2009 April » Dogs Don't Look Both Ways

my diet

5: Dogs Don't Look Both Ways No Responses »

Apr 262009

healthy-diet

My breakfast consists of Science Diet dry food. Though I don’t always act my age, according to Science Diet I’m a “mature adult” since I’m over six years old, so I eat the mature adult variety. But now there is a different smell in my breakfast: It is something called “Condroitin with Glucosamine”.

My parents also keep my water bowls filled with fresh water at all times. Since I came home, I’ve been very thirsty.

For my dinner, I have Science Diet. But there is a unique smell in my food here too: It is something called “Omega 3 Salmon Oil”.

These smells don’t do anything for me, but they are in “the list” that my mom Jane went over with Dr. B. on Day 9. He wants me to take the Omega 3 fish oil so that my skin injuries will heal more quickly. And he wants me to take the other stuff so that my bones heal well.

Because these smells don’t do anything for me, my mom has to “trick” me into wanting to eat by putting a little chicken soup in each meal. If that doesn’t work, she has to go through her, “Joey, eat” routine.

just keep talking

5: Dogs Don't Look Both Ways No Responses »

Apr 232009

The three of us remain there in the hospital lobby. My mom has a lot of questions for Dr. Kiko and continues reading from her “list”, and I remain close to both of them, on a short leash.

the-list

Jane tells Dr. Kiko that I have taken all the antibiotics she was initially given for me, and wants to know if I need to continue to take them; she wants to know how often my bandages have to be changed, if I am permitted to be free to walk around the house yet, if I have to continue to have the cream put on my belly. She wants to know something about my food, such as if she should put fish oil on my food, and other things.

I’m not paying any attention to her and Dr. Kiko. I hope they keep on talking and talking because the longer they talk, the longer I can look be enchanted by the sounds and scents of the other dogs that are walking in and out of the hospital, with their owners in tow.

Dogs other than me are marking their territory and indicating their pleasure with being in this social place.

I really love this hospital!

dogs don’t look both ways

5: Dogs Don't Look Both Ways 4 Responses »

Apr 232009

My dreams have come true! The stitches and staples have been taken out and Dr. B says I don’t have to wear the collar any more.

caution

After the examination and procedure, Dr. B, and Jane, and I are together in the hospital lobby. Dr. B and Jane are talking to each other, and I’m preoccupied by the other animals in the hospital, coming in, going out, waiting for their appointments.

A little girl has just come over to make friends with me. She pets me.Then she asks what happened to me, and Jane has told her that I was hit by a car. The little girl looks puzzled and has asked, “Didn’t he look both ways when he was crossing the street?”

Jane answered, “No, dogs don’t look both ways.” She said, “Dogs also don’t pay attention to traffic lights or to stop signs.” Doctor B was there too and heard this and he nodded in agreement.

This seems to be an important issue.

day 9

5: Dogs Don't Look Both Ways No Responses »

Apr 232009

weighing-in

Today is going to be a great day for me. I have an appointment with my doctor, Dr. B, one of my best friends. The “Instructions” said to bring me there within 7 to 10 days of my going home, and this is Day 9. Perfect.

I don’t really care why I have to go there; for me it is a wonderful thing because I get to go outside for a little bit. I also don’t have to wear the collar while I am in the car. Maybe Jane will open the car window while she’s driving and I’ll feel the fresh air blow on my face and be able to sniff at all the lovely scents of animal life that are in the air.

My parents are saying something about taking out the stitches and staples that are in my belly. I wonder if that means that I will not have to wear the cone any longer. While I am there, Dr. B is going to look at my leg and tell me if he thinks it’s getting better. Then he is going to put on new bandages.

***

At the hospital, Dr. B lets me walk longer distances, which is a lot of fun, though I’m still on the leash. There are so many other dogs and cats there; I am unaware of who is big and who is little; I am aware of males and females. Some dogs are on leads like I am, some are in carriers. There is one dog who has three legs and he is hopping around, as happy as he can be. I find the whole experience of being in the hospital wonderful. All of these dogs could be my friend! My nose and eyes and ears are always busy! My tail is wagging continuously and my ears are alert. Lots of dogs, including me, are marking the walls and posts in order to say, to each other, in our own language,”I am here!”

Each time that I go to the hospital, the doctors want to know how much I weigh, whether I’ve gained or lost weight. Dr. B needs to know so he can figure out how much medicine I should be taking. I’ve lost some weight since I was wounded. Before I was hit by the car, I was a strong 80 pounds. Here in this weighing in I’m down to 74 pounds. Jane says that that’s because I am not running, and Dr. B agrees with her: Phil and I have not gone jogging together for two weeks now. I really don’t care about my weight, but I do care that my ankle and toes heal correctly and that I will be able to run again.

the dog who would not eat

4: Going Home No Responses »

Apr 222009

Now we have a new daily routine.

eat

Here’s our morning routine: Every morning, Phil comes and wakes me up, but we no longer jog. Now we just take a short walk which, to me, is heavenly. As soon as I do my thing, we go back home. We walk slowly. When Jane comes downstairs, she gets me breakfast and makes sure that I eat it. She tries to make my breakfast interesting for me by adding some chicken soup to it. The idea is that in order for me to take my medicine, I have to have eaten first. Sometimes I refuse to eat it. I stand there, sniff around, look around, look at her, face my food but roll my eyes toward her to see if she’s looking at me, stretch, sniff around again, do anything but eat, and then she says, “Joey, eat your breakfast.” Some people think that dogs don’t speak English, but I understand exactly what she wants from me. She wants me to eat my breakfast.

chicken-broth We have the same routine in the evening, starting with the evening walk with Phil. Either before the walk or after it, Jane feeds me my dinner and tries to make it interesting by pouring some chicken soup into it. If I don’t eat it, she says “Joey, eat. Eat your dinner.” She wants me to eat because I cannot take my medicine on an empty stomach. Some people say that dogs don’t speak English but I understand exactly what she wants from me. She wants me to eat my dinner.

goodnight, Joey!

4: Going Home No Responses »

Apr 222009

goodnight-joey

Since I’m not allowed out of the living room, except to take my short walk twice daily to pee and poop, I feel particularly lonely in the evening, when my dad is home from work, but I’m limited to the one room. Many evenings my parents will come into the living room and sit down on the sofa and talk to each other there, just so that I’m not so alone. I get a little attention, and I feel comforted just listening to them talk to each other, and sometimes to me. Sometimes they bring their dinner into the living room and eat their dinner there. It is nice to be with my family!

There are other times when I really need my rest (or they really need their rest) and so they say “Joey, go to your bed.” Once they know I’m lying down in my bed, they will kiss me on the top of my head and give me a pat on my head or gently on my sore belly. Then they turn out the living room lights and softly say “Good night, Joey.”

conehead

4: Going Home No Responses »

Apr 212009

conehead

What bothers me the most about being wounded is having this cone around my head. Dr. B calls it a collar but I think he’s just being kind. The “instructions” call it an “Elizabethan collar”. Do I look like my name is Elizabeth?

I don’t understand why I have to have this cone, or collar, around my neck and head. When I walk, it bumps into things. When I eat, it bumps into my food bowl. When I drink, it bumps into my water bowl. I even have to wear it when I sleep. So why am I wearing it?

I hear my mom and dad are doing it to protect me because I have stitches on my stomach and some medicinal cream on my belly from where my belly scraped along the ground. The idea is that this cone is supposed to prevent me from licking my wounds, and licking off the medicinal cream, or possibly even to prevent me from biting at the stitches. My doctors want the stitches and my belly to heal properly.

********

a dog gate is not my idea of a toy

4: Going Home No Responses »

Apr 212009

Limiting your dog’s movement is difficult for your dog. He doesn’t like it when he can’t roam free, and he doesn’t like to see you walk away when he can’t follow. But it’s often more difficult for the dog’s parents or owners – when those big eyes stare back at you! Still, limiting your dog’s movement is an essential key to your dog recuperation. It is as important as antibiotics, surgery, and bandage changes. Owners of injured pets need to find a dog gate that is right for your dog and your home.
***

dog-gate-not-my-idea-of-a-toy

A few days ago the FedEx truck pulled up to our home and the man delivered a large carton to my owners. I love when we receive package deliveries, because the delivery men can become my friends, too. But this delivery was different.

First, I wasn’t allowed out of the living room to greet or even see the delivery man. This was a huge frustration to me.

Then, Jane brought the large carton into our home and took out out something made of wood. Next, she got a screw driver and started working. And working. I wanted to play with her, but she kept working. In addition, I thought she had bought me a new toy, and I let her know that by wagging my tail. But this wasn’t a toy for me.

About one hour later, there was a little wooden gate set up in the doorway to the living room that was too high for me to jump over. I couldn’t push it away, or figure out a way to open its little door. This was a huge frustration for me. I think this time they were too smart for me.

Spending all this time in the living room has, I think, something to do with following “the doctor’s orders”. This spacial limitation is the hardest part about recuperating.

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