The Poodle (and Dog) Blog

Of Physicians and Pharmaceuticals

I broke my toe.

A middle toe.

No one ever breaks a middle toe unless they were doing something stupid that they’d rather not talk about. So don’t ask.

After a week of pain I agreed with my son and my primary care physician and went to Urgent Care. There they x-rayed it and found a hairline fracture. However there is no treatment for a broken toe unless it is sticking straight up or something.

“It will be painful for the next three or four weeks,” the Urgent Care doctor said. “Just take it easy on the toe.” (Now there’s an idea.) (Med school was a real challenge, I’ll bet.)

Why, we have to wonder, do they x-ray it when there is no way to treat it?

Ah, the wonders of modern medicine.

I did get a prescription for Vicodin though. …Vicodin rocks.

Puppy rescued from watering can

Even though we try to keep all hazards out of the reach of puppies, it isn’t always possible. Fortunately many communities have an animal rescue team as part of their fire department.

In Hampshire, England, the rescue team was brought in to rescue Ted, a 3-month-old chocolate Labrador, when he got his head trapped in a watering can. The can fit like a glove around Ted’s head, according to watch manager Anton Phillips.

The main challenge was keeping Ted calm while they used bolt cutters to cut away the can. Thankfully the plan worked and Ted was released with no ill effects…or even embarrassment.

Source

The Lassie Experiment: Could your dog save your life?

Researchers at the University of Western Ontario wanted to see if dogs would rescue their owners in an emergency like what happens in movies.

So they created two scenarios: first the owners would fake a heart attack during a walk in an open area and fall to the ground. Then they would pretend that they were trapped under a heavy bookcase.

If you have a dog, you probably know where this is going.

When the owners fell to the ground with the fake emergencies, the dogs sniffed for a while and then wandered around aimlessly. No dog sought help from a “stranger” the researchers had seated nearby…except…

Except for the Poodle who wandered over and jumped in the stranger’s lap. Most Poodles love all creatures great and small. As devoted as she is to me, I can imagine Misty the alpha Poodle doing this:

Hi, I’m Misty. My owner seems to be inoperative at this time. I’m accustomed to regular meals, games of fetch, and much attention and devotion.

Back to the research:

Since the dogs failed to rescue their owners in both experiments, the researchers seemed to question the intelligence of the dogs to know the right course of action.

To which I take exception.

Dogs, like humans, don’t generally do what they haven’t been taught. There are amazing dogs who can take charge in medical emergencies, even dial 911. They are called Service Dogs and they have gone through months of training to learn these skills.

To expect an ordinary dog to rescue like Lassie (a group of Collies who have been taught to do movie tricks) is unfair and unrealistic.

Would the researchers question their own intelligence if they couldn’t perform heart surgery? Launch a rocket into space? Repair an overflowing toilet? Wire a house?

Could the researchers ever learn to sniff out drugs hidden in a car? Track animals and missing people over a variety of surfaces?

Humans can be so arrogant, can’t they?

Thanks to the lovely and gracious Pam for this story.

Is your dog the next Circuit City spokesdog?

Circuit City is joining Taco Bell and Old Navy in looking for a spokesdog. They are looking for a dog with the personality of Firedog, Circuit City’s technology services team.

Grand prize includes: your dog will star in a TV commercial, contributions to local humane society, and prizes. Check out the competition and enter your dog here.

Nobody better call his Poodle a queer

Norman Mailer recently died at the age of 84. Like some other American writers of his era he was obsessed with his own machismo and considered himself a tough guy street brawler.

If he were a dog we might say he had a high fight drive.

One night he came home from walking his two Poodles. He was bloody and beaten, one eye almost out of his head, according to his doctor. But his wife reported that he was "in ecstasy," "on cloud nine," and totally unrepentant.

He told his wife he had gotten into a street brawl with a couple of sailors because they called his Poodle a queer.

"Nobody's going to call my dog a queer," he growled.

Norman Mailer 1923 - 2007
American novelist and Defender of Poodles

Source

The Poodle and the Pit Bull find love

When a well fed Poodle with a good haircut showed up at the Southern Hope Humane Society, in Fulton County Georgia, workers assumed he would soon be found by owners and returned to a privileged lifestyle. But when no one came forward, one of the workers, Stacey Hall, decided to foster the 12 pound Poodle they called Vincent in her home.

That’s where Vincent met Angel. Their eyes locked, their bosoms heaved, it was love at first sight. Angel is a forty pound Pit Bull, brought into the shelter with broken bones, starving from neglect. In spite of her treatment, Hall describes Angel as a sweet, loving dog who likes all people and animals.

Hall thinks maybe Vincent wants to protect her. "He walks around with a big silly grin on his face like, 'Yep, that's my girlfriend,' " Hall said. "He has it whenever he's with her."

Hall is afraid that they are not to be together for long. "People who want a Pit bull don't want a Poodle, and people who want a Poodle sure don't want a Pit Bull," Hall said. "It's going to break his heart, but I don't see how we could ever place them together."

Perhaps Vincent and Angel are doomed to be doggie versions of Romeo and Juliet, Orpheus and Eurydice, Catherine and Heathcliff, Lancelot and Guinevere, Jack and Rose.

But maybe someone in Georgia will adopt them both. Until they have to go to different homes, they are the Poodle and the Pit Bull in love.

Source

UPDATE: Happy ending for Vincent and Angel

Bimbo-dog eruption updates

I know some of you don’t have time to follow the sagas of celebrity-types and dogs, but you can depend on me to keep you up to date. I take this responsibility very seriously. Follow the links if you choose, but really I’ve given you all the important details. The latest:

Thanks to an astute photographer, we see crime in progress. Britney seems to have her poor Yorkie sitting on her lap (see arrow pointing to the very top of the dog’s head) instead of having a seat belt on her. California law requires dogs to be restrained by seatbelts. Not that laws concerning children or drivers licenses seem to mean much to her.

Nicole Ritchey has signed up to promote dog urinals, a product designed to stop the metal on street light posts from being eroded by the chemicals found in canine waste products.

She says, "They're so clever. It's a cute rubber cup attached to the post and a hose to pipe the urine into the gutter."

Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Kelly Ripa, and Molly Shannon and some other Hollywood types are taking up a courageous stand against puppy mills for the HSUS, according to the National Ledger.

And finally, best for last, Thanks to Cube at The Blog for this one.

Heather Mills urged people to drink milk from rats and dogs to help save the planet. Poor Paul, as nutty as he sometimes can be, he does not deserve this. Cube also has another menu suggestion.

The dog who ate unbaked dinner rolls

I giggled all the way through this because it was happening to someone else. A funny story, but a reminder that some dogs will eat anything and the consequences can be rather…uh, unappetizing.

Thanks to Denny for sending this.

We have a dog by the name of Kismet. He came to us in the Summer of 2001 from the rescue program I was heavily involved with. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child whom you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that hubby and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress.

Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for family, extended family and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time. I was, however, assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for a delayed celebration among friends this past weekend. I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance In the whole house that worked, thus the assignment.

I made the decision to cook the rolls on Friday evening to reheat on Saturday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for 5 hours. After 3 hours, hubby and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour.

An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was 8:30pm. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Kismet and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.

I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than kids do when they are sick.

Suffice to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.

Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on my part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; took the dogs out to relieve themselves. Well, Kismet was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another direction. He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time.

When he ran down the small incline in our backyard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.

Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, hubby and I loaded him up and took him with us to our friend's house. A 10 to 15 minute drive. Rolls firmly secured in the car (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between hubby and I, we took off.

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it. Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.

Once Kismet was firmly placed in my friend's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our celebration with friends. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Kismet's latest endeavor to walk without running into something.

Of course, as the old adage goes, "what goes in must come out," and Kismet was no exception. Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave my friend's house. Having discovered his "packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.

This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor, and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor.

And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.

Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second celebration at another friend's house.

I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume.

I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea.

Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to how to clean unbaked dough from the carpet, and how was your day?

Song of Harvest Home

All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.

Thanksgiving is one of our most beloved traditional holidays.

Dogs don’t usually like to have their normal routines interrupted, unless, of course, there is food involved.

Then they don’t always have good judgment, so Theresa at PetsitUSA has some things to watch out for during the festivities of the season

No animal was harmed or humiliated in the making of this post.

Neutered dog returns to vet's office

Radar, a mixed breed dog, walked a mile from his home to the clinic where he had been neutered. Radar had never traveled there by foot.

Dr. Steve Walstad of Joplin Missouri, found Radar waiting outside his clinic on November 11 three days after he had been picked up by his owner.

I know I had them both when I came here.

Source

UPDATE. After the story of Radar's return to the clinic appeared in a local newspaper, a series of happy events occurred. Matt tells about it at The Pet Haven.