To See Again

We're on our way today to have Sister's eye surgeries.  We'll be crossing the state (in winter weather of course) several times. Keep your fingers crossed.  I'll be back in a few days.  

Need Your Help

If you've followed my blog for awhile, you know that my dogs are my life.  They are my best friends and yes, I even love them like family. 

Sister, my red weenie, is in trouble. I need your help.  She has become diabetic.  She has been on insulin for a month now, but I've yet to get her regulated.  She won't eat the dog diabetic food.  

The Hill's Science Diabetic food comes in hard and soft canned.  She refuses the hard and while she ate the canned at first, she now won't eat it.  Diabetic dog food requires fiber (both soluble and insoluble) and vegetables and meat in the right percentages.  Perfect, yet she won't eat it.  And, I'm not going to starve her to make her eat it as she has already lost half her weight and looks skeletal.  I already have to lay down on her on the bed to give her her shot because she jumps and pulls away when I try to give it to her. 

Do any of you have recipes I could make at home for diabetic dog food?  I looked up some on the internet, but am unsure about them being sound and the right proportions.  Please let me know if you have recipes or know of someone who does.  I'm worried sick about her.  She's been so sick, I need to get her on the road to recovery fast.  She's always been the ornery one, and now, more so.  She loves eating just boiled chicken, but I need to get her eating the other stuff too.

I've owned over 15 dogs in my lifetime and never had one with diabetes.  It is killing me.  Any info would be greatly appreciated.

Dog Fishing

My dogs have decided that the most fun thing in their world is to go fishing.  Sister, the red weenie, wouldn't dream of touching her toe outside if there is a raindrop on the ground.  Yet, the lure of fishing makes her abandon all of her inhibitions.  The girls go crazy; howling and barking; they really flip out.

From the time the lure or worm is cast, they fly into the pond; try to swim out to catch the cork monster.  And, they have been hooked too.

Sister is coming back with her fish while Emmy...

guards her catch.

Finally, Sister has a good roll in fish stink.

I love my weenies so.  They are like my children.  I cannot imagine life without them.  My middle daughter once posted a pic of Emmy on facebook and said, "This is my sister.  Mom loves her more."

Here is a poem from Edna St.Vincent Millay that I love.

"Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do;

Men, a longer life than dogs do;

Dogs, a longer life than love does."

Different Strokes

Well, I thought I'd seen it all.  Do you love to scroll around on other's blogs to see what blogs they follow?  Your interests change, or you're following too many of the same kind of blogs and you look for other interesting posts.  So what did I come across today?  Pubic hair art and jewelry.  Since I live on a farm, I've seen it all, but that was gross.  I didn't want to post a picture of it, nor ask permission to post it, so I'll tell this story of some of my art instead.

I made a paper mache dachshund and titled it Picasso Can't Have A Dog.  Without going into much detail or psychoanalyzing it, I wrote about it in a stream of consciousness circle above its shoulder (Picasso can't have a dog, no Siddhartha he; manipulator, manipulated...) it goes.  Bigger than life-sized, I made the tail so that it wiggles in a breeze.  Funny thing is, when I finished it, a new book came out about Picasso and his beloved dachshund, a picture of the two of them on the cover.

  I later decided to paint another weenie in the same vein, titled Rollin' In Stink.  From a white whale, a clock, buildings, to a goldfish blowing bubbles, there are many different images on each piece.

Pubic hair art or modern art...  I did paint a portrait of Picasso under the tail of the paper mache piece. 

So, different strokes for different folks, as they say, but I want to see someone wearing that necklace, or maybe I don't.

PISS AND MOAN CLUB

I came home from a Christmas party the weekend before Christmas and found that Sister, the ornery half of Emmy and Sister, was paralyzed. I died. Freaked out of my head. I rushed her to an emergency animal hospital in Tulsa. Given meds for a ruptured disc and told surgery would probably be impending after the weekend, I took her home and watched for the signs of a worsening condition. The next afternoon, the signs were there and I took her back and was told to rush her to the Oklahoma Veterinary School for emergency surgery in Stillwater, OK. I have told you before I never cry, but I cried rivers over Sister. My dogs are like my kids; I feel the way about animals that normal people feel about other people. I don't know why. I'm just hardwired that way. When we arrived on a Saturday eve, they examined her, told us surgery had a 90% chance for recovery, and it would cost $3500. Can you imagine what other people do in that situation? Well, just go ahead and kill her then. Impossible. She was whisked into the CT scanner and surgery. After 5 days in ICU I got to take her home.
She is shuffling around now and I was told that for 3-4 weeks, I'd basically have to keep her on a leash (she's never had one on) even seated next to me on the couch, and/or crated. She also has never been crated and howls. No playing, running, jumping, etc. Nothing. I have to watch her every move. This has taken 10 years off my life, I'm sure of it.

Did I mention that I am babysitting my son's uber energetic Pokey, whom drives Sister nuts?

And, I'll never wish for a white Christmas again. Ever. We had a blizzard Christmas eve. I drove through it to Tulsa with a truckload of gifts, food, dogs and crates, {everything but the kitchen sink}. My little dogs wouldn't go out in the snow. It was nearly deeper than they were tall. Even after my husband shoveled a path, they held their duties, refusing to go.

Sister got her staples removed and has finally settled with the idea of being on a leash; isn't acting like a tiny bucking bronco and/or biting it. Mind you, all of this on top of putting on the annual Christmas show... I'll need at least a year to get over it all.

PS ~ The surgeon said Sister needs another surgery in the spring. An ablation of all the discs in her back with a laser to keep this from happening again. I'll do anything at this point to not go through the disc thing again. I love you Sister. And that is all from atop my soapbox at the piss and moan club.

They Never Met A Turd They Didn't Like

Here again are my sweetest dogs in the world, Emmy and Sister. Coprophilia, n., meaning they like to eat poop. I won't go too far into it, for fear you'll swoon, but if you live on a farm, your dogs will eat it. No matter if I chase them across the field screaming like a banshee, they'll snack it down before I can get to them. I went to the vet and got some powders and brought them home. The instructions said to sprinkle it on their food and it will make the poop taste bad! As if it doesn't taste bad enough already. From what I've read, there is not much you can do about it. I just have to be careful when they kiss me. Anyway, I just had to vent after my beautiful walk in the fields today with the dogs and cats, and then, well, you know.