The Fur in Furniture

The Fur in Furniture (2)

The New Recliner is Feline Approved

Whether or not you allow pets on the furniture is often the subject of debate. It’s best to make a decision before bringing the furry family member into your home, so everyone in the household is on the same page. Of course, all decisions can go out the window when the new animal arrives.

Our pets are allowed everywhere except the basement and second floor rooms, which consist of a library, office, and spare bedroom. That wasn’t always the case; the doors upstairs were open until there was destruction. Annie managed to tear an office chair down to the foam, which is impressive considering that she was front declawed. Ozzy and Tiger left their mark in the corner of the spare bedroom, which was bizarre because they had impeccable litterbox habits. (I think this was likely due to scents left by the previous owner’s pets). As a result, the second-floor rooms became off limits.

With four cats and two dogs, I don’t have the time or energy to police every surface for out of bounds critters. There are methods to try to keep cats off certain places, but at the end of the day, you’re dealing with a cat. Therefore, we agreed that as long as nothing is getting ruined, we’re fine with it. Of course, stuff has gotten ruined, but it wasn’t because of fur, that’s for sure.

The cat furniture, as well as the people furniture, is often coated with a thin layer of fur. The cats are always the culprits, as the dogs’ fur resembles eyelashes when shed. The couch and loveseat are leather, but we use furniture covers, so the hair accumulates.

In anticipation of hubby’s impending surgery, we bought a recliner. I’m told he will need it for his recovery. While that may be true, did we really need a new chair table and lamp as well? I’m suspicious. Anyway, we had a recliner years ago that was destroyed by Annie and Moose and was never replaced. However, this new addition is memory foam and soft material, not leather.

For now, it is covered with a recliner protector, beneath a throw blanket that does not reach the bottom of the chair. I have not yet found an actual recliner cover (that stretches to cover the entire piece) because this recliner is over-sized. Hopefully any fur will be contained to the throw blanket. It looks like I will be purchasing a large blanket to cover the recliner, as it will be used as a bed for a little while.

All four of the cats have been on the chair, but only Moose has jumped in it. It doesn’t hold much interest for Red, as he has yet to check it out and we have had it over a month. He prefers to stretch out on the couch. The kitties are even more attracted to the recliner if someone is sitting on it. Because it is so big, there is more room on the arm rests for our larger cats, and the wider back can accommodate a third feline. Three out of four of our cats have lounged on it together.

I’m sure my hubby will be surrounded by fur kids as he convalesces. It stinks that he will be in the recliner more often than not, but maybe that means less cat hair left in other places. I hope he has a speedy recovery; his furry nurses will see to that.

The Fur in Furniture (1)

Moose Giving the Canine Seal of Approval on the New Purchase

 

Car Sick Canine

 

Car Sick Canine (1)

Snoozing After a Playdate (2006)

Moose and Red had an active social life when they were younger. They enjoyed play dates with other Italian greyhounds, and we found lots of dog-friendly activities and events for them to attend. Unfortunately, most of the time these fun outings involved a trip in the car.

Moose vomited once in the car when he was a puppy, but that was the lone occurrence. His issue was speed, not car sickness. As long as we were cruising along, he was fine. Stopped in traffic, or even for a light, Moose would bring on the whining. He would start low, increasing in volume to an ear-splitting level. Could you imagine explaining to an officer that the reason for speeding was because your dog has a need for speed? Thankfully I have never had this happen.

Both Moose and Red travel in soft-sided crates when we are in the car. At first we used a single crate, but Red’s penchant for car sickness made it necessary to crate them separately. If Moose could talk, I’m sure he would tell us how gross his brother was. He couldn’t understand why Red was getting sick yet he was fine.

As for Red, it didn’t matter if we traveled a short distance to a dog park, or hours to a play date a couple states away. He still got sick in the car. We were meticulous about his food intake close to car trips, but that didn’t matter. He could be sound asleep and wake up long enough to vomit.

We tried specialized medications for car sickness, together with his normal anxiety drug to no avail. We were at a loss as to what to do, because once we got where we were going, he was fine. I think he tended to get sick more often going somewhere rather than coming home. Maybe he suffered from anticipatory anxiety like I do now.

The pups’ grandmom usually accompanied us on play date excursions. She always rode in the back between the boys. We learned that she was fast with a plastic bag whenever Red started retching. There was no mess in the vehicle and disposal was a snap. Thank goodness for grandmom’s willingness to catch her granddog’s vomit. Whenever we road tripped with Moose and Red, we were sure plastic grocery bags were added to their bye bye bag.

Red was an adult when he had car sickness, but he has since stopped. Maybe he outgrew it, who knows. We no longer have to monitor food intake. In fact, he gets treats at the acupuncture vet and can enjoy a puppacino on the way home with no problems. Moose and Red can even share one crate now without fear of messes.

While the car sick dog no longer gets sick, old age has brought another issue to replace it. I’m not sure there’s a technical term for it, but it’s peeing in the car. Both dogs wear bellybands to prevent any accidents during their travels. It looks like I traded one leaky end for the other!

Car Sick Canine (2)

Plastic Bag for Sick Dog

Holy Voley!

Holy Voley 2

Young Moose Spots Birds

A few years ago in October, we spent a few days in Massachusetts. We left our beloved fur family in the care of our dear friend and pet sitter extraordinaire, who has watched our kids several times in the past. The critters are for the most part well behaved, but one of them had a surprise in store for her.

We were spending our favorite holiday in Salem, but we had plans to meet some friends in a nearby town prior to the Halloween festivities. Dinner was arranged at a local bar/restaurant that they had chosen. It was so nice to see them again, enthusiastic hugs exchanged in the restaurant’s waiting area. After we were seated, we got down to the business of ordering and catching up.

I believe the phone call came before the meal arrived. I never get calls from my pet sitter, as she usually keeps in touch via text, sending me a photo or two when I am missing the kiddos. I thought it was odd when her contact info came across my phone, so I answered right away.

She had a situation with Moose. The dogs were let out into the yard to take care of their evening business. While Red returned to the house, Moose refused to come in. Our yard is postage-stamp sized, and it can be viewed entirely from the house, with the exception of behind the garage.

But Moose wasn’t behind the garage. He was in plain sight, laser focused on something near the vinyl privacy fence. When he wouldn’t answer his sitter’s calls, she went out to investigate. He wasn’t paying much attention to her, but when she tried to get him in the house, he growled and continued to stare at something in the distance. My 20-pound Italian greyhound turned into a watch dog; it must have been a bit comical to see. I was on hold on the phone when she was trying to convince him to come in from the yard.

Defeated and likely annoyed, she picked up the receiver and told me that Moose was being stubborn and growling at her. We were both at a loss as to what to do, so she decided to watch television until the standoff in the yard ended. I hung up and continued with my night, wondering if Moose was going to square off against an intruding critter. Moose was always a lover and not a fighter, so I had my doubts that he would get into a confrontation with anything. Whatever it was should be thankful it wasn’t Red in the yard instead.

Moose at long last did return to the house unscathed. It appeared that he didn’t do battle with anything in the yard, as he bore no scars or brought any trophies into the house. We still don’t know what he saw that night, but my pet sitter believes it may have been a vole.

Of course this episode took place a few years ago when Moose was younger and had better vision. Now I don’t think he could see the intruder, his skinny frame not so intimidating anymore. I’m just glad that he wasn’t hurt, and was up to date on his vaccines in the unlikely event that he did get ahold of something. In case you were wondering, yes, we still have the same pet sitter, even after this unexpected adventure.

Holy Voley

The Beat Still Goes On

The Beat Still Goes On (2)

Moose’s cardiology appointment is always stressful for everyone. It’s a matter of hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Of course, I hope that his heart is no worse for the wear, but the fact remains that he is a dog of 17 years. Even though he is enjoying a long lifespan (he would be in his nineties in human years), the inevitable bad news we receive one day will still be shocking.

A cardiology appointment requires a day off from work, as it’s a comprehensive visit. Moose’s doctor practices in a large city out of state, which means that his dad escorts him to the visits. My better half is a pro at driving in big cities, while I am terrified of the idea. I can handle appointments solo if they’re in the suburbs.

Both of us are nervous before the appointment, but it is my better half that has to hear the results, good or bad. (For this reason I can’t say that I am envious that he goes to these appointments without me). He leaves our boy at the hospital for a few hours to undergo an exam and testing. The good thing about the city is that there is always something to do to pass the time, in walking distance from the hospital. Still, even though he finds ways to occupy himself, I’m sure it seems like an eternity until he can be reunited with Moose.

We have observed no serious deterioration in Moose’s health, other than a little stiffness when walking; a bit of an anti-inflammatory twice a day has greatly improved this issue. He does not seem to get winded, and we haven’t heard him coughing, which are all good signs that the heart condition hasn’t worsened.

When asked if Moose was still a candidate for teeth cleanings under sedation, the vet thought it best to leave well enough alone. Unless Moose were unable to eat due to a tooth issue, we were advised to forego any unnecessary dental procedures notwithstanding an emergency. Italian greyhounds are notorious for having bad teeth, with some pups requiring so many to be pulled that dogs are sometimes left with their tongues hanging out. So far neither Moose nor Red have lost the necessary teeth to cause this. To be honest, this was something I dreaded and hoped would never happen to them. (Although they would still be adorable).

I am pleased to report that Moose’s condition has remained status quo since his diagnosis three years ago. He has chronic degenerative valve disease, but he is not yet in heart failure. Moose remains on the same dosage of medication, as it seems to work well for him. I only pray that his disease progression is moving along at a snail’s pace. While I am elated over this news that he hasn’t gotten much worse, next on the radar is the boys’ annual checkups. Senior bloodwork will be done, and I hope that it won’t reveal any underlying problems. As I mentioned, we have recently added an anti-inflammatory medication to their routine to help with age-related joint stiffness. They haven’t had kidney issues in the past, but we need to be sure with the new drug. Every day with senior pets is a gift, one that I never take for granted.

The Beat Still Goes On (1)

The Long Arm of the Lawless Moose

The Long Arm of the Lawless Moose (2)

Hmm . . . I Didn’t Open This

Happy 2020! I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays. The most wonderful time of the year involves family, friends, and food. Lots and lots of food. Tempting treats abound, and not just for the humans.

We ordered a two-pound cookie tray from the decades-old bakery located in town, just down the street from our house. Their delicious gingerbread men, chocolate chips, and cherry cookies have become somewhat of a holiday staple for us. While they were intended for Christmas Eve, no one had any room for dessert after enjoying the rest of the substantial holiday spread.

Because we had more food than people and places to put it, the kitchen table became host to a variety of treats, including the unopened cookie tray. This table is small and round, so space to put things is limited. I put the treats closer to the edge than I should have, assuming that the dogs were too old to be interested. You know what they say when you assume.

We were getting ready to go out one day during the Christmas break. I knew the dogs were roaming free from the confines of the baby gates, and I thought I heard them go into the bedroom. I didn’t see them walking around, so I figured they burrowed under the bed covers, hiding out until it was time for us to leave.

I didn’t think anything of the stillness of the house until I walked into the kitchen. The pups hadn’t gone back to bed at all. They were quiet because they were eating the cookies that had mysteriously made their way to the floor. Moose and Red were helping themselves to the treats. They were taught the “leave it” command, which saved them from potential disaster one time when chocolate fell on the floor, but I doubted that they would remember it from their puppy classes. Even if they did, they couldn’t hear me anyway. Instead, I swooped in and removed their bounty, now in pieces, from the floor. The aftermath looked worse than it was. They don’t have a full set of teeth between them, so I doubted that they ate much before I intervened.

How did the cookie tray end up on the floor? I didn’t have to see it to know what happened. I have no doubt that Moose was responsible for procuring the cookies. He is a notorious chow hound, with special skill. He will stand on his back legs at any surface containing food, stretching a front leg to paw at anything edible that he can knock to the floor. My guess is that Red was innocent in this debacle, but stood by to share the fruits of his brother’s labor.

The moral of the story is never underestimate blind, deaf dogs. While those senses diminish with age, the power of scent remains as strong as ever. I should have known they could locate and get into the treats left too close to the edge of the table. I did order a replacement tray, and that one is out of the way from the old men that still have some puppy in them.

The Long Arm of the Lawless Moose (1)

Crime Scene

I Fought the Cat and the Cat Won

I Fought the Cat and the Cat Won (2)

Bloody Tears

What kind of trouble can a 13-pound dog get into when left to his own devices? In just a few minutes, Red got himself a trip to the vet, and an unexpected bill for us.

I knew on the way home that the dogs were loose and not crated. Their dad came home from work to feed them, but needed to return to work for an evening event. This meant the boys would be out alone for a few minutes until I could get home, which is no big deal.

When I came through the door, I saw the usual assortment of cats, and Moose was on the loveseat. Red was not in his usual spot on the couch. In fact, he was nowhere to be found.

I soon saw that the baby gate leading to the kitchen was moved, enough for an elderly Italian greyhound to fit through. My guess is that Red moved it so that he could jump onto our bed and burrow beneath the blankets. At his age, sleeping is his preferred past time.

Red was in our bedroom as I expected, but he was standing on the floor at the foot of the bed. Looking back, I remember that Tiger was laying on the bed by the pillows. I coaxed Red back into the family room.

I went about my business, but Red seemed out of sorts. He didn’t want to settle on the couch like normal. He was wandering around when I noticed blood on his face. I couldn’t be sure if it was coming from his face or eye. He wouldn’t let me wipe away the blood, let alone allow a closer inspection. Red was squinting the affected eye, so I decided a vet visit was in order.

We were seen fast, and Red was taken away for a quick test. The results revealed two scratches to his eye consistent with cat claws. We had four suspects at home. Red was prescribed two eyedrops, which he was terrible about taking. He turned into a tiny monster.

I’m happy to report that Red’s injury healed on its own with little intervention. He had a follow-up visit combined with his normal mani/pedi appointment. We’re not sure how much Red could see with that eye anyway, but at least he wasn’t in any pain.

What do I think happened to Red, and who was the culprit? I think he pulled the baby gate away from the doorway and went through the kitchen in search of our bedroom. Once in there, he likely wanted to burrow under the covers, which is where he sleeps at night. I believe he jumped on the bed, not realizing that feline brother Tiger was in close proximity. The cat may have been surprised, or simply protecting his sleeping space and lashed out, causing the eye injury. (It should be noted that Tiger regards our bed as his during the day. He probably wasn’t willing to give up his spot so soon in the evening). I’ll bet Red jumped off the bed as fast as he could. That would explain why I found him dazed in our room. Poor little pup.

I Fought the Cat and the Cat Won (1)

All Cleaned Up

The Moo, The Myth, The Legend

The Moo The Myth The Legend (2)

Happy 17th Birthday Moose!

If you said I would have a dog live to 14, I would be hopeful. If you said he would live to 15, I would be skeptical. Over 15? That’s crazy, yet here we are. Tomorrow Moose turns 17 years old, an advanced age for a canine.

He was our first puppy, and we made mistakes with him. For starters, we botched crate training. We didn’t know we were supposed to limit the space in his crate. We gave him a big crate, and we spent many late nights cleaning a dirty puppy as a result. We finally got the gist of it, and Moose became well housetrained, which is a major challenge with Italian greyhounds. That is one of the biggest reasons this breed is surrendered.

I remember being scolded on our first trip to the pet store. He was the tiniest, cutest puppy on the planet (if I do say so myself). As such, I was excited to show him off. I didn’t realize how dangerous that was, as he was a bit too young and hadn’t had all of his shots. He could have picked up something from other canine shoppers just by being on the floor. Fortunately he didn’t, and we only returned when he was fully vaccinated. He was always social and looked forward to adventures outside of the house and yard.

His first official bath (aside from the spot cleaning due to crate messes) was by a groomer. This person picked him up by his front legs at their initial meeting, and I should have canceled the appointment right then and there. Instead I spent the entire time he was getting bathed a nervous wreck. He emerged clean and in great shape, but after that experience, it was puppy shampoo and the bathtub at home from that day forward. Italian greyhounds don’t require much grooming when it comes to their coats. A bath a handful of times a year is sufficient, and Moose would agree, as they were never his favorite activity.

The first time I heard a reverse sneeze I was hysterical. It’s sort of a weird wheeze, basically their way of clearing out their nose. I thought for sure my little guy was fatally ill. It turns out that they’re normal and common in small breed dogs. Whew.

Moose’s first birthday was memorable. I bought him some sort of all-natural doggie cake online. What a disaster; he was so sick after eating it that I thought for sure his first birthday would be his last. I would be more careful about special treats in later years. Of course, his special day wouldn’t be complete without a trip to the store for a toy. We let him pick out his own special gift, and squeaky toys were his favorites.

Not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate the time we have had together. I never expected him to live this long; that’s an old age even for a small-breed dog. His health may be declining, but I treasure every moment with my senior pup.

Happy 17th Birthday Moose!!! I Love You!!!

The Moo The Myth The Legend (1)

Flashback to Moose’s 5th Birthday Party

Tangled Up in Two Cords (Part Two)

Tangled Up in Two Cords (Part Two) (1)

So Cute, So Destructive

In my last post, Red had an unfortunate accident with a laptop power cord. I wish that was his last run-in with an electrical cord, but he continued to be his usual clumsy self. However, this other incident caused him injury.

I don’t use candles in my house because I always say I have too many tails around for me to burn them safely. To enjoy my favorite scents, I use candle warmers, which melt the wax via electricity rather than flame. These shouldn’t present a problem, unless you have a crazy dog like Red.

Again, Red was much younger than he is now. I had a large 22-ounce candle melting in a warmer on the family room end table. I’m not sure how he got there, but Red was between the end table and the hearth bricks. This is not at all a large area. Red got himself tangled in the candle warmer’s cord, knocking it over.

This candle was melting for hours and was completely liquefied.  I quickly righted the candle, observing the destruction. Blue candle wax slid down the off-white wallpaper, covering the mauve carpet and fresh air return cover. The outlet was now covered in a waxy blue glaze. What else was covered in candle wax?

My crazy Red dog was now red with blue patches. He dumped the candle over on himself, all over his back. He seemed stunned, but silent. I was relieved that he wasn’t in any pain. But how do you remove candle wax from a dog? I can’t remember if I did an internet search (I believe this is a very old incident that may have predated the internet), but into the tub Red went. I guess I was trying to remove the waxy mess as fast as I could, before it could solidify. I don’t remember using anything other than his usual doggie shampoo. Whatever I did worked to remove the aftermath of the candle incident, and he never smelled better, thanks to his new candle cologne. His fur was super soft, and there was no difference in his appearance.

Overall Red fared just fine, the house not so much. To this day blue wax remains on both the wall and the carpet. We tried to remove it to the best of our ability, but since the spots are largely concealed by furniture, it’s not much of an eyesore. Out of sight, out of mind. However, the outlet has never recovered from the effects of the candle spill. It’s still functional, but prongs tend to come loose from the outlet, cords falling to the floor like dead snakes. Replacing this outlet is on the list of repairs for the electrician.

The candle warmer has since been relocated to the mantle, far out of reach of the dogs. The cats are another story. There was a time when one kitty would investigate the mantle, but that is no longer an issue. The candle has melted incident-free since Red knocked it over.

Red doesn’t look for trouble, but trouble finds him. So far Red has found himself tangled up in two cords. I just hope he doesn’t provide me a reason to write a third post about cords. Stay tuned.

Tangled Up in Two Cords (Part Two) (2)

Lingering Blue Wax

Tangled Up in Two Cords (Part One)

 

Tangled Up In Two (Part One) (2)

Whatever is in the Big Round Hole is Needed to Charge the Computer

Red was a klutz long before he had neurological problems. When he was young and boisterous, his misadventures cost his dad and I both time and money. And for Red, it would eventually cost him a tiny bit more than just his dignity.

One day I was sitting on the couch using my laptop, with the dogs playing on the floor. I had the computer plugged in and charging, working diligently until Red went roaring by in a red fawn blur. The PC hummed along without missing a step, but I noticed that the screen got darker. It was no longer running on its AC adapter, because Red stumbled through the cord as he was charging through, pulling the cord out. The laptop switched itself over to battery power. I checked Red, who was temporarily tangled in the cord. He was more scared than anything, no worse for the wear, but the same couldn’t be said for my faithful computer. I tried to plug the power cord back in, but there was just one problem. There was no longer a port on the side of the laptop to plug it into.

It would have been much better (read cheaper) had Red pulled the cord out from the wall. I could have plugged it in and continued working with no problem. Red managed to do the opposite, pulling the cord out of the computer, leaving the plug in the outlet. Not only did he do that, but he pulled the plug out along with the cord, so there was no place to plug in the adapter. If the computer ran out of battery juice, it would shut down. There wasn’t any way I could charge it with a broken port.

It could have been worse; Red could have been hurt. He was fine, wagging his tail at my distress. The sidelined laptop was my writing computer, and not the household computer. That computer is safe in its confines of the home office. Both have weekly backups, so nothing was really in danger of being lost. Whatever I was working on at the time was safely backed up to the cloud, just in case. The situation was more aggravating than anything else.

The following day I brought my battle-scarred laptop in for repairs. I bristled at the repair person’s assessment that it was in fair condition. Sure, it had seen some mileage, but it wasn’t that bad, was it? I sheepishly explained that my dog got tangled in the power cord, pulling it and the port out of the side of the computer. It was fixable, but that would come at a price.

I was without my laptop for a little while, but it was returned to me with the ability to run off the AC adapter restored. They declared it in fair condition, yet now it had glue remnants from said “fair” sticker slapped on its lid. Insult to injury.

The laptop cord was the first cord that Red managed to destroy. He was left unscathed, but the next cord caused damage to both property and dog. More on that in my next post.

Tangled Up In Two (Part One) (1)

An Angel (When He’s Asleep)

Sir Lumpsalot

Sir Lumpsalot (1)

Oh Look Another Lump

Of the two dogs, Red is far lumpier than Moose. Moose has had fewer lumps needing removal, while Red seems to be a magnet for them. None of the masses have ever proved to be dangerous, but Red has had so many that we started to call him Sir Lumpsalot.

The latest bump was found by accident. We keep baby wipes by the door to clean the dogs after they come in from outside. We wipe down their front legs (the boys have always had bad aim), and their undercarriage before putting their man pants back on them. One day I felt something unusual, and on further inspection saw a growth on the outside of Red’s boy bit. It had a decent size to it, like a pencil eraser, and was pink in color. (Trust me on this, I’m withholding the photo for Red’s modesty). I wasted no time making a vet appointment to have the growth checked.

I figured that whatever it was would need to be removed, but the vet first took a sample of the offending growth in the office. She was looking to see if it was a mast cell tumor. My heart sank. I knew from various dog social media groups that they were bad news. The couple minutes that it took waiting for the results felt like an eternity. My mind raced to all sorts of worst-case scenarios while the vet was out of the room.

She came in and told us that no mast cells were found. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. While that was great news, it still required removal while Red was under anesthesia. That came as no surprise.

We made an appointment for the procedure. Red is a senior, but he doesn’t have the underlying health conditions that Moose has. It would be a quick process, and he wouldn’t be under long. Anxiety is my middle name, so the day of the removal I was a mess. Red on the other hand was just fine.

We sat in the waiting room for Red to be called back. I held him the entire time, and when I had to turn him over to the vet tech, I put on a brave face, saving my tears for the ride home. He had gone through similar procedures several times in the past, so it’s routine to all of us by now. I trust our vet implicitly.

Everything went well. My day dragged on as they always do when you can’t wait to pick up your fur kid in the evening after work. When I saw him, he was rid of the annoying mass, now replaced by three dissolvable purple stitches. All my usual worrying was for naught when we received the call that the growth was indeed benign! The only problem with this latest repair is that he was unable to wear man pants for a couple weeks. Our carpets took a beating for a little while, but Sir Lumpsalot lives to accumulate more lumps!

Sir Lumpsalot (2)

Scar from Previous Lump Removal