Decisions: Update #2

Reyna had her appointment at the NCSU vet school Wednesday. Its taken me a couple of days to get this posted, partly because of a crazy schedule and partly because I’m still absorbing the information.

Dr. Roe is the ortho vet we saw. He specializes in dogs with bad hips, due to dysplasia, trauma, or other joint issues. The visit went really well. Dr. Roe spent a lot of time with us and answered all of my questions (some of them more than once). The student who took Reyna’s history and did the initial exam was nice enough to not put Reyna through a complete physical exam twice – she let Dr. Roe do the joint manipulations. After about 10 minutes of ignoring him, Reyna decided to forgive Dr. Roe for messing with her shoulders and hips.

Dr. Roe confirmed my belief that an FHO is not the optimal solution for Reyna, given her weight, activity level, and general health issues, but he did say that it was always an option to consider. Surprisingly, though, he said that he thinks Reyna is a good candidate for a total hip replacement (THR). I say “surprisingly” because my regular vet had already told me he thought Reyna’s femurs were too deformed to do the replacement. Granted, an ortho vet should know more about it than a general vet. I talked to my regular vet about it today, and he said the condition of Reyna’s hips (based on x-rays from two years ago) are in the grey area where he can’t say a THR is clearly an option, but he thinks that if Dr. Roe said she’s a good candidate, then she’s a good candidate.

The THR sounds like a much better option for her – Dr. Roe estimates she’d be 95-100% pain free with minimal damage to the other bad joints. Reyna would eventually be able to do the things she loves like running through the woods, SAR work, chasing her ball, wrestling with Duncan, and spinning frantically after her tail. Dr. Roe said that only about 20% of dogs ever need the second hip done, and those are usually performance dogs or giant breeds. He also said that most dogs can stop taking pains meds completely, or at least significantly reduce the need to incident treatment versus every day maintenance.

The recovery is pretty rough. The first four weeks the dog has to be kept very quiet, with the only exercise being short walks outside to potty. The second four weeks allow for a bit more exercise, very short walks on leash. The third four weeks are still on leash, but with more time and distance to the walks. The vet sees the dog after three months for an evaluation, and determines how much more exercise the dog is allowed to do. The next three months progress much the same way, with gradual increases in controlled exercise. At six months, the vet sees the dog and (ideally) gives the dog a clean bill of health. Dr. Roe told me about a medication they’ve been using to keep dogs with anxiety issues calm, and they’ve recently started using it on post-op dogs to keep them quiet so they don’t damage themselves. He mentioned that we could put Reyna on it a month before surgery to make sure she’s responding okay and get the correct dosage, and then she’d stay on it through the recovery period.

There are some potential complications, like dislocating the new hip, infection, or a cracked femur. The chances are fairly low, but they’re still there. The biggest downfall, of course, is the cost. Its only a few thousand dollars. Not sure how I can manage it, but I have a few ideas. If I decide we’re going to go with the THR, the earliest we can do it will be February, because of my work schedule. So that gives me a little bit of time to try and save some money. And I’ll keep putting in applications for a part-time job. I told Reyna that she needs to get a paying job, and she just grinned at me. I’m thinking that means she’s not going to make any real effort on that. Maybe I’ll just put Duncan on a street corner with sunglasses, a cane, a tin cup and a sign that says “Donations Accepted!”

Mutt Strutt, Here We Come – Again

The Mutt Strutt, which was originally scheduled for September 6, was moved to Saturday, November 1, courtesy of Tropical Storm Hanna. Duncan and I are still scheduled to demo, but I’m a bit confused about who’ll be joining us. We’ve lost one or two of the original group, and gained someone else. I think. We have a practice scheduled for Thursday, so I guess I’ll find out then. If you’re in Raleigh on Saturday, come on out and support the Wake County Animal Center!

We’re So Proud Of Us

Reyna had SAR Sunday morning – only three sessions left before we wrap up for the year. They’ll start sessions again in January, but I don’t know if Reyna and I will participate. It all depends on how she’s doing.

Yesterday went very well. Our session started at 7:00am, but the trainer made us wait until 7:30 because it was still too dark to see in the woods. And he very nicely didn’t want me and Reyna tripping over every stick and falling in the gullies just to go find someone. When we finally started out, the trainer made a few suggestions about the best way to approach the exercise, based on terrain and wind conditions. What he apparently forgot was that telling me doesn’t mean a whole lot – I go where Reyna wants to go, so if he want us to take a specific path, he needs to talk to her. We started out following the trainer’s suggestions, but Reyna kept getting annoyed by a fence that was blocking her from a slightly easier route. She decided she was done with that and veered off to find a new path. In fact, she found a very nice, wide path. We followed it for a ways, and then she turned around and trotted back the way we’d come. She took me into an old family cemetery, sniffed at a couple of headstones, and then trotted over to our missing person. After our “You found her!” party, I told Reyna to “take me home.” (Note: “Take me home” means different things to Reyna, depending on where we are. During SAR sessions, it means that she needs to lead me back to the truck. When we’re in the woods behind the house, it means that she takes me to the pond where we always play before we go back to the house.) She took us through the woods – using a shortcut of her choosing – straight to the main road. As we walked towards the vehicles, I saw the trainer working with another team. He left that team and met us, looking worried. He seemed very confused, and glanced at his watch.

Trainer: What’s wrong?
Me: Nothing. We found Megan, so we’re headed back to the truck.
Trainer: You already found her?
Me: Yep.
Trainer: Already?
Me: Yes. We started out the way you suggested, but Reyna didn’t like it, so she found an easier path to take. We overshot the cemetery at first, but then she went right back to it and found Megan.
Trainer: Really?
Me: Yeah.
Trainer: That should have taken longer.
Me: Um, okay. Why?
Trainer: That was a very advanced exercise.
Me: Okay…
Trainer: It should have taken Reyna longer than 10 minutes. It was a very hard search.
Me: Heh. No one told Reyna that.
Trainer: Take her home. She’s done for the day.

Reyna and I strolled back to the truck, smug expressions on both our faces.

When Good Rabbits Go Bad

It seems like the rabbit that the pups had for breakfast one morning about a month ago is coming back to haunt them. Reyna has tapeworms, which dogs can get only from eating fleas. And since neither of the dogs have fleas and they haven’t been hanging out with other dogs, the rabbit is the likely culprit. I was surprised to discover that it can take a month or more between eating the fleas and showing indications of tapeworms. I’ll be picking up meds for Reyna and Duncan from the vet today. Duncan has not shown the same indications of worms, but he has been throwing up every day this week. Then last night and this morning, his poop was, let’s say, unpleasant. The vet thinks Duncan may actually have tapeworms and they’re irritating his intestinal tract. So, both pups get deworming meds today, and Duncan gets to take Pepcid AC for the next few days to see if that settles down his innards. Paws crossed...

When Cold Is Bad

For the last few months, Reyna’s been the one who decides how long we stay outside. Most of the time, we'll stay out for a long while, running around the yard, playing keep away or catch. The days that she doesn’t feel too great, though, we usually don’t stay out too long. On rare occasions, I’ll stay out with Duncan for a few minutes after Reyna’s gone inside and throw his ball. This morning was a bad one for Reyna. She went outside just long enough to potty and make one lap around the yard. Before she finished that lap, she was limping. I’m hoping that she’ll adjust to the cooler temps soon and won’t have too much trouble as Fall and Winter progress. But I’m more worried that, if she’s having this much trouble now, its just going to get a lot worse as the weather gets colder.

A Pooped Pup

Sunday, Duncan and I met Marie and Sophie at Lake Johnson for walk. We did about a mile with Marie and Sophie, and after walking them back to their car, Duncan and I set off in the other direction. I had a vague idea of only going a mile or so and then turning back, but we ended up walking the entire loop. According to my pedometer, Duncan and I covered a bit more than four miles. He was acting like he wanted to keep going, although I’d noticed that on the last couple of hills he’d eased back from walking at the end of his leash to walking beside me. Since I didn’t feel like doing another nearly three mile loop, we headed on home. My big, strong boy - who was so ready to keep walking - collapsed when we got home, and spent the next three hours unconscious on his bed.

Well, Yes, She Does Have Her Quirks

Late last summer I bought some crunchy treats for Reyna. I got them specifically because they didn’t contain lamb, beef, chicken or wheat, which meant she should be able to eat them without ripping out her fur later. One bag was carrot flavor and the other was apple flavor. She didn’t like them. In fact, she turned her nose up so fast I’m surprised she didn’t wrench her neck. They sat in the cabinet until a week ago. Reyna was bugging me for a cookie, so I decided to give her one of those, figuring she’d look at it and leave. Boy, was I wrong. Not only did she eat it, she asked for another one. So I pulled out the other bag to see if she’d eat the other flavor. She did. And Duncan started eating them, too. Friday, I bought new bags of the carrot and apple flavors, and I bought a bag of blueberry treats, too. Last night, Reyna started pestering for a cookie again, so I brought out the three bags. She ate all three flavors of cookies and kept asking for more. When I put them away, she sat in front of the cabinet until she realized I wasn’t going to bring them back out. I don’t know what has changed from last summer to now, but I’m glad I didn’t just toss the treats away last year.

Duncan had his annual check-up Saturday (and he’s just fine). While we were there, I talked with the vet a bit more about an FHO for Reyna. He admitted that there would most likely be damage to her other hip, her shoulder, and her knees during the recovery period because she’d be compensating for the surgical hip. He then said there’s no way to estimate the amount of potential damage; we’d just have to wait until the damage was done to see how bad it was. Gee, that’s a comforting thought. He also said that yes, it was very possible that the recovery could go horribly wrong, just because of Reyna’s quirks and other health issues. He said that, if I decide to put her through the surgery, I should assume that I’ll be dealing with all the stuff that could go wrong (infection, ripping out fur, chewing the tail, seizures, injuries to the other joints, etc), and just hope for the best. I should have asked him if he’ll make house calls when she starts trying to eat her tail.

Just A Dog

From time to time, people tell me, 'lighten up, it's just a dog,' or, 'that's a lot of money for just a dog.'

They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or the costs involved for 'just a dog.'

Some of my proudest moments have come about with 'just a dog.'

Many hours have passed and my only company was 'just a dog,' but I did not once feel slighted.

Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by 'just a dog,' and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of 'just a dog' gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's 'just a dog,' then you will probably understand phrases like 'just a friend,' 'just a sunrise,' or 'just a promise.'

'Just a dog' brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.

'Just a dog' brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person.

Because of 'just a dog', I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.

So for me and folks like me, it's not 'just a dog' but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.

'Just a dog' brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it's not 'just a dog', but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being 'just a man or woman.'

So the next time you hear the phrase 'just a dog' just smile...because they 'just don't understand.'

- Anonymous

Moreness

Duncan discovered a new game Saturday night. Its called Herding The Neighbor’s Children. Not really the best game, considering he weighs more than the kids (and more than the two girls combined). The game started in the usual fashion: one of the kids dropped their ball, Reyna picked it up, and keep away ensued with much shrieking. Duncan got a bit too excited, though, and after about 10 minutes he started herding. With his mouth. He nipped one of the girls on her calves several times, and then he started nipping at various arms. He never actually bit anyone, but he was very mouthy and the girls were terrified. By the time the fun ended, all three kids were plastered up against their dad and Duncan was running around them, occasionally reaching in to try and grab one of them. I wouldn’t be too concerned about it, but Duncan has shown before that he really doesn’t know how big and strong he is and he tends to forget that he has to be gentle with everyone other than Reyna.

And speaking of Reyna, weekends are obviously the hardest for her. She did better this Sunday than last, but she was still limping by the afternoon. And she seemed to be much more tired than usual. She handled the SAR session well, and the trainer made a point of laying a track for her on the easiest terrain. She has next Sunday off, so we’ll see if that makes a significant difference. If it does, I may cancel the rest of her sessions. Unfortunately, doing that means we’re just one step closer to the end.

Belle’s doing much better these days, which is nice. Her eye has finally started clearing up. I don’t think the flip-flopping temperatures are helping much, but I’m not closing my windows just for her. The other day, Belle was drinking from their water bowl when Khar’pern decided to lay down on the opposite side of the bowl. Without any warning, Khar shoved the bowl straight at Belle. I’m not sure what upset Belle more – the sheer rudeness of it all, getting her legs bumped by the bowl, or snorting water up her nose…

Kittyness

Belle had her annual check-up two and a half weeks ago and was given a clean bill of health. The only problem was her hatred of the other cats. And, really, if she quit having such an attitude, I’d probably think something was wrong with her. And the attitude makes sense, when you consider that Loki likes to play “I’m not touching you,” Mikey likes to sit on her head, and Per’la pounces on her when she’s sleeping… Last week, though, Belle woke up with a cold. She’s still feeling pretty cruddy and her eye is all ooky. Nothing the vet can do for her, so she just has to tough it out.

Last night, I discovered Khar’pern under the sink, reposing very regally upon a package of toilet paper. She looked rather put out that I’d had the nerve to open the cabinet door.

Doggyness

Last night before bed, the dogs kept checking out the back fence. They were obviously hearing or smelling something in the woods. Whatever it was, it apparently came back, because Duncan woke me up a few minutes before 1:00, running out the back door. Reyna didn’t bother to join him, but Duncan was rather fierce (i.e., vocal) in his determination to make the intruder go away. What was so funny about it was that his voice cracked twice. Both times he started out barking his loud and deep Big Dog bark, and both time he ended up baying. And both times, he turned into an adolescent male. I really wish I’d had my video camera – nothing to see, but certainly something funny to hear.

Reyna had a rough weekend with her hips, but she was feeling a lot better this morning. She kept teasing Duncan after breakfast with her stuffed hot dog. She didn’t play with Duncan much over the weekend, but I did get a couple of neat pictures Saturday when they played for a minute or so. Notice the stick in Reyna’s mouth…



And here she is, staring obsessively at Niko. Niko didn't seem bothered by her at all, even when she knocked his cage over (I caught that on the video camera, along with me cussing at Reyna...).


Reyna has an appointment at the NCSU Vet School on the 29th. John suggested contacting them for a second opinion. Not sure why that didn’t occur to me, so I’m just going to blame the stress. They’ll look at her old x-rays and do new ones. I don’t really expect them to offer a new or significantly different solution, but I’m hoping they might have more/better statistics they can show me. And since they haven’t been her vet since she was 10 weeks old, they have no emotional investment in her. I wish they could see her sooner, but that was the earliest slot available.

Duncan The Dancing Dog

Duncan and I did a freestyle demo Wednesday night for the German Shepherd Dog club, along with two other members of our Tailshakers club. It was definitely a success. Duncan and I danced to “Its in His Kiss,” Melissa and Kai showed off a few moves (their CD wouldn’t play), and Mandy and Socks danced to “Yes, Sir, She’s My Baby.” Then we did our team routine, gave a brief lesson on a couple of basic moves, and answered questions. And by popular demand, Mandy and Socks went back on the floor to show off some fancy steps. Duncan performed beautifully, even though we haven’t practiced in over a month. Something about following the scent of hot dogs, I’m sure. But the nice thing about the GSD club is that everyone there knows and loves Duncan, so they would have applauded anything he did. They even laughed and cooed when he flipped over on his back during the business meeting and kicked Deeda in the leg a few times.

A Gourmet Breakfast

Early this morning, I saw Reyna in the yard crunching on something, and it occurred to me that I might have to fuss at her later about eating acorns. Because they’re not really good for dogs. And then I moved on to dealing with the six furry monsters that kept me awake for several hours before dawn.

Going into the living room, I started our work-day routine by playing Oh-My-God-I’m-So-Happy-You’re-Awake with the dogs, opening the front and back doors, and checking my email. Back in the living room, I was gathering a few items together and happened to glance over at the back porch. Just beyond the door was a little carcass. I assumed it was a bird, since Reyna has brought me a couple of birds over the years. Not that I think she’s ever killed one...its much more likely that they’ve flown into a window or the side of the house and snapped their neck and she decided to take advantage. So, I get my gloves and walk to the back door and realize its not a bird. It’s a rabbit. Sort of. Actually, it was just a rabbit head and part of a front leg. And then I realized Reyna wasn’t crunching on acorns.

After tossing the rabbit head over the fence, I grabbed my shovel and started checking the yard. I found the back legs, still connected to each other but in a position no rabbit would ever enjoy, with just a smidge of fur still on one set of toes. I also found various innards scattered around. The dogs didn’t seem upset with me throwing the remains of their breakfast over the fence, so they were probably done with it. If I’d left it in the yard, they might have worked on it some more, but I was worried they might decide to bring parts inside. And, after all, Reyna does like to bury things in the couch and chair.

Based on the parts I found, it was a pretty big rabbit. I’m betting Reyna’s the one who killed it, because Duncan would probably just try to play with it. But they’d obviously shared the spoils. And I have to admit, I was impressed that there was no damage to the rabbit’s head – other than the fact that it was no longer attached to the rest of its body, of course. For a second, I thought about taking a picture so everyone could share, but you know what? Fluffy groundhogs stuck in fences are cute. Decapitated rabbit heads, not so much.

Ahhh....

I'd forgotten how liberating it is to lose 4 inches of hair....

Decisions: Update

Found out today that Ashley's Angel Fund isn't going to help with Reyna's surgery. According to them, I make enough money that I should just be able to pay for it up front or put it all on a credit card. I wish they'd look at how much goes out and not just how much comes in...

They Come, But They Don't Like To Stay

Update: John has informed me that he did not drop the groundhog, he just put it down very qiuckly.

Early Sunday afternoon, the pups and I went outside to play. Duncan immediately went to the back left corner near the rose bushes and started checking the fence. He was so interested and focused that I started looking at the fence. The first thing I saw was a couple of areas along the back that I thought were mole holes into the yard. On closer inspection, I realized they were holes dug by something trying to get out of the yard, but with no success. By this point, Duncan was nosing around one of the rose bushes, so I went to see what was so interesting. I saw a grey fluffy body beneath the bush, and my first thought was “Oh, crap! The neighbor’s cat is in the yard!” Then I realized the tail was all wrong for a cat. And then I realized I had a groundhog stuck in the fence.


By this point, Reyna realized Duncan and I were looking at something, so she came over to check it out. Thinking the groundhog was just wedged under the fence, I tried moving the bottom edge of the fence a bit to see if that would help, but it didn’t. That’s when I figured out that the poor thing had tried to go out through one of the openings in the fence, rather than underneath. Checking the area, I could tell that his intended exit point was where he’d originally come into the yard. There was a hole dug there, with the dirt on the outside of the fence.


I got the dogs inside, since they were bugging the groundhog (plus, I was afraid if it got loose it would do some serious damage to one of them, and another vet bill really isn’t on the list of things I need these days). And then I called Trusty John. We talked about snipping the fence, but I was worried about hurting the groundhog worse trying to get snips between its neck and the fence. So John said he’d come on over and help. I went back outside to see how it was doing, and found that he’d flipped over onto his back.



John came over, and Operation Groundhog Rescue commenced. John didn’t want me taking pictures of him, so there aren’t any of the rescue. He managed to slide the groundhog’s chubby cheeks back inside the fence, and its head slipped free. And that’s when John got curious. As he was looking at the groundhog, it started struggling and bit him (John was wearing gloves, so no damage was done). When he dropped it, the poor thing was still on the wrong side of the fence and clearly confused about how to get out. He finally got back to the rose bush and crawled under the fence (its original plan, I’m sure). That little groundhog probably broke the current groundhog speed record, running away as fast as it could. With luck, it’ll tell all its little friends to avoid the yard.

Duncan was devastated to realize his new buddy was gone. I’m sure he would have hugged it and squeezed it and called it George. But Reyna probably would have tried to eat it. Since then, every time we go outside Duncan runs to the corner to see if his friend has come back. And Reyna has decided that if Duncan is looking at something at or near the fence, she has to go look, too. Because you never know, something interesting might be there.

How Duncan Hides Things

Here is Duncan, pretending to be asleep, but really just hiding a bone from Reyna. With his foot.


And here he is, hiding a pig snout (yes, I said pig snout) from Reyna. With his mouth.


The sad part of both of these incidents is that Reyna didn't seem to realize that he had a bone. Or a pig snout. But then again, maybe she knew, she just didn't think it was worth the effort.

YouTube Is Educational

Yesterday at Target, I happened to get in a check-out line with a cute guy in front of me and a kid working the register.

Kid: You want cash back?
Cute Guy: Yes, one $20 and four $5s, please.
Kid thinks about this.
Cute Guy: But you can give me more than that, if you want.
Kid stares at Cute Guy, then stares at the cash in his hands. Cute Guy and I grin at each other, waiting for Kid to figure it out.
Kid: Oh! Huh. I get it.
Kid hands cash to Cute Guy.
Cute Guy (to me): The Jedi Mind Control almost worked that time.
Me: You were so close.
Cute Guy leaves, Kid starts scanning my items.
Kid: Was he serious about the Jedi Mind Control?
Me: Excuse me?
Kid: Beause I’ve been learning about it on YouTube.
Me: Really?
Kid: Yeah. So, was he serious?
Me: No. If he was serious, we’d all be using it.
Kid: Oh.

Decisions

Reyna has been deteriorating physically over the last few months. She’s been seizure-free for over a year now, and her allergies are under control. Unfortunately, her joints are causing a lot of trouble.

Two years ago she was diagnosed with severe dysplasia in her right hip and moderate dysplasia in her left hip. We’ve been treating that with glucosamine, chondroitin, omega 3 and Rimadyl, an anti-inflammatory. She would have occasional bad days, but most were good. The exception was last summer with the Phenobarbital, but once I got her off of that, she went back to normal. That’s changed.

Over the last 6 months, I’ve had to increase her maintenance meds twice and finally upped them a 3rd time this weekend. She’s had to have a higher dose on weekends (when I’m home and she’s more active) just so she can function. Every week or so, I see a new indication that she’s in constant pain, although I do think the severity of that pain changes throughout the day. In May, the vet found arthritis in her right front shoulder. Friday, the vet found early signs of arthritis in both knees. And when he made her bear her weight on her right rear leg, she bit him. Politely, of course. But, still. We’re rapidly reaching the point where I have to decide what’s the right thing to do for my girl. I have options. I just don’t know which one I’m going to select.

The first option is to do nothing. Keep her at the current (max) dose of anti-inflammatories and just wait it out. I don’t see this happening, because I will not be the person who says, “But she’s only been crying every time she gets up or lays down for the last few months...”

The second option is to start creating a cocktail of anti-inflammatories and pain killers, trying to find the right combo that eases her pain but doesn’t make her stupid or sick. This would be a slow process, figuring out which meds are the most effective and at what dose. Basically a trial-and-error process that is based solely on my observations of her behavior. And she would be on these meds for the rest of her life, making alterations when some new indication popped up that they weren’t working as well as they should.

The third option is surgery. The vet checked her x-rays from 2 years ago and said she is not a likely candidate for a hip replacement, because the neck of the femur bone of her right hip was already deformed. He is recommending a Femoral Head Ostectomy (FHO). In an FHO, the femur’s head and part of the neck are removed. Muscle is pulled up and over the remaining bone. This creates a “false joint” and prevents any more bone-on-bone contact. Its generally considered a salvage surgery, because once the bone is removed, nothing else can be done. The dog never gets back full range of motion, but the amount of pain should decrease significantly. Rehab takes 2-3 months for an active dog and involves a lot of work from the owner. The good thing is that the dog cannot damage the bone by too much activity (which is important, because I don’t think there are enough drugs in the world to keep Reyna quiet for several weeks), but they can set their recovery back a bit by making themselves sore. The surgery is generally done on one hip first, and the dog is given time to heal. If there appears to be a need for it, sometimes the second hip is also done. It just depends on how the dog reacts.

The fourth option is putting Reyna to sleep. This is the option I REALLY don’t want to do. The vet is against this because she’s young, active, and her pain is still manageable. Of course, the vet isn’t the person who has to pay for surgery or a lifetime of drugs.

The vet is suggesting either the drug cocktail or the surgery. I don’t want Reyna on a lot of drugs for the next several years. Never mind the wear on my bank account, I just don’t see how loading her with drugs can be a good thing. Especially since the pain is likely to continue getting worse over time. And its not like she can tell me if she doesn’t feel right...she just has to hope I see every behavioral change.

At this point, though, the surgery is pretty much a non-option, just because of the cost. An FHO is a lot cheaper than a total hip replacement, but I’d still be looking at a significant lay-out of funds. And even with the surgery, Reyna would still likely be on a low dose of anti-inflammatories for the rest of her life because of the arthritis in her shoulder and knees. Granted, there’s a good chance the arthritis wouldn’t get much worse, because she would be able to actually use her back legs more than she can now.

The vet and I talked about the financial aspect on Friday, and he told me this morning that he’s contacted Ashley’s Angel Fund to see if they would help us. The Fund is set up to assist with the cost of procedures that will either save a dog’s life or significantly increase the dog’s quality of life. If they agree to help us, the Fund would pay for 50% of the costs, which would already be dropped by 20% because of the arrangements between the vet’s office and the Fund. We should know in the next week or so if they’re going to agree to help Reyna. If they do, that puts the surgery option back on the table. I have to admit, I am extremely touched that he thought about this over the weekend and went through the process of applying for us. And my dear, sweet boss has already said he’ll arrange for me to work from home for a couple of weeks so I can take care of her, if this is the route we take.

For now, though, I’ve decided to add one new pain med to see if that helps her get through the day. She had trouble this Sunday during her SAR session – her first short search went fine, but she was hurting enough that she didn’t even pretend like she was searching the second time. Beyond this, I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t really like any of the options, but I know I can’t let her go on like this, getting worse on a steady basis, and not do something to help her. I know some people will say, “Its just a dog.” And to those people, I say, “How sad for you, that you’ve never experienced the joy of having a Reyna in your life.”

What A Weekend

The weekend was a colossal failure in the sense that I didn’t manage to get anything on my list done except taking the dogs to the pond. On the upside, I did manage to do a LOT of relaxing. The dogs had a great weekend, too. I know that by how hard they slept when we weren’t playing.

We got in two trips to the pond, and Duncan looked very handsome in his life jacket. Unfortunately, me being in the pond in my canoe wasn’t sufficient to get him swimming. He did moan and run along the bank a good bit, but wouldn’t get any deeper than his belly. Here he is, telling me it just isn’t worth it to actually swim.


I think the next step is to go somewhere with a nice, shallow bank so I can walk in with him. Carrying hot dogs. But not this hot dog.


And here are the pups in what became the standard activity of the weekend when I was sitting on the couch, reading or watching TV. Yep, all the horror stories are true...they have very hard lives.



And now I get to spend the rest of the week reminding myself that we're a day ahead of what my brain thinks.