I've Got a Dog: DidoI've Got a Dog: DidoDido Philosophy: "If I do not understand it or I do not like it, piss on it."
The Dog - DidoShe calls him "Poppy" (long 'o') which is apparently a
name for a TV dog in Spanish. To me it mostly sounds like
"puppy". He likes to steal things and although you cannot see it
in the little picture (click to see a bigger one), his color
markings are definitely a mask.
But this puppy is unbelievable. I think Mari gave
him up because some day he shall be a very large dog and he eats enough
to bankrupt a Mexican -- except they feed dogs table scraps. El
Golfo dogs are mostly scrawny and look like they have a limited
heritage (i.e. inbred). This dog has enough fur for a bear. In
fact I thought of calling him "Oso" (bear in Spanish). He really
likes me. He is excited every time he sees me and this does not
seem to wear off or be dependent upon his feeding schedule.
He understands only Spanish. We shall keep it
that way. But I think his vocabulary is expanding daily. He has
not been housebroken but I think he understands the concept. He
has not been inside enough to verify that one way or the other. I
bought a 50 pound bag of puppy chow and another 20 pound bag.
Two? I bought one for Mari when she got the dog and one after for
me and then I picked up the original from Mari. I started
feeding him 5 cups a day because he was obviously underfed. He
has filled out now and the food is reduced to 3 cups per day -- half in
the morning and half at night. Here is where things get
interesting. I bought a feeding bowl and an assortment of dog
things at WalMart.
Mari agreed to keep him for the day while I went across the border
for blood tests. She promised to be there early when I
arrived. I needed a menu of tests as I have consistently
complained of tiredness. I took my monthly INR test in 57 as I
like the consistency and I had no standing order from Susie available
for the American lab.
But, as I have learned -- never trust a woman to keep a
schedule. Mari was not home. She was at the Mexican government
office with her sister to get a birth certificate. No, I could
not take the puppy to her and no, she would not leave her sister.
But in the almost completed new house, the puppy had been kept in a
back bedroom while it was with them. Leave puppy there and she
would attend to him when she got home. Right.
Sure enough, right where she said it was, was a large section of
3-ply wood. And there was water in the room and a section of
unfinished concrete where puppy could do his jobs. I left puppy
eating and put the 3-ply in the doorway and left. Puppy climbed
the 3-ply (as I have come to find out, puppy is a good climber) and was
happily trotting along next to me. I got a bigger piece of 3-ply
and walked around it then placed it firmly against the doorway.
No. Puppy forced his nose between the wood and door frame and again was
happily trotting along next to me.
I got a 4x8 section of 3-ply , put it in the doorway and propped the
original up against it. No way out for the puppy. Nor any
way out for me. But the windows were not framed and I climbed out
the window. The ground was further down than I expected and I
landed on my left foot. I expected this but I instantly
discovered that my foot could not take my body weight without damage to
my ankle. I went down to my knee but my knee had the same
problem: it would break if I kept my weight on it. So I collapsed
onto my left side as I hit the ground. My thigh and shoulder took
the weight. I was OK and the puppy could not follow. A few
yips and I was gone.
By the time I got to the blood lab I could barely walk and was using
my walking stick to hold my weight. By the time I got to WalMart
I could barely stand up at all. I begrudged the woman who
obviously could move much faster than myself for taking the last
motorized shopping cart. It hurt. I should have gone straight to
bed but you know me. Maybe most men. By the time I got to
Mari's and picked up the dog I was in so much pain that I did not even
try to stand up. The dog was happy to leave. I was
surprised. I noticed Beto again was kicking the dog in the
mouth for biting. More training, less Beto.
By morning, even with the hotpad, I could not stand up. As you
know, most painkiller medicine contains aspirin or Ibuprofen --
precluded by my Warfarin. Tylenol my be good for women's cramps
but I have never met a man for whom it was any use at all. That
includes me. I tried a few Tylenol. I threw them up.
I could not walk up and down my steps. The dog went hungry that
day. Sunday, I crawled down the steps and fed the dog and then
crawled back up. My thigh hurt so much and would take no weight
at all. My shoulder hurt but I did not worry about that.
What I did worry about was internal bleeding. That is how the
Warfarin kills rats. It could do the same for me. But there
were no black and blue marks. Just pain. Monday I went to
the doctor who quickly examined me and assured me that it was just a
badly bruised muscle and I would walk again in a week. In a week,
I could walk but it hurt and the steps were a real problem. Now
my knee let its vote count: it could not take weight even if my thigh
could take weight. No complaints from my ankle.
Puppy is his usual
self. I have discovered that the dog shampoo seriously dries out
his fur. My shampoo (Kirkland/Costco) did not do this. I
shall alternate them until the dog shampoo is gone and then try to
locate some dog shampoo that does not dry out the dog. With all
this fur, the dog needs a weekly bath. The teena has a layer of
sand on the bottom at the end of the bath.
The dog has become a major part of my life. He is a good
dog. He could be better. He still thinks "come" is
optional. He understands the difference between "mine" and
"his". We go for a walk on the beach every day. This is why
I have him. For several years I have not gotten enough
exercise. Now a mile or two on the beach corrects this
deficiency. The major problem is his jumping. Hopefully my
newly ordered Dremel tool will blunt his claws. He will not let
me near him with clippers. He loves children but they do not like
being knocked down. My arms are full of scratches. He is
slowly learning to curb his excitement and keep at least 2 feet on the
ground. I am hoping to get 4 feet on the ground soon.
The Mexicans do not understand the American love affair with their
dogs. To the Mexicans a dog is just another animal hanging around
their house.
There is a "local" newspaper written by a Gringo that most people
think of as a perverted practical joke on itself. Maybe sort of
like my web page except I am not trying to give you the news, only my
view of my world. But I encountered the owner/editor of this rag
the other day on the beach. He was driving a big black SUV with
"The El Golfo Times" written on the door. He came at me at a
pretty high speed from downwind so I did not hear him
coming. When I did, he was driving his car straight at my
dog. At the last minute he swerved close to me and yelled that my
dog was stupid. We are talking about a distance of 10 meters
between me and the dog and he decided rather than outright running my
dog down, he would split the difference. If the dog had moved
toward me, the driver would have hit one of us. At this point the
beach is a couple hundred meters wide. It is not my dog that is
stupid. If there were anything that should fail, it is a
newspaper written by a person with hatred in his soul.
Someone referred to him as a Shetland Pony the other day. He
is getting big. The vets (plural) think the second half is Border
Collie. He certainly acts the part. He does not chase cars:
he herds them. He gets in front and tries to stop them. One
of these days he may be unhappy enough to succeed,.
But right now he has worse problems. I left him with Marisol
while I went shopping. She was preparing for a birthday party for
her son. Other boys were there too --I left before the part
started. When I arrived, the dog was lying quietly to the
side. Surprise. When around kids this dog is never lying
around quietly. It took about 9 days but I discovered the
problem. Problems. The dog has fleas. The dog has
ticks. The dog has an injured tendon in his left front leg.
It has gotten worse and he can now barely walk. We are treating
the ticks and fleas. The vet gave me medicine to inject as an
anti-irritant but it does not seem to be working. I shall take
him for his vaccinations next week and see what else can be done.
THe poor dog is in misery. Physical because it hurts to
walk. Emotional because he cannot run. He gained weight so
I have reduced his food. I guess when your high-activity dog
becomes a couch potato you must reduce the calories very quickly.
There will be no more days at Marisol's. No one even informed me
what happened to hurt his paw. I know that they know who did it
and how. They also lost some of my tools and I have yet to get my
camera back. I like the Mexicans but they are still cut from the
same mold as all of the other people in the world. I do wish they
had more respect for their friends and their dogs.
I am convinced that he has at least two breeds. Border Collie because of his his head shape, behavior and his intense staring. A second because of the short legs. German shepherd coloring but no physical attributes of a German Shepherd..
I just added a few pictures to the picture gallery. No.
He is not fat. That is all fur and all dog. My little
Shetland Pony.
Yesterday was not a good day. I went to Sam's Club and left a bag -- a big bag -- of Bounty Paper towels in the cart. I also left the dog's water dish.
Economically I would have been better off leaving the dog. But
he was one of the two reasons for the trip. The first, of course,
was to make sure my Federal Income Tax Return was properly placed in a
mail box. The second was to take the dog to the vet.
The dog has a problem: his legs hurt. His left front and right
rear (sounds like the time to rotate tires on the car). His left
front has hurt for over a month but now he can barely walk and cannot
get into or out of the car without being lifted. And he refuses
to wear his sun glasses so he ends up inside with me.
But the vet. Since the dog reacts when his paws are examined,
the vet knocked him out with anesthesia. I think too much
anesthesia as he (Dido) was out cold and piddled all over the counter
-- when I was told he would get enough just anesthesia to make him
dopy. But he recovered from that OK. I am still recovering
from the news:
I only had enough yesterday to pay for the anesthesia and the pain
killers. Next week I will go back and buy the other medications
and while in the USA see about the operation. Either the dog or
my bank balance will not recover from this episode. Most likely
the bank balance. The dog house and neutering operation are no
longer on the table. The dog house for economic reasons.
Neutering means the dog will grow heavier. Heavier is not
good. After the operation the dog will always limp? I need to
learn more about this operation. It may be better for the dog to
put him down. Talk about a dog being man's best friend.
Although Dido makes it a contest, he has become my best friend. I
understand why Megan is so devoted to her cat. I didn't before
this.
And I find on the Internet miracle cures for hip/joint
problems. Now I am really confused. I shall need help on
this one. Believe the doctor and the dog is has discomfort and
surgery and hope for the best. Believe the Internet and give the
dog vitamins but pass the 1-year-old deadline for surgery. Ask
Megan. She always knows answers. I used to think I was
smart.
I talked to Megan (expert on dog hip dysplasia). She will get back. Went to www.justanswer.com and got their opinion. Searched other sites for medications and, alternatives, operations.
I think I have it figured out. Hip Dysplasia is basically a
hereditary hip socket anomaly. They actually have statistics on
it by breed and current hip socket. The problem is that the femur
ball does not fit properly into the hip bone socket.. The
improper fit may be due to tendon or bone strength and shape.
There is no "cure". There are surgeries to reshape the joint or
change the tendon, etc.. The long term problem is that the femur
ball will continue to wear and misshape the hip socket. There is
a natural cartilage separating the bones. WIth hip dysplasia
this cartilage will wear out or be torn away due to the poor (loose)
joint fitting.
The surgeries go from weakening a certain tendon to replacing the
femur ball with one of stainless steel. Left untreated,
eventually your dog will need a cart presuming his front legs can pull
him around on the cart.
There is a way to slow this process and indeed actually improve the
condition. This, like the surgery, had its own risks and
probabilities. There are anti-inflammatories which can be used to
temporarily relieve pain. Never a long term solution.
The long term solution is to use a cartilage strengthening
medication. This is the same medication referred to for humans
as "Joint Juice". This is a combination of Glucosamine, Chondroitin, MSM
(whatever that is), and Vitamin C. The amount varies by weight of
the dog but the human form can be used as well as the dog-specific
forms. This stuff comes in tablets, powders, and liquids and in
various combinations of the named chemicals. If I buy the
dog-specific chewables, it costs about $40 per month. If I buy
the human liquid at Sam's Club containing all of the chemicals in
appropriate proportions, it costs about $20 for a six month supply.
They suggest double dosage for the first month and using it for life
if there are positive results. Think of the problem as a ball joint on
your car suspension. You need to replenish the grease for the
life of the joint or it dries up and you lose you steering. Today
this analogy fails as they have found a way to permanently seal the ball
joint in your car. No such luck on your dog.
So my happy puppy will live on "Joint Juice" for the rest of his
life. Hopefully a long time. If the juice works, I shall
know in about 2 months. If it does not work, he will have a
shortened life as I could not bear to see him live in pain for the remainder of his puppy hood and all of his adult life.
I give up. I have a Border Collie with weak legs and I have a
tight budget and therefore will forego any surgery. Dido will
live on Joint Juice and exercise. The exercise will consist
mostly of daily swims. He will be chained for several hours every
day to give his joints recuperation time. If anything changes,
you will be the first to know.
To prove my conviction that he is just plain Border Collie I have
gone to the Web and looked for typical pictures of Border
Collies. I think many of the online pictures are also mixed
breeds. In any case, look at body shape and behavior and you will
see what I am up against. The dogs have a strong almost
triangular chest (from good mountain air and running), big feet with
long toes (good for rough terrain), thick fur (from good mountain cold
air), furry ears, furry tail, furry everything. And wide set eyes
that can stare down anything or any one. That is how they control
errant sheep: they stare them down. When he looks at you, you
know you are being watched. And you know that he is thinking of
how to control you since to him you are just another errant sheep that
somehow manages, mostly, to not be herded.
You want security? Get the German Shepherd. My Border
Collie only barks at cars and people he recognizes. But he will
try to herd anything that moves: beetles, cars, kids, whatever.
I read about the woman who had an orangutan that turned
vicious. The news sites were implying that she had had a sexual
relationship with the animal. This sounds really bad but I
understand it now. Yes, you can tell I love my dog. In
Spanish the word would be querer or encontar. It would not be
amor. English combines an entire collection of emotions into one
word. I know his speech is limited. And unlike some Borders
who have trouble finding their voice, he is quite vociferous. He
has learned well from the local Mexican dog community. When the
local dogs start to bark at a stranger, he will let out a woof or two to
let them know that he is ready to take on the stranger as soon as he is
close enough to be seen. Listening to the sequence of dogs
barking in this community is interesting all by itself.
When he is out by himself -- which is most of the time, he
entertains himself by barking at strangers, running up and down the
fence with people he knows, or playing, or when it is hot, just resting
under the RV. It is hot a lot these days.
When I am out with him, he may be lying down a ways from me but he
is aware of me. He plays with his toys or a stick as I sit in my chair
admiring him. Sometimes I will call him over just to pet
him. Sometimes he comes over just to be petted or to have one of
his toys thrown. I am not sure that he wants it thrown for him to
fetch. Sometimes I think he wants to just share the toy.
Tonight he came over, nudged my leg affectionately and sat down next to
me so that could pet his head and scratch his ears.
A lot of the Alpha dog stuff is history. I do not think it
goes away but is no longer a contest all of the time. He
understands mine and his to a degree that I would never expect even a
wife to understand. For example, he leaves his toys all over the
yard. Normal behavior for a dog but when your yard is a large
sand lot these little colored balls and other things look like serious
clutter. So I picked up one of the large plastic bins and placed
it on the ground next to my table. He walked around with me as I
picked up all of his toys and placed them in the bin. They stayed
here for a couple of das until I figured out that I had not told him
that the bin was his. Since it was my bin, they were now my toys.
Once I told him the bin was his, the toys came out. End of
story? No. As I was sitting in my chair tonight next to the
table, he took one of his toys from his bed, placed it in the bin, and
pulled out a different toy, and brought it to me to play with.
During he night he would take my things and hide them -- many times
things from the table. He would chew the arm end caps on the
chairs -- informing me that he was sitting in the chairs while I was
inside. Alpha dog stuff. I stopped coming out and
discovering him half-cowering as he expected to be disciplined for the
damage. No, I came out and totally ignored him. I walked
around looking for problems and pretending to cry when I found
something. I would then put it back where it belonged. When
I found nothing more to correct, I would joyously call him and pet
him. The deviant behavior stopped.
Now he cares for my things as if they were his own. If you
have not had such a dog, maybe you should keep it that way. Such
a dog needs to be loved as much as he loves.
We went to Marisol's house the other day. She was not home but
her son Beto/Betito was. I have mentioned him before. We
waited inside their trailer. Small trailer but the dog had his tennis
ball and wanted to play fetch. With an 8 foot area to play in,
fetch gets a bit strange. Beto was impressed with the number of
words that Dido understood and how careful of the house he was while
playing with his ball. When Mari arrived, he tried a few short
jumps but when she told him to stay down, he did. He was
overjoyed as usual to see her but settled down when we went
inside. Beto and Dido went outside to play. After a while,
Dido came back in and told me that he wanted to go home now. He
came in, nudged my leg, and walked to the door. He might do this
if he needed to go to the bathroom but he had just come in. He
wanted to leave. I do not know what Beto did to him, but he did
not like it. Beto's arms were scratched indicating that Dido had jumped
up on him. Alpha dog. Eye to eye. Dido only does this
now when he feels threatened and he want to make sure that you know
that he can be the boss if he wants to be.
I look at him lying on his bed chewing on his stick and know that
he feels the same way about me that I do him. And there are not
words to explain that. The gentle nudge with his nose and sitting
next to me says it all. And I wonder if he senses the concern I
feel for him as I know that just walking is painful at times for
him. think no one would notice since he runs and plays so
herd. When the running stops, he wobbles. And he is
certainly not fat. When he comes out of the sea and his fur is
all wet, he looks the same as when he was a puppy: his head looks too
large for his body and with all that fur hanging to his sides, he
reminds you more of a fluffy-headed cardboard figure than the shetland
Pony he appears to be when his fur is fluffed.
His two best facial expressions are a smile, and I do not know what
you call it but it is sort of a smile as he is waiting for you to throw
the ball another time. I do not know if he fetches it because he
wants to run or because he wants to give me something to do.
Maybe it is a bit of both. I am sure that it is.
It is Memorial Day weekend and I have to be concerned about the
traffic. Romping on the beach will be difficult as all of the
quads and trucks will be trying to get him to chase them.
I know. You are tired of hearing about it.
The web pages are full of how to deal with a dominant dog or an
Alpha dog. These pages run into each other. For example one
page says to never let your dog be at your eye level or above. I
believe this page because my dog gets this grin on his face saying "I
am the boss now". He did this tonight. He jumped from the
pickup bed onto the ice chest and then onto the roof. He made
sure I saw the grin before he obeyed the command to come down.
And then he only came down to the ice chest. And grinned.
He could have jumped from there and we both knew it. I yelled to
jump into the bed for his shower. He always gets a shower after
swimming in the ocean. He does not like his shower. He did
not jump down and so I grabbed his neck and puled him down. Once
down, he wanted to step up to the pickup side so that he was again
higher than me. I held him down until he understood that I did
not accept his being top dog. I then proceeded to gather the hose
and water for his shower. He knew that his glory had been
short-lived. But he needed to try because he really did not want
a shower tonight and if he succeeded in being top-dog, maybe he could
have gotten away with it. He lost that one.
When he got down from the pickup he ran around the yard with his
toys as he always does. He really enjoys running and leaping
after a shower or bath. I fixed his dinner bowl. He made a
point of not hurrying to eat even though we both knew he was very
hungry. When I was about to empty the dinner bowl back into the
tub, he ran up the steps in his usual location and acted like he should
be fed. No. He needs to sit down and wait for me to give
permission. A couple calls to sit down wiped off the grin and I
told him he could eat. And we are back to normal.
But here is the zinger. Another web page says that I always go
up a stairs first. I agree. When I get to the top, he gets
permission to go up. Sometimes it is easier to let him go first
but if he goes first, I am close enough behind that when he turns
around at the top, I am already higher than he. The problem is
going down the stairs. He always goes first. Why? Because
if I go first, he stands at the top with his Alpha dog grin and waits
for my voice level to change when demanding he come down. This is
not acceptable -- he goes down first -- and he knows that if he
hesitates he may get stepped on.
I guess some people like the non-challenging Beagle that I read about.
Fetch with Dido is not a simple game. II read about dog owners
who have trouble getting the ball back from their dog. This is
never a problem with Dido. He does, however, make me getting the
ball back a game. A complex game.
Simple Fetch
I stand and throw the ball and expect him to run and return with the
ball. When he returns, if I have my hand out, he tosses the ball
into my hand or drops it on his way by. The ball will hit the
center of my hand and if I do not catch it, it is my fault for having
slow reflexes. He makes a second pass and leaves it at my
feet. If I do not have my hand out, he leaves the ball at my
feet. This is also not a simple just drop the ball. He runs
by, drops the ball, and kicks it with one of his paws to my feet. this
kick might be from a couple of meters away or right at my foot but it
is with sufficient strength to stop near my foot. At first I
though his kicking was an accident sine the ball is already traveling
in my direction. But there is always the kick to make sure that
it gets exactly between my feet. I think Dido is right-footed.
Walking Fetch
When we are walking, I throw the ball ahead of us or to the side.
He does not return it to me unless he really wants the exercise.
He drops it on my projected path and guards it until I
arrive. Oh. If I called to him, he would bring it but this
is part of his "I know where we are going" game.
Water Fetch
This is really his game. I do walking fetches as we approach the
shore. When we arrive, he tests the wave strength and
direction. WHen I throw the ball, he jumps and swims out to the
splash since from his height he cannot see the ball itself until quite
close or a wave carries it higher. When he returns, he releases
the ball as soon as his feet are on the bottom. He expects the
waves to carry the ball to between my feet. Sometimes he misses
but the ball will stop at about the proper location, just further to my
left or right. If he guess wrong (rare), he will pick up the ball
and bring it to me. This is his favorite game and will happily
wait all day long just for a few beach tosses. If I think he is
tiring, I will toss the ball up the beach and see what he does.
He will run after it but when he catches it, he may quickly return and
walk into the water, in which case I know he wants more water
fetches. Or he will play with it while before he returns, in
which case we are finished with water fetches.
Distracted Fetches
This I enjoy but would rather they did not happen. If I throw the
ball for him and he encounters other people, he will drop the ball at
their feet. If they ignore the ball, he returns it to me.
This is my preferred action. If they pick up the ball and throw
it, he returns it to them. He will continue to do this until they
figure out that the only way to end the game is to not throw the ball
or to throw it to me. Almost daily I see some poor pedestrian
trying to figure out how to leave the dog behind.
If he is ignored, he will come back after investigating
pedestrians. If they show him any positive activity, it may be a
while before he returns. I want him to come when called -- the
first time. So if I have called him and he does not quickly
return, we return to the pickup after a few words of admonishment.
In other words, this Alpha Dog thing never goes away. He thinks
coming is optional. I do not but figuring out the proper level of
discipline and positive reinforcement is a tough game when you have a
dog smarter than you are.
Dido has invented a few new games. He will play hide and seek
with me. If I go out and look for him when he is in front of me
waiting for me to acknowledge him, he will duck under the table and
around a box where I cannot see him. He then waits for me to look for
him and smiles when I discover him behind the box. Sort of like
"two can play hat game".
I was lucky enough to have two very intelligent and physically
normal daughters. I see other children either in real life or in
movies with some less-than-perfect characteristic. I am trying to
be politically correct here and words I grew up with are now bad
words. Handicapped. Disabled. Those words.
But my dog has Hip Dysplasia. In spades. He can walk
OK. His gallop seems normal but it hurts him
afterwards. His run is different. Both hind legs move
together as his hips do not permit them to easily operate
separately. He runs well but not like he should. He
urinates with a leg lifted -- but only lifted slightly. When
urinating against something, he manages to get the leg about 6 inches
off the ground. Normal male dogs can raise that leg as high as
their head or higher.
Here is the thing. I have covered options above. The
problem here is mine. I want to feel sympathy for my dog because
he is not "normal". But he does not know he is not normal.
He is what he is. He does what he can do. His personality
is not better or worse because he cannot raise his leg. Dog web
pages break down breeds by "independent" versus "affectionate".
If the second were "obedient", I could buy into this but my dog is very
independent and also very affectionate. He will not come when
called when distracted. Usually by children. He will come
to be brushed -- and he hates being brushed. He will suddenly
attack me with affection when he has been just sitting
peacefully. When together and he is in front of me trying to con
some small piece of my food, he looks at me like any con artist.
But I know that there is more then con here.
And it is my problem. I want to feel sorry for an animal that
would never understand why I behave as such. He is what he is and
he loves me at least as much as I do him. I admire the parent who
understand their children in the same manner.
It is really hot this month -- 105° to 115°. The sand is so
hot that I burn my feet just walking across the lot to turn off the
sprinkler. Dido spends all of his time under the RV or under the
front porch of the house. Mostly he wants to spend the day inside
and I permit him to be inside in the afternoons. But I am afraid
that he really needs a little more exercise that lying on the RV floor
all day. Running the sprinkler gives him a large area that he can
run without burning his feet. And with the evaporative cooling,
keeps the yard slightly cooler for him. We really need a trip to
the mountains for him.
Dido had his trip to Yécora. It did not last long. He traveled well.
Better than I expected. He watched the scenery and the trip up and
down those mountains and valleys is pretty nice. I really do have a
wonderful dog but obedience is a problem. He considered being chained
as punishment. He knew he was a good dog and there was no reason to be
punished so he took it out on me the next time he was free. He
insisted on sleeping on the floor next to me. Since theft was a
potential problem, this was great. To get away from roaming small
puppies, he would jump onto the bed with me.
He watched horses and cows with some interest. The most interest
was with a herd of goats. We saw no sheep. But he showed no interest
in chasing them. He did chase chickens much to the dismay of their
owner. He only chased chickens which made noise and ran away. If they
just kept doing what they were doing, he ignored them.
Rain. He encountered rain for the first time in his life. He had
been outside playing with the kids when it started raining. He came
running inside to me and asked what to do about it. Was it good? Did
I do something bad? He asked a lot of questions. I have not many good
answers so I took a ball out and we played fetch in the rain. It was
the best answer I had to his request for approval to enjoy this new
experience. He loved the rain. He pranced and jumped and ran in
circles. It was really nice to be someplace where you did not go
inside to get away from the heat and burned feet.
The day before we left, I went for a pizza (local WiFi hotspot) and
when he noticed I was missing, slipped his chain and ran to the main
highway where he stopped traffic in both directions until someone from
the house fetched him home. He may have liked Yécora but he was not
about to be left there.
On one walk he saw the middle school kids playing soccer/football.
Ever since then he spends his time kicking balls around the yard. He
will even kick a ball in the air and punch it with his nose. I have
always felt bad because the only game that I knew was fetch. I knew he
wanted more imaginative games but my communications and sporting skills
are not up to his. Now we take turns kicking the ball around the
yard. More exercise for me and he really loves it. He will "give" the
ball to me and back off about 3 meters waiting for me to do something
innovative. For me this is kicking it to an optimum location and then
trying to kick it past him. With tennis balls I can be successful.
With a soccer ball, he gets it almost every time. He does not complain
if the ball hits him in the nose.
Housebreaking is improving I think. He peed on my bed and on my
bedroom floor. These are now off limits until things improve. I make
sure that he goes outside every couple of hours and we do not go back
inside until he has done his jobs. He only eats at night so I do not
leave food out for the birds to get any more. As you can see from the
initial picture and now the one year picture, he has grown into a
beautiful animal. 22" at the shoulder. Not high. But I swear he is
part dachshund as he seems very long. With his large chest size, he is
a massive dog. His paws are not large but his fingers are long and
very flexible. He can hold things, like a tennis ball, in his paw.
He has really learned that he frightens people and has developed his
habit of coming upon people from their backsides so that he is next to
them before they even know that there is a dog in the neighborhood. He
is pretty good about leaving if he is not wanted. Today he saw some
gray/brown seagulls walking on the beach. He had not seen this color
before so he went over to them. He was standing between two of them
when they discovered that they had company. They immediately left.
Sometimes I think my dog is half cat.
People are letting me know that running free in the RV park is bad.
considering that there is only one RV in the park, this surprises me.
There are several people in their lots. We go to the beach every day
where we play fetch/soccer until I am worn out. He reluctantly rides
inside on way to the beach but rides in the back on the way home. This
is the high point of his day. There are groups of dogs that he barks
at. He watches for them and then draws them after us with his angry
barking. I hope he can get that angry at an intruder. I have given up
trying to protect the Ford Ranger's paint. I know it will need repainting
in a couple of years or maybe sooner. While waiting for me, he enjoys
waiting on the roof unless it is too hot in which case he waits on top
of the ice chest.
Hip Dysplasia may be a problem but there does not seem to be pain
at this point and he vomits the human and dog medicine for joints.
He is a good dog, he really is. No. He is a great
dog. I just wish he were more obedient. I wish he
considered "Come" an imperative and not an option. But he never
complains and seems to just enjoy the time we have together. But
he has a limit and once that limit is reached, he is is own man -- or
dog.
We live in the desert. I could leave him home where he could
sit in the shade of the RV where it only gets to 110°. I think he
would survive with enough water. If he leaves the safety of the
shade, he burns his feet. And he does not act out while I am gone
or when I return. He just gives me this look to tell me that he
is a good dog and that I should be ashamed of myself for leaving him
home.
But when I go north across the border, I take him with me. In
reality, he makes it quite clear that he really wants to come with
me. He sits in his place in the car and watches everything --
even before we leave. He especially watches other dogs.
When he recognizes one, he gets very excited and makes squelched
noises. Once on the highway, he actually becomes
affectionate. The problem is leaving him when we arrive while I
go inside.
If I go to the drug store in Algodones, he sits patiently awaiting
my return. At the border, mostly he just wants to acquaint
himself with the border guard. His actions may be rejected.
At PetSmart, he will pee on the shelves but he does this wherever he
encounters smells of other dogs. In any place, walking on the
pavement and concrete is painful.
At Costco or Sam's Club or the Cardiologist, I chain him to the
trailer hitch ball along with his water and put the gate down. I
park along side an island or curb where he is in the shade. He is
already in the shade of the tailgate but existing shade means the
surface is cooler. He looks insulted but does not complain.
If I do this at Wal-Mart I get mixed reactions depending upon the
store. One guard accepts that I am doing well by my dog and
understands that the dog is in a better place than if he were outside
at home. Another security guard will inform me that it is
Wal-Mart policy to not permit animals left with the car -- inside or
out. Mostly I am afraid that someone will steal my dog while I am
gone.
Then there is the other problem. He wants to come with
me. This is a growing problem since he has discovered that he
likes Wal-Marts.
After being patient at several stops and I could not find any shade,
I decided to leave him in the car. I have learned that if I leave
the window open far enough for him to get his head through, he can
squeeze out. Moreover, like a mouse, his head will actually
compress a bit. Scary. The Ford Ranger window opens in sort of
an "L" shape. It does not take much. I have learned exactly
how much I can leave. But now he has a new trick. We went
to the El Centro Wal-Mart. About the time I walked through the door, he
ran through in front of me. Once in the store, he joyfully
started perusing all of the aisles. This caused some excitement
but mostly I had trouble keeping up with him: I just watched the people
exiting the aisles. We got back outside with some negative looks
from Wal-Mart door people. I put him back in the car. I
attached his metal leash (the cloth one would last a matter of
seconds), locked the handle to the door sill. I worry hear
because I once almost lost my dog and cat as they managed to hang
themselves on the door with their leash caught in the window crack.
This time he beat me inside the store but the doorman was waiting,
caught the leash and presented it -- with dog -- to me when I
arrived. We left. If Dido was that determined to get into
the store, it was time to go home -- or at least find a Wal-Mart with
shade.
But now he knows what is inside the Wal-Mart and he likes it.
From now on leaving him at the car outside will be the only
choice. Opening the rear sliding window is a good trick.
Once in the pickup bed, he can jump the back or climb on the roof and
down the front. My Ford Ranger is always dirty and his paw prints on
the hood indicate that this is his favorite means of escape.
I do not know about your dog but my dog has a definite smile.
You know when he is enjoying himself. His ears are perked, his
tail is high and slightly curved forward, and his tongue hangs out of a
mouth that is definitely smiling. He is happy.
In a situation where he is not happy, his ears are down and the look
on his face is one of: "I shall not do what you want and you cannot
make me". And he is doing this while running large circles around
me with a toy dragging behind. The faster the run, the more anger.
Yes. He has it down. The rules for the beach are slightly different.
When we arrive, he walks into the water and expects me to throw the
tennis ball into the waves. He stays in the water for the first
several throws. If the waves are rough, maybe only the first
throw. When he walks to the sand, he is finished with swimming --
for the time being. He may return if the water is nice.
On land, he returns the ball either to my feet or to my hand.
If to my feet, he wants me to soccer kick it. He takes a
defensive stance and attempts to block or catch the ball. This
may be hard on his mouth.
If he returns the ball to my hand, or throws it to me if my hand is
not out, he wants me to throw the ball. He prefers the kick but
after a few kicks, he returns it to be thrown. This is either
because the blocks are painful or because my kicks are so bad that he
wants me to relax.
When he is ready to go home, he returns the ball up beach towards
the car. If he thinks I need more exercise, he only returns the
ball part way. When he releases the ball, it is "Mine". It
is my job to walk to it or to pick it up if I missed his toss. If
we are on a hill and the ball rolls away, he will return it --
once. The second roll away is my problem. The same is true
in the water. If the current does not return it to me and it goes
to far away, he will return it -- half way.
The only problem is little girls. His retrieval is sort of a
large circle. He does not just run, pick up the ball, stop,
turnaround, and come back. He picks up the ball on the run and
circles around with it. This circle may extend from a quick
return to several hundred meters. The circle gets larger if there
are people in the neighborhood and he thinks he can get away with
meeting them instead of me.
He enjoys this social activity but we lose a ball once a week or so.
Dido is a year old now. He is not a puppy any more. I
doubt he will get much bigger. Concerns of hip dysplasia are
gone: he can run for 2 km and be ready to play. He does run a
little funny, His concern for me is interesting to me. He
is a great con. He lives for several things:
I am not sure he even likes being petted. He does not dislike
it but if any of the others are available, he considers being petted a
waste of time.
Note that Food is last. He will leave his food and let the birds have it if he can run or fetch.
I sometimes let him out to visit the neighbors. Sometimes he
escapes and does this. He always returns. If he has been
out for a while and I whistle, he comes running back. He knows I
do not like his wondering but I have found it impossible to stop.
I still worry about him being stolen. Even today while at the
Oxxo a man told me that his little girl liked my dog. I told him
that it was OK for her to pet him. At least once a week I get a
positive comment on his looks or his behavior. He really is great
with children.
Many dogs consider small children threats. This is why small
children get bitten in the face. This is not a problem with
Dido. He is never happier than when he comes back with a small
child holding his collar. The child thinks it is returning the
dog. The dog is just returning with a child in tow,
If Dido were not in control, the child could not hold him.
Leaving Dido is always a dilemma. If I leave him outside, I
back the Ford Ranger up t the curb and attach his line to the trailer
ball. I leave a large bowl of water for him. If I leave him
inside, I leave the bowl inside (filled), the windows cracked, and a
shade on the windshield. I have discovered that he can open the
rear window so I make sure it is latched and just worry.
I never leave him in the bed. He can slip his chain collar and
he will jump to the ice chest to the roof to the hood and down or just
jump over the side. Mostly I work to find him a place with the
car in the shade or at least the bed in the shade with him out the
back. The crenelated plastic floor is hard on his feet.
Last week it cooled off and I left him inside while I shopped at
Costco in El Centro. Next to Costco is an abandoned WalMart (you
should see the new Super Center), There is an island between the
two stores. Eucalyptus trees and grass. I have to walk a
way to the entrance on the other side but the island is in the shade
and not a whole lot of people go there. Mostly homeless by the
looks of the carts and the trash. The water bowl was on the floor
with the gallon bottle next to it (he can drink from the bottle but he
makes a mess).
The windows were cracked slightly and the shade was on the front
window. I put the shade up mostly because I do not want people
looking in. When I returned there was a pickup parked not far
from my Ranger and a police car/animal control behind it. The
police man was calling my name as I hurried across the island rather
than running around it.
In Arizona it is illegal to leave a child or animal in the car at
any time. California is more reasonable but I knew I was in
trouble. The police officer was stern but not out of
control. He identified me and the dog and looked angry until the
pickup left. Then he calmed down and informed me that there was
no problem but that he had to put on a show for the busy bodies.
The week before it was hot. This week it was just warm (high
90's). The dog was happy in the car. If he were not, he
knows how to leave and leaving causes serious problems: stores do not
like dogs seeking their masters
while running happily up and down the aisles. There was enough
ventilation. He had enough water. It was not hot. The
police officer complimented my care and love for my dog. He
suggested that I leave the windows open a little further next
time. I am amazed at how little I need to open the window before
Dido can escape. He takes advantage of the "L" shaped
opening. If he can force his head through the top, he can
maneuver the rest of his body through the "L". I know. I
have watched him. His head collapses like that of a mouse.
In any case, we left with no ticket and I felt again some respect
for California police officers. And, by the way, that respect
applies only to California and Michigan police. I only have bad things
to say about Wisconsin, Nebraska, Illinois, Indiana, and Arizona
police. I do not have enough experience with the others to
comment but they are suspect.
He had a tumor on his front nipple. Left side. This is more or
less just to the right of his front leg. We rescheduled a trip up
north to stop at the vet hospital first. Yes, it was a real
tumor. About 3/8 inch diameter and about 1 1/2 inches long.
THe doctor excised it without damage to it and sent it to the
lab. It comes back on Nov. 3. The stitches come out on the
5th. But what a week it has been.
The vet gave me anti-biotic pills and told me to put anti-bacterial
cream on him twice a day. The incision is about 4 inches
long. In the event that the tumor is cancerous, he scraped all of
the tissue around the tumor. I do not know what happens next if
it is cancerous. I used Neosporin cream with surgical pads.
Dido made short work of these. The Neosporin made the stitches so
soft that they just pulled apart. At least there was no infection
but Dido had all of the stitches out in two days and had a 4-inch open
wound. Emergency visit to the vet hospital. This is in San
Luis. Two hours away. In a miserable sand storm. The
doctor resealed the incision putting in drain tubes as Dido had
scratched and bruised the area considerably. This time we used
the scream the doctor had and got one of those cones to place over
Dido's head. On a friend's suggestion, he now wears a
t-shirt. I had an old jock strap from my previous surgery which
when the front is cut off makes a good elastic belt. With socks
on Dido's back feet and a cloth strap tying his legs together, the
wound is almost protected.
Almost. He lies down and scratches with both feet.. The
belt slips down and the pad slips out. But now it is Saturday and
the cut was made last Monday. He is in pretty good shape.
The tubes are draining so the t-shirt is always messy. The
stitches are not so soft as to pull apart and I think Dido is healing
well. He gets away from me sometimes and runs laps on the lot as
soon as he is free. He has learned to open the RV door. Now
I must keep it locked. He jumps the barricade I have in front of
the steps. When he lies down, the drain tubes hit first and so he
does his very best to remove them. I am supposed to keep him out
of the dirt but the sand is softer than the floor and the pad, belt,
t-shirt layers keep the dirt out of his wound.
It has been a real battle with me almost in tears most of the
week. The interesting part to me is that he does not understand
that his condition, if he permits it, is temporary and in a couple of
weeks it is all better -- unless there was cancer. So he fights
the constraints with every move he makes. I have kept him inside
and he is an outside dog. I have determined that he is
housebroken although he peed inside once. It smelled so bad that
even he did not like it. So now he waits to go outside. Not
a long wait.
But the real interesting part here is that he understands that I do
all of this out of love for him. He does not like the pads, the
belt, the chain, the socks, the hobble, the cone collar. None of
it. But he takes his medicine. He permits me to place all
of these things on him without pulling away, even when it hurts.
And when I am finished, he licks my face to tell me that he
understands. Then he runs to the back room and tries to remove
whatever he can. This is more than I could expect from an
animal. He really knows that I am doing this for him. He
understands my frustration. He has never liked being
petted. Now he nuzzles my hand and licks my arm to show he cares
for me too.
My daughter tells me that if I keep comparing my dog's behavior to a
girl friend's behavior, I shall never keep a girl friend. I think
she is correct. I'll take the dog this time around.
The stitches come out on Thursday. It is Monday. I have
a t-shirt on him but have given up on the sock: he takes them off and
he has abrazed off under the cord right down to blood. I have
taken off the cone as he has shown little propensity to lick through
both the elastic belt and the t-shirt. He is happily running
around the lot chasing anything that he can chase or just running for
the fun of it. I have never seen a dog whose real joy is just
running free. He comes up to me, thanks me for the freedom and
runs off again. We learn Thursday if the tumor were cancerous.
Well, Thursday came and went and so did the next monday. But we had
a real surprise. The doctor presuming that the regrown tumor was
cancerous started the chemo shots immediately. I went back again
on a monday and the tumor suddenly (it was there Saturday) has shrunk
to almost nothing. Dido got his second shot today. We go
back this thursday to see if the the tumor is still gone. If so,
the stitches come out. If not, the new tumor is removed and we
start all over again. 4 more shots. No vacation until this
is finished.
Ah. Almost home. It is Thanksgiving week and the doctor has
finally removed the stitches. It looks pretty raw to me and the
doctor left the last stitch before the drain hole for fear the entire
line might unzip. We have come a long way. Dido still
scratches but knows that he should not. He has learned to live
inside which is a good trick for a dog as big as he has gotten.
He has grown in the last two months. His pretty gray
collar has turned black and his fur is longer. This might be due
to the colder weather but since he is inside most of the time, I to not
think so.
I have rediscovered a Mexico thing: cheap. When I buy 4x4"
gauze pads in the USA, they are about 9 layers thick. They take
the gauze sheet and fold it lengthwise into thirds. Then they
fold it again into thirds in the other direction. The end result
is 4x4". In Mexico, the package is 10x10cm which is about the
same as the 4x4". But the Mexican inexpensive gauze pad is just
one layer folded over itself. Be careful when opening the
envelope or you will destroy the pad. The more expensive ones are
like the cheap one only twice as thick: 4 layers. And the gauze
mesh is wider than the American mesh and not "welded" at the
edges. You need about 4 of the expensive Mexican pads to approach
one American pad. I am not sure the value of the Mexican
pads. They cannot hold any liquid. I need the pad to apply
medicine creme and to hold the wound drainage. The Mexican pad
would not hold anything and certainly not give any support. They
did teach me one thing, however. I cut the arms off Dido's
t-shirts and use them in place of gauze. I should have thought of
this before since sleeve-less t-shirts better for the dog and the pads
are reusable.
When my daughter was a baby her favorite toys were childproof
bottles. My dogs favorite toys are bottles although I think he
would get frustrated with childproof and just bite the top off.
When my daughter was three, she intensely watched me take the TV apart
and when asked volunteered that she was learning how to to the same
herself. When driving the car, I sit with my right arm on the
center console and, of course, stare directly ahead. My dog will
sit next to me with his left paw on the center console and stare
intensely ahead. He knows that I will maintain that stare while
driving. The same for my dog: while he is sitting in this
position, he stares ahead even though my minor attempts to distract him.
So it comes as no real surprise to discover than he can open the
pickup rear slide window and escape whenever he wants. With the
cone collar on, he can open the RV door (from the inside).
My daughter says this copy-cat learning may be a puppy thing since
it is the learning tool of young children. In some ways I hope it
continues because it is really either a sincere compliment or a con
job. In other ways if he continues learning in this manner,
nothing is safe. My primary advantage seems to be that I have
thumbs and he must make due with toes and teeth.
'Tis the week before Christmas and a creature is stirring: my DIdo
came home from the hospital. I left him there three weeks ago
because his surgery kept getting better and then worse. Once it
had even grown a new "tumor" although that was just infection. So
he went to the hospital. This was a trying experience for both of
us. Expensive for me and unhealthy for him. When he left,
other than the scar, he was in great health at about 55 pounds.
In three weeks, his health was a disaster. He had lost over 10
pounds. Both ears were infected to the point that they had
obviously been bleeding. He had worms. He was shedding
handfuls of fur to the point he had bare spots. He was filthy
dirty. His gums bled and his teeth were very yellow. One side of
his mouth, his lips were all scraped up and bleeding. But in 3
weeks his scar is only on the surface. No more separation between
his skin and his muscle but the scar is still raw red.
So, first he got a bath. That is after he stopped jumping up
and down for joy at being home. We stopped at Marisol's house and
he put good scratches on everyone before we let him outside to
play. After the bath, he got his teeth brushed. Too much
pink on the brush but I think it will get better by itself. This
is his third day home and he is still jumping for joy. He lets me
put the antibiotic cream on his wound and works hard to not lick it
off. Another bath or two and his pretty colors will return.
The hair has stopped falling out. He has gained some weight back
but this is not overnight: you cannot just dump an entire bag of food
down his throat -- but he is trying. Instead of the two feedings
per day, I have gone to three. Instead of almost 3 cups of food,
I have gone to 4. And he is eating every drop. He favors
his left rear leg, the one with the missing fur spot but I think that
is temporary. He is limping on his left front leg but I think
that is from over exercise. ALl he wants to do is fetch his ball
but he tires after just two fetches. Before it was me who got
tired of the fetch/football game. Mite infection for his ears is
cleaning them up. I think the worm medicine will do its
job. His first stools were light tan and damp. Now his
stools are back to normal.
He enjoys chasing his favorite cars on the road outside and proudly
barks and hold his tail up high. He has slept at my bedside a
couple of times -- totally exhausted but wants up to spend the night
outside.
The really interesting part here is his sexual escapades. He
has quite a reputation all over this side of town. Maybe he has a
twin because he has been locked up or gone for almost three months. One
man told me about seeing Dido with the local females near his house
-- over a mile away. I know when DIdo gets loose, that is the
direction he traveled -- but a mile? I did not think he was gone
that long. I told the man that he should look for multi-colored
puppies with long hair.
Oh. Colors. People tell me that a Border Collie usually has
two colors. I suspect Dido is a mix but he has 4 distinct colors
although right now one (the gray) is almost invisible. He has
white paws. He has fox-red forelegs --all four. The
remainder of his body is black with a tuft of coffee-color on his
rump. He previously had that everywhere as an undercoating.
His face is bordered in black with the center a red frame except around
his eyes which are surrounded by a line of black. This mask of
black gave him the name of "Bandido" -- which has been shortened to
Dido. He also has a very pretty silver-grey collar. But
this has reduced to just his lower neck. The upper has changed to
black. He has 4 distinct colors: white, red, gray, black.
And there is that coffee splotch on his rump. Everyone's first
comment is on how pretty he is. After they ask if he bites.
He does not bite.
He does bark a lot more since he got home from the hospital.
There was always a lot of barking as the interned dogs had no other
means of communicating. The weather has turned cold and windy and
Dido loves it. We have to get him to the mountains.
But Christmas will be great: my family is whole again. And we are both jubilant about being together.
Dido gets better every day. He has developed a sense of humor
by returning with his ball but pulling away as I reach for it. I
will tell him to jump in the car but then he jumps out the far
window. I would like this better if I could move better but my
sore knee makes his jokes somewhat painful But he recognizes that
I hurt and does return the ball to me. He also fetches the ball
and lies down rather than returning. He waits for my call.
This is his way of letting me know that he really, really wants to pay
fetch. He will play fetch and ignore his food. He will play
fetch and run a distance away so that I cannot pet him. To him,
fetch is why he lives with me. so when he lies down
across the
lot to let me make the choice of going inside or another throw, I know
he loves me as much as I love him.
In January of 2009, I inherited this 3 (?) month old puppy from Marisol (my landlady).
My life has changed since then. Marisol divorced her husband
and he is now my landlord. The cardiologist postponed
indefinitely another angiogram. The cuddly little, lop-eared
puppy has grown to be my best friend. He is intelligent and has a
great sense of humor -- he enjoys playing jokes. His favorite
game is football although he settles for fetch every time I go out the
door. I mean every time. He has survived 3 weeks in the
hospital after having a couple tumors removed. I cried when I was
informed in September that he would die by the end of the year.
But he survived and is outside right now waiting for me to play fetch
with him.
Hopefully I can take him on a vacation later this month.
I know he is a Border Collie in spirit. I think much of his
bloodline is Border Collie. I go to the "What's My Dog?" web sites and they ask to
match noses, tails, and ears. Dido comes up Border Collie.
I tell people he is a Border Collie. I tell him that he is a
Border Collie. I tell myself that he is a Border Collie.
But what the other (if any) parts are I do not know and really would like to
know -- only if the truth is that he really is mostly a Border
Collie.
What he is, he is my Dido. You will find no smarter dog
anywhere. He loves children of any age and befriends them or
anyone else on the spot. He has a perverse sense of humor and
enjoys playing jokes. He always wants to play fetch but since I
have a really badly sprained knee for the past three months, he
brings the ball for me to throw but only returns if I show I am willing
to play some more.
Last night the coyotes came over the hill. They do that more
often now that the dump has been invaded by people staking out lots. So all of the
neighbor dogs were barking. Dogs seem to know instinctively that
coyotes are bad neighbors. Dido did not bark at the coyotes. He
learned to howl from them and I watched him as he proceeded to do his best howls. I
think no one would confuse his howl for that of a coyote but I
am afraid that his howl may get him mistaken for a wolf. Dido's
pitch is much lower than that of a coyote. I enjoyed watching him
practice howling as he listened to the coyotes.
Dido came back from the hospital in really bad shape. It has been a month and I have helped him recover most of his losses. He still has a small wound that needs Neosporin and hydrocortisone every day. There was enough skin removed that he favors the leg because the scar does not stretch and he needs to grow new skin to replace what was removed. Still a problem with his ears but almost better. He is regrowing fur at a very rapid rate. Right now you could not tell how much was lost. His existing fur is more sparse but is in good health. New fur will be in place in a few more months. His coat has lost its multi-color beauty and is now mostly black. No more coffee-color undercoat. No more pearl gray necklace. I still get too much fur when I brush him but his skin needs the massage. He is as happy as ever. He is as disobedient as ever. We really do need to fix this.
Dido never stops amazing me. Several times while we were
together I noticed him wiping his brow with his front foreleg.
Considering the health problems, I though he had an eye infection that
I could not see. The vet checked his eyes: no problem. Then
I figured it out. I live in the desert. My daughter noticed
it before I was even aware: I wipe my eyebrows with my forearm to
clear the accumulated sand. This is not a laughing matter.
Eyebrows exist to collect dirt that would otherwise drop into your
eyes. This winter the flying dust and sand is enough that without
glasses this wiping action gets a lot of dirt into my eyes. But
Dido sees me doing this and now he does it mimicking me. Now I
know it is one of his jokes because when he does it, he looks at me
with that smile on his face saying "gotcha".
I bought him a dog tag that will be engraved with his home address
and both telephone numbers. I do not want him picked up when
animal control comes down and collects stray dogs. The vet has
reduced his price for neutering Dido to 600 pesos. It is not the
price that prevents me but my fear of changing Dido's
personality. I want him to nt roam so much and to be more
obedient but I do not want him to lose his sense of humor.
The vet points to Dido's loss of fur saying Dido needs better food with more vitamins. The vet pointed out his choice. He also pointed out a different choice if DIdo is neutered. I have read all sorts of web pages on neutering as I consider this a social priority but fear changes. The web pages point out that neutered dogs get fat is a myth. I believe them. But there is another consideration. Apparently testosterone actually "informs" the dog's body that it is time to stop growing. So about the time the dog becomes sexually active, his grow stops. If you have the dog neutered before it stops growing then it continues to grow. For my dog this means an additional 1 to 2 inches in height. It does not mean fat.
When the vet tells me that I have to worry about fat after Dido is neutered, the vet has invalidated himself. When he tells me that I need to change foods for the neutered dog, I look at this as just more profit for the vet. Not that i am against his making a profit but I need to see a benefit for the higher prices.
I have also looked at many bags of dog food and many web pages of dog food producers. This is an interesting game. These companies work hard to prevent you comparing the product nutrition values. One will have percent of daily requirements. I do not know what that means for a dog. Another will have measurements in milligrams per liter. another milligrams per kilogram of food. Then there are cups and ounces, etc. You cannot do an honest comparison so I cheat. I look at the values that they do give. The more the better. I look at relative values of what are given. I find several things this way. The foods have "filler", whatever that is. Cheaper foods have more filler. I hope filler is not saw dust. From what I can tell most premium foods have comparable nutrition. For example, I see no improvement in the Iams brand over the Premium Purina brand. There is the avocado thing but their values are so different no comparison is possible. I am not a vegetarian and I see no reason for my dog to be a vegetarian. If I had a reason for him, maybe. I look at the Sam's CLub premium and the Costco premium and they seem about the same as the other premium foods. The price is slightly better for the store brand and so I buy the store brand, of which there is a large selection. Puppy, Mature dog,. active dog, etc. Then there is chicken, beef, lamb, etc. I pick one of the active dog bags and go home. So far my dog has loved most of the food I have bought. The latest is Sam's Club Lamp and Rice. He licks the bowl clean, sand and all. Before this, the COstco was his favorite but I am wary of it because the croquettes are too colorful. I see no reason to color my dog's food.
That's it. In short, I buy the Sam's Club or the Costco
premium foods. I bought a bag of Old Roy Premium at Walmart
once. Dido was not impressed but he ate it. I felt like I
was going cheap on him but the nutritional values compared well.
I also rotate food brands and contents to make sure that I am getting
all of the vitamins and minerals that Dido needs. I also want to
make sure that he will eat different brands. The last bag of
Sam's Club (not lamb), Dido did not like very much. He ate it as
he was hungry but he would leave some in his bowl. This is my
signal that he does not like it much.
Water. I consider water the enemy of dog food. A 50
pound bag turns to mush with very little water added. But then in
the desert sun, the dog food can dry out leaving Dido running for his
water dish even before he eats. To even things out, I put the dog food
into Zip Lock quart bags and place them in a plastic container.
On the top I mix old bags and new bags so that Dido gets different
meals every day.
Quantity. The bags say for my 60 pound dog that he should be
getting about 3 cups per day. I'll tell you. With that
amount my dog would starve or leave home or both. He eats 6 cups
per day. Maybe their 60 pound dog does a lot of sitting, lying,
or sleeping. My 60 pound dog enjoys running anywhere that he can
find to run. He really likes to run up the hill in front. I
can barely et up that hill with my walking stick. The quads
practice on that hill. A pickup without FWD will not make.
And Dido enjoys just running up and down it. He will also run for
miles just to run. When penned in the yard, he chases cars back
and forth all day long. When I go outside, I am presented with
his ball.
I think his scar bothers him because he trots favoring his left
leg. It is a long scar and I keep applying salve to it as I
notice it dries out if I do nothing and I think the dry scar bothers
him. he likes me applying the Neosporin or cortisone so I think
it helps. EIther that or he likes that taste.
The colored dog food does bother me. I watch the color of my
urine. Taking VItamins, Lasix and living in the desert makes me
check to make sure that I am not dehydrating. That is, clear or
any color is OK except solid yellow. I worry that my dog's urine
is so bright yellow. I know he gets enough water. I have a
hose bib that is always available for him and I try to keep his water
dish full. It is right next to the door so I always see it.
But his urine is yellow. The Costco brand dog food is
multi-colored but he has not had that for a while. I don't know.
Since obedience is not a Dido strong point and he considers treats
bribes, coming when called is a problem. On the other hand, I
want him to know his neighborhood so that if he does get away then he
will know how to get home. I also want him to learn that some
people out there will not like him and to protect himself in a
non-aggressive manner.
The other day I let him out and he was gone for four hours.
I drove everywhere looking for him. I got stuck in the sand once
and some locals pushed me out. But no Dido. He came home
full of brambles which he did not like me brushing out. Nasty
brambles. Since then he has stayed closer to home. I think
he had a bad experience with someone while he was out. Today all
day I left the gate open and he initially ran up and down his hill but
eventually just stayed in the yard. This is the best that I
can hope for. We shall try again tomorrow. I was outside
working a lot today and maybe he was afraid he would miss
something. But it was a good day for us.
Now that Dido is back to weight I have to adjust his food
down. He actually lost so much weight that for at least 3 weeks,
he was eating double his normal ration. He is still eating twice
what the bag recommends. If he continues to gain weight I need to
reduce his diet. 60 pounds is a good weight for his height (21
inches) and build. He looks good at this weight as he proudly
stands guard against any neighbor who does not stop to play. Even
at twice rations when he came back from the hospital he
scavenged. Not any more. I was afraid that he had lost his
eating habits. He does not like treats except his rawhide roll
laced with peanut butter (Laura Scudder's). He will turn dog
treats that others give him. I think that this is good.
Dido loves his car trips so much that if he thinks that I am
getting ready to leave, he will not let me near the car without
him. He has even jumped the side of the Ranger with my new boards
just to get in before I left. He does not like being left behind
attached to the car trailer hitch or inside but if he really disliked
it, he would not want to come on the next trip. PetSmart is great
for him except he pees on everything.
2010 February 16
Dido died today. He was run over by a
truck. He bounced several times and I knew he would not
survive. I held and stroked his head until he closed his
eyes. He could still move so I rushed to the veterinary
hospital. 20 minutes. He died on the way. No cry of
pain. No whimper. Just died. Sooner would not have
saved him. I do not know what to do about the hole in my
life. I shall cry for a while and then figure out what to do next.
I could never describe the pride in his walk and the aire of
happiness that surrounded him as he meandered around his world
investigating everything. He loved the children. He
loved me. I am not sure what "con artist" means any more.
When he wanted me to pet him, he would sit next to me and place a paw
on my hand. When riding and he wanted me to know that he
loved me too, he would sit next to me and roll his head onto my
shoulder. No one has ever loved me like Dido. Dido will greet me when I also arrive in heaven..
I am mostly past crying for Dido but random memories keep popping
up.
Brains work that way. You could never have convinced Dido that he
was
a dog. Really. He truly believed that he was a
person. If you think
of him in terms of a young child, maybe 5 years old, you can understand
much of his behavior. Most dogs can get to 1 1/2 years.
Dido made it
way past that.
He slept near me. Maybe under the RV. If in the RV, next to the
bed. We visited friends and he slept next to the bed. Even friends
who did not permit their own dog indoors permitted him to sleep next to
my bed. He knew he belonged at my side. He would not stop barking until he was let in the house.
If anything happened, he slept on the bed: Fireworks, small animals, big feet. One house had mice. On my bed.
He was proudly my dog. He would play with anyone or any other dog
but the arrogance of his stance while with me told everyone that he was
my dog. He knew also the pride that I had in him. He would tell me
after I had a conversation with other people that he understood my pride in him.
My problem was that I never convinced him that he was a
dog. He was my partner and went wherever I went. If I left
him behind, he corrected that the best he could -- and he enjoyed the
challenge and thrill of undoing whatever I did to make him stay behind. That
determination and challenge got him killed. I needed that kind of partner to get my life on track.
I have trouble saying his name without crying so I shall continue to say "my old
dog" or something similar. He was a great chapter in m book of
life. That chapter is closed but he gave me the love I needed to open new
chapters.