ALMOST LIKE IT USED TO BE

Yesterday evening I was getting ready to get Nigel out of his pen to do one last urinary catheter before bedtime. I was holding his rear up with a towel, and Llewis came into the room. Nigel knew he was leaving the pen, and HE WAGGED HIS TAIL!! All the work  and doubts I have had vanished at that instant. He had not wagged his tail-- or been able to-- since he went down in the rear. It was one of the things that made me the saddest, that he could no longer wag his tail, and there it was-- the tail wagged.
Yesterday I put him on my bed.
He has been there before but the other dogs stay far away.
Yesterday his brother, Llewis, slowly and cautiously climbed the 3 little steps to the bed and, one eye cocked on his explosive brother, proceeded to curl up at the foot of the bed.
Nigel said nothing. Llewis inched closer. Nigel did not even lift his head. And then, they were sleeping together, as they used to do.

Altho I cannot leave them alone on the bed for more than a moment or two (I shove my office chair next to the bed to keep Nigel from fumbling off the side)
it is nice to see them together.
Nigel's burning desire is to be whereever we are, which means in the living room as well as out here, but he cannot negotiate the step into the house and when he drags himself he tends to try to go under the table and gets hung up in the chairs.
His neck is healing nicely from the lumpectomy. I believe the drain comes out Monday.

You can just see the incision below the white partial collar on Nigel, on the left.
(I have to get a new tablecloth for the holidays. They are laying on the only one I have, which I love. But in the crazy days right after the move home I could not find half the sheets and blankets, and so.....)

This is Nigel's usual home. It is 4x4 feet and there are two dog beds under the quilt along with a waterproof covering, just in case. Since he seems unable to urinate on his own, I don't worry about it too much. Because of his apparent gastric health and the food I feed him, his stools are simply a pick-up. We are anxious for the cart to arrive but he could not use it yet anyway, with the incision on his neck, which needs another week or 10 days to heal.

This is the large version of his Illinois DL, sent by Jackie Chazey: There is a smaller one for him to carry in his pocket when he finally gets the cart and gets going.
Many thanks again to the Drool community which has supported and encouraged us and Nigel in every possible way.

THIS WAS MY HORSE

This was my horse. His name was Buddy. He was sorrel and had a scraggly flaxen mane and tail. He had the biggest nostrils I have ever seen. He was probably a quarter horse. He was a kid's horse. He was bomb-proof. When I got him he was 8 yrs old. He had been a kid's horse then, too. There wasn't much we could think of, our little gang of riders, that he had not been through already.
There wasn't a mean bone in his big body. He could do rotten things, like step on your sneakered foot and then turn without picking up his shod hoof. He could easily brush two giggling girls off his back by suddenly going under a limb.
He thought nothing of going the other way when he saw me come over the horizon with a halter.

I loved it when he breathed in my face. His breath was sweet smelling. On rainy days I would go out to the barn and lay on his back in the stall and read, and listen to the rain on the roof.
Once coming down an asphalt road in the rain he slipped and went to his knees. I jumped off, thinking he might go clear down, but he stopped, struggled to his feet and glared at me as if he were insulted that I thought he might actually fall with me on his back.

      That's all. I just wanted to introduce you. He was a good and loyal friend.
                           I just thought you should know each other.



FORMER NEIGHBORS/ DOG WHEELS

Went to a meeting yesterday for the "Neighborhood Watch" group. Of course it was actually for a different neighborhood--the one I just left, 2 blocks away. It seems the house all the neighbors are worried about (with complete justification, I might add) were entertained the night before last by a "Drive-by". The police refuse to add "Shooting" to it, even though shots were fired, because no one was hit. I don't know if that is a Cop distinction or a legal one.

There is another house further down on another street that has been complained about. The Cops park their cars-- not plainsclothes cars but their own or something that is even more non-descript--about a block away and watch the house on a fairly daily basis. I spotted them immediately: who sits in a car for a couple of hours watching some guys play basketball a block away? When you drive by on your way to errands and he's sitting there, well ok, but when you come back three hours later and he is still sitting there? Well at least they're trying.
**************************************
And Nigel.
Here we are with Llewis with his rogue leg, Cooper with only three, and now Nigel who, basically, has only two.
He has some pain.
He doesn't pee on his own.
He knows when he is pooping but cannot control when it happens.

We built him a 4x4 foot pen (ex-pen) and took down two crates which has caused great consternation among the crateless (Llewis). Nigel is learning to help up in the front by sitting and then when we ask if he is ready, he starts forward. I think the towel we were using to lift his rear was hurting him as he is much less snarky without it.

The belly band is off for now and this was taken whe he was still living in a crate. He has a kind of dazed look frequently, and I don't know if it is the Tramadol or his situation. He does not seem to enjoy being outside. We move him around, into the living room and so on. Since he isn't dribbling pee the incontinence is not a problem. I used to be able to diaper children but I am teling you, the real experts can do a Basset. I cannot.

Again this was before the pen was set up and we were discovering how badly he wanted to lay stretched out (or on his side) but could not in the crate.
It is a very different experience for us and I am anxious to get  his cart but also uncertain: he is such a wuss about new things.
I tell people about the cart and I can see in their eyes the image they are contructing, and I tell them "No matter what you are thinking it looks like, it doesn't. I have actually seen them used but I never thought to examine one. This company, Eddies Wheels, even makes carts for quadraplegic dogs. I cannot imagine how it works but apparently it does.

                                             Nigel says

I SHALL RETURN

THE JOY OF DOGS

It is one a.m.
About  two hours ago I decided to go to bed.

This is the bed I decided to go to sleep in.

It doesn't look like much in the photo, but trust me, when you are tired it is  a wonderful place to be. A safe haven. Warm. A cocoony kind of place.

It is also

Unfortunately

Next to the dog crates.

When the dogs are in their crates. When they are not, my bed is fair game , especially for Cooper.

This is what the bed looks like with Cooper on it. You will note, perhaps, that there is no tired and worn person in this bed. I may have mentioned that it is a TWIN bed made, I suspect for conjoined twins, at that.

You may notice a lack of space for humanoid forms.

Machts Nicht!!

Remember I said the bed was next to the dog crates.

Llewis is in the other room, quite content. Conley, bless his piratical little heart, is asleep in his crate, by choice.

Cooper has my bed.

Nigel woke up about two hours ago an decided he had had just about enough crate time to last forever and he by god wanted out.

This would be great if he could walk and were not incontinent.

He is not sure what position he wants to be in or which direction he wants to face.I flip him around and he snarls. I hope he didn't mean it because I ignored it.

Howver, I still have nowhere to sleep.

Sweet dreams, everyone else.

REPLACING LOST BLOG

I had written an entire blog but it vanished.
This is the hired hand,  attempting to even out the mountain of clay left in the front when the plumbers finished repaired the Kerplooie Sewer system that the Village had put in (clay tile) years ago.
Never mind what the tree roots in our proudly "green spaces" Village do to the clay tiles which in our case were not only collapsed but full of tree roots (not our trees: he have none in the front) the size of my wrist.

John is really, to my way of thinking, too old to be doing this but there he is anyway. Tough old geezer he is, but he pays for it later.

***************************************

This is my room as it appears during
the day when I am sorting and trying
to find places for the books, the CDs, the PHOTOGRAPHS...oh my God the photos.
By evening it is usually much better.Eventually it will be nice. Probably when I am dead and someone else lives there.

So we have had a few set-backs this year, not to mention the thousands of  dollars we have spent just getting this far and now, of course, our missing member Nigel, living at the Vetsspital unable to walk, unable to void or defecate by himself.

As suddenly as a leaf turns color there was Nigel unable to move. What happened? Many have asked but I have no answer-- he is a Basset, that's what happened. He is accepting this with good grace. I visit twice a day with food and water since he will neither eat nor drink for them. I have a gazillion questions and some profoundly disturbing self-doubt.SHOULD we do an MRI? And what good does that do if we do not do surgery? Two Vets, two different theories. Couldn't they get together on things just omce??

All three in less stressful days-- Nigel on the far left. Why did I miss the signs? Did I miss them or ignore them? Is there someone who could come to the clinic and do acupuncture? Would Doc agree to that (probably-- he may even have someone.)

Here is what I want:
I want to be in the Guld of Mexico, floating in an inner tube off the white beaches of Sanibel with the sun shining down and the birds around. I want a cold Margarita in one hand and a good book in the other. I want John to be happily poking about Battlefields in a nearby state: my children to be making money and content and in love, and ALL my dogs to be well and whole again.
Oh. And the house perfect. Everything put away, landscaping done, and last but certainly not least, the coffers full again. (Or halfway maybe.)

And with that I thank all of you, and there are too many to count, who have written to wish Nigel well. It is hard to believe that one little dog matters so much to so many who have never met him, and have never been on the receiving end of one of his Death Ray Stares.
Thank you all.
You are all wonderful. I would include that old Irish blessing here but other than something about wind at your back, I cannot remember any of it.

NIGEL: BONSAI'S QUIETLY MAKING NOISE, TD


We wait to see what Dr, C can do for you. We miss you at home. We love you. We wish you every good wish possible. Nigel, we love you.

BECOMING A CHAMPION

I guess the Nationals are being held now in Kentucky. I was going to go, had planned on it last spring, but now with all the house crap I cannot-- it's too expensive right now (well, it's ALWAYS too expensive but that's why God made credit cards.)
Anyway I thought it would be appropriate at this time to just run through a few of the measures that one must take to get a dog from zero to 100 (Champion.) based on my experiences as an amateur handler.

First get a puppy. A good one. Four legs, two testicles (if it's a male) and a happy tail if it's a Basset. Make sure your breeder understands you are going to be a "show home".

Then train it.
BWAAAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
(The laughter applies only if you are working with Bassets.)

Here is a Champion Basset:

No wait. Sorry. That's Conley getting one of his three points that he has. He needs only 70,000 more. That's what it seems like when he goes in the ring and drops his tail. Oh yes, that's another thing: no tail, no ribbon. No ribbon, no chance at points.

This is what a Champion might look like if the dog in question would go into the ring like this, instead of being in the backyard. Because your dog looks like a million bucks in training, don't assume he will do the same thing at a dog show. Chances are, he will find a way to have his OWN rules at the show, and they won't be ones you like. The Judge may even laugh, but she is writing
"Dog is doofus: owner/handler FAIL" in her little book.

This bitch needed only 3 points when I stopped showing her to breed her. I will never do that again--either thing-- stop showing to breed a bitch or even just breed a bitch. I loved it at the time, but she never got those 3 points.
Don't think you can spay her to make your life easier-- you cannot show a spayed bitch and after a few months you (and a sharp-eyed Judge) probably can tell by the way the nether regions appear.

This dog IS in fact, a Champion. I am not sure how it happened. It must have been a mistake because I was showing him. The AKC says he has the points and he also has a minor herding title. He got that because we were at the Nationals and I did NOT take him into do the herding. He actually does not care much for sheep but it was a novel experience so for once he didn't just pee on the posts and leave.

If this Afghan Hound went through all this and is not a Champion he should be.

This dog was a Champion and had bigtime Obedience and herding titles as well. In conformation you get a little ribbon but in Obedience you get stuff like this. Not always-- I think he was High In Trial that day. Clearly, he was not my dog. His name was Beacon and I do not have all his names and titles to give you, but he was a great dog.

All these dogs were at the International last spring. This cute l'il Basset Boy beat our ass off every single day. If he is not a Champion by now I would be horribly surprised but I do believe he is finished: I think it was in the BUGLER a while back. You can see his tail is up-- it never went down. He is a gorgeous dog.

This is my Champion making sure all the "Little people" know he is one and they are not.
Llewis (and that is he) cares not.

This is what a dog whose owner wants a Champion but who doesn't give a rat's ass about BECOMING a Champion does instead of putting his tail up in the show ring.

He has saved me a lot of money this way.