It Has To Be Done

I know it does. So why do I feel so damn sad? 

The vet tech told me that Cooper would come home wearing an Elizabethan collar to prevent him from licking the sutures after being neutered. 

Wait...that makes two animals at home wearing the Cone of Shame?! KILL ME NOW. 

Cone of Shame

I had a stressful 24 hours yesterday: Our boy kitty got into some scrap over the weekend. He's so scrappy and abscess-prone that I have an agreement with our vet: if I find a wound or big scratch on him, my vet will prescribe a course of antibiotics without seeing him first. 

Anyway, this last one looked very painful and it was more than a territorial skirmish. He was limping and sore, and worrying over his paw. 

I caught it in time before it did abscess, but Licorice was sent home with pain meds, antibiotics and the Cone of Shame. And strict instructions to stay inside with the collar on for a week. 

It hasn't even been 24 hours before our son accidentally let him out. I called for him and went looking a dozen times yesterday to no avail. I was really worried that he would strangle or get hurt worse with that thing around his neck, and Boydoll felt horrible. Last night I woke up a couple hours after I went to bed, and thought I'd try one more time. I was enormously relieved to hear him banging into things in the driveway, trying to get to me. 

I was so worried that he wouldn't come home. He was gone over 12 hours, and I was so sad. Even with the cone, he was head butting and purring while I fussed over him and he slept quietly the whole night. My poor man must've been exhausted! 

Adolescent

Eventually my blog will return to other subjects...but for now it seems to have gone to the dogs. Cooper is six months old now.

Cooper at six months: one part dog, one part worm.

Dude is seriously gangly.

It blows my mind how quickly he's grown. Cooper loves small, tight spaces to nap, and has long outgrown most of his usual spots: the small china cabinet for my teacups, our wood buffet cart, under the hassock or under the beds. Of course, our bed is his favorite place. If he pushes off the wall with his back feet, he can still wedge his body under the frame of the bed. This would be fine - except once Cooper squeezes under there, he can't get out by himself. 

Momma, I'm stuck...again.

  
Our vet recommended that we wait to neuter him until he matures a little more (physically, obviously). She said that it doesn't really hurt to wait until he's almost a year, and there's less health risks to waiting than a there would be for a female dog.

This is the complete opposite to what the puppy class trainer thinks: "Cut 'em off! He's a total punk, and all he is thinking about is sniffing butts." The trainer is completely right, so the people pleaser in me is struggling with my inner rule-follower. It's a dilemma.

Regardless, Cooper is completely obnoxious. Aside from the constant gratuitous looting of items that don't belong to him, Cooper is a total shit. He is a terrible bully to Riley, and highlights of last night included Cooper being hauled off and sequestered in a time-out in the kitchen...twice. It's like our early childhood days with the kids all over again. 

Components of what used to be my pen.

Also? Dude REEKS. He's emitting these nasty, funky pheromones and if it's been longer than a week since his bath, I have to wash my hands after petting him. He's the most physically affectionate dog I've ever owned, so this means I'm constantly hand-washing. 

I consider this a quality problem, obviously...but it brings new meaning to being so 'stinking cute'.

Bird Dog

I'm finding it impossible to believe that 7 months ago we put Cafe down. I actually found myself angry about her loss the other day, as if my recent struggles were because her constant vigilance isn't around to protect me anymore. There are weeks that pass and I don't think about her at all. It's not because I don't miss her - nothing could be further from the truth. But, with two teenagers and a busy household, there's not tons of extra time for insightful reflection or feeling sorry for myself.

One of the things that keeps me busy and moving forward through my loss is Cooper. Recently, when trying to determine if our on-the-cusp-of-being-too-old puppy should be kept in puppy class or moved into the Novice class, I had this conversation with the trainer:

Trainer: So, tell me about your new baby?

Me: He's a Labrador retriever. 

Trainer: Okay. I'm deducting maturity points for being a Lab...and also for being a boy. We'll put him in the puppy class. 

 At five months old, he's moved past the adorable puppy phase and right into bratty adolescent. He's either sleepy and endearing, or full-on Asshole Mode. 

In an effort to get away from Cooper's overwhelming attentions, Riley has taken to jumping into my lap. This would be fine - if he didn't weigh almost 100 lbs. It also doesn't work, because if Cooper feels like Riley is inaccessible he becomes frantic to get to him...and then their are two dogs wrestling in my lap. *sigh*

It's in everyone's best interest to keep Cooper occupied (read: exhausted). Here are photos of today's walk around the lake, and Cooper's first experience seeing ducks:

There's not a whole lot of complex thinking at work here...just happy thoughts!

This is one of my favorite places to go running.

Vigilant look-out bun, keeping an eye on the dogs.

Bird dog...seeing ducks for the first time! Um, intense much?

Snapping

This is a game I call Animal Kingdom. Unfortunately, the game always seems to take place in my lap.

There's generally lots of teeth and sneezing. If you listen closely, you'll hear the clicking of teeth...sort of like doggie castanets.

Riley and Cooper: Animal Kingdom

Never Forgotten

How can four months have passed already? I am missing our old girl dog so much today that it physically feels like a hole in my stomach.

The puppy has been a welcome distraction, but coming back from the vet this morning with Cooper the feeling of loss rushed in so strong, I was overcome by it.

January seems like years ago, but I miss my girl as much today as I did in the first few weeks without her. I guess grief is like that. I adore the puppy and Riley is my best boy...but Cafe was my guardian. Without her, I feel unprotected and left on my own.

I wasn't going to share this photo with anyone because it is from the quiet moments I had with Cafe, minutes before she died - but somehow the gesture of sharing it makes me feel less alone, and closer to her. I miss you, Girl.

Parasite

About 5 days after we brought our pup home, I worried that we had 'broken' him. He began retching bile last Friday, and refused to eat the following morning. This was, of course, followed a night of puking and diarrhea. Poor bunny cried to be let out every time he had to vomit.

In an older dog, I would have taken the wait-and-see approach - but when the afternoon nappies became lethargy, I knew it was time to call our vet. Since the pup had been straining, I worried that there was blockage if some sort. After probing his tummy and a quick x-ray, nothing was revealed. It was determined that he had a case of irritated bowel, you know - just from the newness of being in a new environment. He was given fluids under his skin, and prescribed anti-nausea meds. By the evening puppy felt so much better. He ate a small meal of the bland wet food the vet gave us and began to turn the corner.

Our vet had asked for a fecal sample to make sure pup didn't have worms, so the next day I brought one in. Spooning into a fresh turd and putting it into a sandwich bag has to be one of the most incongruent, contrary acts. It's just so...wrong.

A day later, we found out why pup was so sick. His diagnosis of colitis was upgraded to Giardia.

The breeder had actually sent us home with medicine to give puppy over 5 days to treat giardia. Apparently one if her pups in the past had contracted it, so she made a policy to treat all her pups. I remember thinking two things - that it sounded sort if suspect, but also that it seemed like overkill. A couple of the doses didn't get in the puppy very well, so he didn't really get the benefit of the full course of medicine.

You would never know he was sick, though. He's made a full recovery, despite the fact that I have to wipe his ass every time he poops so he doesn't reinfect himself. I'll say that again: I have to WIPE THIS DOG'S ASS. It's a good thing he is so freakin' cute!

Cooper at 10 weeks old