Trooper In The Corn

What are you doing in the corn, or do I want to know?

Remember: when gardening with pets–dogs, cats, hamsters, bunnies, chickens & ducks too!

Be careful to avoid pesticides and garden chemicals, especially snail bait. Animals will eat ANYTHING–and lick the ground or plants where sprays have landed. These chemicals can be highly toxic and you might not always notice their effects right away.

Play and garden safely with your pets. 🙂

d and the dogs.

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Twenty One Teeth

Trooper had dental surgery yesterday, 21 teeth extracted. Yep, that’s not a typo. TWENTY-ONE. Dogs, I just learned, have 42 teeth. He lost half his chops. You know that’s gotta hurt.

Below, this was Trooper this morning, just after his first pain pill kicked in. The green bandage was his IV. I’d take it off, but that’s going to hurt too. I just can’t do it yet.

So, this is what’s up in nursing Trooper to health. The Krupps coffee grinder is now for pulverizing dog food. It’s awesome.

A couple of easy seconds & it’s as fine as, well, coffee.

Since finding Trooper, I’ve been putting the kibble in the nut grinder. It’s a hassle, but it made small chunks he could eat. We won’t be needing this for a while. It’s paste for next several weeks, at least.

Meds! Liquid antibiotics–SO fun! I have to squirt the tube into the back side of his mouth–a place he’ll never voluntarily allow anyone again. I wrap him in a towel, put on my leather gloves and coax it at his mouth until he bites it, then SQUIRT! Whatever works.

The big bottle is post-eating mouth wash. Can’t let those stitches get infected. This is the same act as the antibiotics, except as long as I get it ON his mouth–his muzzle, his fur, he can lick it off. It must be sweet, because it’s ridiculously sticky.

The blue bottle? His teeth. (Second to last photo if you want to leave now.)

This is the extraction chart. It’s a bit hard to see, but look above and below the layout of the teeth. See all those Xs? Teeth taken out. The Os are teeth missing already and the 3s are teeth I have to watch, brush regularly if he wants to keep them. I have to brush. his. teeth. Am going to need a hazmat suit w/thick rubber gloves. Oye.

I hesitated showing the teeth. I didn’t want to gross you out. (I soaked them in bleach them before I touched them.) But look at the size of them?! This is a barely nine pound dog and those molars are weighty, nearly the size of the penny. I had no idea the teeth roots went that deep and were also bone. I just never thought about it. All those tiny little pieces to the left were his front bottom teeth. They’re all there, so tiny, more root than tooth, because he had ground them all down living on the street, we presume.

Trooper’s been groaning, moaning and agitated, but of course! Seriously, if this were me I’d be in the hospital on a morphine drip.  But, I came home from the store to find him standing in the kitchen looking at me. “Chop, chop, lady! It’s 4:30. I need a walk!”

So, I bundled him up (chilly day) took along a blanket incase I had to carry him home, but he walked six blocks AND tried to hump another dog. Okay. (Note, he did not get neutered. He was under anesthesia for several hours, the vet said, and I had told her if it’s too much, don’t. So she didn’t. Maybe, for his health, another day.

Right now, he’s eaten his mush, gotten squirted in the face with the mouth wash, gotten a face bath, then bundled back up. He’s crashed out, asleep. And tomorrow we’ll do it all over again.

d, xo

p.s. Trooper’s surgery cost approx. $800, or as I like to say, rent. If you feel so inclined–and several amazing Twitter folks have!–I’ve got a PayPal donation button set up on my other blog. (I put this story here, because vintage shoppers don’t want to see growdy dog teeth. *Smirk* Thank you, d xo

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Laughter, Best Medicine

Look at these two. All day long I get this look. How do I get any work done?

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Bath Night!

Trooper is very patient in the bath, even when I splash his ears, but once he’s out, oh, my.

He shakes & whimpers (of course, there isn’t much too him). I bundle him up in multiple towels–always as wet as he is–then scurry him off to the space heater and the blow dryer.

Zephyr checking out what all the fuss is about.

Look at that forlorn face! Oh, the suffering!

Once, he’s warm enough he squirms away like a two-year old, frumping and scratching, barking and shaking, then scampers down the stairs to roll on the carpeted landing in great flourish, before he starts the process all over again. 

Once I coax some food into him, he’ll acquiesce, let me carry him back upstairs to his bed, where he burrows under his blanket.

Life is rough for our new little prince, but we love him–well, I do anyway. Zephyr will have to speak for himself.

d, xo

 

 

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