making sure she gets them every single day. For nights away, we rely on our wonderful friend Amanda, a vet tech with a heart of gold, willing to drive to my parents house every day to administer fluids for us.

Though we cut back last year, we took Indiana to physical therapy, over an hour away, twice a week for nearly three years. Now it's twice a month. Plus, we have the once a month chiropractic visits as well as the twice-monthly acupuncture appointments. And the periodic kidney specialist, cardiology, and oncology visits. Our time is Indiana's time. As it should be.

I wouldn't trade those sacrifices for the world. Indiana has been such a blessing to us. Everything we know we've learned from her. We've learned how to truly love, opening our hearts to so many other animals. Not a day goes by during which I don't wish the cancer had never happened. But without it, I wouldn't be the mother I am today. I've met incredible people, people dedicated to fighting cancer, not only in their own pets, but in others' as well. People who will be my friends forever.

I've learned that while we love our animals with a fierceness that is rare, we are not alone. There are others out there like us, willing to move heaven and Earth to save their pets. To make every day the best it can be. And that is truly heartwarming.

To my sweet Princess, all I can say is, thank you. You've enriched my life more than you'll ever know. I live every single day trying to live up to your standards. You think I am everything, you have given all you have to me. It's the least I can do to give my all to you. I know you've stayed with us out of love. You've fought every step of the way for us. I can't ever repay that, but I'll certainly try.

Congratulations on beating cancer, my sweet baby. Cancer doesn't always win.

Never lose hope.

Cancer and Things

2011-06-28T06:40:00.000-07:00

I will admit that this picture has nothing to do with my post.

But it's cute. And Isis is in it, which is rare.

Indiana is doing really, really well. I've written about that a few times recently, and it never ceases to amaze me. She's got so much energy (for a 13-year-old, arthritic dog), and she's eating like a champ. And taking her pills. The other day, though, she chewed a big bald spot on her back. Ugh. Just when we'd gotten her hair grown in. So now she has a small skin infection on her back, but the good thing is that the bald spot made our vet take a closer look at Indy's tumor. We noticed earlier this year that it had grown. We were pretty disappointed, but we knew that we had the option to debulk the tumor if need be. But upon closer inspection, my vet discovered that the tumor actually had a hematoma on top--most likely the source of the "growth." So, sort of yay on that account. Hematomas are pretty harmless, and other than giving her a homeopathic med for it, we're basically leaving it alone, to reabsorb on its own. At which time, I hope to find the tumor still at it's original size. Fingers crossed.

Thursday marks Indiana's cure date for cancer #1. That's right, you heard me. Cure. Cure.

Cure.

I can hardly believe it myself.

I promise a blog filled with pictures, insights, stories, and, if I'm doing my job right, a few tears. After all, cancer #1 made me who I am today, the kind of mother I've grown to be, the person I am evolving into. That day, June 30, 2006, was one of the worst days of my life. I relive it every year. But maybe this year will be easier, knowing we've finally conquered the beast.

Welcome to the Family and Happy Birthday

2011-06-27T06:30:00.000-07:00

Meet Cimba, the newest member of our family.

Last Thursday, I learned that Jim and I were parents again, this time to an (almost) 15-year old bay Arabian named Cimba. I had met and fallen in love with Cimba several weeks prior, when a friend approached me about becoming his new owner. I was blindsided by the invitation. Many of you don't even know that I've been riding for just over two years, part of a life-long dream realized. Or that I had intended to own a horse someday, maybe several years in the future, when I was a better horseman, when my life was more simple, when I was ready. But then this opportunity came up, and sometimes, being sensible simply doesn't make sense. (It's how I ended up for four cats, people) I couldn't pass up this opportunity, this lovely, kind horse whom I knew would become one of my best friends.

Lest you think, "Is she crazy?" I say to you, well, yes, but not about this. Cimba has lived at my friend's boarding/training facility for over 5 years already, and that's where he'll stay. (A horse in my backyard? C'mon, people.) Plus, my friend, Nikki, is holding my hand through this whole experience. She's sharing her vast knowledge with me, teaching me with patience and enthusiasm, teaching me about saddles and bits, taking me on shopping trips for tack. Plus, I'm still taking lessons. And I have several other friends who own horses, including my friend Jodi, who has already lent me books on owning Arabs. Cimba and I have a great support system.

Maybe you'd be surprised to learn that Jim is excited to own a horse too. He was surprisingly supportive when I came home and said, "Nikki says Cimba's looking for a new family, and she thinks we'd be perfect. Let's get a horse." But honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. Jim has always supported everything I've done. Why would this be any different? Plus, he constantly amazes me with his huge heart and willingness to welcome new members to our family. They're not just my pets, they're our pets. So Jim is starting riding lessons so that he too can ride and enjoy Cimba. But once he gets good enough, we'll need two horses. You heard it here first, folks.

Oh, and Cimba is small, and Jim is tall. (But not too small, or too tall; he'll totally fit) Jim was discussing Cimba with our friend Ranea, who basically asked him if he'd fit Cimba. Jim said, "I hope so. He's the only horse we've got." Hah.

Today is Cimba's birthday. He is fifteen years old. I'm going over soon to see him and take him for a ride. Though I give him treats almost every day, I'll take a few extra goodies along today. Perhaps an apple and some carrots. Maybe a banana. Do horses eat bananas? Hmmm...

Though the last few weeks have been crazy (owning a horse, even when you don't have to clean their stalls or feed them, is still a lot of work--fun, but time-consuming), I am beyond excited about what is to come. Owning a horse is a dream come true for me, a realization of an obsession and love that started in childhood. Taking this leap has helped focus my mind more than I ever thought--it's been a big leap not only in terms of responsibility, but also in terms of figuring out who I am. So to my list of who Jen is, I've added horse owner. And that has made a surprising difference. It's altered the list of me, though in a good way, in a way I needed.

I wish a very happy 15th birthday to Cimba, the newest member of our family. Thanks for helping to make my dreams come true. I'm excited for all the adventures we'll have during our time together. I can't wait to see who we both become.

Mea Culpa and Bon Voyage

2011-06-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

Gus and Indy

I've been horrible about posting this week. I got busy, spent too much time away from home. Did you miss me?

If so, I have bad news for you: as of tomorrow, I'm taking a 4-day blog break. That means no adorable pictures and funny stories of my animals until Thursday, June 23. Don't miss me too much, 'kay?

Quality Time

2011-06-14T07:40:00.000-07:00

This is Q*bert

(Sigh) I meant to get this post up yesterday, but I got busy. Then when I wrote it up this morning, Blogger lost it. Maybe it's not meant to be? Oh well. Take two.

What I wanted to tell you about the first time, was about Sunday, where Jim and I slogged around in our garden, prepping it for plants, for 4 hours. I hate garden prep. I hate weeding. I kind of hate watering. I dislike picking (especially beans--ugh). I like eating fresh produce. So, I take the good with the bad. I normally prep my garden by myself, so it was great having Jim around this year to help. And we had another really good helper--Q*bert.

Q is now obsessed with the outdoors. It's his first summer with us, so we didn't know what his routine would be like. As it turns out, he spends every waking (and sleeping) moment outside. He comes in to eat. If we call to him, he'll come running, so we can still spend time with him when we'd like. It's pretty fun to call his name and see where he comes running from. Usually, it's from the garden or from under a bush by the fence.

So while we were gardening on Sunday, Q was with us, chasing bugs and possibly a few rodents, rubbing against us as we kneeled to pull weeds, attacking my gloved hands, and even stopping to poo in the soil before being distracted by a spider and running after it instead.

Having Q*bert with us in the garden made an unpleasant task that much more pleasant. I was reminded of how lucky we are to have so many furry children and of how much they all enrich our lives. It would be a sad, lonely life indeed without them.

Oh, Boy

2011-06-10T07:34:00.000-07:00

This is Mr. S. I can't resist those eyes.

Mr. Squiggles has been back with us for over 8 months now. It seems like just yesterday that we got him back. But 8 months is a long time. I still stare at him a million times a day, not believing that he's here with us. I can't get enough of his big, adorable eyes. Of his fluffy fur, growing longer, darker, and thicker every day. Of his tiny mouth, rubbing against anything he can find, to claim it for his own.

He's almost back to his pre-missing weight, after having lost nearly half of his body weight during his adventure. His teeth still need to be repaired, his biggest souvenir from whatever ordeal he endured. His left eye, once bright and vibrant like the other, is cloudy now, another casualty of being gone. That one, we can't fix.

For the first seven months or so, Mr. S was nearly inseparable from us. If we were on the couch, he was on the couch. And not just on the couch, but on our laps. For hours. And hours. And we couldn't bear to lift him off. Plus, he couldn't get enough of our touch. He wanted to be constantly adored, and we were happy to oblige.

But in the last few weeks, we've noticed something: the old Mr. Squiggles is coming back. The old Mr. S was occasionally aloof, choosing when and where he sat on us. Attention was only desired if it was initiated by him. Petting him at the "wrong" time got you a dirty look. And that's how he 's starting to act again.

Maybe some of you look at this and say, "How sad." But for us, we're nearly overjoyed. Because with each day, with each new (or really, old) habit, we're getting more of the original Mr. Squiggles back. We can't take away what happened, but as I see more and more of the old Mr. Squiggles returning, I can hope that maybe, someday, it'll be almost like he never left.

That Happy Post I Promised You

2011-06-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

Beyond adorable, right? They do this almost every day.

Okay, so I promised some of you a happy post today, given the gravity of both Monday and Tuesday's posts (and then I got lazy and didn't post yesterday but instead went shopping with my Mom and Dad--ooops). I wanted to do something really clever and funny, because it's been a while, but I got nuthin', so you're just going to have to settle for happy.

I hate to even say it, because I'm kind of superstitious that way, but Indiana has been doing really well. I don't mean plain ol' well, I mean super-duper, I-haven't-seen-her-like-this-in-years well. I'm really, really happy about it to say the least. She's getting around really well, and she's even able to get up off the rug-less areas of the hardwood floors on her own most of the time. She's eating like no tomorrow, even chowing down on a previously-hated brand of raw food this morning. She's also "eating like dogs," as I call it--eating directly out of the bowl, under the power of her own snout, rather than having to be spoon fed. It's like, "Ugh, Mom, the spoon isn't fast enough. I'm hungry, dammit!"

And the best part? She has the most incredible energy radiating off of her! I know that sounds all new-age and granola-crunchy (I was an environmental science major in college, after all), but if you were around her, you'd know exactly what I mean. There is a constant smile on her face and a brightness in her eyes. She's perky and alert, she's going outside on her own, walking around, sleeping on the lawn. And when we go out in public, mostly to vet appointments, she can't get into the building quick enough, and she walks with purpose and is mostly interested in meeting and interacting with other dogs.

I took Indy to her monthly applied kinesiology/chiropractic appointment last night (which works by the practitioner essentially "reading" the electrical impulses running through the neurological system), and in the middle of her session, he stops and says, "Is she doing well? She seems really strong." Why, yes. Yes, she is doing well. He asked what we were doing differently. Truth be told, we're doing less now than ever before (due to the frequently-previously-written-about protests by our stubborn dog). She only gets a few pills at each meal now, as opposed to the nearly two dozen that she was getting months ago. We've stopped most of her physical therapy, because it was making her angry. So, essentially, we're allowing her just to be a regular dog. Not a dog with one type of cancer, or two, or kidney disease (though she still gets daily sub-q fluids), or any of the other illness that plague her. We're letting her live her life, make her own choices, and respecting them.

It warms my heart that listening to her is paying off. She knows her body, and she knows what it needs (dogs are pretty instinctual about that, especially as they age). Jim and I are here to attend to her needs, not ours. It's taken a while to get comfortable with doing less, but now, we're truly seeing the benefits. I worry sometimes that by focusing on quality of life, we'll be forgoing quantity (which is okay too, by the way). But some days, I look at that happy face, at those vibrant eyes, and I think maybe, just maybe, we're going to get both.

Thinking About Grief, and Loss

2011-06-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

I feel like I kind of owe you a repost of cute wiggly penguin butts.

I wrote about grief yesterday, about a friend who said goodbye to her dog over the weekend. But even before that, grief was on my mind. Maybe it's the changing of the seasons. Maybe it's all of the soul searching I've been doing over the last year and a half.

As most readers of my blog know, I've faced grief in the past, after almost losing Indiana in 2006 and again in 2009. Then Mr. Squiggles literally was lost in 2009, and my Aunt Carole died in 2009 as well. (All within three months--Damn, 2009 was a horrible year)

With Indiana, I was dealing with anticipatory grief--your loved one is still with you, you just don't know for how much longer. This is common for cancer parents. We're told by our vets and the (evil) internet that our time with them is limited--maybe six months, maybe a year. As it turns out, Indiana is the Energizer Bunny. We're looking at nearly five years of survival for cancer #1 (at the end of this month--yay!). It took me a long time (longer than it should have, really) to start looking at Indiana as living rather than as dying. I think this is a concept you can't quite grasp until you've had a pet diagnosed with a potentially terminal illness. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the illness, and we forget that our pet is with us, today, and maybe tomorrow, and maybe even the day after that. Though it took me a while, I finally have days where I forget that Indiana even has cancer.

Everyone knows the story of Mr. Squiggles--how he disappeared in 2009, and after 12 1/2 months of searching and intense heartache, he finally made his way back to us. We still don't know what happened, or where he was, or how he found his way to our friend's porch. I'm still in awe every day that he's back with us. I had hopes that if he ever returned home, it would make everything okay, and while it's made everything much better, it hasn't erased all of the pain of the previous year. I still find myself keeping a close eye on the fields around our neighborhood while driving home, searching the ditches without even thinking. It's second nature, really, and it's a hard habit to break. I also find myself remembering what we were thinking a year prior. During a thunderstorm, my mind wanders to, "A year ago, a storm hurt us so much, because we didn't know if our boy was out there in it, if he was afraid, or wet, or cold." I know he's here now, safe from the storm, never to experience that fear again. But I also know that his disappearance left a wound in our hearts that will not be quick to heal.

I also find myself thinking about my Aunt Carole a lot these days. She died, way too young, of a long-term illness on December 30, 2009. I was in the room with her, with my closest family, and I watched her die before my eyes. I will never be the same again. She was not only my aunt but also a second mother to me. We fought. We disagreed. She made fun of me, and it made me mad. But we loved each other fiercely. She had no children, so as she was a second mother to me, I was a surrogate daughter to her. She spoiled me, bought me too many gifts, made special meals for me that were meat-free (even though she never "got" why I am a vegetarian), and overall, she was a huge part of my life.

Until the final years of her illness, Carole and my Uncle Lee lived in Tampa, Florida. When I got older, I would fly down with my Grandma to spend a week with my aunt and uncle. It was one of the highlights of my summer.

I remember so clearly the smell of their home. Florida smells so differently from Illinois, especially in the summer. The heat and humidity bring out something in the plants, in the grass, in the ocean. My aunt lived just off Tampa Bay, so the outside of their house smelled of a combination of grass, salt, and gardenias. There were loads of gardenias in their courtyard, and stepping into it always smelled like home. Even now, years later, the smell of gardenias always takes me back to Florida, to my aunt, and to happy memories of visits to their home.

I found myself thinking about my aunt and Florida (and of gardenias) a lot last week. I'm not sure why. Maybe because the beginning of June was when I used to visit. Their house is now gone, bulldozed for a new McMansion to take its place. My aunt is gone too. I can still smell gardenias, but it will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.

Saying Goodbye to a Friend

2011-06-06T07:53:00.000-07:00

Rest in peace, sweet Chee.

This weekend, my good friend Keri had to say good-bye to daughter, Chee. On Saturday, one week shy of her 14th birthday, Keri helped Chee cross over the bridge. Several years ago, during the dog food crisis that made so many pets sick, Chee suffered a stroke, most likely brought on by tainted food. Despite a series of strokes and other road blocks, Chee fought each battle with grace, fighting bravely and persevering.

I had the honor of meeting both Keri and Chee last month when I attended the 4th Annual Paws 4 A Cure Walk, which was founded by Keri and Chee in honor of Chee's brother Nikko. I knew when meeting Chee that her time left here was limited, as Keri was concerned about her quality of life. Keri doted on Chee like no Mom I've ever seen before. Chee could do things I've never seen a dog do, things I think few dogs could master. Things like using the toilet (honest to God, I've seen it) and blowing her nose (I've seen that too). Keri was an amazing Mom to Chee, sacrificing for her and dedicating much of her free time to ensuring that Chee had a good quality of life, that she felt loved and cared for.

Keri made the most selfless, most painful decision a pet-owner ever has to face--the decision to put aside our own needs and wants and do what we feel in our hearts is best for our pets. Even in the final hours, when Keri wanted nothing more than to keep Chee beside her, she held fast to her decision, knowing in her heart it was the best thing for Chee. That, my friends, is love in its purest, truest form.

On Saturday, when I knew Keri was at the vet's office with Chee, thousands of miles away, my heart was breaking along with hers. I was "with" Keri when she lost Nikko four years ago, and I've known her for almost 5 years, and I know her love for her pets and how she would be grieving for Chee. I cried and cried, as I thought of my dear friend, saying goodbye to her best friend. I wanted nothing more than to be beside her, to comfort her, or, better yet, to wave a magic wand and make Chee healthy and whole, to stay with Keri forever.

Today, my thoughts are still with my friend, who has a long road ahead of her. Grief is messy and complicated, and horrid. But Keri is not alone. She has dozens of friends around the continent thinking of her, praying for her, and grieving right along with her. We understand her pain, and we feel it too.

To Keri and Chee, know that I love you both. Meeting you was an amazing experience. If every pet owner could be the kind of Mom that Keri was to Chee, the world would be a much, much better place. Rest in peace, sweet Chee.

I Spoke Too Soon

2011-06-03T04:49:00.000-07:00

Remember yesterday? Where I'm all, "Things are great! My animals are all healthy and happy, blah, blah, blah." Well, I noticed last night that Gus had a lump on his tail, and when I touched it (what was I thinking?), he got even more angry and growly than usual. He's still holding his tail up as usual, and it's moving as it always has, so this "injury" isn't affecting how he uses it. But I still don't know what happened (is it broken? is there a cut? a bug bite?) and I don't know if I should take him to the vet or not. Today is the worst possible day to discover something like this as (a) I am babysitting for a friend all day and therefore have no opportunity to get into the vet, and (b) it's almost the weekend, meaning the vet's office will be closed should I decide he needs a vet tomorrow.

Ugh. This is the way of pet ownership, isn't it? With 6 pets, I really should be glad that we had so many sunny, smooth days. Someone was bound to get injured or sick eventually. Gus is still being his normal self (though, to be completely honest, "normal" Gus and "crabby, sick, injured" Gus both act pretty similarly). He's eating as normal, running around as normal. So, probably normal. I'll keep an eye on him and take him in Monday if need be. And, knock on wood, no one has anything life-threatening going on, so there's still that. Knock on wood.

Content

2011-06-02T06:43:00.000-07:00

Could he be more comfortable?

So, last night, the rarest of rares occurred--Indiana got up and slept in bed with me and Jim. She used to sleep with us all the time, but then I think it became more effort than it was worth to get up there. (Plus, Jim moves around too much, and steals the covers) She's been sleeping on the bed a lot lately though, which makes my heart go pit-a-pat every time I see it. So when she slept between us last night, well, I thought my heart wouldn't be able to handle it. Then, she layed over on her side, and I could feel her up against my leg. *Swoon*

Plus, Indy's been eating really well. And taking her pills. And her UTI is gone. And the cats have been (sort of) getting along.

A happy clan of animals = a happy Mama. My happiness is most definitely linked to how well my babies are doing, especially Indy. Maybe because I've spent so much time taking care of her and getting her to a point where she is happy and healthy (which is, by the way, the goal). I feel like I can sit back and enjoy the fruits of my efforts. Pretend for the time being that I live a normal existence, in a world without missing cats, catastrophic illness, arthritis, and cancer. For now, I am just a Mom with 6 animals, who are all healthy and happy, bringing me joy day after day. And I plan to savour every moment.

Happy Birthday, Jim!

2011-06-01T06:36:00.000-07:00

Doesn't everyone's husband have his picture taken with prehistoric fish?

Today is Jim's birthday. I wanted to celebrate and do something special, but he's working today, and then I have rehearsal tonight. Plus, he has this really annoying habit of being really humble. We had a small luncheon for him on Monday, attended by family and a few friends, who were practically threatened with violence if they brought presents. But he'd never forbid me from giving him presents, so at least I got to do that. But I gave them to him all on Monday, leaving none for the actual birthday. And I forgot to make treats to send to work with him today. I'm basically the worst wife ever.

At least he can't tell me what to do on my own blog. So, to my overly humble husband, I wish you the happiest of birthdays. You are the best, kindest, most understanding husband a girl could ever ask for. Thanks for always encouraging me to follow my dreams yet never asking for anything in return. I'd give you the moon today if I could.

A Photo-less Update

2011-05-31T07:13:00.000-07:00

So sorry for the lack of a photo today! I do try to post at least one photo, because my animals are super cute. But I realized I've been really remiss in taking pictures of my clan lately, and I have nothing current to share with you. I promise to do better this week--more pictures! more cuteness!

Though we're waiting on new test results re: Indiana's kidneys/UTI, she's actually been feeling really good. We had very unpleasant weather on Sunday, requiring me to drag all 6 of my less-than-willing animals into the basement. Q went down to the basement on his own (the lure of seeing what I was up to was too great for him), but I had to herd the other 5. I had to be really strategic about it, because Q was already down there, and not everyone gets along with Q. Mr. S was my next logical choice, because he and Q are fine together. Gus hates Q, and vice versa, so I knew Gus would be last to enter the basement. Plus, he was sleeping in his happy spot, so upon plucking him up from his happy spot, I knew he would be decidedly unhappy. Indy can't do stairs anymore, so I had to pick all 70 pounds of her up myself, and carry her down a flight of stairs. It wasn't so much hard as it was butt-puckeringly-frightening. I was so scared of dropping her or of tripping. But I knew I was carrying most precious cargo, and I was determined to get her down safely. And I did.

Then we had to spend over an hour down in the basement. Luckily, I have a music studio down there, complete with a couch, so at least it's (relatively) clean and pretty comfy. But cold. And after the first ten minutes, the power went off and didn't come back on again for over 7 hours. Smart Mom that I am, I completely neglected to bring a flashlight ("Nah. The power NEVER goes out. We'll be fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine."), so when the power went out, Isis freaked the heck out, upsetting all of the other animals. I was left with only my cell phone for light, because I didn't trust my animals alone in the basement long enough to run upstairs and get a flashlight. Plus, you know, death. There was that to be afraid of too.

During that hour, my cats were constantly at each other's throats. Gus was bored, so he would playfully attack Sam or Mr. S, which Q would misread as an actual attack, which caused him to lunge after Gus in a very aggressive way, which caused Gus to react in kind, which caused me to be very annoyed and angry. That hour couldn't go by fast enough.

In the end, I was able to release the critters back into the house. I thought about carrying Indy back up the stairs, but sometimes she gets offended if we do things for her that she can do herself, so I decided to let her try (slightly assisted) to go up the stairs by herself. And let me say that she accomplished that like a rock star. Then, on three separate occasions later that day, I saw her up on the bed--where she had climbed all by herself. She was on a roll, and I was a very happy Mama. Plus, she's been eating really well and taking all of her pills without a fuss, so essentially, my world is a very happy place right now.

One Where I Get All Deep

2011-05-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

This photo is totally unrelated. But cute.

So, I had a major revelation yesterday. I'm kind of proud of it, actually. I won't go into specifics just yet, because, as with everything, it's complicated, but it occurred to me that we often confuse pride for happiness.

Let's say that you have a job that you're really proud of. Something that makes for good conversation at a party. You're really proud that you're, say, the director of an environmental non-profit. You're really good at it, it was your dream job, and people think it's neat. It's noble. You have a job that not everyone has, or can do. But your job doesn't make you happy. Maybe it takes you away from home more often than you like. Maybe you have to travel. Maybe it's a lot of paperwork and red tape, and lot less chaining-yourself-to-redwoods than you expected.

But, I'm good at running my environmental non-profit, you say to yourself. I've made it really successful, and a lot of people benefit from it. I *am* this organization. Everyone knows me as Joe Schmoe, Environmental Non-Profit Director. But then you realize that you hate the ins-and-outs of the job. They say you have to take the good with the bad, but you find that the bad just doesn't always seem worth it. You suddenly realize that though you take a lot of pride in your job, maybe even have your identity wrapped up in it, it doesn't make you happy. You realize that what would make you happy is something totally different. Maybe you don't even know what that "something different" is, just that it suddenly isn't your non-profit anymore.

Then comes this guilt. How can I let go something that was my dream? Something I put so much time into? Something that makes me special, makes me me. You worry that by leaving your non-profit, your dream, you will lose a bit of yourself. All you know is that while you're proud of your job, it's not making you happy.

And that's it. That's as far as I've gotten. But I think I'm right. Pride and happiness are two totally different things. I think the key to letting go of the pride is to find it within yourself, without needing outside confirmation that you are something special. I struggle with this every day. And someday I hope to have the rest of the answer. When I do, I'll let you know.

Another Round

2011-05-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

My Boo has another UTI. She's been getting about one a month, which means we are almost constantly treating her for one. I'm getting to be an expert at diagnosing them myself, and by diagnosing them myself, I mean that I notice that she is peeing on the floor, and then I have to pay a lot of money for a test that will tell me what I already know. Then I get drugs. (And this happens quickly now, because her UTIs go from zero to awful in about 24 hours)

UTIs suck not only because they make Indy feel kind of miserable, but they almost always cause her to alter her eating habits. So our very restricted dietary options become even more narrow. I posted a frantic Facebook request for ideas on how to get her to take her pills, because, suddenly, none of our old stand-bys were working. Cream cheese: no. Peanut butter: no. Liver sausage: no. American cheese: no. My friends came to my rescue with great ideas, and one idea (thanks, Brittany!) I was able to use right away, because I had all the necessary ingredients already at my disposal: white bread with some corn syrup on it. This has been working really well. Miraculously, almost. But then, this morning, three pills from the end, Indy started spitting out the bread. So we switched back to peanut butter to finish up, and that worked. So now, not only is Indy changing her mind meal-to-meal, but, apparently she is also changing her mind mid-meal. That's super great.

I don't think this infection is clearing up as quickly as the others have, so we'll be taking a urine sample in today to see what's going on. Usually, after a few days of antibiotics, the urine leaking stops, but we're on day 10, and she's still leaking. (Sometimes it just takes her bladder a while to tighten back up, but I figure better safe than sorry)

Overall, Indy seems to be feeling okay. Pickiness aside, she's eating really well, and she's very alert and happy. So it could be a lot worse. But I would love to know why her UTIs have become so frequent. If you have any ideas or suggestions, I'd welcome any of them!

A Pictoral of Amy and I Being Dumb in Boston

2011-05-25T08:06:00.000-07:00

Quack. Quack. Amy and I rode the Ducks.

Every girls trip must include shopping. And lobster headbands.

Though we actually were staying in a really nice hotel, the ice scoop was the same litter scoop I use at home. I nearly peed my pants, laughing so hard. Oh, and we had to use a small kitchen pot as an ice bucket.

Penguins at the New England Aquarium! Amy and I love penguins. (Amy's a bit obsessed)

The world's cutest penguins--little blue penguins. You can even see the little guy in the middle shaking his money-maker.

This trip involved a lot of hats.

I told you she was obsessed.

The world's best mac and cheese, at Faneuil Hall.

The place where everybody knows your name!

I think this picture defies description.

We totally had a drink at the actual Bull and Finch, not the fake "tourist" Cheers bar. Oh, but that's Diet Coke, since that's how I roll.

More shopping. Do you think this one looks good on me?

The famous Boston Common ducks.

Lobsters...in...spaaaaaaaaaaaaaace.

It's a bit hard to see, but Amy is giving this grasshopper a rectal exam, natch.

Heh.

Happy Birthday to The Noodle

2011-05-23T06:43:00.000-07:00

My Noodle turns 12 today!

I feel guilty today, for two reasons. One, while catching up with my online friends (in person) last week, I realized they were barely aware that I had a second dog. And two, I woke up this morning (not on my own), and I didn't realize until I got an email from Dogster that today is Isis' birthday. I mean, I probably would have figured it out, but I still felt bad that Dogster remembered before I did.

I've written about Isis before, usually about how she plays second fiddle to Indiana. It's not that I love her less, because I certainly don't, but she's independent and neurotic, and well, healthy. So she requires a lot less from me. And sometimes I really, really love that about her. She's so simple. All she wants most days is food and attention when she asks for it (and she's VERY forward about asking for attention).

But today my youngest dog turns 12. True to form, while I was feeling guilty about my delayed memory (let's not call it "forgetting," okay?), Isis was running around the house, happy as a clam, because Daddy had gotten home from work. When I got out of bed, she simply wanted her food, then she went back to her bathroom (because that's where she chooses to sleep) to nap until lunch. A simple, happy day for a simple, happy dog.

Jim and I won't let today go without a celebration though. We're taking Isis out for a run this afternoon (she's deliriously happy on runs), and then for dinner, we'll load up both dogs and take them to Culver's for a hamburger and then to the Dairy Queen for ice cream. For us, so simple, but for Isis, absolutely perfect.

An Amazing Weekend

2011-05-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

Kerry, Me, Andrea, Teresa, and Keri

This past weekend was the 4th Annual Paws 4 A Cure Walk. If you've ever read my blog before, you probably are familiar with it, as I've spammed these pages for about two months now, trying to promote the organization and my walk team. I was super excited to fly to Boston with my best buddy Amy and walk in honor of Indiana. I'd be meeting a bunch of my online pet cancer friends in person for the first time, so I was really looking forward to that. These ladies most definitely did not disappoint!

Though I had never laid eyes on these women (other than pictures) before, meeting them was so natural and easy. We're all friends on Facebook, and we've been through illnesses and losses together, so really, we already knew each other so well. It was just wonderful to finally get to hug these wonderful friends of mine, to look into their eyes and carry on a live conversation. I know it made us closer than ever. I am so blessed that I got to have this experience, and to get to share it with Amy.

The walk itself was amazing. The day held up to the old adage, "Anything that can go wrong, will." Poor Keri (the founder of Paws 4 A Cure) was running around like mad the morning of the walk, trying to fix everything that was going wrong. But it all worked out beautifully. True, it started to pour down rain during walker registration. Yes, some families with pets left early because of the weather. But still, many brave, dedicated souls stayed for the walk, and we were rewarded with a break in the rain in time for the opening ceremonies.

The opening ceremonies started with a balloon release.

Everyone was given a balloon on which to write the names of pets up at the Rainbow Bridge. We released the balloons together, sending our love to our loved ones who have left us. I wrote the names of my pets that I've lost as well as the names of the pets I was walking for. You all were in my thoughts that day! I severely underestimated how hard this would be. The minute my balloon was in my hands, I started to tear up, and it didn't stop until I was blubbering at the release. Not only was I missing my own loved ones, but I was crying for all of the pets lost to my PCS friends over the years, especially the ladies on the walk with me.

So many pets gone. So much love being sent to them.

Then we were off!

Keri put us PCS ladies in charge of leading the walk, which was sweet but nearly disastrous, as we didn't know until about 0.02 seconds before the walk started that we were in charge. So we didn't know the route. We may have taken one wrong turn. Requiring a shortcut through a parking lot. Followed by several dozen people and their dogs. Ooops.

After 3.1 miles, we finished! Teresa was in this photo in spirit, but in actuality, we left her behind on the trail. Ooops. Sorry, Teresa! (Pictured with us in her stead is her amazing daughter Chelsea, whom I totally want to adopt)

After this picture was taken, I hightailed it to the cake tent for, you guessed it, cake. (We were celebrating co-founder Chee's upcoming 14th Birthday) I initially got a piece of white cake (my favorite), but then a piece of chocolate was calling to me as well, and since I had just walked a 5K and skipped lunch, I figured I deserved it. Plus, I made Chelsea split it with me.

This is our good buddy Wilson, a three-time mast cell survivor. He's a good friend of Keri and Chee's, and now a good friend to all of us. He knew we were carrying treats and used his adorable looks for evil. He was constantly extorting us for treats. Quite successfully, I might add.

The walk was held on the lovely Lake Quannopowitt, in Wakefield, MA

Me and the ladies, including Paws co-founder Chee! Check out her sweet ride that her other Aunties and I made for her.

Me and sweet Chee. I got lots of snuggle time with her, which was awesome.

Team Leaders will be receiving spreadsheets sometime this week or next with all of the information on how much money we raised. Based on the preliminary numbers I saw, I believe Team Indiana Bones will have raised over $800, which exceeds any number I ever expected to see. My heartfelt thanks go out to all of our sponsors--some of whom I don't even know about yet. So if I haven't thanked you, it's only because I haven't yet been made aware of your donation. Still, I am touched by each and every donation our team received. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your love and support of me and my sweet cancer survivor!

This simply was a perfect weekend, full of laughter, tears, and so much love. This group of women is, in a word, amazing. I am lucky to know each and every one of you. You all are tremendous people, full of love, with the biggest hearts I have ever met. I am so fortunate to know you all. After attending this amazing event, Amy and I decided to make it a yearly ritual. I hope next year to see even more of my PCS friends, and to raised even more money, and save even more lives!

One Last Push

2011-05-13T13:35:00.000-07:00

Finally, after months of planning, I leave for Boston for the Paws 4 A Cure walk tomorrow. I'm really excited, because I get to meet three of my very good online friends in person for the first time. As is always the case when I get the opportunity to meet my fellow cancer parents, it will seem so natural, with no awkwardness between us. When you get to know someone on a very basic level--how a person thinks and feels about their family, sharing all of your fears and celebrations--then meeting in person isn't essential to "getting to know" each other. But it certainly is icing on the cake. And to get to spend a whole weekend with these phenomenal women...well, there are just no words for what that means to me.

One of my closest friends, Amy, is going to be walking with me, and it warms my heart to know that she loves me and Indy enough to do that for us. We'll both be walking in honor of Indiana, in honor of one of the bravest, most inspiring dogs I have ever known. And I'll be walking with so many other dogs in my heart too, dogs who have passed on, dogs I never had the honor of meeting (and some that I did), but who I feel like I do know, because of the stories of love, triumph, and, ultimately, of loss, I experienced with their parents. To those parents, please know that I too love your pets, and they will be so close to me on Sunday.

It would mean the world to me if you would make a donation to Paws 4 A Cure, either in honor of my brave girl or in honor or memory of your own beloved pet. So many families face difficult decisions. Please help make them a little easier.

He Loves That Dog

2011-05-12T06:43:00.000-07:00

For anyone who reads my blog regularly or has met Gus in person, you know one very important thing about him--he's cute, but he's crabby. Gus is the cat of my heart, which is probably a good thing, since he's the one who gave me osteomyelitis. Granted, that was totally his fault, but still, it kind of fits his personality.

Gus is adorable, which makes you want to cuddle and snuggle with him. This assumption would be a big mistake. Gus is capable of being cuddly, but most definitely only under his own terms. (As is typically the case with any cat, but with Gus, the stakes are much higher) Gus is most friendly when he is (a) hungry or (b) asleep. The second one is most ideal because it is also the moment in time when he is least sharp, i.e. less dangerous, so I often take advantage of his sleep-induced cat coma to kiss and snuggle him. And also to sniff his breath. Is that weird?

Gus also isn't much of a lap sitter. You certainly can't pick him up and put him on your lap and expect him to stay. What you can expect is a growl, maybe a hiss, and almost certainly a claw or two. So, basically, never pick Gus up. Though we do. Usually when we're feeling sassy. It's kind of like gambling with your life though, so when you pick him up, you get this rush of adrenaline, because anything can happen--maybe you'll make it out alive, and maybe you won't, but in that moment you feel so ALIVE! Okay, it's not quite that bad, but still, picking him up is a risk.

About once a day, Gus does get the urge for lap time. It's a huge coup for whoever gets him. You can actually pet him and stuff, and he stays for, like, a really long time. So when Jim and I are on the couch, and we see him walk by, we both make our laps as cat-ready and appealing as possible, and then we mock whoever doesn't get the cat. Because, you know, we're supportive of each other and stuff.

The other night, we had a friend over for dinner (and to try to finish watching this miniseries we had started--do you know how hard it is to schedule time to watch an 8-hour miniseries with someone you don't live with--we're dying to finish it, and it seems like we'll never be done!). Gus came into the room and immediately walked over to snuggle with Indiana. That's how he rolls--the dog is his best friend. Our friend saw it and made the most accurate, spot-on observation of Gus: "Awwww. He hates the world, but he loves that dog." And indeed he does.

Every Pet Deserves a Chance at Life

2011-05-11T07:15:00.000-07:00

In just 3 days, I will be in Boston with my friend Amy to walk in the 4th Annual Paws 4 A Cure Walk. A while back, I wrote a guilt-inducing (I hope!) post about why groups like Paws 4 A Cure, who provides medical treatment for animals whose parents can't afford it, are important. We're not talking about medical treatments like teeth cleaning, or shots, or spay and neuter. We're talking about things like life-or-death surgery or cancer treatments. Without these, the pets would most likely die.

It breaks my heart to think that a pet could die because a family couldn't afford to treat them. Jim and I have always felt so fortunate that we could afford any care for Indiana that we needed. But not every family is so lucky. And that's why I feel that it's so important to give back. Indiana has had almost 5 more years of good quality life since her first cancer diagnosis, and though there have been bumps on the road, she has come through all of them. I think every pet deserves that chance.

So that's why I'm donating money to Paws 4 A Cure, and that's why I'm flying all the way to Boston to support my friend, Paws 4 A Cure founder Keri, in this wonderful endeavor. I would be most grateful if you would make a donation as well. No amount is too small. If you feel moved to support this cause, please head to their website and make a pledge. "Team Indiana Bones" would appreciate your support! Every pet deserves a chance at life!

Samson and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Habit

2011-05-10T06:48:00.000-07:00

You'd never suspect what lies deep within the depths of his mind.

So Samson has this new habit, and I'm not thrilled with it.

He's been bringing me dead snakes.

In the house.

Did I mention that they're dead?

Oh, and they have no heads.

Seriously, no heads.

I don't know where the heads go, but by the time he brings them into the house, that part is missing.

So he just tosses the rest of the....gulp...body...around the house, having the best time ever.

I never know where one is going to show up.

If you come over to my house, I recommend looking very carefully before you take a step.

You never know.

I love my Mom

2011-05-09T05:39:00.000-07:00

My Mom rocks.

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and although it capped a really busy weekend for me, it was a great day. The day wasn't about me at all (Jim's been working a crazy number of hours, so I was satisfied with a simple, "Oh, yeah. Happy Mother's Day."). But wait, I did get a dead snake from Sam, so at least one of my children remembered. Hah.

Anyway, after I got off work, I resisted the urge to take a nap (singing for nearly 3 straight hours, plus about 3 total hours of driving to and from Chicago equals a really tired me, every single Sunday) and instead prepared dinner for my Mom. Since she's a rockstar, she was conducting the pit for one of our community theatre's productions of "Thoroughly Modern Millie," which I got to see on Saturday night. My Mom is the most engaging pit conductor I've ever seen, working her butt off to be energetic for the instrumentalists and cast. In fact, last week I got an email from my Mom saying, "We need to go jeans shopping soon. I cut the legs off a pair in the pit the other night because I was so hot." That's dedication to your craft right there, people.

I knew dinner last night would need to be simple, because most of my guests would be tired (Mom coming from the show, and Jim coming home late from work). So I made some of my Mom's favorites, including cold veggie pizza (you know, the kind with biscuit dough and cream cheese dressing?), which she's been craving forever. Oddly, Mom really wanted veggie pizza for Mother's Day but didn't want to ask me to go through the trouble. Yay for Mother/Daughter ESP.

I also always make homemade chocolate eclairs for my Mom for both Mother's Day and her birthday. It's her favorite dessert ever, and my Grandma always used to make it for her. So I always make a big batch for her and send them all home for her to enjoy over the next...oh, day or so.

It was a nice night. The four of us sat out on the deck and ate our dinner. It was a little chilly, but still pretty pleasant once you put on a sweater. It's been an unusually cool spring here in Illinois, so I really wanted to take advantage of the changing (warmer) weather.

I spoiled my Mom with lots of her favorite foods and flowers and presents. She deserves it. When I say my Mom is a rockstar, I naturally don't mean it literally, but, still, my Mom is amazing. She's an amazing teacher, and even though she's been teaching for over 30 years, and she's within a few years of retiring, she still tries new teaching methods, trying to find the best ways to reach and engage her students. And she wins awards. And her students love her. I'm really proud of that.

My Mom is also an amazing actress, singer, conductor, gardener, crafter. She can build houses, rescue kittens, feed every stray in a one-mile radius. She does my laundry when she stops by to feed my animals when I'm gone, she cries when she sees her first hummingbird of the year, and she's basically Mom to the whole world. Which is why I'm so glad she's my Mom. She's made me the person I am today. She's my best friend. She's the best Grandma any dog or cat could ask for. I am so blessed.

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I would be remiss if I failed to point out that I also have a really wonderful mother-in-law. She's a warm, loving woman who always sends me a card and a gift for Mother's Day, even though I don't have any humans of my own. So even though she has 9 grandchildren (of the two-legged variety), she still recognizes my motherhood, and I love her for that (and for so many other reasons).

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Only 5 days until the Paws 4 A Cure Walk! It's not too late to consider a tax deductible donation for "Team Indiana Bones!" Please help save a pet's life!

Redo

2011-05-05T06:56:00.000-07:00

My non-profit, The Great Good Heart Animal Cancer Foundation, has a new website! I've been wanting to redo it for ages, but for various reasons, I never did. Finally, it came down to finances--by switching to Weebly, we were able to save $120 a year (though actually $60--Jim and I were paying half out of pocket), which, for a tiny non-profit organization, is a huge amount of money. The new website is not only free, but it looks loads better. So, yay me!

Anyway, I would be most grateful if you would visit our new website: http://www.greatgoodheart.org/. Please let me know how you like it. Let me know if you don't like something. Let me know if there's something missing that you think an animal cancer website should have. The website still needs a lot of work, but, believe me, it's a whooooooole lot better than the old one! You can leave opinions as comments here on my blog, or you can email Great Good Heart at cancersupport@greatgoodheart.org.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Squiggles!

2011-05-04T07:28:00.000-07:00

Today is Mr. Squiggles' birthday. He is 9 years old. We have so many reasons to celebrate today. This time last year, Mr. Squiggles was missing, and had been for almost 8 months. (If you aren't familiar with his story, start here.) His birthday was a day we just wanted to skip. We missed him every single day, looked for him every single day, never gave up hope that he would come back to us. But still, May 4th was hard. But then, every day was hard.

Today, it's strange to look back on where we were a year ago. Some days I can almost, almost, forget what we went through. Yet we will never forget. I try not to think about those dark days--by this time I had experienced so much loss and pain in such a short period of time--because it's easier to block them out than to think about them. Thinking about them won't change things, won't make it all go away. And honestly, all that matters is that our boy is home. He came back to us.

I marvel every single day that we got him back. He is our miracle cat, a perfect match to our miracle dog. I still stare into his eyes every single day, one of which is so unfamiliar to me, yet the other remains the same, the one that belongs to the boy I always knew and loved. And amazingly, he has the same personality, only now he is slightly more confident, slightly more assured in what he wants, because, after what he's been through, he knows without a doubt what that is. We still have litter box wars, and when he's mad, he still pees on the floor. And you know what? That's okay. I can clean it up, or just get a new rug. It's replaceable. But you know what's not? My sweet boy.

So, happy birthday to my little Mr. Squiggles. I wish there was a gift I could give you to celebrate this day in the way it deserves to be celebrated. Getting you back is one of the best gifts I've ever been given. Happy Birthday, little guy.

Supporting Me For Me

2011-05-03T08:12:00.000-07:00

I've written several times about finding the balance between all of my different selves--the mom, the singer, the animal wellness advocate, the artist, the wife, the daughter. It's tough, as probably every woman knows (we tend to struggle with this more than men--why is that?). For the past nearly five years, I've put a lot of focus on being "The Mom," dedicating most of my time to my animals, and, specifically, to Indiana. I don't regret this, but it has left little time for the other selves. Or, if there has been time, I've felt difficult making decisions that might take me away from caring for Indiana.

Because we've lived under this umbrella of not knowing how much time she has left, I've not wanted to commit to large projects that will take me away from home, which is partly why I haven't pursued a career in opera in the way I had originally intended. Again, I don't regret it, and it's allowed me a lot of time with Jim and the rest of my family, and to explore other "selves," like "The Blogger," and "The Cancer Advocate." But now, I've decided to take a leap and do something big, something just for me.

This weekend, I auditioned for a musical, my favorite, "Into the Woods." A friend had started a new theatre company, one that would do outdoor theatre in the summer, a pretty exciting concept. After convincing my Mom to try out too, I took the leap and auditioned. And I made it in. And I got one of the roles I wanted, the Baker's Wife. I was beyond excited to be cast, but minutes after I heard, a moment of panic set in. Doing the show is a two month commitment, sacrificing my weekday evenings for rehearsals. It's more time than I've given to anything since Indy got sick. What if something happened? Was it okay to spend so much time away? (Even though it's here in town--so no commuting--geez)

But then I thought to myself, "This is something you want. This is a part of yourself ("The Actress") that you've missed. Indy is doing well. She's stable. This is a chance to do something just for you. That's not selfish. That's okay." I've put a lot of thought into this decision, and while it's something so different for the new me, I've decided that that's alright. Jim will be home most evenings, and while yes, I am sacrificing time away from my family, I am enriching me. I've given so much to others, and now it's time to give back to myself. So I'm taking the plunge, and going "Into the Woods."

Seeking Fortune and Glory

2011-05-02T09:22:00.000-07:00

This weekend was Indiana's 13th Birthday party, with the theme of "Indiana Bones." We had such a good time. We had almost 30 people at the party (plus one doggie guest), and because it was so windy outside, we had to have the party inside. Luckily, all of the guests get along!

The spread of food. I forgot to take a picture before the food was devoured, but you get the idea. The food was themed to the party, of course, with foods from the different countries featured in the movies. Check out the awesome golden idol in the center of the photo, by the way.

Each guest got their own golden goblet. Each guest was tasked with picking "the cup of Christ," by flipping over their cup. If they "chose poorly," they got the aging, melty-faced guy. One guest "chose wisely," picking the cup with the knight, and winning a prize!

Again, I forgot to take a picture of the beverage table before all of the cups were taken, but it looked pretty cool.

Part of the decor. Note the monkey.

Dessert! I like to bake.

And I really like dessert.

What's an Indiana Jones party without chilled monkey brains? Nobody really ate it (and I can't say as though I blame them), but it was totally worth it because everyone thought it was funny.

The lady of the day. She had THE. BEST. TIME. Every time a guest would come in, she would light up. And she got tons of attention. She sat in the middle of all of the action, surveying her kingdom. All of the work, all of the stress, was totally worth it, seeing her face during this party.

Some of the guests.

My doggie-cousin, Honey. She was so good and totally funny. She found a cat toy mouse, thought it was real, and ran around the house at top speed with it in her mouth, showing it to all of the guests and the cats. I died laughing.

Indiana with my friend's baby. He was so good with her, and she with him. The photo is blurry, but I couldn't resist posting it.

My friend's baby, bringing a toy to Indy. So sweet!

Our vet came to the party! She laid down with Indiana, and Indy looked at her like, "What the heck are YOU doing here?" Then she gave her a giant kiss right on the nose. I love this picture!

Overall, it was a wonderful day. We had several games and fun prizes, which the guests really enjoyed, and way too much food. It was crazy busy, and utterly fantastic. I love all of our friends and family for being such good sports, and for supporting us and Indiana. That's true love, honestly. Indiana is still exhausted from the big day, but in seeing her face, and the looks of delight at all of the action and attention, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. That is exactly why we throw these parties. I love that dog with all my heart.

Hopefully the Sun Will Make All the Difference

2011-04-28T06:24:00.000-07:00

Indiana looks possessed, but you can totally see my sparkly shoes

It's been raining for 300 days straight here in Illinois. Okay, maybe not that many, but it sure feels like it. The sun is out today, sort of. It's not raining. Right now. And tomorrow and Saturday are supposed to be beautiful, so yay for that!

I do love me some rainy days, because they make me want to hunker down on the couch, and snuggle up with a cat and read a book or watch TV and generally be really lazy. That's been kind of disastrous this week, because we have Indiana's big birthday party on Saturday, and I am so behind. Seriously, I need like an extra 24 hours to get everything done. I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night last night and couldn't get back to sleep for hours (and that's not an exaggeration), because I was convinced that there was no way humanly possible to get everything done that I want to get done.

Do you do that? Wake up in the middle of the night, worrying about this or that? I do that every few weeks or so, and when I wake up again in the morning, I think, "What the heck is wrong with you? Why were you freaking out? It's not that big of a deal." For some reason, nighttime makes everything worse. For example, in the middle of the night, I might think, "Oh My God I Have To Make Cupcakes For Tomorrow Night, And I Will Never Get Them Done, And When Am I Supposed To Make Cupcakes, Oh My God, It's The End Of The World." But then when I wake up in the morning, I'm considerably more lucid, and capable of thinking things like, "Well, I have two hours between my appointments, so I can make cupcakes then, and then after my second appointment, I can frost the cupcakes. Easy peasy." But these things do not occur to you in the middle of the night.

Anyway, I totally got off on a tangent, because my whole point about my night worries is that I think in this case they are totally founded. I woke up this morning feeling slightly better than at 1am, but still...there's a lot to be done. And I have standards to live up to. Eh, sleep is totally overrated.

Another thing that has made my week weird, is that the rain has kept my four cats inside, for the most part. They'll run outside while it's raining to potty under the deck, and during brief periods when it isn't raining, they'll explore for a little while, but overall, they've been in the house a lot more than usual. Which means a lot more energy, and a lot more fights.

Yesterday morning, Jim woke up and found a bag of dog food on the floor, filled with holes, probably attacked by Samson. Who brought in a snake two days ago. And Gus has been trying to make Mr. Squiggles play, which Mr. S hates. And Gus and Samson have been stalking Q*bert all around the house, and Q*bert has been annoying the heck out of me during meal time, running around my legs and then biting me when I dare make contact with him. All I can say is that I am sooooo glad that it's supposed to finally be getting nice outside, so I can get these darn cats outside, where they can work off their energy and take their aggression out on, I don't know, butterflies or something. Sorry butterflies, but better you than me.

Unfair

2011-04-27T10:15:00.000-07:00

Less than two months ago, I wrote about my friend Terri, who lost her dog, Sophie, to cancer. Just yesterday, Terri lost another dog, Boden. Though I don't know the specifics, I do know that Boden was suffering from megaesophagus. I am heartbroken for Terri. Losing one pet is hard enough, but to lose two...it's unimaginable.

As with the last time, my group of pet cancer friends is rallying around Terri, who has been there so much for the rest of us. There is little we can do for her. We are spread around the continent. Do our words help? Does hearing, "I'm sorry" enough times bring comfort? I certainly hope so. The words just seem so...insignificant. But the meaning, and the love behind them, is not.

Terri, we are all holding you close to our hearts during this awful time. If I could do something, anything, to ease your pain, I would. If I could bring them back, I would. You have one of the biggest hearts I know, and you don't deserve the pain that fate has thrown your way. It's beyond unfair. I hope you know that I am sending all of my love to you. And I'm sorry. I'm just...sorry.

Kibbles and Bits

2011-04-26T07:32:00.000-07:00

Last week, we were having major problems getting Indiana to eat. Raw food, her main diet, was out. Canned food, her usual safe go-to, was out. I tried scrambled eggs. I tried cooked turkey. Nothing was working. She wouldn't eat her pills either, not in cream cheese, not in liver sausage, not in canned cat food, not even in liver sausage dipped in canned cat food. I was freaking out, a lot, to be honest.

It's not that I was worried that Indiana was going to starve. She didn't even seem like she felt sick, just that everything I offered wasn't quite what she wanted. What I did worry about (because this latest round of food aversion was probably brought on my her last UTI and subsequent antibiotics) was that maybe this last backslide would be the one she wouldn't bounce back from.

Indiana has battled illness after illness with grace and strength, and she has recovered from all of them, more times than I can count. Major illnesses, minor illnesses, this dog has fought them all, and won. I know someday this will stop being the case. As she ages, I know that each illness puts more stress on her body, and while we do everything we can to build a strong immune system for her, I know eventually, because she is a biological organism, that she won't be able to recover from something. This is the way of life, and it totally sucks, and I live every day trying to delay that. But I am aware of the realities.

So when Indy stopped eating last week, there was a small part of me that wondered, "What if?" What if this was the one she couldn't recover from? What if she was just going to stop eating and waste away to nothing? I turned to my online pet friends via Facebook, who offered loads of support and advice, reminding me to take a step back, to take a deep breath, and just let her be. Getting her to eat anything was, at some point, more important than getting her to eat the ideal diet. So I turned to my last resort: kibble.

I keep some grain-free, human-grade kibble around, because my canine brother, Bill Wilson, visits often, and that's his favorite. Indiana happens to like it too. And while I'd rather a dog eat high-quality kibble than the large, commercial brand foods out there, I'm still not generally a big fan (it's less a quality issue than the fact that I prefer feeding whole foods). But I was desperate, and I know that feeding kibble, especially temporarily, isn't going to hurt Indiana. In fact, it had the potential to help her. So I poured her a small bowl, set it in front of her, and she inhaled it. So I poured her more. Gone. And more. Gone again. So the next day, (because I believe in rotating foods as often as possible) I headed off to the store for samples of kibble, so see what other kinds she'd eat. The answer? All of them. Some she likes better than others, but basically, I gave her samples of every grain-free food in the store, and they were all a-okay in her book.

So yesterday I headed back to the store to buy actual bags of food. My first time buying kibble for my own pets in almost 5 years. I felt almost ashamed. I work at this particular pet food store a few days a month, so I'm familiar with all of the food and frequently recommend favorite brands of kibble (even if I don't feed it, I still learn about the different brands and do, indeed, have favorites) to customers. But I felt completely lost buying food for my own dog. I'm comfortable around the raw foods and the canned foods. Years of an aversion to the baked stuff has given me a complex, I guess.

I headed right away to the food Indiana inhaled the fastest, a locally distributed food called "Born Free," a grain-free food manufactured by Fromm (on my list of faves). But I still wanted more, so I headed to the one she ate second-fast, the most expensive foods in the store (of course, right?), Orijen and Acana. (Also faves, though sometimes customers shy away from these because of the price) After picking up a couple more samples, I was good to go. And I felt, oddly, very free. I had purchased kibble and survived.

I'm still not generally a fan of kibble (I firmly believe that each pet owner should feed the highest quality food they can afford, and because I can afford raw, that is my preference), but I am a fan of Indiana. And she's loving kibble right now. She eats it up right away, as fast as she can. She's excited, her bright eyes staring at me while she munches away at her (now beloved) food. And that's what's important. She's getting all the nutrients she needs. She loves it. What more can I ask?
I hope eventually to be able to get her back onto canned food, and then, maybe, if I'm lucky, back on to raw. Because Indy has kidney disease, and because kibble is baked and therefore very concentrated, it's still a food that is hard on her kidneys. So I'd prefer not to keep her on it forever. I do know, however, that she's calling the shots. And if she wants to eat only kibble for the rest of her life, then that's okay with me. I guess that makes me a fan of kibble.

The Naughty Counter

2011-04-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

Q*bert, not being naughty

We have one counter in the kitchen where the cats are not allowed. One surface in the entire 2000 square feet of our home. And it's not verboten because we're mean. In the middle of this counter is the stove, which, because we eat, is hot multiple times per day. So restricting access to this counter is really an attempt to prevent little burned feline toesies. We're actually being nice. Around here, we refer to the restricted counter as "The Naughty Counter."

Mr. Squiggles "gets" The Naughty Counter. So does Gus. Samson knows he's not supposed to be on it, and only jumps up there post-dinner to steal food. (And as soon as we walk in, he jumps down. SO NAUGHTY) But Q*bert...ahhhhh, Q*bert. I do love you, dear cat.

Q*bert jumps up on The Naughty Counter an average of probably 20 times per day, and that's honestly being conservative. Q only jumps up on The Naughty Counter while we're preparing animal meals, which is not only naughty but really, really annoying. There have been meals where he's jumped up probably 15 times during one preparation period. As you can imagine, this slows the process down considerably. Stopping every 30 seconds to pluck a cat off of the counter becomes really counterproductive. And he jumps into the middle of the 8 bowls I have spread around me, and he tries to steal morsels of food out of the bowls. Sometimes he's successful, and as you're lifting him to the ground, he takes his little paw and shoves the food back in his mouth so it doesn't fall out. This kills me every time. But cute or not, it's still reaaaaaaallly annoying.

Last week, as I was lifting Q off The Naughty Counter for the dozenth time, I looked into his eyes, and it occurred to me that he does not understand what I am doing. He does not understand the cause and effect. I could see it in his face. Here I am, thinking that, after a while, he'll eventually understand that when you jump on The Naughty Counter, you get lifted off; therefore, we are not meant to be on The Naughty Counter. But I understood in that moment that Q will never make that connection. I am no longer hopeful that eventually he'll get it. Because he won't. My future involves thousands and thousands of struggles over food. I will lift that cat off of the counter three times a day for the rest of his life. And you know what? Now that I've accepted that, it doesn't seem so bad. Is it annoying? Sure. But it's now a part of life. And I'm pretty sure this means the cat has won. Well played, cat. Well played.

Thirteen of the Best Years of My Life

2011-04-21T08:24:00.000-07:00

Indy and I, but much, much younger.

Today is Indiana's 13th Birthday. It's such a special day for us. For those unfamiliar with her story, go here, and you'll see why every birthday with her is a gift. We never expected to reach her 9th birthday, let alone her 13th. She is such a special girl, such a fighter. She has made me the person I am today. Everything I know about parenting, I've learned from her.

When I started looking through pictures yesterday for today's post, I started to feel very wistful. Looking through my favorite puppy pictures, I almost started to cry. We were both so different back then. I like to think I was still a good Mom (though definitely not an educated Mom). I was young and foolish and wanted to raise a happy dog. I wasn't thinking about illness or cancer. I was thinking that we both had our whole lives ahead of us; lives full of walks, and playing, and togetherness. When that was almost taken away from me in 2006, I became a wholly different person. A more educated one, to be sure, but a more cautious one as well. I know understood the frailty of life. I felt guilty that I hadn't understood better before. In some ways, I wish I could go back to being the carefree person I was back in 1998. I was still in college, and life seemed so open and free. Indiana was young and healthy. She could run and do anything she wanted. I want that back for her more than anything. But life doesn't work that way. Dogs age (we all age), and we can't go back.

So when I started to feel teary-eyed, looking through pictures of a more innocent time, I had to remind myself that today is a day of celebration. A day to look forward and celebrate life, not a day to think, "What if" or "I wish." Today is a day to celebrate the life that Indiana and I have been given, and to make sure, like I do every day, that today is the best darn day for her ever!

With that in mind, I've gone through and found 13 of my favorite pictures of Indy throughout her life. I hope you enjoy them and the stories that go along with them as much as I do!

This is Indy the first day we brought her home in 1998. Oddly, I don't remember the exact date. It was in June, that much I know. She is standing here with my Grandma's dog Skippy, and I can't believe how tiny she is. Tiny and fuzzy and soooooo naughty. But smart. That dog went to the bathroom in the house once and was totally house-trained within three days. Wowza. She's been freaking whip-smart ever since.

This is Indy in the fall of 1998, at my college home in Champaign, Illinois. I love this picture, because not only does she look really pretty, but I look at it and see her naughty streak. You see, that yard was filled with sticks. And Indiana's mission in life was to bring each and every stick from that yard into the house. And then chew them to bits, either on my bed or in the living room. And because I was in college, I pretty much never vacuumed up those bits, so our house was covered in a fine layer of chewed-up wood. I remember one day when Indiana tried to bring a stick bigger than herself into the house, via the pet door. I didn't think she'd be able to do it, because, well, physics and math and stuff, but after a few tries, she got that stick into the house. And proceeded to chew it to bits on my bed.

We're still living in Champaign in the picture. She's in the living room, but sadly, I must have vacuumed, because you can't see any wood bits lying around. Hrmph. I love this picture, because she's super happy, having just finished licking out a crock of butter. That was back in the day when I didn't think about things like "Oils can give your dog diarrhea," only "Licking this container will make my dog really happy." And it did. And I don't particularly remember any diarrhea, so it must have turned out fine.

Okay. We're onto a new house now. We moved to South Wilmington, Illinois (the armpit of the Midwest) in 2000, so this picture is somewhere around 10 years old. I love it because Indiana looks absolutely, madly insane. She has always loved to sleep upside down, and it was really funny to walk into the room and see this. And frightening. Also kind of frightening.

Also in South Wilmington. Love that green carpeting. I love this picture too, because, again, she looks so darn happy. She has a bowl full of cancer-kibble (I fed crappy food back then), she has her Dad, and she's good to go. Holy cats, does Jim look young in this picture.

Starved Rock State Park! One of our favorite places to visit with the girls. We always call it "Stairs Park," because, well, there are about a million stairs there, and Isis loves every single one of them. When the girls were younger, we always tried to get to Starved Rock at least once or twice a year, because it was such a fun day for us. The girls were really happy to be someplace new, and it was such an adventure. Some of our happiest days have been spent there.

This picture doesn't really have a story, but I love it because Indiana used to love to lay on the chaise (when she could still jump up there) and survey her kingdom. Look at her eyes in this picture. She's totally keeping an eye on something. That's why she liked the chaise. It was in the corner, facing out at the rest of the downstairs, so she could keep an eye on everything that was happening. And that makes one happy herding dog.

Ah. This picture represents the day that changed everything. This is the day she came home from the hospital in 2006 after almost dying. It's not a particularly good picture of Indiana. (And please excuse the quality) But I think it perfectly represents what she went through and how she triumphed. She is shaved in more places than I can count (in this picture, you can see both her neck and her paw are shaved). There is a cautiousness in her eyes. Maybe it's the weight of what she's just been through. We were so scared that day. Happy and scared. She was alive, she was home. But we were still in a scary 10-day window where her sutured stomach could still burst and kill her instantly. That was horrible to think about, and obviously it didn't happen, but it still haunts me if I think about it too much. Moving on...

This picture was taken not long after the surgery (probably a few months later), as you can see that her neck is still missing lots of hair. But I love this picture, because not only do my girls look happy and beautiful, but my Indy is alive! This picture was taken at Lake Shelbyville, where my parents have a cabin. We were so happy to make it down to the cabin with the girls and to resume a normal life with Indiana. This picture was taken post-heart mass, so we still didn't know what Indiana's future held for her. We were treasuring every moment and every special event with her. That weekend at the cabin was so fun, and it was great to see Indiana back to hiking (and actually, we're geocaching with the girls in this picture--see the gold box in the forepicture?). Those were uncertain times, but we were determined to make the most of every minute we had with Indy!

This picture is from Indiana's very first "re-birth" party, in 2007. Every year, since 2007, we have had a big party to celebrate Indiana's triumph over cancer. This picture is awesome, because she is so happy. The guests are running a big human agility course (because we're mean but have amazing friends), and Indiana is barking and following all of them. Oh, and you can see my nephew Ephraim's butt in this one too. It's just a big ol' mess of fun.

This picture was also taken in 2007, taken in our back yard. It is one of the happiest pictures we have, because the girls are having so much darn fun. You could really get the girls riled up, chasing after each other like crazy gals. (Well, actually, it was always Indy chasing Isis, because that's how they roll) Jim would chase after them, and I would laugh and take pictures. Good times!

God, there are so many other pictures I could post, but I had to pick my favorites. And my favorites are from when Indiana was active and we were creating happy memories. She's still happy today, mind you, but it makes me sad that she can't run, or even walk, the way she used to. This picture though, is from earlier this spring, when we were able to start taking walks again. Unlike in previous years, Indiana can't walk with Isis. We walk a few hundred feet with Indiana, and that's an accomplishment. So on days when Jim is home, Jim takes Isis out, and I stay with Indiana. She likes to sit in the front yard and watch for Isis and Jim to return. I love the intensity in her eyes in this picture. She's just seen Jim, and she's just waiting for him to get closer. It perfectly exemplifies the intensity of love and commitment this dog has for us.

Not to toot my own horn, but I hear comments all the time from people about what a wonderful job we've done with Indiana, and what great parents we are. I love hearing that, of course, but my standard response, because it's true, is that it's easy to parent Indy. She's so special. Her depth of love for us is immeasurable. I know she's still alive today because of that love and dedication. How can I not try to return it? I will spend every day of her life trying to live up to her expectations, to give her what she deserves. So it's easy to sacrifice and spend most of my time making her life better. Because what she gives to us...it can't be replicated. I don't know why Jim and I were given this special gift, this amazing dog, unlike any other. She is tough and strong. Sweet and sympathetic. Sensitive and loving. In a word, amazing. Happy Birthday to the best dog ever put on Earth. You've made my life richer than I ever deserve.

Flaking Out Today to Make Tomorrow Awesome

2011-04-20T10:29:00.000-07:00

Here. This oldie of Gus will tide you over.

Tomorrow is Indiana's 13th Birthday. This is a huge feat for any large-breed dog, let alone one who has survived cancer, hypothyroidism, adrenal disease, kidney disease, and cancer again. Plus, becoming a teenager is a big deal for everyone, right?

So tomorrow's blog post is going to be awesome. I have something really cool planned, and I think you'll enjoy it. I'm sorry to flake out today with a lame post, but I promise to get started right away on tomorrow's post. So it'll be worth it, I promise. Check back again tomorrow, 'kay?

Until then, friends...

The Last Word, But Truthfully, Probably Not

2011-04-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

Q*bert's not in this picture because, well, that would be disastrous

I'm feeling a bit melancholy today. Maybe it's the weather. It's pouring rain. I love rainy days, but they don't really help your mood, do they? They're the kind of days where you just want to stay in your pajamas all day, snuggling with an animal and a book. All of my animals have other plans though, apparently, so I'm sitting on the couch, sans cats, and with a computer instead of a book. But I am in my pajamas, so there's that.

Anyway, if you've been reading my blog lately (or, well, ever), you probably can understand why I might be feeling sad and overwhelmed. And I feel both. Indiana's doing ok, but she's been even more work than usual, given that she's changed her eating habits yet again. Plus, we're into itchy allergy season, and she's already an itchy mess. Then there's the cats.

I wrote yesterday about the cats all being anemic, most likely from the mycoplasma infection that Mr. S came back with. I got a call from the vet's office late yesterday afternoon, saying that they aren't going to run the mycoplasma test as planned but instead would treat three of the cats for it. With oral doxycycline. Every day. For a month. I asked about Gus, who wasn't tested this week, but is likely anemic as well. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, noooooooooo. Let's not make Jen's life easy, and just put Gus on antibiotics as well, considering three of her four cats have anemia from an infectious disease. That would make too much freaking sense. No, Gus has to be brought in to the vet's office for bloodwork to confirm anemia. Because it's so easy to shove a cat into a cage, drive him, crying (him, not me, but, well, probably me too this week), and then drag him into the back of the office, take his blood (during which time he will probably bite and or scratch the techs, knowing Gus), reverse the whole process, wait for test results, only to find out what we already know by the process of deduction. I really want to cry about this, because I am overwhelmed with responsibility this week, and I don't have the time or energy to take Gus in, when I don't see the point. Ugh. I'm ranting, but I'm beyond frustrated about this.

Not to mention, the idea of giving antibiotics to four cats for an entire month is really overwhelming too. Q is actually a dream about it--he's on antibiotics now--because he eats just like a dog. He stands in front of his bowl and eats every single morsel of it, no questions asked. I'm not even sure he tastes it, so it's easy to put his antibiotics in his food. But the other cats...oh, it causes my heart palpitations! Q eats by himself, but the other three cats eat together. And they are not easy to feed. The three of them get a total of five bowls of food every meal--three bowls of raw and two bowls of canned. The bowl you put in front of one cat is guaranteed not to be the bowl that cat actually eats out of. It's a crapshoot. And during any given meal, each cat will walk away from and come back to the food over the course of an hour or so. So there is no guarantee that one bowl will be finished before the next meal, and there is no telling which bowls will be finished and by whom. So how, pray tell, am I to dose three cats this way?

The doctor's office says to separate them in different rooms during meals. I get that, but I know my cats, and that's not going to go over well. Anyone who owns cats knows they are creatures of habit, and they don't change habit easily, or happily. And I don't blame my vet's office for this--it's not their fault my cats need meds--but I'm having a pity party, so I'm going to complain and get it all out.

I don't want anyone to think that I honestly have a problem with this. I love my cats (and dogs) beyond measure, and would do anything for them, including jumping through hoops to give them medicine for a month so they'll be healthy again. I am frustrated at what I consider irrational expectations from my vet's office. I'd be happier right now if I could just have meds for all four. And it'll all work out. The cats will (somehow) get their meds, Indiana will start eating again, and all will be well. Until the next time there is some medical crisis. But I accept that as a part of animal-parenthood, something I took on when I adopted these amazing creatures. They are my family, and even though I might want to put them in the naughty corner for five minutes or sixty from time to time, I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Cats and Such

2011-04-18T09:06:00.000-07:00

I can't get enough of Mr. Squiggles. Can you?

Last week, I wrote about my marathon day at the vet's office. Three cats, three sets of bloodwork. I wasn't expecting to hear anything back until probably tomorrow, but I got a voice message (I had my cell turned off--ugh, what was I thinking?) on Friday night, telling me that all three of my boys are anemic.

We found out, through a fluke accidental test run by the lab, that Mr. Squiggles was infected with mycoplasma, a bacterium that causes anemia in pets. He probably got it while out on his grand adventure. The vet treated him with some supplements, and we fully expected it to clear up, as we was otherwise asymptomatic.

But then with last week's blood results, we learned that it's probably not gone, and has, in fact, probably spread to the other cats. The lab is running another set of tests on all three cats right now, to see if mycoplasma is indeed the cause, or something else. Though the descriptions of Feline Hemotropic Mycoplasmosis are frightening, I know it doesn't necessarily mean that my cats are in any danger. We will, after all, treat them once we know what's going on. Even so, the hyper Mom in me still freaks out about it. This infection can be deadly. And I really don't know anything about it, not yet. I am so anxious to talk to my vet about this, because she always makes me feel better. Test results, hurry up and get here!

I just can't believe I have to deal with this. Jim says it's to be expected, when you have six pets, most of whom you adopted either because they were sick or in need. I just wish sometimes I could get a break, in the health department. I'm thankful that we can afford to treat our clan (today's tests are going to run about $360) without worrying too much about costs. Still, when I'm feeling sorry for myself, I wish for just one day where all six babies are healthy!

In happier news, I have now joined Twitter! I have a lot to learn, but I look forward to sharing information and interesting links to my followers and expanding my own knowledge base as well. Please follow JenSchneiderDog. I learn new things all the time, and you'll learn right along with me! If you're on Twitter, please mention it in the comments section of my blog, and if you have any favorite animal wellness resources, please share them as well.

Sorry for the less-than-stellar blog post today. My mind is in a million places at once right now.

Weekend

2011-04-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

Weekend. Week-end. Get it? Get it?

After the craziness of Tuesday, I was back at the vet's office again today with Indiana, for her twice-monthly acupuncture appointment. I was glad to be going in, because not only did Indiana change all of her eating habits yesterday, she also threw up.

I wrote yesterday about being concerned that maybe her kidneys were acting up again, making her feel sick, which would be a bad thing for so many reasons. But she vomited up grass (our vet says most dogs and cats are doing that right now, because the grass is new and fresh, and it's one of the best sources of potassium) and she had mad, curl your toes gas last night. I mean, the kind that you can smell across the room. It was awful. But it kind of made me happy, because gas + grass + upset tummy = not kidney problems. Our vet thinks it's gastric upset from the massive antibiotics she was on last week from her UTI. Having been on massive amount of antibiotics myself this winter, thanks to the osteomyelitis, I can totally relate to this. So, we're keeping Indy on probiotics, respecting her tummy by feeding bland, cooked turkey, and cutting down her pills and medicines to the bare minimum. Hopefully, in a week or so she'll be back to normal.

The only real complaint I have this week, (and I suppose it's a small complaint in the grand scheme of things) is that I still don't have bloodwork results from my cats from Tuesday. I know my vet has them. She told me she has them. But they are "in a stack a couple of feet high on her desk. She'll get to them over the weekend, and you'll get a call from us on Monday or Tuesday." Really? It shouldn't take almost a week for me to get results from routine bloodwork. Not that I should receive priority care or anything (but, come on, I practically live there with my six animals, shouldn't I get some kind of preferential care for that???), but I just spent over $1300 there this week. That doesn't deliver my bloodwork in a timely manner? The answer, I know by now, is no. No it doesn't.

Tears of Frustration/Figure it Out

2011-04-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

Just when things were going soooooooo well with Indiana, she got a massive UTI, and now we've done some backsliding. It's really disappointing, and also scary. Can she bounce back again? She's done it before.

There are two main problems right now: one, her back legs are weak again, making it difficult for her to get up sometimes. Before I leave the house, I have to make sure she is in a "safe" place (i.e. somewhere with rugs) and just hope that she doesn't get up and move somewhere "unsafe." We've been trying to get her out daily for walks, but she typically gets out the door, turns right back around again, and goes back in the house. I'm not going to force her to walk; she knows her body better than I do. I just don't understand her aversion to walking right now, especially because I know it's the best thing for her.

The other problem is that she's rejecting food again. Ugh. This morning, I spent a good 25 minutes trying to get her to eat her breakfast (and this was canned food that she normally inhales). I sprinkled freeze-dried duck on it. I sprinkled appetite shaker on it. I sprinkled a different appetite shaker on it. I spread canned cat food on it. The canned cat food finally sort of did the trick, but she left a good quarter of the food untouched. That's not the end of the world, but it means she didn't get the entire dose of Poly-MVA (and at around $7 a dose, I hate to waste any).

She's also been spitting out her pills, though I can usually get her to take all of them eventually. Wrap the pills in the tiniest amount of liver sausage, and smoosh a liberally amount of canned cat food onto the wrapped pills. She still sometimes "mouths" them, eating the meaty bits off and spitting out clean pills, but I can generally get her to eat them if I try again.

This is all really frustrating to me. I may have said "Damn it, Indiana" twice today. I may have gotten cross with her. I hate that. I know she's not doing these things to frustrate me. She has a reason. I just don't know what it is yet. Is she still recovering from the antibiotics? Is her BUN too high? Is this just another random appetite change? She's sending me a clear message--that she doesn't like what I'm doing--but unfortunately, she's not telling me how to fix it. That's for me to figure out.

So I'll stop at the pet food store today and buy new canned food. I'll allow plenty of time to feed her, and I'll take a deep breath before losing my temper. I'll remember what this dog has been through the last almost five years, how few complaints there have been, how many times she's trusted me to do the right thing for her. And I'll do the right thing again. I'll respect her and guide her, nurse her through this rough patch, jump through hoops to make it all better. Hopefully I will be successful. I'm halfway to losing my mind over this whole thing, not because it's so much work, but because I am sick with worry for her, and I want to make things better now. But I am focused on her best interests, and as long as she's happy and healthy, that's all that matters.

I Made Four Trips to the Vet's Office Yesterday

2011-04-13T09:19:00.000-07:00

Mr. Squiggles did eventually figure out how to get into those treats. Again. And Again. And Again.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

5:20 am: Wake up. Eat breakfast. Feed the dogs but not the cats, because Q*bert is going in to see the vet, because his paw is massively swollen. He still feels fine though, so there are four really annoyed cats who don't understand why the dogs are being fed but they are not.

8:20 am: Feed the other three cats, because Q*bert is outside, and we'll be leaving in a few minutes. After all the complaining at 5am, I fill the food bowls and no one cares.

8:40am: Get Q into the vet. Because we adopted/found 800 cats last year, and took them into the vet the before they had names, there are a million nameless files to sift through to figure out which cat is which. Mr. Squiggles has two files. Confuse poor Lynda at the front desk. Finally get correct cat names with correct cat files.

9:00am: Marathon Starbucks get-together with friend Amanda. Spend hours talking animals and life. The happiest, sanest part of my day.

12:45pm: Sitting in the Starbucks parking lot, making a cell call to vet to check on Q. Get put on hold. And hold. And hold. Fifteen minutes later, decide to hang up and just drive the two minutes back to the office to check on him in person. Realize this would have been a smarter decision fifteen minutes ago.

12:50pm: Find out Q is currently in with the vet, getting his paw fixed. No other info, but they'll call when he's done.

1:00pm: At Razzle-Dazzle Doggie Bowtique, picking up food, because the house is somehow devoid of everything all at once. Get a call from the vet that Q is done and will be ready to be picked up in just over an hour. Would we prefer liquid medication or pill form? Finish picking up two bags of Freeze Dried Stella and Chewy's, one bag of Frozen Stella and Chewy's, one bag of Northwest Naturals, one case of Wellness canned cat food, one case of Tiki Cat canned cat food, 7 cans of Weruva dog food, four small cans of Wellness canned turkey cat food, and one shaker of appetite stuff that Samson goes nuts over (not because he needs it, but simply because we got some free samples and he really loved it).

1:40pm: At home. Discover Indiana is outside, stuck under the deck. Crawl under the deck, calm the freaked-out dog, and push her out from under the deck. Have 20 minutes to unpack the pet food purchases, wolf down some trail mix, feed the dogs and cats, and get out the door to pick up Q.

2:00pm: Headed back to the vet.

2:15pm: At the vet's office. Q is pretty alert for having been sedated, and I am handed a large bag of medications. Thankfully, most are from an order placed earlier in the day for Indy and Isis. There is no info on what happened to Q's foot, but the doctor will talk to me about it at my 4pm appointment later that day.

2:40pm: Back at home with Q. He is annoyed with me for his ordeal, but is more hungry than mad. Feed Q and sneak his antibiotics in with the food. He doesn't notice.

3:00pm: Oh my gosh, 20 whole minutes before I have to leave again. Spend 10 minutes on the chaise lounge looking over some music scores.

3:10pm: Start wondering where Sam and Mr. S are, because we have to leave for the vet in 10 minutes. Sam is in the kitchen, but Mr. S is nowhere to be seen. He's never outside. Well, hardly ever. Except now. He'd better be close by. Oh, good, he's on the porch, just hanging out. Hmmm...Samson just crawled into the small cat carrier. Was going to put him in the large one, but, hey, a bird in the hand. Close the door and decide to leave a few minutes early. Pluck a happy Mr. Squiggles off the back porch and shove him into a cat carrier. He is inexplicably not so happy any more.

3:15pm: Realize preparing the car for two cat carriers would have been a good idea prior to taking said carriers to car. Decide to wing it.

3:20pm: Back to the vet.

3:40pm: Arrive early to fill out paperwork but run into a family I know from doggy physical therapy. Spend time reassuring Mom about her dog's recent kidney disease diagnosis and talking to the adorable daughter instead of filling out paperwork.

4:00pm: Appointment time, but we're just getting into an exam room now. The doctor will be running late (as usual) but this time it's sort of my fault, as my cat's paw played a role in her delayed schedule.

4:01pm: Wonder whose brilliant idea it was to bring the two smartest cats in the house in at the same time.

4:02pm: Pluck Mr. Squiggles off the counter for the third time.

4:03pm: Cats are weighed. Mr. Squiggles has gained 3 1/2 pounds and is almost back to his pre-missing weight of 10.5 pounds. Samson weighs in at a whopping 13.5 pounds, which is amazing because he's a skinny guy. Just huge.

4:10pm: Vet assistant comes in to procure cats for blood draws. Samson volunteers to go first but changes his mind when the vet assistant touches him. He freaks out, and there is 13.5 pounds of cat legs flying everywhere. Decide that Mr. Squiggles with go first.

4:15pm: Mr. S is back, and it's Sam's turn again. Vet assistant is less than enthused about grabbing a squirmy, sharp creature.

4:20pm: I hear a cat yelp. Ooops. Vet assistant returns, wordlessly opens the door a crack, hands me my cat, and, just as wordlessly, closes it again. One fewer person on Sam's "friends" list.

4:40pm: Finally, the vet. Find out that Q basically pulled out the nail of his "thumb," and it's infected. She gave him a little gas, squeezed out the pus, cleaned up the wound, and is putting him on the highest dose of antibiotics. Time for exams. This vet's never met Sam before, so we go over some of his greater virtues, and he's a big, loving blob of Maine Coon for her. Unhappy about a liver palpation, he hides under the couch while Mr. Squiggles is examined. Find out that Mr. S is probably mostly blind in his bad eye. His teeth, while bad, don't need to be seen by a dentist just yet. Mr. S is sweet and loving, and melts against the vet's leg while she examines him. He is okay with having his liver palpated, unlike Sam.

5:00pm: Vet gets tools to lop some tartar off of Samson's tooth. This could go very badly, but he's actually pretty good for it, and the procedure is successful. Mr. Squiggles takes advantage of our focus on Samson to jump onto the counter and steal treats out of a bag. The vet and I both think this is pretty cute.

5:05pm: Time for rabies shots. There is much confusion over how many cats need the rabies shot (Samson got one in '09, but apparently, our state, in its infinite wisdom, makes owners revaccinate Animal Control adoptees after the first year, even though it's the same darn shot and is actually good for three years, not just one. Grrrr.) So two shots it is today.

5:10pm: Time to put cats back in carriers. Samson goes in easily, but Mr. Squiggles resists. Realize this is because he has both pooed and peed in the carrier. Clean up the poo and pee and shove cat in.

5:11pm: At the counter, ready to check out. Have to wait for another client to check out first. I know this client as well (we met at a dog show years ago, while her dog was undergoing treatment for cancer). I kill time by getting kisses from her adorable yellow lab.

5:15pm: My turn. I have several more medications to pick up. Then I remember that the doctor and I never talked about Indiana's urine culture test results. Front desk manager Lynda talks to the vet, finds out the tests came back negative for bacteria (a good thing), but since Indiana is still leaking urine (a bad thing), she'll be going on some supplements to help that. Have to wait for the assistant to bring that up. Finally check out. My total is over $1000 for the day, but I've gotten something for five of the six of my animals, so I guess it's not too awful...I still have a minor heart attack though. Ask if I'm the highest total for the day and am told no. Am sort of surprised, but not really.

5:16pm: Lynda has to fill out rabies vaccination paperwork for the two cats, who are being really good and quiet. So we're in no big hurry.

5:20pm: Out to the car! Toss the cats in and get out of here!

5:45pm: We're home! Both cats whine and cry on the trip from the car to the utility room but have been oddly silent during the ride home. Both cats bolt out of the carriers as soon as I open the doors. Immediately grab the smelly towels from the carriers and wash on the hottest setting.

5:50pm: Call my Mom to catch up on both of our days. I care about her day, but I also really want to just whine about my own. Am exhausted but happy when Jim pulls up early from work. Crap. Now I have to feed us both.

6:40pm: Making dinner for me and Jim, eating dinner, then feeding the clan. Everyone is happy and well, and I'm glad that my day is finally over!

He's Naughtier Than He Looks

2011-04-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

Samson, that is, not Jim. Oh, wait. No, Jim's naughtier than he looks too.

This past weekend was the first really nice, spring-like weekend we've had in Illinois this year. My cats have been pretty stir-crazy all winter, so now, when the weather is nice, they're spending lots of time outdoors. Nice weather + previously cooped-up cats = trouble.

Samson is freakishly large and freakishly smart. He's Maine Coon, so that means he's got brains, braun, and really dextrous paws. (Have you ever seen a Maine Coon in action? They use their paws just like raccoons--Sam even eats with his paws sometimes) Though he's one of the nicest, friendliest cats on the planet (he has never met a stranger), Sam has a naughty streak a mile long. As with any intelligent animal, if you don't keep their minds occupied, they find a way to do it themselves. For Sam during the winter, this meant stealing bread. He has a fascination with all things plastic and all things bread, so if you leave a wrapped loaf of bread on the counter...well, let's just say we don't do that anymore.

And speaking of stealing bread, Sam stole a piece of bread out of the toaster the other day. Jim probably could have stopped it before he did, but he wanted to see how it would play out. We do that a lot. It's really fun to watch Sam at work, so unless he's in danger, we often let him go ahead and be naughty, to challenge his brain, and honestly, to amuse ourselves.

The biggest downside to having a smart, naughty cat, as we are learning this spring, is that live creatures outside are the single most interesting, challenging thing out there. In the past four days, we've received one worm, one vole, one wet, dead mouse, and two snakes. I am terrified of snakes. I shutter to think what would happen if Sam were to bring one in when Jim isn't home.

I've gotten over my fear of mice (sort of) and can catch one now by myself (if I have to--but if Jim's home, it's still totally his job), but I don't know what I'd do with a snake...My mouse method involves a broom and dustpan with a long handle (one of the ones that flips closed--it's perfect!), and I probably could use that if I had to, but the idea of even going near a snake makes my skin crawl. Of course, I hate the thought of a snake in my house even more. I'm just going to pretend it's never going to happen. Maybe Sam will forget where his stash of snakes is (it's in my garden, by the way). Maybe he'll transplant the stash all around the yard and forget where he put them. I somehow doubt it though. It's going to be a long spring.

He's More Like Himself Every Day

2011-04-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

Mr. S has always been obsessed with shoes--see the tongue sticking out?

It's been a little over six months now since Mr. Squiggles came back home. It seems like he's always been back, and yet it still seems like just yesterday that we were reunited. I still stare at him every day, amazed that he's lying next to me. I want to cuddle him, smell him, take in every ounce of what I missed for twelve and a half long months.

Mr. S is doing so well. He seems to improve every day, and even more exciting, he gets back more of his personality every time we look around. Some quirks were there from the beginning, like his litter box aversions and his tolerance but annoyance with Gus. But in the past six months, we've seen more and more of the old Mr. Squiggles emerging. His hair is getting darker, and his hair is filling in. He's still hugely grateful to be here, but he's starting to get that irritated look in his eye more often, a look that was always pure Mr. Squiggles. He's getting stronger and less wobbly, and he's starting to venture outside more often. It used to be, we couldn't keep that cat in the house. He'd whine and cry, and pitch a royal fit if he was even locked in over night. So it's nice to see him starting to go out again, safely within the confines of his (1/2 acre) kitty prison.

He's still as picky an eater as ever, though we've finally gotten him to eat raw food, courtesy of our good friend Stella & Chewy's Freeze Dried Duck Duck Goose patties. Nothing else will do, at least when it comes to raw. But I'm happy to oblige.

As you can tell from the picture, he loves shoes. He always has. Now we find him spending more time with them--as soon as you take them off, he heads over straight away, rubbing them with his muzzle, laying on top of them. It's kind of bizarre, but it's oh so Mr. Squiggles, and I love it.

***CORRECTION FROM YESTERDAY'S POST*** A friend in the industry pointed out that reading titer results is not cut-and-dried, as I indicated that they were. (Hence why they're still controversial) I apologize for this misinformation and will do some research on that aspect of titers and will publish another post about it next week. By the way, I'm still pro-titer, either way.

Thoughts About Vaccines

2011-04-07T08:05:00.000-07:00

Happy Noodles

Last week, we took Isis in to the vet for her twice-yearly checkup. This appointment always includes routine bloodwork, a heartworm test, and vaccine titers. Ever heard of titers? (I hope so, but I won't be surprised if you haven't)

Titers are blood tests that measure the amount of vaccine antibodies in the bloodstream. If the level of antibody is high enough, then the dog is still immune to disease. High enough titer levels = no vaccination.

I was thinking about this topic on Tuesday, because I got Isis' test results back, and not only was her bloodwork great (yay!) but her titer results were normal as well. Even though I've titered for years (and have never had to revaccinate my animals), it still amazed me that Isis was vaccinated yearly for the first 7 years of her life (before I knew better) but now has not needed a vaccine for 5 years. (This doesn't include rabies--that's a whole 'nother subject)

Vaccines are a controversial topic in the veterinary world. I'm not by nature a conspiracy-theorist, but in the animal world, unfortunately, profit tends to rule above all else. Animals do not need yearly vaccines. In fact, there is much evidence that yearly vaccines not only damage the immune system (leading to diseases like cancer), but the side effects of the vaccine can cause certain diseases as well. Read this great article by Dr. Karen Becker to learn more. Vaccines have even been proven to cause cancer in cats, at the injection site. Read more about that here (and though I generally love this site, I don't agree that every cat should always be vaccinated).

Most traditional vets push yearly vaccines, not only because this is what they're taught in vet school, but also because vaccines have a high profit margin. It's sad. The tides are turning a bit now, as some vets still advocate yearly vaccines but at least will provide titers if they are requested by the client. Some vets "don't believe in titers," which I don't understand. The results are there in black and white, on paper. The testing lab even makes the determination if the pet has sufficient antibodies. If your vet is "against" titers, ask yourself why.

Additionally, rabies vaccines are controversial, for no good reason. The rabies vaccine is the most toxic of all vaccines but is required by law. (Except for animals with long-term illnesses, like cancer. Then a waiver is usually granted if a signed letter is provided by the treating veterinarian) However, no animal should be given the rabies vaccine every year. The one year shot is exactly the same as the three year shot, and the three year shot is all that is required by law (in most states, but not all, sadly). I hear from so many pet owners whose vets give the vaccine yearly, for no apparent reason other than profit (I'm in Illinois, where the three-year vaccine is what's required). I always encourage those pet owners to do their research on vaccines, and then find a new vet.

To learn more about the rabies vaccine, visit The Rabies Challenge Fund, an organization started to prove that the current three-year rabies vaccine is actually good for 5 or even 7 years. They even advocate around the country to get states to change vaccines laws to the standard (accepted) three years. It's a great organization.

So what am I trying to say? Do I think people who vaccinate yearly are bad parents? Not at all. We are a product of our veterinary teaching. I vaccinated my pets yearly for 8 years until my new vet taught me about titers. I researched them, they made sense to me, and now it's something I believe strongly in. My animals all receive a rabies vaccine every three years (except for Indy, who gets an exemption because of her cancer). We do yearly titer tests, but no one has needed a booster yet.

My recommendation to you is, if you haven't already, read up as much as you can on titers (the links I've provided here are a great start). Read the good and the bad. Talk to your vet about it. Form your own opinion and do what makes sense to you. Sometimes what makes sense to you isn't what your veterinarian recommends. That's okay too. An educated owner is an empowered owner, and our pets are better off for it.

If you're interested in learning more about vaccine issues, I encourage you to read the book Stop the Shots. It's a complete look at the vaccine and veterinary world. It'll probably scare the pants off of you, but that's alright. We parents need to be shaken into action sometimes.

Also, here is a list of recommended vaccines by Dr. Jean Dodds, a leading veterinary hematology researcher (and one of the founders of The Rabies Challenge Fund). She lists the shots she recommends for the first year of a puppy's life (followed by titer tests at least every three years thereafter) and also talks a little about vaccines and health.

Aha!

2011-04-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

From "In the Company of Dogs"

Jim and I have been wracking our brains for a good year or so now about how best to bathe Indiana. You see, we have three bathrooms in the house, one of which only has a toilet and sink, one has a shower and whirlpool tub, and the other is on the second floor. None of these is an option for a nearly-thirteen-year-old arthritic dog.

Starting last year, Jim and I (courtesy of a grand idea from my Mom) started bathing Indiana in our utility room, in a kiddie pool. We run an RV hose (because you can drink out of an RV hose, but not a regular garden hose--I have this idea that it makes the water purer for Indy) from our utility sink and bathe her in the pool. It kind of works. I mean, yes, it works, but there are a lot of drawbacks. Like the fact that the pool is a little slippery, and mostly, that the pool is way too large to fit through the door outside to empty the water (since it doesn't have a drain) without oodles of water ending up on the floor in the process. So I've been searching high and low for an alternative.

I don't mind a stinky dog, so don't think I'm bathing Indiana simply because I require a clean dog, because I don't. But Indiana has had horrible seasonal skin allergies most of her life, which means she is itchy, itchy, itchy from about April until October. Baths help ease that itchiness.

I ran across the inflatable tub pictured above last night, while perusing a new copy of the In the Company of Dogs catalog. (I love this catalog--the products are cute, high-quality, unique, and not terribly overpriced) Anyway, when I saw this tub, I got really excited. It's a much better option than a kiddie pool. The sides unzip, making it easy for a stiff dog to walk in. It has a drain (and is smaller than our kiddie pool), making it easy to dispose of the water. And it has a nifty wash nozzle that will attach to the sink via our RV hose. I have to take some measurements of Indy first (because she lays down when we bathe her--she can't stand for long periods of time anymore) to make sure she'll fit, but I'm fairly sold on buying this tub already. I'll be showing it to Jim this afternoon to see what he thinks.

I thought this was a pretty brilliant invention. It's easy to look at it and say, "Why would anyone need that? Just bathe your dog outside with a hose--why do you need a fancy bath?" But if you think about the product in terms of an older dog, for someone who needs a portable indoor option, it's nearly perfect. Here's to hoping it works for Indy.

She Makes Me So Proud

2011-04-05T07:07:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, Jim and I took Indiana to one of our favorite places, Pawsitively Heaven Pet Resort. It's an amazing daycare/boarding facility, which we've never personally used, but we visit often because it houses Indiana's physical therapy office. We've been going there for almost four years, so we've gotten to know the owner and staff pretty well. They are some of the nicest people, ever, and if you live in the Chicago area and are looking for a place to board, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend them.

Indiana is very much a creature of habit, so we've of course developed a habit when we visit Pawsitively Heaven. (Until recently, we visited there twice a week for over three years) When we arrive, Indiana has to go to the front desk and visit her friend Julie, who luckily almost always works the days that we go. Julie is Indy's best friend there, and she generously feeds Indiana loads of treats. She's such a sweetheart that she even feeds Indiana according to the "rules," i.e. treats broken into small pieces. She knows Indiana's affinity for butt scratches and never hesitates to share Indiana's cancer successes with visiting clients.

Indiana loves to hang out behind the front desk. We always go a little early to our appointment so she can hang out with Julie for a while, and then, after her massage, she likes to spend time with Julie before we go too. I enjoy this time as well, not only because Indiana is happy, but because the staff treats her like a queen, and she always catches the attention of incoming clients. People always ask about her, and I get to talk about how amazing she is. I swell with pride. I think my girl is really special, but I love it when others see it too.

So this past Saturday, we had an appointment for Reiki, but we also had signed Indy up for Easter pictures! Julie was really awesome to squeeze Indiana in before her appointment, and when Indy walked into the picture room, everyone paid lots of attention to her. She laid down on the paper background and went to town. She's really photogenic and really well behaved, so it was a quick, easy process for all involved. I was dying to have a picture taken of her with a bunny ears or flower headband, but she hates wearing clothes of any kind, so I wasn't sure how that would go over. I won't spoil the surprise, but let's just say that she totally let us put on a headband and the picture is adorable OMG.

When Indiana's photo session was over, the photographer's assistant and her daughter were laying on the floor next to Indiana, just petting her. She has that affect on people; you just want to be near her. She's really something special. She gives off a very unique energy, a sense of calm and love, and just, well, amazingness. I'm proud of her every single day.

Happy 100th Post!

2011-04-04T09:43:00.000-07:00

Today marks my 100th blog post! Yay! Also, I have been blogging every weekday for three whole months now, which has surpassed the original goal I set for myself. So, yay again!

To celebrate this big occasion, I went back into my photo vault and picked some old favorite photos of mine which I don't think have been on my blog before. I hope you enjoy them! Thanks for reading what I have to say, and for caring about me and my family!

Silly girl with a bowl on her head -- this picture was totally not a set-up

Indiana and Dr. Bear, given to her by Marilu. Dr. Bear has been with us through some tough times, so he's kind of our good-luck charm now!

Me and Indy in her agility tunnel. Yes, we put it up inside. And yes, she loves it.

I don't remember the name of this toy--it's probably something clever like, "Mr. fuzzy pink lamb," but Indy looks super cute resting her head on him.

Indy and Isis helping us build the basement pool.

A fun day at Allerton Park in Monticello, Illinois. Not the best picture of Isis and I, but holy crap, Indy looks gorgeous!

Indiana looking beautiful at her 2nd Annual re-birthday party!

And finally, one of my favorites! Gus has always loved Indiana more than he loves anyone else in the world! Look how innocent and tiny and non-finger-bitey he looks in this picture!

I'm a Bad Mom

2011-04-01T14:16:00.000-07:00

April Fool! That's actually a cat, not a plant! Fooled ya!

Isis had to go to the vet today. She has a growth on her gums, which, as it turns out, is just a fleshy swelling, common in older dogs (but most commonly seen in Boxers). The only potential problem is that it might overgrow the tooth, at which point she could chew on the growth, causing it to bleed. So, for now we're keeping an eye on it. It might stop growing. It might shrink. We also might have it removed...

...because Isis' teeth are full of plaque. And she's fat. So I feel really guilty. I can make a million excuses about why I don't brush her teeth more often or make sure she gets more exercise. But the truth of the matter is, I get so focused on Indiana sometimes, because she is so high maintenance, and I neglect Isis. I don't mean neglect as in "I don't meet her basic needs," because I meet her basic needs and then some. But I don't focus on some of things of lesser importance (though still important), like dental hygiene and regular exercise. I certainly don't love Isis any less than I do Indiana, but I suppose a person can only focus on so many things at once, and when Indiana has so many things of life-and-death importance to focus on, that leaves less room for "incidentals." I feel really bad about that. Isis has so few needs and demands. I love her to bits. And I feel like I've let her down.

Pending blood test results, we may opt for dental surgery to clean her teeth and remove the gum growth. That would give her (well, really me) a clean start, so to speak, where I could clean her teeth as often as I really should, so this never happens again. And we've already started exercising her more, but now we know how often we should do it and for how long. She's also starting a diet, and we've got a firm daily calorie amount to follow every day, which will be easy for us to do.

So even though I know we can, and will, do this for Isis, I still feel really guilty. I want to have given her more before now. I hate that she often comes second to Indiana. So sweet, so understanding, so undemanding. She deserves better. And I vow to do better by her.

An Open Letter to Small Dog Owners

2011-03-31T13:12:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-29T08:39:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-28T07:45:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-25T05:02:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-23T07:14:00.000-07:00

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...

2011-03-22T12:03:00.000-07:00

...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

2011-03-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

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.