Angel's method of taking pills

I don't know where Angel's dislike of pill taking came from.  She hasn't had to take that many pills yet in her lifetime.  Maybe Angel saw what Peanut had to go through taking 8 pills a day for a heart condition and decided she didn't like it.

In any case, getting pills into her has become problematic.  She won't even look at an empty Greenies pill pocket any more.  She seems to know what they are used for.

Hide the pill in cheese or meat, you say?  Tried it.  She eats around the pill and spits it out.

She won't even take the chewable Rimadyl tablets I give her.  Those I can crush into her morning food.  But other pills appear to have a bad taste when crushed.  You know it's bad when Angel turns up her nose at a bowl of canned dog food.

I have to make especially  sure she doesn't spit out the Rimadyl because Bogie is allergic.  I don't want to have to run him to the vet because he picked up Angel's discards.

To get a pill into her, where she can't spit it out, requires that the pill be right at the edge of her throat. Angel has a very long snout.  I have very short fingers.  This is not a good combination.  And generally requires at least two tries.

A couple days ago, Angel came up with her own solution.  When she hears the pill bottle open, she lays on her back in a submission pose.  I open her mouth and drop the pill down her throat.  I don't even have to put my fingers in her mouth.  

Then I rub her belly.  She's happy. I'm happy.

Smart girl.

Angel's surgery went well, a little bump in the recovery

Angel's surgery went well.  I brought her home Friday morning and have been hovering over her ever since, trying to make sure she doesn't undo the surgery. 

This particular surgery splits the lower leg bone and screws it back together with a small gap.  The gap fills back up with bone tissue.  The new knee "cup" is wider and not dependent on the ligaments for support. 

Her left leg, done in 2011, healed quite well, although I should have done more physical therapy on the muscles surrounding the knee.  Once I got Bogie, Angel exercised enough to rebuild the muscles.   So I have high hopes for this, the right leg.

She came home Friday with 4 kinds of pills.  Antibiotics once a day for a week.  Pain killers up to 4 pills per day as needed.  Anti-inflammatories twice a day as needed.  And a mild sedative to use if she gets too active or agitated. 

By late afternoon Friday, she was getting restless.  I don't have a crate and didn't want to crate her.  Bogie would have taunted her and Angel would have felt punished.  Ditto for locking her in a room by herself. 

I tried leashing her with a cloth leash, with one end around my toe.  But she kept struggling to get up.  So I gave her a sedative.  The instructions said 1/2 to 1 pill.  I gave her the half.  

She settled down and went back to sleep.  An hour later I looked at her and she didn't seem to be breathing.  I admit, I panicked.  I went to her and shook her.  Several times. She didn't move.  But she finally blinked.  I lifted her head and it was limp.  I picked up a leg and it just fell with no resistance when I let go. 

I was freaking out, wondering how I would get her to the emergency vet.  That's the downside of large dogs.  I can't pick them up by myself. 

I finally roused her enough to stumble outside, while I supported her with the sling the vet sent home.  I let her collapse in the grass while I sat on the patio.  I went inside to the kitchen where I could still see her.  But I decided I would rather have her inside.  

I went back outside to get her.  She was nudging her leg with her nose and I saw tiny ants crawling on the bare flesh.   I wiped them away, then tried to pick her up.  I couldn't, even with the sling.  She was too limp, all dead weight.

Finally, I got a bath towel, laid in on the ground, used the sling to lift her onto the towel, and dragged her across the grass and patio concrete.  Once we got to the door, she managed to stumble over the sill.  

I guided her to the living room where she laid down in a heap on the throw rug. I sat down beside her.  I petted her and watched TV for probably an hour before she started acting more alert.   

The past couple days, when she got too antsy, I've given her 1/4 sedative.  That calms her down just enough to stay off her leg, without totally terrifying me. 

I have a couple more weeks where I have to keep her from using the leg too much.  It's going to be a long two weeks. 

Angel having knee surgery today

So I wrote about Angel hurting her knee on Sunday (Cringe inducing yelp).  My heart sank to my stomach when I realized on Monday that it wasn't the leg that had been operated on.  This was the other rear leg.

Yesterday she still wasn't putting any weight on the leg even after anti-inflammatories for 2 1/2 days.  So we headed to the vet.  The vet wasn't able to manipulate the knee without causing Angel pain, so I had to leave her there to be sedated for x-rays.

A couple hours later I got the call to pick her up, and the news that I feared. She will need another knee surgery.  An important ligament in her knee is torn.

I wanted the same doctor that did her left leg.  She was at a farther clinic today, but it was worth the extra drive to have Angel looked at sooner.  She confirmed surgery was needed.

The surgery could be done today or I could save $120 by having the surgery done at the nearer clinic next Thursday.  I opted for today.  She will be 7 days closer to healed by next Thursday.

I felt horrible leaving her there overnight.  I don't know how Bogie will be without her until tomorrow.

I dread the after care now that I know what I am getting into.  It was hard enough to keep her calm and off the repaired leg the first time.  My second dog was the older, smaller Peanut, who wasn't big on playing and was intuitive enough to realize Angel was injured.

This time I will have to keep her and Bogie apart.  He has been surprisingly patient, but he doesn't understand why she won't play with him.  She stood on the patio yesterday morning, on three legs, while he tried to tempt her into play.

At least this time I am not working and can stay home to watch over Angel.

I don't mind paying more for vet care

I am bothered by those 1-800-Pet-Meds commercials.  I understand the desire or need to save money.  But to me it feels like taking money out of my veterinarian's pocket.

I don't go to a restaurant and bring my own beverage because it's cheaper.  It is tacky, and not allowed.   If we respect the work and skill our veterinarian has, we shouldn't begrudge them a living wage.

Getting a veterinary degree takes years and costs a lot of money.  In my opinion, it takes more skill to be a veterinarian than a doctor.  Human beings come in basically one shape.  And after a certain age, they can say where it hurts.

Veterinarians deal with animals from Chihuahua size to Saint Bernard, with snub noses and long noses, floppy ears and erect ears, stubby legs and fragile legs, long hair and short.  And that's just the dogs.  

Running a veterinarian clinic is expensive. I'm sure part of recouping their costs comes from the small profit the clinic makes on selling prescriptions.

If they make any profit.  They have to maintain inventory which takes man-power, store inventory which takes building space, and prepare the prescriptions.  More man-power.

I've been told that I can get veterinary care cheaper than what I pay at my clinic.  But my dogs get excellent care at my clinic.  The doctors know my dogs.  They care about my dogs.  They are skilled care-givers.  And they hire only the best support staff.

My veterinary clinic also does a lot of pro bono work.  I figure my money is being put to excellent use.

To me, that expertise and caring is worth paying a little more.

My dad is in Wikipedia.

My dad, Warren Smith, was an author.  Not famous, but known in paranormal circles and in Iowa where we lived.  He wrote more than 60 books - paranormal under his name and a pseudonym, westerns and romances under pseudonyms.  He also wrote for magazines and newspapers.

My dad died May 2003.  Maybe it's the month or season, or that I'm unemployed as I was when he died, but for some reason he has been on my mind.

I entered his name in Amazon search and came up with 2 of his books for sale, This Hollow Earth and UFO Trek.

The reader comment for This Hollow Earth  made me proud.  "This book will open your eyes, to the secrets and inhabitants of the Hollow Earth. Derro, dwarves, UFOs, just who is down there? Evidence is given. A must for collectors of occult or just plain odd books. Very hard to get a hold of, if you find one keep it!"

I also found two other authors named Warren Smith.  In fact, another was a Warren B. Smith.

Curious as to what his B stood for, I tried Wikipedia.  And found my dad!

They had his middle name wrong.  It really was Billy, not William.  I have the birth certificate to prove it.  But it was definitely my dad.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warren_Smith_(author) 

I don't know if Wikipedia will accept my changes, but I fixed the middle name and state of his birth.  If they accept those changes, I'm going to dig up the list I have of his books and get them all entered.

My dad is in Wikipedia.  I think that is pretty cool.

The cringe-inducing yelp

I was minding my own business this morning, pulling weeds in the back yard.  The dogs were playing in the grass.  I noticed that the patio concrete appears to be the safe zone.  When Angel runs behind the table, Bogie doesn't pursue.  So safe play, right?

I was bent over a large weed when I heard an agonized yelp.

Angel came hobbling over to me holding her right rear leg up near her torso.  Crap.  This is the leg that had the knee surgery two years ago this month and it has been touchy ever since.  I massaged it standing where I was until she was able to put it back on the ground.    

I moved to the patio with her hobbling after me, sat down, and massaged it several minutes more.  She followed me into the house and I gave her a Tramadol pain pill.  I have these on hand for just such occasions.  As well as Rimadyl, which is doggy ibuprofen.  I had already given her a Rimadyl this morning because she had had a slight limp last night.

I massaged her some more, then got her to lay down on the throw rug. I went outside and weeded the front. When I came back inside, Angel had moved to the tile.  I sat by her and massaged her some more.  I hit one particular spot and she jerked.  I had to maneuver her into position so I could massage her some more.

All that massaging stirred up a lot of loose hair.  I gave her another Tramadol, then I brushed her for a bit, which she likes.  When I gave her the post-brush treat, she hobbled outside with it.  So I felt okay asking her to come upstairs with me while I checked e-mail, Facebook, etc.

Angel plays hard.  And she initiates the play at least half of the time.  The last time she got hurt was playing with a dog close to her size.  So this is not Bogie's fault.  Still, I am sure it doesn't help that he is 2 years old to her 5.    

At the moment, she is crashed out on the floor behind my chair.  She will be zonked out for most of the day. 

She'll be better tomorrow.  Now I have to keep her from playing so hard until it's completely healed. 

Squirrel drinking from my bird bath

Angel went racing out the doggy door barking.  I guessed that either the hawk or the squirrel dared to enter the yard to drink out of the bird bath.

Only a few minutes later, while Angel was laying in the grass facing the other direction, the squirrel came back.

 Checking to see if Angel notices:

Is the dog watching?

Drinking:

Good,non-chlorinated water

The squirrel watched, then drank multiple times in only a couple minutes.  

Then - on alert:

Something moved.

Making its escape:

Jump to the top of the wall

Get safely to the top of the wall:

Made it.

Flee:

Heading home

I'm not sure what startled it.  Maybe me taking pictures.  Neither Angel or Bogie realized it was there.  

It lives in a hole on the undeveloped side of the wall, under a big mesquite tree.