Mollie's Safe, Greyt Holiday

Mollie & Emma

                          Dogs and Kids,

Mollie & Kiowa

What a greyt rich mixture!

                          Stir the bowl,

Add respect and gentleness,

                          Thought and love,

And the recipe you create,

                          Becomes a forever fixture.

        

Summer is a wonderful time to spend with grandchildren.  Our lives proved lucky to have our granddaughter, Mollie, visiting us this past week.  She’s five years old, and she had never been with us at our home without her parents.  We prepared ourselves by anticipating activities she might like.  We explored several beaches, motored around in the boat, stopped by a friend’s farm to meet the animals, and had things at the house to keep her busy.  But, by far, she enjoyed the companionship of Kiowa and Emma the most.  

Quite the movie star

Our granddaughter loves our greyhounds, and they feel the same about her.  I felt this the perfect time to teach Mollie some dog safety rules.  She already knows not to put her face in the dogs’ faces and not to disturb them while eating or sleeping, but I thought it wise to expose her to some general rules about being safe.  

According to njsheltierescue.org, “the Humane Society of the United States says that 50 percent of children will be bitten by a dog before their twelfth birthday” with more bites connected to children under five.  Children dart around quicker than adults, and a dog’s chasing instinct and prey drive could be triggered.  

Their high pitched voices can surprise and alarm a dog.  They are also closer to the dog’s eye level which could prove threatening.  Less knowledge of dog body language limits a child’s ability to understand what the dog thinks.  Supervision of dog and child by a responsible adult goes without saying.

What a cutie!

All children need instruction when meeting a dog they do not know.  They should always ask the dog’s owner if petting the dog is allowed.  If the answer is yes, have them extend their hand with a closed fist, palm down, to let the dog sniff it.  If the dog isn’t interested, respect its space.  If the dog wants to be petted, pet his back not on the top of his head.   

Our greys are very mellow, don’t jump, and love Mollie.  Some other dogs may jump on small children so I spoke to Mollie about becoming a tree.  According to doggonesafe.com, dogs get bored with trees.  If a strange or too energetic dog approaches a small child, they should become a tree.  A tree stands perfectly still, tucks in its branches (arms), and looks at its roots grow (feet).  I explained that the excited dog will get bored (except, of course, if he’s a male dog, and he needs to lift his leg-LOL), and leave her alone.  She became the perfect tree.

Putting Kiowa to bed

This year was the first time I allowed Mollie to walk one of the dogs without me holding part of the leash.  She learned how the leash goes around her wrist and how to shorten the leash so the dog walks right next to her.  We use a six foot regular leash.  She learned that the dog should be on her left side.  (Since she’s a leftie that wasn’t too difficult.)  I also explained that she needed to be the boss of the dog, to be kind but stern.  She became a very astute dog walker while she visited us.

Njsheltierescue.org suggested some important rules for children’s safety around dogs:

Feeding the dogs with Pop Pop

1. Never touch an unknown dog.
2. Always ask permission from the owner before petting a dog.
3. Respect the dog’s body space.
4. Never stare at a dog or put your face close to a dog’s face.
5. No teasing allowed.
6. If a dog is tied up, keep hands to yourself.
7. Respect the dog’s space while it is eating or sleeping.
8. If dog is playing with a toy, leave him alone.
9. Be a tree.  Don’t make loud noises or run away from a dog.  
10. If you don’t know a dog’s intentions, back away to a safe place.
11. If you see an unknown dog loose in your neighborhood, tell an adult.
12. A dog is an animal not a cuddle toy.  Be gentle.

Nice Pose

These were just some of the rules in the article, Guide to Children and Dog Safety, on njsheltierescue.org.  If you want to read more, check it out.

Taking off a collar

We had a great Mollie visit, and she had a safe and fun time with Kiowa and Emma.  When she left with her parents to go home, she hugged the dogs good-bye first.  I guess you know where we are in the pecking order. 

Bye-Bye

Resources:

www.njsheltierescue.org:  Guide to Children and Dog Safety, Victoria Stilwell, 

www.victoriastilwell.com

www.doggonesafe.com:  Dog Bite Prevention Through Education, Dog Safety 

for Kids

www.avma.org:  Teaching Children How to Prevent Dog Bites

A Mad Dash

Kazi

Summer fun on the way,

What will we do today?

Beach or park, walk or play,

Sun and heat, keep at bay.

Summer, the time for sun, fun, and adventure.  It may be sun and fun for you and your four-legged friends, but the adventure part may not be what either of you anticipated.  The heat and the sun can be both friend and foe.  Our pets can't tell us when their tolerance of heat has reached its peak.  We have to be on alert to any behaviors that signal their distress.  A few years ago, a summer adventure with my dogs turned into a mad dash for help.

I love Duckie

My husband and I and Rusty and Kazi,the greys before our present two, went for a short walk on a small beach not far from our home.  The beach was on a neck of land that was a distance from the main roads.  It was a warm day, but we knew our time there would be limited.  As we walked the beach, the dogs moseyed along side us, cooling their feet in the water.  Soon Kazi began to lag behind.  As I turned to her, I saw what I thought was her sticking her nose in the water.  Close to her nose seemed to be a foam. (I later realized she had vomited.)  As I looked to coax her along, I noticed her panting and staggering.  Since I was sure she hadn't had a cocktail, I urged my husband to get the car.  And the mad dash began.

Rusty and me

I had never seen heat stroke before, but I was pretty sure this was it.  After putting her in the car, we offered her some water, but she wasn’t interested.  (It would have been wiser to wet a towel in cool water wrapping it around her as she was transported.)  Of course, it had to be Sunday after 5 PM.  As my husband drove frantically down the road, I called the emergency number of my vet.  Being so far out on that neck, there was no signal.  I tried again and again.  Finally, a signal!  I left an anxious message and within 5 minutes, got a call back telling us to go directly to the vet’s office.  This gave us some relief, but we knew this was not good.

Mom dressed me up
again

Upon our arrival, Kazi was quickly lifted into a large tub, and we began to cool her down with a cool bath of water.  Periodically, we would take her rectal temperature.  It remained high, so we removed her from the tub.  The doctor, then, administered an intravenous fluid.  Eventually, this brought her temperature back down to normal as we all felt a surge of relief.  

Afterward, the vet thought it prudent to have her watched overnight.  We drove Kazi to an emergency clinic where she was cared for until the next morning.  After this scare, we became more alert to the heat and how it affects our dogs.

According to webvet.com, heat stroke, the common term for hyperthermia, requires "safe, controlled reduction of body temperature".  Cool water or towels "may be placed on head, stomach, underarms and feet".  Application of rubbing alcohol to
foot pads is also helpful.  Monitoring the rectal temperature until it returns to 103 degrees F is important.  Rectal temperature becomes life-threatening when it reaches 109 degrees F.

Dogs regulate their body temperature by panting which is less effective than perspiration.  We all know that leaving an animal in a car, even with windows open, in warm weather should never happen.  But leaving your dog outside for an extended period during hot weather or letting them run excessively can also cause heat stroke.

Webvet.com suggests:

Ready for fun

  - During hot weather, check your dog for the following:

- drooling or vomiting

- twitching muscles

- bloody diarrhea

- pale gums

- staggering or stumbling

- a wide eyed look
- difficulty breathing and increased heart rate

- 104 - 109 degree body temperature

If you suspect your dog of having heat stroke:

- Get your dog into the shade immediately and douse with cool 

    water.

  - Apply wet, cool towels to your animal as you transport them to the

  vet.

 

Have a great time this summer.  Play with your dogs and enjoy their company, but keep in mind that heat can be an enemy.  Be vigilant, and the mad dash you take will only be in fun. 

Resources:

www.webvet.com

Credit:  Written and review by John A. Bukowski, DVM. MPH, PHD and 

Susan E. Aiello, DVM, ELS

Veterinary Woes

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Figure 8's, a path to test
Which one of us runs the best
              UNTIL
A hole, a twist, or a tree
Stands between that fun and me
   

Within the last year, my two furry children have decidedly made my life more challenging as well as costly.  Last October, I wrote about Emma who developed a genetic cataract in her right eye.  This prompted taking her first to our vet and then to a veterinary ophthalmologist an hour and a half away from our home.  Remember we live in a rural area of Virginia, and everything is an hour and a half away.  What followed was an expensive cataract operation, medication and treatment.  We still transport her periodically to the specialist for checkups, and eyedrops remain on her daily schedule. 

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In addition, Kiowa recently presented us with his own medical issue.  I guess he didn’t want to be left out.  One day as usual, both grey kids were let out in the backyard to do their stuff.  Instead of concentrating on business, they began running around like maniacs.  (Who with a greyhound doesn’t understand this phenomenon.) Half way into it, Kiowa exploded with a blood-curdling scream.  Not a little cry, you understand, but a loud wrenching howl.  Back inside, I gave him a pain med and iced his leg.  (This boy is such a baby that I never know if the injury is really serious        or not.)  

Wikipedia.com

The next day, Kiowa’s leg ballooned. Visiting my local vet, they x-rayed his leg and prescribed anti-inflammatory medication.  The x-rays being inconclusive, I kept him quiet and gave him his medication.  The next week after the swelling went down, he was still hopping around so another appointment at the vet became necessary.   At his visit, the doctor discovered a definite problem.  The part of his rear back leg (known as the hock or metatarsal) showed a break in the bone which correlates to the top of a human foot.  The next step (so to speak) brought us face to face with a veterinary orthopedist (an hour and 45 minutes away) who recommended surgery. 

Why am I here?

Kiowa tends toward the art of the accident.  The last time he hurt himself, he ran into a tree in the backyard at night.  Why he was running around (yep, again) at that time in the evening still has me baffled.  He issued a wretched screech, and when brought in, had blood oozing from his nose.  Again, with the ice.  I iced his nose and cleaned the other wound on his forehead.  Of course, it was Sunday and at night, but luckily, my vet was on-call.  His last comment after our conversation was, “So much for him being a sighthound.”

  

I WANT OUT!

Now back to the present story.  Kiowa’s surgery, scheduled for the following week, brought new experiences to our lives.  He needed to be at the hospital between 8 and 8:30 the morning of surgery and needed to be picked up the following day.  We decided to stay overnight so picking him up would be easier.  On the day of surgery, the dogs, my husband and I left the house around 6:15 in the morning.  We dropped him off and were told that they would call us upon prepping him for surgery.  They finally called at 2:30, but he didn’t get into surgery until 4.  Here I thought that he would be in surgery early since he was there at 8 am!  (I know I like a doctor to be well rested before doing a procedure on me.) Oh, well, the best laid plans… 

Emma seems confused

Surgery went well, and we picked him up the next day accompanied by two pages of post-op care.  OMG!  After reading them, my blood pressure must have escalated.  I’m a pretty good nurse for my animals, but all the directions made me extremely nervous.  He had to be activity restricted for eight weeks, cold compresses the first week, warm compresses the second week, and three medications twice daily.  In addition to all of that, we still had to get him home without an injury to the affected leg.  I sat in the back seat the entire way home continuously reminding him to lie down.  It was not a pleasant trip.  

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Two weeks have passed since surgery, and Kiowa is recuperating well.   The veterinary orthopedist had to place a plate and screws into his leg to stabilize it.  The incision is very clean although quite long, and he recently got his sutures removed.  He placed his injured foot down very soon after surgery, and so far, there is no limp when he walks. Except for the time spent in his crate, he seems happy.        

Needless to say, I have spent a ton of money on my babies this year.  Our previous dogs have never suffered these types of expensive ailments or injuries so I guess these two are making up for the others.  The question of buying animal health insurance comes up when things like this occur.  If these two dogs continue to follow their existing paths, I guess I will have to consider the option.

Sleepy time, but still confused

I love my dogs, and I want the best possible care for them.  I guess saying that, these unexpected costs are just part of their package.  After all, the love and laughter they give to us comes without any strings.  Maybe in my next life, my career choice should reflect my love of pets and my pocketbook, like maybe, I should become a veterinarian.

A Lucky End Game

Flying

So when was your end planned?  You were oblivious, but those around you knew how things were playing out.  They knew what the end game was.  Do you think they cared?  Oh, maybe some did, but to the rest you were just a number to be exploited.  You were taught to toe the line.  Your play was work, but you didn’t know any better.  They told you what to do, and you did it.  Yeah, and how did that work out for you? 

They're off!

Playing was running, and boy, could you do that.  People say you had wings for feet, but those wings can do a nose dive when you’re not producing.  You squeezed into a box on a track, and when that door opened, you burst out.  You ran like your life depended on it, and it did.  But you ran for the sheer joy of the chase not for any accolade.  When you crossed that finish line you were a winner in your heart whether you came in first or last.  Unfortunately, others didn’t look at it that way.  They only saw the wins and the money.  You had a few chances to show your stuff, but if you didn't deliver, you were OUT.  Out of work, out of a home, out of food, and possibly out of a life.  How many of your siblings and friends got on that conveyor belt never to be seen again?  

Around the turn

You had a lot of time to contemplate these questions as you lay in your small sleeping area. For countless hours a day, you lay there.  Oh, they let you out for eating, play time and such but your life knew no spark…except to run.  Sometimes excitement filled the air, and everyone smelled the difference.  You escaped your space and, along with others, traveled to where the thrill given by your flight of feet produced loud cheering.  The change was fun, for a while, but the grind of repetition got old.  

Happy &...

Finally you heard them talking.  You had lost too many times.  Lost what?  Then, something changed.  They took you to a transport hauler, loaded you in with two others in the same space.  Bewilderment gripped you.  You felt terror, wonder, and unease.  The hauler stopped, doors opened, another vehicle and then a new place.  Anxiety heightened but curious, you felt kind hands bathing, feeding, and loving you while being readied for your next step.  

Goofy

I was your next step, my sweet greyhound.  And my job is to love you for the rest of your life.  

All Images:  images.google.com

Musing About My Muse

For a Writers’ Group prompt, we were to introduce our muse, our source of inspiration.  As I pondered my muse, it occurred to me that it lay directly in front of me on the floor, two sets of legs stretched upward in a cockroach position.  My greyhounds touch my heart everyday with their large brown eyes or one of their silly postures.  

Hearing the plight of the greyhound influenced my desire to adopt my first dog, but their endearing traits shaped my further adoptions (eight to this date).  Their sad story represents only a small part of what encourages greyhound adoption.  The dog itself tantalizes and then motivates action.  

My first dog sparked enthusiasm for involvement in greyhound rescue.  I bugged, cajoled, and probably wore my rescue contact down until organizing Meet & Greets once a month at a PetsMart became a passion.  Having to drive 45 minutes to the store solidified my purpose and working those M & G’s honed my greyhound knowledge.  Finally, a PetsMart in my town opened up, and I moved my operation.  

Talking about the dogs has never become old for me (and heaven knows, I can talk).  Moving to Virginia’s Eastern Shore and finding a rescue close enough to work with presented challenges, but with my dogs as a catalyst (and muse), I scaled that mountain.  Finding venues to showcase the dogs remain another hurdle, but the dogs continually energize me on their behalf.

As I became interested in writing and took classes, the continual pull to tell their story prompted many aspects of my writing.  Many of the pieces I write center on facets of the greyhound life as illustrated by this blog.  I do write about other things, but often, it just comes back to them.    

As I venture into my new interest of drawing, I find those long nosed, four legged creatures creeping onto the paper.  They just can’t stop.  They consume my waking hours, and refuse to take no for an answer.  Their lovable faces and cute posing cry out to be captured and deny silence.  It always seems to be about them. 

Writing this forced me to worry if something might be wrong with me.  The greyhound thing acts like an addiction that I just can’t give up.  This dedication to my dogs does sound a little scary, but I promise I don’t obsess about them all the time.  It only comes out when creative projects raise their barking heads (oops,there it goes again) or someone asks me about greyhounds.  So yes, my muse (or muses) are four long-legged, long nosed, cockroaching creatures, and they ignite the fire in my soul.

Balancing the Scale

Love for my greyhounds, or any greyhound come to think of it, does not exclude the other end of the spectrum - annoyance, agitation, or down right anger when my dogs exhibit insufficient cooperation.  We wrestle with the angst of our feelings when our sweet dogs show tendencies we do not like.  Love reveals itself as not a constant, but rather a sliding scale of ups and downs, and sometimes, our dogs, just like children, test its veracity.

Resting in the Keys

The love I feel for my dogs is full blown.  I adore them.  However, when my  boy, Kiowa, jumped on my expensive leather couch and nested using his sharp nails on the soft and supple leather, I have to say my love wavered.  Or when my girl, Emma, peed on the rug for the fifth time after she came to live with us,  I confess sending her back might have been on the table (only kidding, not really).  I expose this mixture of feelings due to the roller coaster effect that our unstable emotions play in all of our relationships.

What are we doing?  I'm ready!

Through the years, my dogs have tested the waters to see just how far I would let them swim.  After adopting our first greyhound, Cayman, and having no experience with dogs since childhood, I didn't realize that crating was the best way to approach confining a newly adopted dog. I showed my inexperience by allowing her unrestricted space.  She must have peed umpteen times on one certain area of the rug.  I remember sitting on the floor next to her, crying, and explaining that this was inappropriate behavior.  “I don’t pee inside when I want to annoy you, do I?”  RIGHT!  We bought a crate soon after, and she was fine.  However, when my husband one day, approached his tomato garden and found a rump, two rear legs, and a tail projecting out of the soft, brown earth, he questioned his loving feelings. 

Where are we going today?

The importance of experiencing our dogs as fallible creatures teaches us that it is OK to be annoyed with them.  The real dog falls short of the perfection molded into a statue or painting of a greyhound.  Our dogs make bad decisions just as people do.  The job of showing them how to behave falls to us.  We cannot blame them for our lack of guidance.

In Key West

If a dog exposes behaviors that you feel he should have already mastered, your job escalates to one of detective.  What appears as an act of defiance (I don’t know if a dog can feel defiant), could be triggered by a health issue.  A vet visit, then, tops the list as an instrument of your love.  Our dogs want to please us.  They show us through their behavior the depth and scope of their love.  If that behavior resists the norm, then we must detect the reason for it. 

To new adopters, if your dog has issues, guide him in simple ways to the preferred behavior.  Ask for help from your adoption group if you’re stumped.  They want to support you in any way they can.  And most of all, never give up on your greyhound.  Most greyhounds have fixable issues, and some have none at all.  Be guided by the people who know greyhounds. 

What?

View your emotions as a timeline.  We move forward in the love for     our dogs, then something occurs, and we move back a bit (not much).   As time goes by, our love continues in forward movement with small backward slides along the way.  These small annoyances just balance things out.  I love my greyhounds, and their flaws just make life interesting.  

An Exhausting Day

A "Key" Lesson

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Between Christmas and the New Year, my husband, Wayne, and I were visiting friends in Saratoga, NY.  During one of the less snowy days and having cabin fever, we ventured out to shop downtown taking the dogs with us. Upon leaving the first shop and looking toward our car, we froze.  My stomach sank as panic bubbled up inside me.  The back driver’s side door of our van stood wide open.  Our dogs were in the rear of the van, so luckily both were safe. This was not the first time we had discovered our van with an open door . 

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Almost 5 years before, we had been in Virginia Beach shopping and had taken the dogs.  We stopped at a popular furniture store on one of the main thoroughfares and locked the car before we entered.  After about 45 minutes, my husband sat down, tired from having to shop.  A little while later, an announcement came over the loud speaker looking for the owner of a gray van.  Sounding like it could be our van, he went out to investigate.  When he did not return, my stomach churning and my mind a blank, I followed.  Horror struck, I saw the hatch of our van WIDE OPEN.  And so began a terrifying journey that encompassed almost two days.

  

Kiowa showing off

Fix your ear, Emma

My husband routinely stores the car remote in his back pant’s pocket.  Somehow, the button that controls the hatch was pressed when he sat, opening it.  What followed seemed like a lesson in futility.  Our male greyhound, Rusty, was safe, but our female, Kazi, was GONE.  Where to look first?  We both reeled from the question, our thoughts jumbled.  The road in front of the store had eight lanes, and an intersecting road nearby had eleven,  Thoughts of what could happen to our dog left us weak in the knees .  We searched and searched, walking and driving the area the rest of the day, a black cloud over our efforts.  When darkness fell, we traveled back home with only one dog.  The ride, one of the most miserable trips I had ever experienced, was filled with dark thoughts worrying about our little dog.

Being exhausted from little sleep, we were on the road early the next morning to begin our search anew.  Our local greyhound rescue had worked up a poster which we distributed.  We called and visited animal shelters and animal control.   An announcement about Kazi was made on the radio, and people called us with sightings or just to help us search.  All this being done in the pouring rain which matched our moods completely.  We were at it until darkness fell, but, this time miraculously, she was found. 

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The range of the waves of a car remote can travel farther than you may think.   The remote can be triggered, and a door opened even if it is locked.  We were unable to get the remote disabled, so our immediate solution was to use the valet key when taking the dogs in the car with us.

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We thought we had this problem solved until the incident in Saratoga.  My car remote is encased in a cover to prevent accidental pressing, and I kept it in a safe part of my bag.  But this time I was the culprit.  Another key on the keychain had pressed the door button on the remote.  We were just lucky that it wasn’t the hatch control.

When traveling with your animals, be on high alert as to the location of your remote.  If you have a valet key, use it instead.  If not, make sure that your car remote is safely stored so that a mishap cannot occur.