Materialistic

We took a short trip to visit family last week in a lah-di-dah city in the South.  It's a big, flashy, former confederate stronghold, but we were just going to be there a couple of days, visit family, and see a couple of sights.  We ended up visiting the Margaret Mitchell House and the Martin Luther King, Jr Center, which makes an interesting juxtiposition. 

But this post is not about that.

Some of you might know that the airline lost our luggage.  Or at least, they mislaid it, for the duration of our (short) stay.  I remember wandering around the airport, dazed, for about an hour last Wednesday, not really believing that our luggage was gone.  The baggage people kept saying, "Huh.  It came in, and it should be on carousel X."  But it wasn't there.   As they themselves could clearly tell.

I had a few things in that bag, as did my husband.  I liked some of those clothes, and I had a mini-grief session, thinking that they might be gone forever.  To tell the truth, though, nothing in the suitcase was really irreplaceable, except for the half-knitted sock.  (Ah, the half-knitted sock!)  We got by on the trip by buying just a couple of things, which we then squished back into our carry-ons.

This made me muse:  I think that I significantly overpacked for the trip.  I thought that I needed much more than I actually did need. I can justify myself by saying that I wasn't sure about the weather, or some other such nonsense, but the reality is, that I am just used to having more around than I need.  I'm used to getting to choose whether I want to wear the green shirt or the peach shirt.   So I threw in more than I really needed to have.

I wonder if this is not true about life as well.  Some of us pack more than we need.   But the more we have, the more we can lose.  I thought about that.  The thought of "losing" what we own can make us anxious. 

I was watching my dog Scout the other day.  She has very few possessions, and she's a pretty happy dog.  But this day she had caught a mouse, and she wanted to make sure that she didn't lose the mouse.  Then she displayed a rare fit of anxiety, as she moved the mouse from place to place, looking furtively around to make sure we didn't take it away.

Maybe anxiety increases the more you own.  I don't know.  It's something to think about.

So one thing I discovered last week was that I really didn't need all the things I packed.  I certainly had just as much fun, even though I only had the green shirt, and the black shirt, even though I didn't have the peach shirt and the blue shirt. 

The other thing:  dead mice are only good companions, really, for a couple of days.

"I See Unmarked Trees!"

The winner gets a postcard from the North Shore.

Presbyterian Gal is the winner!

(A lot of good entries; my husband was the unbiased judge.)

Anniversary

Today is the 4th anniversary of the day we brought Scout home.

I met her at a nursing home where I had been visiting residents. She cost $35.00 (a lot more, later, but that's another story.)

She was 6 and 1/2 weeks old when I brought her home in a cardboard box in the back seat of my car. It was a Friday afternoon, the day before my birthday. She howled and yowled pitifully the whole drive home.

We have had our moments, but, I think we'll keep her, now.

Scout Is Four Today

Today we have a guest blogger, Scout, who turned 4 today.

Hello, everybody! Thank you for visiting me on my birthday! I am having a good day. My mom put a red thing on my neck this morning, and I got to go on a walk and sniff a lot of places. I even got to cross the street with mom. There are many good things to smell on the other side of the street.

It is my birthday today, but my most fun day was Sunday. We had One of My Friends over because it was his birthday. I really love him a Lot! And we had Other People there and they Paid Attention to Me. I shook hands with Everyone and they petted me and scratched my tummy and let me catch the ball. I did not jump on people even though I wanted to. But I did sniff them and showed them how much I love them. They had some good food and I even got the tiniest piece of salmon! I love Birthday! Mine and other people's too! I did not get cake this time. I am sad about that.

I am sure there will more fun on my birthday! I don't know yet what it will be! Will it be a toy? Will it be a treat? (Lamb -- yum) Will it be more ear scritches? I got lots of ear scritches this morning! I love them!

Now I am four! What can I do when I'm four that I couldn't do before? What should I do today? Maybe open the refrigerator? (No, I can't do that.) Maybe learn a new trick? (what trick should I learn?)

I just want to say that I am grateful to be here every day! I am grateful for food, for snow, for toys, for rides in the car, for aLmost eVerything! What about you?

It's Raining

We got in late last night. The temperature was 60 degrees here in Phoenix (really, Scottsdale.) My sister picked us up at the airport and we all exchanged late Christmas presents. And went to bed.

This morning it is raining and cloudy. I think this is going to be our only rainy day, if the forecast is correct. We had coffee this morning, but did not pick tangelos and make fresh orange juice -- one of the things we like to do.

We had a bit of an adventure getting off to the airport. Dog sitter was set to come and pick up Scout right before we left. But she got stuck and didn't get there. We were worried about missing our flight and finally left a message with my mother-in-law to come and stay until the dog sitter got there. She was gracious to agree, so we left a note on the door and left Scout alone for just a few minutes (we think).

Scout was not so happy about being left in the house after all of the luggage was gone. But we phoned our sitter after we checked in at the airport and found that they were on the way to her house. So she is safe at her sitter's house, now. Unfortunately, they did not get all that hamburger I cooked out of the refrigerator. Just the dry food which is the "new diet" we are trying out.

The vet thinks Scout has a canine version of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. He's just starting us trying some different things, and we are hoping to find something that will work. I'm trying not to worry about her too hard while am here.

It looks like I will have some blogging capabilities here, but probably no pictures or anything fancy! We did go for a short morning walk in the rain already.

Scout Goes to Day Care!

Today, Scout went to Doggie Day Care for the first time.

She went to a place called Dog Days over in our Adjoining City. Today was her Test Day because today is the day they have the fewest dogs stay with them. And, she boarded at this place during the summer, with less than spectacular results.

So, they wanted to be sure that we would be able to come and pick her up right away in case things were not going so well.

I got up very early this morning (for a day off) to take her over before all the other dogs arrived. Then, it seemed kind of funny and quiet in the house.

Not that she's a loud, barking dog. (She isn't.) But she is rather large, and conscpicuous by her absence. I guess I just missed her.

However, she passed her "day care" test today. She did fabulously well, and is invited back anytime. (But not overnight. She has, they say, "confinement issues.")

Now she is sleeping on the living room floor. So, it's still quiet around here.

By the way, Husband had "bone scan" today, but they were behind and had to re-schedule MRI. We hope everything goes ok.

And something appears to be wrong with one of the cars. Engine sounds sort of ominous.

P.S. Picture is from puppy-hood. Hope to get pumpkin outfit pictures soon.

Because My Dog is More Popular Than I Am...

Yesterday was a beautiful day. After a quick descent into autumn, it soared up into the 70s on Sunday. Even though after church we just had to take our naps, we couldn't let the day pass without getting ourselves and yes, Scout, out into it. She is feeling better lately, although I still have to give her the full course of the antiobiotic. We should be done in a couple of days. I am also gradually transitioning her to another food, a kind of half-homemade, half-prepared brand called Sojourner Farms. She was doing all right on the semi-raw diet, except that 1) it's kind of icky, and 2) I was concerned about whether she was getting all the right nutrients. I did like that I didn't have to deal with so many additives. The vet shared my concern about that and thought we should try more red meat with Scout. "She seems like she might be a red meat kind of dog," he said. Also, he said she should be getting more exercise.

So ... we live for our dog, you know. (Well, at least I do.) And Sunday was an opportunity that could not be passed up. So after the mandatory naps (which left me a little groggy, I'll admit) we packed up the dog and headed up to Lake of the Isles, where there is a great little dog park and walking paths.

We were waylaid at first, because my husband wanted to get a cigar, and then he kept thinking we were going to Another Lake, The Lake Where He Always Smokes A Cigar. So we drove around in circles for awhile, until we got to the right place, to the dog park where Scout used to go almost every day. She hasn't been for over a year.

The woman with the smart, frisbee-obsessed Border Collie recognized us right away, even after all this time. "Nobody came in the morning any more," I explained, my excuse for not showing up. We really went to play with other dogs and owners. There's no point in coming if we're the only ones.

In the meantime, after some initial sniffing, Scout starting making up to other dogs and people and pretty much ignoring us, as was her habit always at the park. She's fun to watch, as she solicits pets from most of the people, and checks out which might be the most fun dogs to play with. But she has an issue with coming when called, another reason, now I remember, why we stopped coming to the park. She had a brief interlude of fantastic obedience, during a time when she got ALL of her food by hand. She got NOTHING unless she obeyed. And, as the food-obsessed dog she is, she obeyed.

We have both backslid since then.

A few people asked what was wrong with her side. "Hot spot," I said. Pretty much everyone knows what that means. People always ask what kind of dog she is. "Golden retriever, Husky, probably shepherd," is the standard reply. Many people comment on how friendly she is. She is always smiling. She has no self-esteem problems.

After the park, we took a walk around the Lake, meeting more people and a few more dogs, including a 9 week old puppy. Husband said to me, "Do you know those people?" "No," I replied. "They just have dogs."

After we came home, we decided to keep being social butterflies. We went out to eat at a place we have never been before, Broder's Pasta Bar. It's not too far, and turned out to be a fun place. I even had a glass of wine.

And then, I got a call from RevDrKate, in anticipation of our RevGal brunch meet-up, which took place today. More on that later.

Next morning, I let Scout run in the yard, part of the "more exercise" orders from the vet. She promptly picked up a tomato (I know, it's too late for them) and ran around the yard with it, playing keep away until I came back with breakfast. That Scout! She's "high maintenance."

But I love her.

The True Story of why I got yelled at by the Vet

There are two things I've been avoiding: posting last Sunday's sermon, and telling this. As of now -- one down, one to go.

A week ago Monday, a date which will live forever in infamy, we had another of our now quite common thunderstorms. It started off at about 11:00, after we had gone to bed. The first thing Scout did was get up and run down to the basement, under our futon sofa.

You see, not everyone in our house had gone to bed. Stepson and his girlfriend were downstairs watching some kind of a cartoon marathon. I got up and shouted down to keep an eye on Scout. Then I went back to bed, or tried to, anyway, with all of the crashing and booming sounds.

The next morning when I got up, the first thing I noticed was that Scout was not on her bed. "Oh well, she's sleeping with Stepson," I thought, not too worried. But then, when I headed out to the living room and looked out the front window, I noticed: Stepsons car was not there. Apparently he had decided to sleep at his mom's house.

I opened the door to the basement and there, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging, was Scout. And behind her -- I could see even from the top of the stairs -- chaos. I didn't even want to go down there. And I didn't. I called Scout upstairs, and we called Stepson to warn him that he might want to come over and check out what Scout destroyed (or possibly ate) of his.

I was pretty sure my "dog who has always had a sensitive stomach" was going to be sick. She once ate a loaf of wheat bread (please, don't ask) and it took a long time for her to get back to normal. I also noticed that she was chewing her paws, and that when I touched them, they were kind of sticky (you know, like caramel). But I didn't really get worried until Stepson told us that it looked like she had eaten part of a hacky sack. And he was really worried about her too.

So I called the vet. I actually wasn't sure what the hacky sack was made of. I thought, like a bean bag, it had beans inside. (Actually, it had sand inside, which explains, I think, why Scout was so thirsty).

He didn't seem all that concerned, but wanted me to find out what was really inside the hacky sack, and what it was made of. That's when he asked me what Scout's diet was. And I told him about the chicken necks and thighs, and the rice, ground turkey and egg.

That's when he yelled at me. He said that the chicken necks were a greater risk than anything else. He said they could make her really sick.He said, "Would you eat those?" (I wouldn't, but I wouldn't eat kibble, myself, either.) I felt shamed and angry at the same time, and said, "Can we not talk about this right now?" He said, "Does she get any kibble at all?", to which I replied, "Yes, a little." He said she should probably not eat anything hard for a few days.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll just give her the rice, egg and ground turkey I give her in the evening." (I happen to know that this diet is often what vets recommend to dogs who are sick.)

By now you are probably thinking as badly about me as the vet. Even though this is not a veterinary approved diet, it was not my idea. Until January, Scout was getting a special prescription food exclusively. It was a very strict diet. She couldn't eat anything else. In January, we left Scout with our trainer and took our annual trip to Phoenix. A few days into our stay, we discovered the answering machine didn't work, and that our trainer had been trying to contact us.

It seems that Scout had gotten violently ill at her house. After trying to contact us for a couple of days, and not knowing what to do, she put Scout on the diet her dogs eat. Which is the part raw food, part cooked diet that I have described. Curious, I asked her, "how is she doing?"

"Really well," she replied.

"She hasn't been sick?"

"Not at all."

(At the veterinary hospital, there are two full pages on Scout. Besides the broken leg which I have written about previously, almost everything has to do with diet. She will eat anything; she is not picky at all. But she has had problems since puppyhood finding something that agreed with her. Before the latest prescription diet, she was, at one time, down to 47 pounds. She now hovers between 57-60. Also, when she eats something she isn't supposed to, she doesn't get as violently ill as she used to.)

To be perfectly honest, I am not totally comfortable with how I am feeding Scout. The vet succeeded in making me ashamed of what I was doing. But I'm not really sure where to go from here either.

By the way, Scout is feeling much better.

Tiredly,

Dog Rescuer

Thank you for all of your prayers and concerns regarding our beloved Scout, who went to stay at a "doggie hostel" for the first time. Unfortunately, she did not get better; she got worse. Last night she was sick during the night. The good people at the hostel believe it was stress, based on the behavior of the previous nights. Again, totally a night-time experience. But she slept all day today in their office.

This evening Husband's older son came and picked her up. She is resting at his house this evening and overnight. He and his roommate, who also likes dogs, will give her plenty of Tender Loving Care. They both get special awards for being "Dog Rescuers." (what would be a good token of appreciation?)

There is so much I still want to see and do here... but I'll be glad to have the "family" together tomorrow.

The History of Scout, part 6, "Bad Mom"

It was just a week after our trip to the University with Scout that we were planning to Go On Vacation. With younger son. But without Scout. The trip with Younger Son was an annual tradition. Every year we took a trip to somewhere of interest, usually places I had never been before. Because of Younger Stepson, I have been to Harrisburg and Nazareth, PA, to San Francisco and to Disney World/Universal Studios. We also made a trip to the Grand Canyon, although you can't say that I hadn't been there before. My family had stopped for about an hour on the way back from our unique car trip. But you can say I hadn't hiked part of the Bright Angel Trail before. This year's trip, shorter than some, was set for Philadelphia, another place I had never visited.

Husband was not willing to give up the annual trip because of a puppy. I, on the other hand, had mixed feelings. I felt that it was wrong to be gone during this important time in Scout's development. But I really wanted to go. We thought we had the perfect solution when Husband's other son, The One who Loves Dogs, offered to stay at our house and, along with his girlfriend, take care of Scout. They both came over one night and got instructions, along with the really long e-mail diagnosis and treatment from the behavioral vet. Everything seemed set.

There were just two complications. 1) The day we were leaving was the day Scout was set to make her last visit to the vet, get her splint checked and possibly get her cast off (remember the broken leg)? One of them thought they could do this. I would call the vet later and pay for the damage over the phone. 2) In order to get the very most out of a short vacation, we were scheduled to leave early in the morning. Very early. 4:00 a.m. to be exact. Father-in-law was set to pick us up and Stepson Who Loves Dogs was set to arrive at about 6:30, to do the morning routine. Girlfriend would come a little later and take Scout to the vet.

I did not anticipate how I would feel about leaving my dog in a kennel, in the dark, at 4:00 a.m., trusting that people would show up to care for her. I did trust them. I really did. But I felt really guilty, like I was doing something Wrong. How could I leave my baby alone, even just for a couple of hours? What if stepson and girlfriend forgot? Would the neighbors call the police? (you see how my brain was spiralling out of control.)

By the time we landed in Philadelphia, I had a terrible headache. It was also 98 in the shade that day, and, even at 9:00 in the morning, it was unpleasant. I wasn't having a good time yet. All I wanted to know is that Scout was safely at the vet. But it was earlier in Minneapolis, so I would have to put up with uncertainty for a few hours.

We dropped our bags off at the hotel (where it was actually too early to check in) and started to look around. We found a little cafe for breakfast. Stood in a long line to look at the Liberty Bell (which was fascinating, and ended up giving me much food for thought for a later sermon). We wandered around with me in a partially bad mood much of the time.

Finally, it was late enough to call home.

Everything was okay. And Scout got her pink bandages off! She was free! Maybe everything would be all right after all.

To be continued....
Visiting the Dog People,
Dog Park Days

The History of Scout, "Scout Is Not A Bad Dog"

Maybe people are getting tired of this: if so, let me know!

So, when we last left Scout and her owners, she had gotten a devastating diagnosis: she was "aggressive." When she wasn't being miss totally sunny personality, sucking up to everyone (which was most of the time), she would suddenly turn on us over something like a measuring cup or a bar of soap. The people at the Humane Society told us that if we didn't want to get rid of our dog, we did have to do something, because, they said ominously, "It will get worse." (They also said, "Aggression can't be cured, because agression is natural in dogs. It can only be managed.") The something they recommended was the State University's Veterinary Clinic, a doctor of behavioral medicine (sort of a psychiatrist for animals).

If you are referred to the University for treatment, you know that it must be Serious. So we felt some urgency about getting Scout to an appointment as soon as possible. We also felt some urgency because we are getting ready to take a short vacation. Without Scout. We were leaving her in the able hands of J's dog-loving son and his girlfriend. But we wanted to leave them with good instructions. Also, truth be told, I felt sort of nervous about leaving The Puppy.

While we waited for The Big Day, I engaged in some not very helpful behaviors, such as reading up on "Aggression" online. This made me more anxious than ever. There are many people, I discovered, who have opinions about what to do about aggressive behavior in dogs. They have different opinions. And they disagree with each other: violently.

We needed to fill out an extensive questionnaire about Scout's behavior, and submit it online. It wasn't easy to find an open time at the University (there must be other dogs with behavior problems), but we got her in on a Monday about 2 weeks after our fateful appointment at the Humane Society.

At the beginning of the appointment, the veterinary students came in. They did the initial interview and observation of Scout. One of the things they observed was Scout finding the Kleenex box and, one by one, taking each Kleenex out. That was fun. They also observed us saying "No" a lot, after which Scout would stop a behavior for a milli-second, and then go right back and do it again, somewhere else. They watched her playing with toys and jumping all over us and them.

Finally, the Doctor came in, a German woman with a good sense of humor, it turned out. She said she had observed us coming in, at the time we were weighing Scout, and had an idea about at least part of the problem. She observed us both, at the same time, telling Scout to "Sit." She said we were making a lot of noise, and perhaps confusing her, and frustrating her. Then she said one of the things that has stuck with me to this day: "What you have is a very smart dog. What you want is a very dumb dog."

She also said, "Your dog is too skinny," which made me feel like a bad dog-mom. But Scout was still getting sick, and the adult dog food she was getting wasn't enough nutrition for her. So she had her nutrtionist order the puppy version of the food for our local vet. She demonstrated for us something called "Target hand training", which worked more with visual than verbal cues, and also operated mostly on the theory of "positive reinforcement." She said that instead of just taking things away from Scout, we should always "Trade up" for something she wants more. She recommended we use something called a "Gentle Leader" for Scout's jumping. She recommended a book to read that has become one of my favorites: Culture Clash, by Jean Donaldson. She promised to send us detailed instructions via e-mail for "Target hand training" as well as the full transcript of the interview and diagnosis. She told us that Scout needs more exercise than we had been able to give her. She had a lot of excess energy (and still, remember, the cast).

She also told us that, at least for a while, we were not allowed to give any verbal commands to Scout. Everything had to be done via hand training. We could say her name, and praise her, but we couldn't command her verbally.

Then she said another thing that I will always remember, something that kept me going when things looked grim: "Scout is not a bad dog."

The cost: $500.00

To be continued (if anyone is interested)... "Bad mom"