Thursday, January 26, 2012

Bath Day with a New Dryer


Mundane tasks generally bore me to pieces. Vacuuming, grocery shopping, ironing to name a few. I know some people claim they enjoy these tasks and up until a year or so ago I thought they were fibbing. Now I have discovered a mundane task that I actually enjoy....bathing my dogs!  Bath day is generally Sunday but we got a little off schedule due to the dog show in Novi. Instead, it was yesterday.

It looks like the girls actually are beginning to enjoy the process too because they all followed me into the basement where the only things we do are get baths and practice conformation.

As an early Christmas gift to myself I bought a dryer...an Air Force Commander with a 4 HP engine. It is so strong I have to place the dog's crate several yards away or they risk their hair getting blown off. Not really but the thing is really strong!

At first it freaked the girls out but now they are kind of used to it. Each week their protests weaken. Lots of treats help and being consistent with bathing them is also a good idea. By alternating dogs with bathing and blow drying I can get all three of them done in the time it used to take one. It is actually a vacuum cleaner engine so it sounds like the vacuum which my girls have never really minded. Again, exposing them to this common household machine early-on is a good idea.

I started to say how much I now enjoy grooming but it's not really because of the new blow dryer. It has become kind of a zen thing for me...the brushing, the one-on-one chat time, the bathing when I give them each a little massage and let my mind drift to a calm, thought-soothing place.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

So Much Has Happened

So much has happened to us and our canines in the past year that I have decided I need to pick this blog up and do something with it. Since December 2010, we have had three Havanese litters...all beautiful dogs sired with champion bloodlines and placed in the most loving homes possible. With the exception of Maxi (Carneys Maximum Return) and Marlin (Carneys Grand Slam) who I kept and have been spoiling and showing.


Then, in order to get us all safely to Florida my husband and I purchased a used motor home. It is a 1997 Coachmen Santara complete with stateroom, full bath and a wonderful kitchen. With all that we still have room for dog crates!

We will be embarking on our maiden voyage in a week or so and plan to end up in Naples about February 11.

On the home front, I have returned to cooking my dogs' food. I am using Dr. Pritcairn's book as my guide. The recipe they are currently enjoying includes 1 cup lean ground beef, 1 cup brown rice, 1/2 can cannoli beans, 1 Tablespoon of Dr. Pritcairn's Healthy Powder, 1 Tablespoon (human grade) bone meal and 1 Tablespoon canola oil. THEY LOVE IT! Dr. Pritcairn has put a lot of research behind his recipes so I know my dogs are getting all the nutrients they need. I also like the assurance of knowing exactly what my dogs are eating. That the level of protein, for instance, is not from empty sources such as grain. And, since I have never lost my affection for cooking but have no daughters at home to cook for, this gets that craving out of my system.

EMILY

Meanwhile, Emily continues to heal after her spay ten days ago. Here incision is shown on the right. It was a very sad day for me. Emily, my English Shepherd, was the first bitch I bred and the two of us learned a lot together. She is almost ten now and it has been too long, actually, since her last litter. Keeping a female intact when she is not having puppies is not the best thing for their system. She keeps producing progesterone hormones which can over tax their organs. The day was made even sadder when we learned she has developed carcinoma in her paw. She has always had a few cysts that our vet said were harmless as long as they didn't rupture. The one on her paw, turns out, was more than a cyst. I am glad I asked them to remove it but sorry for the lab report that came back a few days later.

Emily will be as happy as I will when our vet removes the "cone of shame" from her on Friday when her staples come out. Maybe the two of us will share a yogurt cone to celebrate!

MARLI

Marli entered her first show last weekend in Novi. We have been taking puppy conformation classes together and she has done very well. She is a bit of a timid pup and the classes really helped build her confidence. Still, I had no idea what to expect in the ring. She won her puppy class all three days but didn't get any further in the breed competitions. That's okay. She held her own, has a sweet, prancy gait and kept her tail up. What more can I ask of a seven month old?









Saturday, September 19, 2009

A Happy Ending

Puppy mills are a scourge on our planet. They are the epitome of greed and selfishness. They victimize the weakest, puppies. And, yet they persist because they are supported by unknowing individuals and the knowing pet industry.

But, there is good news. Last December I wrote about a puppy mill in Montana that was disbanded after years of breeding and selling English Shepherds. The victims were rescued, approximately 180 puppies and adult dogs, given medical treatment and professional assessments. Sadly, many had to be euthanized. But many were healthy enough to be placed with good families.

NESR (National English Shepherd Rescue) is a volunteer organization that has been around for a long time and, fortunately, they were put in charge of the care and placement of these dogs whose numbers had swelled to over 200 after seized pregnant bitches whelped their pups. Nine months later the dogs were ready to be adopted. Many were placed in Montana but the task was overwhelming, especially since many of the dogs are still shy and afraid of people. Two weeks ago nine dogs and several wonderful volunteers loaded into a retired school bus to head across the country to new homes as far away as east New York! Talk about dedication.

There are still many dogs available such as Ida pictured at the right.
Please visit the NESR website to see them all. http://www.nesr.info .

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Raw Food Diets

As many of you know, I am a strong proponent of giving your dogs as much of a raw food diet as your time and money permits. While my girls don't get the special treats that Emily did when she was my only pooch, they do get regular beef shin bones which is fantastic for their teeth, coats and general good health.

But I would like to share some other books that I have enjoyed that give the ins and outs of raw food diets.

"Work Wonders--Feed Your Dogs Raw Meaty Bones" by Tom Lonsdale is a concise and informative source that discusses everything from getting started to resources, sample menus and diseases you want to recognize and avoid. Dr. Lonsdale is a veterinary surgeon trained in London, England who lives in Australia.

His website: www.rawmeatybones.com is an up to date version of his book.


"Natural Health for Dogs and Cats" by Richard and Susan Pitcairn is about more than raw food diets but has several chapters devoted to this topic. They also talk about lifestyle tips, holistic alternatives, caring for a sick animal and how to choose a healthy pet. Part 2 of the book is a quick reference guide for every ailment from abscesses to worms. Again, with a natural/holistic approach to pet care.

The back of the book has a first aid section for emergencies, references for supplies and holistic organizations and several pages of recipes.

The third book is 'Natural Nutrition for Dogs and Cats' by Kymythy R Schultze. The author is a certified Clinical Nutritionist and edits the Holistic Dog and Cat Newsletter. Again, her advise is written from a purely natural and holistic perspective.

Kymyrhy has an extensive holistic resource guide in the back of her book, an entire chapter of actual testimonials from her patients and students and additional chapters on pregnancy, puppies and kittens, senior citizens and foods to avoid as well as those on natural nutrition.

If any readers has other books they like on this topic or any dog care topic please let us know.

And, if you have reviewed any in your blogs let me know and I will link my readers to you.

Reggie's Not My Name


Found this on one of my lists recently. Snopes has indicated there is no truth to it. So read it simply as a wonderful story about a man (actually two men) and their dog.


"They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie
, as I looked at him laying in his pen. The shelter was
clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass him or her on the street. 

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did. 



But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his
new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.

Maybe we were too much alike. 

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. 

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."



Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home.

But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. 

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice.

"To Whoever Gets My Dog:


Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner.
I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong..., which is why I have to go to try to make it right. 

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. 

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands.

Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. 

He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows. 



Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you....

His name's not Reggie.

I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them
his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine.

But if someone else is reading it, well... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems. 

His real name is Tank. 

Because that is what I drive. 

Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the
news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call the shelter... in the "event".... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word. 



Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. 

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and
come to love you the same way he loved me. 

That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do
something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades. 

All right, that's enough,. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night - from me. 



Thank you, Paul Mallory”

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even knew people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.



"Hey, Tank," I said quietly. 

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. 

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. 



"Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.



"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and
licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again.


"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. 

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Rest in Peace, Murphy


I am having a very difficult time today letting go.

This morning I received an e-mail from the family who homed Murphy, a puppy from Emily's most recent litter. Those puppies will be one year old on September 30. Except that yesterday Murphy (not his new name) was hit and killed by a car.

I know how devastating such a loss is. My daughter's English Shepherd (the one who inspired me to raise and breed them over twelve years ago) died the same way. It took my daughter a week to be able to call me about it. I still cannot bring myself to calling Murphy's family. Thank god for e-mail--that distanced form of communication that can express sorrow without dripping with tears.

My tears are for Murphy and for my sense of loss--but more than that they are for Murphy's family. This was a family who had been in contact with me months before Murphy was born. They were the first ones I called when the puppies were born and they came and visited Murphy many, many times after he was born before he was old enough to go home with them.

They didn't stop there. Knowing how much I miss these little buggers after they leave our house, Murphy's family kept in contact, e-mailed me photos and gave me updates on his progress--the joys and the frustrations of the first year of raising a puppy.

Most of us have lost dogs at one time or another--sometimes several dogs over the years--and it is never, ever a good day. Who knows at which point in a dog's life it is easier or more difficult to say goodbye? When they are still puppies pulling at their leashes and licking our faces--or when their muzzles are grey and their movements are stunted with arthritis and age?

What point is there in discussing this? What I do know is that my heart burns for Murphy and the couple who took him into a loving home--the kind of home that I, as a breeder, long for.

This isn't the last time I have heard that one of my puppies has reached the rainbow bridge early in life. And he won't be the last. And every time I get the news I am sure I will shed tears like I did this morning.

Goodbye Murphy. You were in my home for eight short weeks--but you will be in my heart forever.

Friday, August 21, 2009

How Not to Buy a Puppy

This is a Canadian story...but certainly applies to us! Michigan has been ravaged recently by the economic downturn. So much so that the legislators have abandoned their regulation of pet stores. Scary prospect. Anyway, beware of where you get your puppy and watch this video.

http://www.cbc.ca/marketplace/2009/how_not_to_buy_a_puppy/main.html