Cones and More Cones

Each foster comes with their own challenges.  Maybe that is why I never feel like I know what I'm doing.  Just once it would be nice to have a repeat situation so I could say AH HA!  I know what to do.  But, noooooo...not the case.

Buddy was our first experience with kennel cough and thankfully that is over. He throws in a very occasional wheeze just to remind me how bad he was and how far he has come.  Now the challenge is cleaning up his skin conditions. He has been sporting a cone of horror for some time now.

We've tried the soft cone, which has one nice perk, he can get in and out of the doggy door with it.  It takes some work, and is pretty amusing, but can be done.

We've tried the inflatable cone.  He tried the doggy door with that one on, but was rejected over and over.  Poor Buddy was seriously confused.

We even have tried the basic plastic cone.  No go on the doggy door with this option.  We've even tried the plastic cone with the inflatable cone behind it. Now I do have a photo of that.  But Buddy begged me to spare him that indignity.  I told him if he is good I won't share it.  

Here is the deal.  If he wants to work on his hot spots he finds a way around the cone.  Itchy foot, pick it up and move it within range.  Itchy flank, stretch and you can just get to it.  It helps 90% of the time, but that 10% is an epic fail.

Isn't that the way it goes?  We try and we try.  Baby steps forward and then a few big steps backward. So we back up the bus and try to find a new route. It's not easy, but love pushes us through.

For Buddy it means more experiments and a closet full of various cones. Maybe there is a cone manufacturer out there who'd like to donate a cone we have not tried yet. Let Buddy be your independent testing panel. For me I want a cone that gives him full vision, is doggy door flexible and automatically telescopes when it senses him going for an itchy spot. Is that too much to ask?  Maybe, but a girl can dream. I dream of a healthy dog casting off those cones of horror.  One of these days he will.     

Spring?

Yesterday we worked in the yard in shorts, cooked hot dogs over the campfire and savored the warmth and sunshine.  Today we are back to sweatshirts, have a fire in the fireplace and soup on the stove.  Some call it Spring, some just say typical Nebraska weather.  Yesterday was all about work, and today is all about rest.

Now the dogs approach it a bit differently.  Except for our hikes, their mission was resting in a cool place, in the shade, under the deck or on the cool wood floors. Today their mission is resting in a warm place like the bed, sofa or recliner. I see a pattern here.  Sure hope one of them makes room for me on the sofa, the bed or the recliner as I sure won't fit under the deck.

I have to wonder what it's like to be a dog in our house sometimes.  Maybe they think they have won the lottery.  Frankly, we think we have too.  Mick probably rolls eyes at the parade of dogs that have come into our lives, took up temporary residence and then moved on. He is especially thankful for the moving on part.  

I have to laugh whenever someone says "how many dogs do you have now?" 
Sometimes (rarely) the answer is only two.  Most often it is only three.  A few times it was only five.  Crazy is such a relative term that I don't even think of myself as a crazy dog lady any more.  Just a dog lady.  And I consider it a compliment.

In case you were wondering...Buddy is settling in well.  We hear a very occasional wheeze from him.  Still working on itchy skin issues and he spends most of his day in the dreaded cone of horror.  Mind you the cone is covered in duct tape as he barges through the doggy door cone and all.  You gotta love his fortitude!  We take the cone off for walks in the field and talk about one happy chappy.  

He is our first foster to destroy a crate.  Not bad for all the years we have been helping the dogs.  Thankfully, the mudroom/dog run provide a safe option for a guy who doesn't like to be crated.  He is a grand old guy and someone will be lucky to share their days with him.  Until that time comes we're the lucky ones.

So...on this wintery Spring day, as we listen to thunder in the distance and know we'll likely see some snow flakes later in the day, I wish you a dogs life. Safe and happy, warm and cozy, with a friend to take walks with and a soft spot to land.  

Oldies But Goodies

Owning it is the first step.  I like gray faces, muzzles, eye brows and paws... I like the old dogs.  They rock.  They are game and gimpy, great and gracious, goofy and gorgeous.  Right now we have two old boys in house.  One a forever boy and one a foster boy.  Ages 13 and 9.  Bet they could tell some stories. Even at their ages I sometimes have trouble keeping up with them.

Not that I don't like puppies, I do.  Especially when they are sleeping.  Okay, mainly when they are sleeping.  They are delightful to cuddle with.  But an old guy?  Mostly he just needs a gentle hand to make his world. Give him a soft bed, a sunny spot and life is good.

We had a potential adopter recently suggest a full adoption fee for a dog who's life was half over didn't make sense.  Frankly I think that "adopter" didn't freaking make sense.  I think he was an ________(fill in the blank). It's okay, don't hold back.

Unless you are loving an old dog.  Then never, ever hold back.  One moment of bliss with an old guy is priceless.  Old guys can stir up the mischief too. Mischief knows no age.  Nor does love. 

Some day we'll be the oldies.  Hell, maybe we already are.  Come to think of it I like soft beds, gentle hands and a sunny spot to sit in.  I fuss a bit about the gray hair, and look closely for any whiskers, gray or otherwise.  I don't mind a little soft snoring.  From me or the dogs.  Give me an old dog, or two...please.  Life is good.