Tag: dog life

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He Who Must Be Announced

on days I come home for lunch to let

the schnoodles out, two rush the door

tails wagging, sniffing my shoes to check

for signs of where I’ve been for what

must seem like weeks to them in dog time

but one stays on the bed, ears perked,

staring me down in this regular routine

tail wagging, regarding me as a mere

servant of minimal importance who has

just strolled upon his highness by chance,

awaiting his expectation of me:

he likes to be announced

and so I throw my hands up high

overhead, Hallelujah-church-style,

tilt my head back in a trumpet call

shake my palms like tambourines

and in a voice of frenzied excitement

to an imaginary kingdom of commoners

peering up at us on the castle balcony

from outside the gated grounds below

as if I’ve just noticed him sitting there

with his self-soothing chew turtle I proclaim:

oh, look! it’s my Fitzie! Fitzie, come on!

(and he knows the difference between

my on pronounced like own and his

dad’s on pronounced like ahn

and he prefers mine said my certain way)

then down the little foam bed stairs

he regally trots to go outside to

gently lift a leg, this mighty

miniature aging soul dog of mine,

whose leg the rescue managed

to save primarily because of his

spirited will to live and rule, this royal brat

who forgets he was once a

stray on the streets looking for

love, this canine son of ours who

knows he found a throne

among his people

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Still Life: Black Dog in Brown Chair Nonet

On any given morning, my family members in different group chats begin swapping random photos on a theme one of us starts. Saturday’s theme was our dogs. Dad sent a video of his schnoodle, Kona, getting her 5:30 a.m. treat from a friend at Parker’s gas station on St. Simons Island on their early morning routine walk. My brother sent not a photo of his dog, Kasa, but of the veterinary table where she was getting her shots (she’s a gorgeous Brittany, and I’d show her off every chance I got if I were him). I looked around and caught a glimpse of our aging rescue schnauzer, Fitz, sitting contemplatively in the brown velour chair that has become his window gazing chair.

This chair, one of a pair, matches nothing else in our house, so we have had it listed on Marketplace since bringing it home from one of Dad’s storage facilities to sell. But Fitz loves it so much that we may just keep the velour pair for our three schnoodle boys to call their own. I mean, next to a Velvet Elvis, what could be more of a conversation piece in a home filled with a blend of modern, farmhouse, and antique furnishings? What I noticed about the chair, though, was the variegated colors and the way the light played with the fibers and Fitz’s coloring. Immediately, I envisioned an old painter with an easel, painting a still life of a beloved family dog.

It was my picture to share in the group text.

Dad sent it to a painter friend named Carol to see if it could become an affordable masterpiece. She replied that it was compelling, and that she was glad to receive the photo – – that it will become a master watercolor.

I urged them to note the crossed front legs, showing a recent shave for a dental cleaning, the basking in sheer comfort, the deep reflective thought and philosophical consideration, the way the light plays with the wisdom of old age.

I hadn’t woken on Saturday thinking that Fitz, in a moment of silent reflection, would become the subject of a still life.

But here we are, rocking the reflective moments of life.

note the front legs crossed on the armchair

philosophical reflection

the way the light plays with age

salt and pepper mixed hues

he needs a top hat

and an old pipe

and a lap

to call

home

As the day wore on, I took a few more photos to continue the theme of the day, but the brown velour backdrop on the first pose was the best Fitz shot I was able to capture.

Sporting his teeth – which are scheduled to be removed to help with his CUPS disease pain.
This is how Fitz naps, but it didn’t make the cut for the master watercolor. He sleeps on his back like an overtired toddler pitching a fit who got still for just a second and was dusted by the sleep fairy.
The bane of Fitz’s existence – a deer in his yard

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Ollie’s Day Out

We’ve recently switched veterinarians to lessen the stress and half-day production of traveling over to the next county and waiting and waiting and waiting our turn. Where we live in rural Georgia, there isn’t much of anything. Our county has a public school, a private school, maybe a dozen churches, a small private airport, 10 or 15 restaurants, a couple of medical facilities, a courthouse, some small businesses along the square and some larger ones farther out, a regional library and a town library, a coffee shop and bookstore, several little free libraries, a small grocery store, a couple of hardware stores, and a handful of convenience stores with gas stations. Oh yeah – – and about a half dozen Dollar Generals. Five small town limits are nestled within the county, and we are spread out in larger land tracts with rolling hills, meadows, dirt roads, and crooked wooden fences.

We drive out of our county to buy clothes, shoes, office supplies, and groceries. And we love Amazon, even for aspirin and shampoo.

That’s why we switched veterinarians. It wasn’t because we suddenly didn’t like the former vet or had some kind of falling out with the other practice. It was because this office has a hometown staff and we see them out together in the county eating at our local barbecue restaurant for lunch sometimes. We wanted to lessen our drive and not have to take a half day off work just to get a heartworm injection.

Also, about six years ago, Dr. Kelly allowed me to bring an adventure book club who’d just finished reading Finding Gobi to his office to go behind the scenes and see what veterinarians do. His office started as a house, then became a restaurant, and now welcomes pets for their healthcare.

Which was Ollie’s outing yesterday. He needed his 6-month heartworm test and ProHeart injection. We walked in to the office and were greeted by Hunter the minute we entered the room: Hey, Ollie, we have you all checked in, buddy!

We walked past the fireplace and the burning candle and took a seat in the room where the large mixed breed dog was not wallowing on his back all over the floor, kicking his feet up in pure joy like he didn’t know what was coming.

And we waited a few minutes, listening to the thunder and rain, looking out the windows, and breathing. Where else could there possibly be a more relaxing veterinary office?

Ollie
Ollie gets momsick
when they take him back for shots 
(like a preschooler)

He started to go
all tail-waggy, excited
then turned in his tracks

We love our new vet
right in our own small hometown
We love low windows!
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My Soul Dog Has Surgery Today

Fitz; “Wait, what? Why am I here? I know this place. I don’t like this place.”

CUPS Disease has claimed my dog’s spirit. Canine Ulcerative Periodontal Disease produces painful, life-altering mouth ulcers caused by a reaction to the plaque buildup on a dog’s teeth.

For several months now, Fitz has taken to the underbed and doesn’t want to come out and live life.

This four-legged son of ours is no stranger to medical conditions, either. When we rescued him, he was recovering from a badly broken back leg, and later developed a growth on his back that was a benign tumor – which was surgically removed. He had such bad breath (his top end smelled worse than his bottom end) that when we took him for a dental cleaning, the veterinarian ended up removing eleven rotten teeth. Our mission was to love him and give him the best possible life, so as part of our commitment to treating our animals like family, we have spent a small fortune keeping him healthy.

This morning, I took my soul dog to have his canines removed, which will help reduce the contact between gums and teeth, thus reducing the intensity of the ulcers that he will develop. There is no cure for CUPS Disease, but there are ways of managing the symptoms, and removal of teeth is one.

On our way to the vet this morning, we had a heart-to-heart talk. Fitz made it clear that he wants no part of any of this, but I’m pretty sure I convinced him that it is the right choice, and equally sure that once he feels better in a couple of weeks, he will forgive me for all I have put him through today. I’m thinking I’ll coax forgiveness while he is still on medicine and has no idea what he is saying.

I could tell when I handed him off to the veterinary technician, Fitz was not happy. Just look at that face!

This is my boy who lets NO ONE kiss his mama, who is a fierce and mighty lizard hunter who brings down trophy lizards from the brick walls outside, and who chases off all the deer and wildlife so that they pose no threat to his family. The dog who snaps at his brothers for barking at “his” deer, because it’s “his” job to keep us all safe – and he puts them in their place. The dog who sleeps right next to me so that no night ghouls or goblins or ghosts would even think about coming close to me.

And now this.

I’m clearly in the doghouse.