Cat for Sale

This is the bumster who was sooooo sick not two days ago and cost me slightly over $400 to find out he is just fine per his X rays this morning. In fact, I think he liked the vet so much he will fake his way back there if he can. They *adored* him for some unknown reason, probably because they don't live with the orange menace.

Since I only now figured out how to take video on my little point and shoot camera and upload it, it isn't the finest quality but you can see that although Dexter has managed to adapt very well to his disease, he is still not exactly the picture of poise and grace. If you look carefully, you can see his little head tremors that come out when he gets excited about chasing his mouse. This is Dexie at his most demure. Now that I can have video fun, I will post him in his more embarrassing moments provided I can keep from laughing and keep the camera still!

What's a hypochondriac mom?

The Sopranos and the Bumsters

I have been so filled with good news lately when it comes to the Polar Bear, I think it's important to also present a balanced view of life with him . While he has indeed made tremendous progress, the offer to sell him and the idea of having to explain to someone how to handle him, made me think about and remember just what is involved in caring for and loving PB.

He is still an incredibly difficult dog. When he tried to walk our new route on Saturday, he froze a gazillion times and it took us eons to move along. If one trigger appears, guaranteed that a second one is not additive but instead, will multiply his reaction to the nth degree. When that woman offered to buy him, I tried to imagine having to explain to her, hypothetically since I would never, ever sell him of course, all the things I have learned about how to handle him and all she would have needed to know: what to do when he meets men, how to handle kids, what he needs when it gets windy outside etc. etc. ad infinitum. I can't imagine how his foster mom was able to turn him over to me and have the restraint to let me figure it out by myself after she spent 13 months figuring him out. I had to muddle through (still am) and make so many mistakes with him which she let me do because it was important that I learn the process and not just the answer. It's made me better able to care for him since I can work it out myself now but I can't imagine having that restraint myself as she did.

Today, I thought I would walk him in a large open park very close to where I was getting my oil changed. So while we waited for the car, we walked through the park and trails. He had a meltdown. I am very cognizant that I tend to push him too far so I have been making a huge effort to keep him well below any threshold and not push him like I used to in the beginning. I truly thought he would have no problems with just walking through a huge park. Instead, he barked, growled, froze and generally stressed himself out completely. I can only guess that the men he saw from a distance at the dealership started the downward spiral. I should have known that was too much for him.

I recently read this book, financed by my squad!



The author does a great job of advocating for just relaxing and letting a dog be a dog. She gave me a lot of insight into a dog's perspective and after reading the book, I resolved to be even more relaxed about PB and not pushing him to be something he's not. And yet, today we ended up once again, in a place of fear for him.

I would be lying if I didn't confess there are some days I wish I had gone to the pound and gotten one of the zillions of dogs that just wants to be in an active home with someone who has time to run them, hike with them, thrown the ball for them etc. A dog who is uber social and can go everywhere and love everyone. PB is so stressful sometimes that I wonder what I was thinking and whether we have really come that far after all. Sometimes I need to give myself a reality check and realize that he is still a fearful dog with a sad beginning and that we really have come a long way.

PB will always be a stressful dog in many ways. He requires constant management and is a huge responsibility. But he has taught me so much and I now feel confident enough with what I know of shy and fearful dogs that I can agree to foster a dog and know that I can at least set them on the right path. Our obedience class reminds me of how relatively advanced he and I are compared to most people in this arena because we have to be and most of the time, I now know intuitively the best way to handle a fearful situation. And most of all, I love PB and couldn't imagine being without him even though he is an antisocial baby!

Blah blah blah! Quit with the psychobabble! You'll scare off the Sopranos!

This is PB in his frozen state in the morning when he goes outside only to discover that our 4 squirrels, whom I have christened the Sopranos, are at the bird feeder again. I started calling them that because they are little thugs who steal from all the birds but who somehow evade the law (PB) every time. PB will stand there for a good 10 minutes before he can take it no longer and races out to chase them. Evidently the fact that he fails every time has not been enough to make him rethink his tactics. It's not like they don't notice there is a large white dog standing 40 feet away...

Heh heh heh. Imported straight from Sicily...

As for the cats - Hornblower wrote in a recent comment that her word verification word was "bumsters" which we thought was pretty funny. In fact, I thought it was so funny that I decided it suits those miserable cats perfectly and they shall henceforth be called the Bumsters. The Bumsters nearly met an early end when their little pea sized brains short circuited yesterday. Why? Because the Sopranos drove away the blue jays who then moved closer to the house to get their food.

Heeere, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty.

When the Bumsters looked out the sliding glass door and saw this guy about 10 feet from their fat little faces, they went into kitty seizures. Maybe that's why Dexter is sick. He has a blue jay stuck in his gullet.

We're not sure what's wrong with the orange menace other than his X rays show him to be STUFFED full of food. Unknown if he has a blockage or what is going on. Although he has not been sick since I brought him home from the vet, he is still coughing and he still feels as taut as a stuffed sausage and I think he still has some kind of partial blockage. So we will fast him tonight and he goes back to the vet tomorrow for more X rays to see if his tummy empties at all after fasting. However, he is still a maniac and clearly isn't dying because he's driving me insane, racing around the house and biting my toes. Why can't I have normal animals?

How Much Is That Doggie In the Window?

Today, PB and I were out for an extended walk around the University of Washington campus and through downtown since 1) it was a relatively nice day and 2) he has been a bastard of late, even after I have walked him. He gets barky, jumpy and starts throwing the cat toys around because evidently our one hour isn't enough. So today we went for almost 2 hours.

While we were walking on the wetland trail, a bicyclist stopped and she said he was the most, "beautiful, majestic dog she had ever seen". She then offered to buy him from me. She didn't give us a price but intimated that I could name my price. Ha! I told her if she had a million dollars in cash in a briefcase, I wouldn't take it. Some things just can't be bought. She also failed to notice we had been sitting there for at least 10 minutes because he was frozen in terror at taking a new route. Little did she know that beautiful dog is still a handful.

She asked me his breed but I figured anyone who would offer to buy a dog just because he's beautiful is probably not an ideal dog owner and out of fear that if I told her what he was, she would rush out and buy a fluffy white Maremma puppy, I told her I had no idea what kind of dog he was and that I got him from the pound. Yikes - definitely not the person who should have an LGD. He is not a clothing accessory.

I chuckled to myself all the way home. To think I would ever give up my PB! But....that won't stop me from reminding him when he is being a bastard that I could have sold him and been a lot richer and not had to deal with his psychiatric issues!

What idle threats you make.

This photo is courtesy of PB's foster mom. It's one of my favorites because it captures him perfectly. He says you cannot put a price on me, even when I deserve to be returned to the pound.

Cross your fingers for Dexter who is at the vet on an emergency basis because he is vomiting every time he eats. No doubt the little chubster ate a mouse tail or toy and now I will have to fork it out for surgery to remove whatever it is he ate. Monster.

Maybe I should sell *him* instead....

Saint Polar Bear

Yesterday PB decided to martyr himself. I don't know where he learned this as we aren't exactly a religious household. The day began without a cloud in the sky, sunny and beautiful. By 1pm, we had torrential rainfall and howling wind that knocked out my power. Of course, I slept through the sunny weather and when I awoke, I was forced to suck it up and take PB for his walk in the rain.

He loves the rain so he didn't care. I was less than excited. I drove him down to the Sammamish River slough and we walked for miles along the trail. Even PB was ready for his towelling off and the car by the end. When we got home, I got a fresh towel and thoroughly scrubbed and massaged him dry which he loves. And then, with a disgusted look because I wouldn't let him get on the sofa, he walked outside, sat in the middle of the yard in the pouring rain until he was thoroughly soaked again and marched right back to the dirt under my bird feeder, thus turning himself into a mud dog. And then he fixed me with a martyred and woeful eye. Which you can't see because the photo is too far away and I wasn't about to go stand in the swamp.

Oh the horror! The horror!

You would think I deprive and abuse this dog every day of his life. He stared at me for the next hour, refusing to come in and stay dry and warm and trying (and failing) to make me guilty. He conveniently forgot that earlier in the day, I returned from the fancy pet store after spending well over a hundred dollars on him, bearing special treats for class today, a new 30 foot long lead, doggie shampoo and these:

Sucker. Did you really pay that much money for us?

They squeak but softly since PB is still sound sensitive. They are cute and fuzzy. I got them because more and more, when PB is trying to entice me to play with him, he picks up the stuffed cat toys and walks around with them in his mouth. He isn't sure what to do with them but it's the first time he's ever showed any interest in toys at all. So I figured I would give him something one step up from the huge, stiff with dried slobber, dead squeaky hedgehog I still have from Hudson and am too sentimental to throw away.

Hoping to give him with something new and stimulating, I presented him with the toys and he actually took the one on the left in his mouth and carried it around a bit before deciding they were the stupidest things he's ever seen and added them to his scornful look from the back of the garden. Clearly I am insulting his intelligence by bringing such toys home to him. The cats however, think they are the greatest thing ever and Dexter tries to drag them all over the house. Sigh.

PB thus decided he can amuse himself all on his own. When I got up this morning, I found four ravenous squirrels on my far bird feeder and PB poised and quivering on the edge of the deck. He finally could take it no more and rushed back to chase them off. Even with that extra dewclaw, he can't climb a tree though:

Do you see him mom? Do you? Do you?

He then took up a surveillance post, poised and waiting....and waiting....and waiting....

You do not see me. I am a rock.

So I figured to hell with him. Squirrels are a lot cheaper than stuffed squeaky toys and god knows the cats don't need any more toys seeing as how I nearly kill myself at least once a day on all their mice.

Today we found this girl on petfinder. I emailed Janet and told her I would love to foster her and am hoping that I can go pick her up very soon. We need to get her out of the shelter, bathed and cleaned up and get some good food in her. I have a feeling she will be a gorgeous dog when she is all beautified. PB will get a girlfriend :)

We are off to go for a walk so crazy boy isn't too crazy in his class tonight. Wish us luck!

Roswell, WA

When I returned from Jordan, I found my garden an overgrown mass of weeds and an assault to my obsessive-compulsive senses. Normally I would happily work in my yard but since I can't bend, kneel or squat, weeding is not an option these days. As a result, my gardeners came yesterday and cleaned it all up, leaving everything in pristine, perfect condition. Which thrilled me. It did not thrill the Polar Bear.


PB only gets really excited about three things in life. Me, digging in the dirt and bacon. He doesn't play with toys and while he enjoys his bully sticks and bones, he is still rather quiet and reserved in his expressions of happiness over them in his remote LGD way. He has dutifully spent the last year and a half digging himself shallow depressions all over the yard. The dirt border around my lawn is perfect for his digging which he throws himself into with great abandon.

Helloooo China? I know you're in there...

He does not dig without purpose - PB does nothing without a purpose. He digs not to get out of the yard but to keep himself cool in the summer and to make a comfy spot to lay under the trees out of the rain in the winter. Consequently, my yard looks like UFO's have landed in it all over the place. I call it Roswell out there.

Beam me up, Scotty.

Poor PB was horrified to emerge into the yard after the gardeners left yesterday (which he undoubtedly believes is because he barked at them for 3 hours straight) to find his holes all neatly filled in and raked over.

I am so depressed. I think I need more Prozac.

Why yes you do PB! And you shall get it. PB went to the behaviorist on Sunday and we decided to up his Prozac to 30 mg a day. He is on 20 right now and was on 40 at his highest dose. We decided 40 wasn't necessary but he is stressed enough at 20 that bumping it up a little would lessen that. Otherwise, he got a fantastic report card. He lay down and slept while we talked which was in itself, a small miracle as he has never "settled" for her before. She was very impressed with how far he has come since we last saw her. She encouraged us to get an older, large, happy, mellow dog for him which of course was all the validation I need!

For my birthday, my parents agreed to pay for a photo session with a great photographer in BC who does fabulous dog photos. Her photos can be viewed at her blog www.wootube.net which is a site worth visiting, not only for the amazing dog photos but for her hilarious commentary that goes with them. So hopefully we will get a supply of great photos for this blog since I am hopeless with the camera.

PB has been earning his keep tracking down the escapee kitties who have mastered the doggie door. As soon as he sees them poke their fat little heads out, he flies off the sofa and they either run their waddling butts down the hall and up their kitty condo or else they fly out into the backyard where he rounds them up and they are forced to launch themselves back inside the house and race to safety under the bed. It's an amusing event to watch and he only had to "herd" Stabby in once because apparently the sheer terror of the giant white polar bear gaining ground on her stomped out all curiosity about the outdoors.

Despicable dog. Only *I* get to torture Stabby.

Dexter somehow, in a feat I only wish I had seen, managed to hoist his tubby self through the door and outside for the first time a couple days ago. PB dutifully flew off the sofa and went to track him down which caused Dexter to dive under the deck. I missed all this as I was in a pain medication induced coma. Other than hearing PB race outside and figuring whoever escaped would be back shortly, I was oblivious.

When I awoke and Dexter did not come at the sound of the food bowl, I knew trouble was afoot. Like some demented cat lady, I walked up and down the street, calling for him, stood in my yard yodeling for him, searched high and low, deathly afraid that while a tree is Stabitha's biggest problem, Dexter with all his disease induced drunkeness is a car/mean cat/cat hating dog's dream. I was convinced I would find him dead somewhere. Or he would be too dumb to figure out how to get back home. Both very likely events.

After rattling his food dish outside for an ear splitting moment, I heard a sound under the deck and found him squished into about 3 inches of space which took him a good 10 minutes to pull himself back out of. I hauled him back inside and he has shown no interest in the outdoors since then. Thus we have postponed another expensive investment in the electronic doggie door. Sigh. I could have retired by now if I didn't have these creatures.

To end on a completely unrelated note, my caring squad mates sent me a card and a $75 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble. Knowing me as they do, they figured books are much more up my alley than netflix etc. I went a little crazy and spent well over double that but I am in book heaven right now. I would highly recommend this book which I finished last night and which took me one day to read:





This is the fascinating true story of two black men who share the same name and lived in the same neighborhood of Baltimore. They never knew each other growing up but their lives took eerily similar paths that are tragically familiar in America. Single mothers struggling to make ends meet raised them; their fathers were both gone for different reasons; early on they began skipping school which led to minor run-ins with the law which led to much more major run ins. An all too usual inner city story.

Except the author went on to become a Rhodes Scholar, a decorated combat veteran, an assistant to Condoleeza Rice and now one of New York's top businessman. The other Wes Moore is in prison for the rest of his life with no possibility for parole for the murder of a police officer in a jewelry heist gone bad. This book is an incredibly thought provoking study as to what made the difference in the trajectories of their lives. The answer is subtle and in no way formulaic if there is an answer at all. I'll let you read it and decide...

Free to Good Home

One female owner. Feeds regularly, pets regularly and spends ridiculous amounts of money on toys and goodies for her pets. She comes with one large house and a medium sized fenced yard. However, she is known to bathe her pets and then take photos of them in their misery.

Oh so you think is funny?

Thus we, the pets, have decided to find her a more appropriate home. Like jail. We believe she will respond to positive reinforcement if you use chocolate. Please fill out the attached adoption questionnaire and we will be in touch. Thank you.

Yes friends, I did bathe the kitties yesterday. It was Mother's Day after all and they did not get me anything, the ungrateful little wretches so I decided if I am going to live with them, they'd better be clean and they have never had baths before. Even the Polar Bear had a bath but he loves his bath. He is my good child. The kitties on the other hand - WAR. Dexter could only protest vocally since he isn't coordinated enough with his disease to launch an attack from a slippery surface. Heck, he can't even walk on a dry surface.

I scream, therefore I am.

So he wailed and wailed and when I got him out and wrapped him in the towel, he took grave offense to the Polar Bear who was watching with a big grin on his face.

What are you lookin' at buddy?

Dexter told PB to just wait til they are alone in the house again when I go back to work. When PB least expects it...

Then there was Stabitha. She DOES have the ability to launch an attack and she lived up to her name in a way I didn't know was possible. I have the marks which will eventually be scars, to prove it!

Have I mentioned that I *HATE* you?

The funny part was that I did Dexter first so when I returned him to their room and put him on the bed, Stabby seemed to think it was pretty funny what happened to him.

What the hell happened to YOU?

It didn't take long for her to find out. Even the PB went flying outside when she started her offensive.

Hahahahahahaha! Not laughing so much now, are we?

They were filthy and I mean, *filthy* little creatures. I should have bathed them the day I brought them home from the shelter but I didn't want to traumatize them any further.

I present you with the hairy eyeball.

Dexie was a monster and wouldn't pose for my pictures. I was kind of miffed but he told if I wanted to live through the day, I'd suck it up and post Stabby instead.

I will never look at you again. Did I mention I *HATE* you?

PB and I are still laughing....but from a safe distance. And yes, the kitties dried in about an hour and seemed none the worse for the wear despite their accusations of alleged abuse and attempts to give me away.

Happy 49th Samson!

We celebrated Samson's birthday a little late this year but that's ok. He is 49 in doggie years so he is getting old anyway and won't know we were late. All the boys got 2 scoops of vanilla frozen yogurt. Samson snarfed his down because he's had practice. Jakester pushed his bowl all over the floor and took forever because he's clueless and Baby ate slowly and delicately while lifting his head every 10 seconds to make sure everyone was still in their places. The picture is kinda small but you get the idea.

The feeding trough.

Happy Birthday Samson! No new red sports car for you in middle age. You'll have to settle for a teeth cleaning. Jakey's next up on the birthday list in July so hopefully he'll have the hang of it by then.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's who read this!

Dexter vs. Spring

Today, my mom bought me some beautiful flowers for my deck since I have been depressed. I become depressed when I am in pain and spending way too much time on my couch. So off we went to Flower World where for the first time in family history, my dad actually instructed my mom to spend money there and on me no less. Thanks dad! These are some unusual colors we found in a planter and which I immediately decided I must have:




I also chose a beautiful fuchsia called a Quasar fuchsia to hang on my deck to attract the hummingbirds. This also serves as kitty TV and keeps the monsters occupied for hours. For the brief 5 minutes it took me to put down the hanging fuchsia inside and go out to plant the flowers, Dexter took over and tried to ruin spring. This is what my fuchsia will look like when it's flowering:






IF it survives Dexter. He is a magnet for destroying anything living and my house is now destitute of plants because of him.

You do not see me. I have *nothing* in my mouth.

Caught red handed by the Polar Bear who polices Dexter the Menace in my absence.

My quasar fuchsia is now short a blossom which Dexter promptly ripped off of it and carried around in his mouth all day until he got it stuck under the sofa.

Despite the new lovely flowers on my deck, we had slushy rain today. It is freezing cold and wet and even the Polar Bear has been residing on the sofa.

In the great hunt for a new dog, I finally dispelled with the idea of puppies for now. I don't think PB is up for having excitable, playful balls of fur in his face and I am not up for being up all day after work because a puppy won't sleep through the day...or the night.

I did attend an adoption event last week but didn't see any dogs that caught my eye. I went to our local humane society where I got my beloved Hudson. But there again, a lovely St. Bernard I would have taken but he doesn't get along with cats. Stymied every time.

So I went back to avidly searching petfinder on the few days I could get myself off the sofa and I found this site: www.bigdogshugepaws.com. They are based in Colorado and as the name suggests, rescue only giant breeds. I was very impressed with their setup, layout and the way they vet their prospective adopters. I filled out an application and while I am not sure yet if I am ready for that step, the process is long and I will at least have an adoption application on file.

That said, I immediately fell in love with a beautiful Great Dane they have listed who is blind. I know I cannot handle another dog with "mental" issues at the moment but I think I can do a physical disability. So I have left my feelers out there. Janet from Akbash rescue is keeping her eyes open for an older female Akbash. My application is on file with Big Dogs Huge Paws and in the meantime I go to all the local adoption events to see what we find.

On the Polar Bear front, despite some setbacks with the reduced Prozac, he still continues to amaze me with how far he has come and how much courage he has. My 89 year old grandfather moved up to the PNW to be closer to family so he now lives about 15 minutes from my parents. We have a family dinner every Sunday night and of course Baby, whom he calls "The Babe", always accompanies me.

PB has done fabulously well with Grandpa. Within two days he learned to approach him, lick his hand and take treats from him. And to his credit Grandpa has been wonderful with him - he intuitively understands how to handle him, to be quiet and low key and let PB move at his own pace. At dinner yesterday, PB spent most of the meal with his head resting on my dad's knee begging in his quiet, delicate way for some chicken. Who would ever have thought...?

The only downside to having my grandfather here: a clash of the chocolate lovers. I leave the room for one minute and guess who gets to lick the spoon?

Wide. No, wider...

On May 13th, PB begins his Shy Dog Manners class at the Humane Society. The instructor has met both him and Hudson when I first brought him home so she is familiar with him and his issues and I like her a lot. I am not sure what to expect or if he will be able to deal with it but there's only one way to find out. I have been intensively working with him and his barrier frustration with other dogs. He has improved immensely. We each have our walking therapy every day - me with my non-doctor sanctioned long walks up and down hills to build my quads back up and PB practicing meeting dogs and men with little or no reaction. Raise your paw if you will work for treats.

Mememememememememememe!

Finally, to end on a more solemn note, thoughts and hopes go out to Baby's step-foster brother Bear who has recently undergone some extensive surgery to try to correct a number of serious health problems. We are keeping all our toes, claws and extra dew claw crossed that he will recover well and live many more years.

I may be shaved but I am still a very handsome boy.

And to Hudson, who I had to put down a year ago Saturday. He was the love of my life and not a day goes by that I don't miss him and think of him. I'll see you again someday Boo.