Take Your Dog to Work Day

Lately, and unfortunately, it has been very rainy and dismal in this part of the world.  Late May is the time of year that, normally, one would love.  The temps are supposed to be warming up and the sun should be making regular appearances.

But here in NW Indiana, there has been an unhappy amount of rain.  It is spring, and we need rain, but I say "enough."  It's bad enough that such weather ruins outdoor plans.  But rain, and even worse, rain with thunder (such as we have today) makes my life a living hell. 

My dog, the Zipster, spent the first ten years of his life as a normal Jack Russell Terrier.  He was rough, tough and fearless.  Zip was raised in Arizona, and while rain storms are infrequent, the summer brought a lot of lightening and thunder (usually accompanied by dust and sand instead of rain), and other than an occasional "woof", I was proud to see that my dog didn't seem to have any aversion to the noise.

That all changed about 2 years ago.  We were visiting my brother in Holland and staying overnight.  At about 10:00pm an extremely thin band of thundershowers moved over his house.  And it moved over his house for about 8 hours.  I don't remember ever being subjected to such a lenthy storm.  Initially, the Zipster was ok, but as the storm showed no signs of abating, he started panting.  And then he started shaking.  And then he started shuddering.  He was beside himself, and nothing could calm him or distract him. 

And that was the commencement of a new stage in our lives.  Zip's fear of thunderstorms, if evidenced in a human, would be a phsychiatrist's dream.  It has gotten to the point where he begins shaking and panting if he even senses rain.  A mere gentle rain, if he can hear or see it, causes the same reaction in my poor dog.  I have tried every tip given me by vets or by reading books and articles, all to no avail.  Here in Indiana, unfortunately, rain is relatively common.  Drugging him with Benadryl or melatonin have no effect whatsover.

Sometimes, when it's quiet at work; such as today (we are between the end of the spring semester and summer school, and it's a Friday), I'll bring Zip to my office with me.  I went home at lunch and had heard the afternoon forecast for thunderboomers.  So I collected the pup, who gets VERY excited to come to work with me, and brought him along with me.

After the second thunderboom, as Zip was going into full terror mode, my boss Joe came knocking on my door.  Before he fully entered my office, he was chiding me about being a bad dog owner, leaving my dog home alone in this storm (everyone knows of Zip's fear of thunderstorms).  Halfway through the sentence, he entered my office only to be assaulted by a terrified, yet excited terrier jumping all over him.  I was delighted to see that Joe was able to distract Zip from his fear, for all of two minutes, but when he departed, poor Zip was back to his shaking, panting (complete with drooling) and shuddering.  Another trait of his fear is that he keeps his little tail down.  It's not long enough to go between his legs.  In fact, it's so short that it seems it must take a lot of energy and strength for poor Zip to keep that little stub in that position.

The thunder has ceased.  The last sound was well over 45 minutes ago, but Zip isn't having any of it.  He's still panting and shaking, anticipating the next big noise.  I have to go to the bathroom, but there's no way to do it without him following me.  He is plastered to my leg...

The only upside of this is that it makes him extremely exhausted when it's all over.  Assuming there's no more thunder, he should sleep well tonight.  Bring on the sunshine!

Zip's Pearly Whites

How is it that I could begin blogging and write a week's worth of articles and not one single one is about the great Zipster?  Anyone who knows me also knows that the center of my world, for good or for bad, is a 17 pound, almost 12 year old Jack Russell Terrier named Zippy.  The truth is that he was, in fact, 19 pounds at his last weighing, but that's just because he hasn't lost his winter chunk.  He is so much a part of my world, that I even lie about his weight as I do about mine when I go to renew my driver's license.  I admit to having gotten annoyed, almost to the point of being offended, when my veterinarian said that Zip was "overweight" by two pounds.  That's akin to her calling me fat, and, therefore, them's fightin' words.  Well, readers will be glad to know that we've been out exercising as weather permits, and I'm relatively sure that Zipster is closing in on his lean weight of 17 pounds again.  I, on the other hand, am more than likely approaching new records for the amount of cellulite one thigh can hold.

There are dog people and there are non-dog people, and the latter fail to comprehend how a four legged, shedding, drooling, barking creature can become so important as to achieve the status of "family member" in a household.  Conversely, those of us who are dog people have absolutely no understanding of those aliens from outer space who can actually mouth the words "I don't like dogs."  It is absolutely incomprehensible to me that someone could meet Zip and not like him, and yet, it happens...frequently.  OK, so maybe people don't like having their arms humped.  And I agree, I don't appreciate spending 30 minutes every morning with the tape brush, trying to remove the fine Zippy hairs from my black jacket and trousers.  And yes, there was that time he went out back, using his doggy door, stepped in his own poop and then came bouncing back on the bed, squirming his way under the covers.  And I suppose nobody likes cleaning up doggy ralph on a weekly basis?  But really, are these things his fault???

A few months back, the vet told me that it was time for dental work.  I looked at her stupidly and said "huh?" Growing up, we always had dogs in the family.  We had dogs who lived well into old age.  Never, at any time, did we have to take them in for a cleaning!  But, as in all things medical, veterinary medicine has also advanced.  I was asked if his breath was bad.  This is the understatement of a decade.  His breath smells as if he's been sucking on fish heads, and washing them down with raw sewage.  Well, apparently this is because of the black tartar building up on his teeth. And so I figured, how bad can this process be?  Well, I soon found out that it can be over $400 bad!  I thought MY dentist was a ripoff!!!   Apparently, it's not so much the actual cleaning as the massive tests that have to be performed prior to putting him under anesthesia (!!!!):  heart tests, blood tests, etc.  No, they don't put him in a little chair that leans back, and put the little towel around his neck.  They don't spray water in his mouth and then ask him to rinse.  They have to actually put him under, and the tests are to determine whether he is in sufficiently good enough health to undergo the anesthesia.  OK, so they want me to pony up all that money and risk my little doggy's life so that he can have sparkling whites?  I admit to not being so keen on this.  But then they scare you with:  "Well, if the teeth and gums become infected and there has to be an extraction, it will be much, much worse."  When I started to envision what was worse than $400, I started feeling nauseous.

Since I am a dog person and my dog is part of my family, I now stand out on the corner of Ironwood and Douglas next to the poor guy who is holding the sign about needing to feed his family.  My sign says "I need to have my dog's teeth cleaned."  I haven't been too successful in collecting money.  But I imagine this summer will see me taking Zip in for his first dental visit.  I couldn't envision not doing the right thing by him.  That's the thing with animals.  Once you take them in, you are beholden to a unilateral contract--one that requires time, money, and sacrificing going on trips.  However, unilateral though it may be, there is a return on this investment, and it's one that I find difficult to verbalize.  If I had to build a list of the top ten best things in my life; very near the top would be something about being greeted at the door by the Zipster when I came home from work.  Or maybe I would say how much I love having him snuggle next to me in bed (sans poop on paws of course), or hiking out in the woods with him and watching him pretend to ferociously chase a deer (after he pretended not to see it until it got very far ahead of him), or watching him dive in the pool after his rubber stick and then swim to the steps, or letting him loose to chase after a squirrel (but only after I was very sure the squirrel saw him and was near a tree), or witnessing how he manipulates my friends for treats--something at which he has become quite expert.  Dogs give joy, and it matters not that it is not intentional or conscious on their part.  I'm sure it was God's intention, in creating them.

So, stay tuned and I will update you as need be on Zippy's oral health proceedings.