Inktrails from Alaska

Easily Amused Part 1

I've had the flu for over two weeks. This is the evil flu that gives you a fever, makes you feel tremendously tired, then you slowly get better........though the sinus/chest symptoms hang around.........only to suddenly have the fever RETURN a week after you thought you were finally in the clear. I spent the last two nights in bed, most of the the last two weeks sleeping and living on Dayquil and Nyquil so that I could teach my students. But when I wasn't teaching (or calling in sick) I was sleeping. Night before last I had a hot fever all night. Last night I had the chills until 5am. And I've had a migraine for two days, so far... So I'm easily amused.

Try this: Penguin Game

Have fun!

Go with God, Stevie

Last year on January 11 I lost the best friend I have ever had. Worse, I was responsible for choosing the day of his passing, had to take him to where they would kill him, had to ask someone to put the needle in his vein, and had to hold him while he died.

Stevie's last day went like this:

I had planned to take him in the week before, but he was having a run of good days and I put it off. But by Monday I knew that it was time to help him out of his pain. The tumor in his head was pressing his skull out of shape. He couldn't see out of his right eye, and I know he was in terrible pain. I was giving him lots and lots of pain medication, but it just wasn't enough. He couldn't open his jaw very wide to eat because of the tumor. He cried and yelped if he opened his jaws very wide at all.

I fed him smokey hotdogs for a treat. I fed him chocolate chip cookies. What did it matter, he deserved something that he loved that was easy to eat.

Still, when I looked at him and he looked at me he was still all there. He was still Stevie. He said, "I want to be with you."

On that last day Scott brought his big snowplow truck over, and we all got into it and drove all the way to Scott's place in Ester, over thirty miles, just to give Stevie a good long truck ride, something he really loved. He sat up, snuggled next to me and looked out the window. Stevie was always a leaner, but mainly he leaned on me. When I had my big Chevy van he used to put his front legs on the console in the middle and lean his big head against my chest, over my heart as I drove.

We drove back to town, and headed toward Animal Control. There, Scott lifted Stevie out of the truck and we walked into the back room. The concrete floor was cold. A young woman led us to a small room in the back, and laid a clean blanket on the floor. We talked to Stevie, I kissed him and hugged him. The woman got the needle ready and shaved a small spot on his leg. It upset me that the clippers didn't work right, and she had to get other ones, which also didn't work right. I held Stevie's head and petted him, he tried to get up. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with me. He knew.

And then he was sinking and gone. Still warm, still loving him, I prayed out loud, "Dear God! Please give this dog everything he wants! He deserves whatever he asks for!" And in that way I released him so that he could go home free.

Oh it doesn't matter what anyone says. It's the most awful thing to have to do. He didn't want to go, I know that. Stevie would have endured anything--ANYTHING--to stay with me. The look in his eyes...Isn't that the purest love one can receive? I miss him terribly, I miss him now, I miss him every single day. And no matter what anyone says, I feel guilty, and that's part of life. I had to kill my best friend. And too, I would have felt guilty if I'd let him die in pain. That's life, too. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can.

Stevie was a singer, but hated dancing. No one was allowed to dance, either alone or with a partner. Before you knew it a big, heavy dog would have knocked you and your partner apart and he'd be barking at you, yelling at you. "STOP THAT STOP THAT STOP THAT!" he said.

He never growled at anyone, never even lifted a lip, ever, but he was the best protection. All he had to do was stand still and LOOK at someone. One look and the questionable person always left. No exceptions. He'd block the doorway with his body and just LOOK. No one crossed the dog.

He killed mice and cockroaches for me. Cockroaches tasted horrible and he'd make hilarious screwed-up faces when he squished and bit them. (Cockroaches are a part of the fauna of New Mexico, these are wild cockroaches, not the kind people have in dirty houses.) He once caught a mouse in the kitchen, had it in his mouth with the tail dangling out. I was attempting to get him outside with the mouse, and started talking to him. He looked confused, started forward, walked back, looked confused at my speaking and finally went ~ptooie!~ and spit the mouse out, which ran away, as he turned to me and said, "What did you say? I couldn't concentrate, I had a mouse in my mouth."

If while I was gone any of the other dogs made a mess, got into the garbage or tore something up, when I came home Stevie would meet me at the door. Extremely apologetic he'd duck his head and look terribly guilty, smile a very silly smile and with every part of his body tell me he was sorry, soo soooo sorry, and he'd take responsibility for whatever had happened, no matter whether he'd taken part in the mess or not. "I'm so sorry, sorry sorry, I shouldn't have let them do that, I know!" he'd say.

One time I came home and Stevie met me on the porch when I had left him INSIDE. And he wasn't sorry! Mystified, I went inside and found that the back door had been opened, and a neat slit cut in the screen of the screendoor. All the rest of the dogs were inside, but it was clear what had happened. Some or all of them had had to pee, so Stevie had opened the back door but had been unable to unlatch the screen door. So he'd slit the screen and everyone had gone out, done their business and gone back in, except Stevie who had jumped two six-foot fences to meet me on the porch. Later he did prove that he was the door-opener by opening other doors.

Numerous people who met Stevie told me that he wasn't a dog. No, they said, he's a person in a dog suit.

That was my Stevie, for sure.

There are many other stories about Stevie, these are just a few. He and I lived several lifetimes together, and I hope we get a chance to meet again. Mo chroí, cronaím thú aStevie.

The Facts About Dogs and Bones

Someone has been searching the internet for the answer to the question "Can dogs eat hambones?" More than once my site has been hit by someone apparently in a quandary as to whether giving the soupbone to the dog is a good idea. Because it could cost them the life of their hound, I must address this.

COOKED BONES CAN KILL YOUR DOG. NEVER, EVER GIVE A COOKED BONE TO A DOG. THIS INCLUDES THOSE BONES SOLD IN STORES THAT ARE "STERILIZED." Ironically enough, those bones sold in stores as "sterilized" are generally crawling with bacteria, too. And they are brittle.

Raw bones are safer, but still not completely safe. Large bones from sheep and cows are generally less safe, even given raw, as they are the most dense, and hardest. Safest: raw or frozen chicken thighs, wings, backs, etc, and rib bones from sheep and cows are just fine. You want the soft bones, not the hard bones.

I know many of you have probably given your dogs cooked bones and they didn't have a problem. But just as many people have given cooked bones and had a dog die of a ruptured intestine later. Sometimes your dog dies and you don't know why. Could be that cooked bone you gave him.

Cooked bones are brittle and splinter. Dogs don't know any better and will eat them, but can suffer a perforated intestine from them. It's extremely painful. Cooked chicken bones and pork bones are especially bad.

Sofia just finished off a frozen chicken thigh. She's a happy girl. She is a chewer, not a gulper. If you have a dog who is a gulper, even a raw bone should be removed if it gets small. A digestive system blockage is an awful thing. If your dog is a gulper, I would never give him or her a bone, raw or not. It's just too scary.

Some dogs just should not have bones, period, not in any shape or form.  Check this:

http://www.petmd.com/dog/nutrition/evr_dg_raw_bones_or_cooked_bones> This is a veterinarian's site and I find his arguments persuasive. There are X-rays of dogs with obstructions caused by bones.

Signs that your dog is in trouble:
(your dog might show only some of these signs, not all)

Stops eating.
Trying to throw up but can't.
Bloody stools.
No stools.
Lethargy.
Vomiting.
Pale gums (a sign of internal bleeding--get to the vet or emergency vet NOW!)

I do not believe in feeding a completely raw diet. Sofia is supplemented with raw, but she eats Fromm Family Salmon, a premium dog food.

I am not a veterinarian. It is safe for Sofia to have some bones because she doesn't gulp, she gnaws. There are lots of people who will say ANY raw bone is safe, and I do not believe that to be the case. Use your best judgment in regards to raw bones.

One thing everyone agrees on, though:

NEVER GIVE YOUR DOG (OR CAT!) A COOKED BONE OF ANY KIND