My nurse ran to the treatment room,
“We have an emergency in room one; the puppy is white.”

He meant the gums, nose, pads, and even her little toenails were snow white with anemia. The 8 week old little American Bulldog had almost no red blood cells to carry life-sustaining oxygen. She needed an emergency blood transfusion.

“I took Ella to a pet shop and showed them the white gums and they said she probably had hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) and they sold me Nutrical. That was two days ago.

This morning, I told my boyfriend, even though we don’t have money for a doctor, we can’t just let her die.”

I assured her, “You’re here for help now, that’s the important thing.”

I attempted to bark treatment orders, but was stopped at the first one, “Get Franklin to donate blood.”

“He’s not here.”

“What do you mean, he’s not here? He lives here. His main job is donating blood.” (Our dog Franklin has saved 6 dogs over the past 3 years.)

“Remember, he’s at an appointment at the Specialists.”

Oh no! Now I remembered! Of all the days for Franklin to take a field trip.

We called friends and relatives and Ella’s mom called people she knew to find a large, calm dog to donate some blood for the puppy.

Then a gentleman, his two sons, and his Boxer walked in. My nurse pounced,”If you could save a life, would you?”

“Of course,” Sam the Boxer’s dad replied. He was more than happy to volunteer his dog for a small amount of blood giving. We tested the blood for parasites and comparability with the puppy, attached a filter and began the transfusion.

Turns out, Sam’s dad was a blood donor himself! “Any time you need help, give us a call.”

Ella lay quietly, her body temperature was 99, instead of 101-102F, she barely lifted her head. The blood slowly trickled into her vein. After thirty minutes, the initial transfusion was complete. Ella opened her eyes and lifted her head a little.

Then we placed a bowl of food in front of her. She jumped up! Food scarfing commenced! We dewormed her, and defleaed her.

Hookworms and fleas are parasites that eat blood. A compelling infestation can kill a puppy. I’ve even seen fleas kill grown cats and small to 15 pound dogs. One smart cat climbed into the kitchen cupboard and sat on a pile of dishes to escape painful and irritating flea bites!

Ella’s mom received puppy care advice and instructions for a recheck in a few weeks. With a little help from Sam the Boxer, hopefully Ella will live a long and happy life!

After all our holidays with pet skunks, I’m tempted to tuck my exotic pets into stockings on the hearth to keep them out of mischief.

The most precious Christmas gift for me would be a dearheart little pet skunk with a red bow, snuggled into a soft Christmas stocking, tucked beneath the tree.

May she be asleep, please.

Nothing is sweet as a descented skunk, smelling like a powder puff, curled into a Christmas stocking. In a perfect world from now on, all my sweet domestic skunks would be carefully hung from the hearth with their square haunches filling stockings. I would take pictures of worried, wrinkled faces. What desaced, that’s what my skunks do when they don’t like what’s happening to them.

Yes, indeed, after the last Christmases with pet skunks in the house, I’m tempted to leave all of them hanging out of temptation until the holiday passes. That would keep them from mischief, though I have proven quite naive.

Gifts? Grab ‘em, bro!

Two seasons hence, I realized skunks really dig Christmas presents. They maul them. Hands onto paper like a furious digging-for-crickets spree. When it happened to me, I really was clueless. Now you have a clue.

Jumping the gifts was Jeronimo’s idea. The years before, when Sequoia was an only skunk, he didn’t dig the gifts. Sequoia is a shy, unassuming little skunk. Well, maybe not so much.

I was blissfully unaware of their new motivation as I wrapped gifts in the living room, boxes piled prettily under the tree, those ready for ribbons and cards around me.

Sequoia and Jeronimo woke up at their first witching hour of eight o’clock. Skipped in to check out the forest scene. The Christmas tree stood in a wire-covered old washtub to deter short-legged creatures from midnight swims.

Sequoia and Jeronimo are acutely excited about the tree in the big house. Their waking moments are spent nosing around the long-needle evergreen. On the night of the gifts, their night prowl was rewarded with wrapping paper, tissue, ribbons, bows, boxes everywhere.

But, no, they didn’t throw themselves into the paper or loose ribbons like a cat. No.

Sequoia and Jeronimo pounced the wrapped presents. For once, sharing. Gleeful comrades. They dug those presents – literally dug with determination and long skunk claws, enhanced by brotherly snarling and squealing.

While I was shoving wrapped presents on the hearth where the skunks should have been, the brothers dove onto the next gifts. Fortunately, they started butt-shoving each other out of the way. Fortunately, Jeronimo’s best defense is sitting on Sequoia’s head, making his furious older brother squeal like a steaming teapot. They could try this in football, no?

I should have known better

Each night since the tree moved into the big house, I heard Sequoia squealing his fury when his baby brother was butt-shoving and sitting on him. Every morning I found that the skunks, seemingly assisted by cats, managed to remove a dried flower, pinecone, or the end of a low bough. Once they had their prize, they would dig it to dust in the rug.

Did I think cats?

Two nights before Christmas when relatives were expected, I hung a few tiny popcorn balls by leather strips from higher branches. Next morn, plastic wrap was on the floor. Not one popcorn ball on the tree. Perhaps a skunk was the culprit, no? But they had to have assistance to get that off a high branch.

The popcorn balls were so desirable Jeronimo roused several times next day to skip to the tree. He would toddle around and around. Nothing found, he would skip back to his den behind my bedroom dresser.

That evening he skipped into the living room at witching hour, Sequoia dancing along and trying to push Jeronimo out of the way. No avail. They nosed around the tree, more intent than ever. But I am not that stupid. No popcorn balls were hung.

Exasperated and scowling, Jeronimo, who is an extremely long skunk, stood on his short hind legs beneath the tree. He balanced with his tail. Wrapped his front legs and hands around a branch, shaking the tree furiously. Square little Sequoia sat square on his haunches, expectant.

Shaking the tree must have been how they felled the popcorn balls. That night they got nothing. So they shoved off to the dog food bowl.

Regurgitation

One morning I awoke to find an alarming smatter of regurgitation resembling shiny red shards of glass. 

I search for my skunks. Who else?

Throughout the house I found five more piles that looked like one of the skunks had regurgitated vital organs. I yelled for someone, phone to tell the vet we have an emergency.

Then I found chewed plastic wrap. Realized the pooh-butts discovered candy canes. My daughter left her bookbag on the floor and the culprits dug through canvas.

Much better for them

Treats on Christmas morning are sugarless. Peanuts, cashews, hulled sunflower seeds in festive paper. The only chance they have to dig gifts now are their own.

The tree is now a compromise. A ‘nature tree’ decorated with pinecones, dried flowers, feathers. Bird decorations, skunk slippers, plush skunk toys running through the branches.

Yes, a Christmas tree of compromise made to be mauled and gleefully shaken. Everything is wire-tied on, non-edible, and skunk-proof.

My favorite winter evening is when we are all cuddled under blankets on the sofa, tiny white Christmas lights glowing throughout the room, daughters telling stories of their day. Sequoia snuggles against my shoulder, hibernating where he likes best. Jeronimo is reclined on his back in the crook of someone’s arm, stubby legs poking up as he intently studies the tree with his sly grin. 

The Christmas tree is safe momentarily. Gifts are stacked on the hearth, entertainment center, lamp tables, hutch, blanket chest, dining table…. ah, yes, just where they belong when skunks are in the house.

Skunk Medicine: There’s a Skunk in the House! and Other Tail-Raising Stories

‘Striped Christmas’ original short story title in skunk memoir book.

Skunk excerpts at ESSA Books in novel A Breath Floats By …..enjoy!

SKUNK TIP FOR THE DAY?  Read the story LOL because there are stacks!

Essa

© Essa Adams, ESSA Books

Contact author for details on permission to reprint.

Visit our sister blog Women’s Fiction for more pet stories. We’re just getting warmed up. .

Remember chocolate will poison your pets.

Keep your chocolate on high shelves with cupboard doors closed.

If you have exotic pets like pet skunks or ferrets, padlock the doors and don’t give them a ladder or the combination to the lock, this I know.

Happy holidays! and Merry Christmas!

Essa Adams

Author, Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk in the House! and Other Tail-raising Stories

Author, A Breath Floats By penname Thayne Hudson (three pet skunks in this novel)

Without kind rescuers, even if they cannot keep a kitten in their home for a variety of reasons, and benefactors to provide supplies and healthcare, and a generous nurse who fosters the kitten as her own, a street kitten has a very short expected lifespan. Especially if the kitten has a paralyzed leg.

A sorry sight, the eight week old kitten was dehydrated, starving, and his right arm flipped around uselessly. He couldn’t feel his leg and it flopped out from his ribs like it was barely attached. His elbow was swollen and fixed in a bent position, with a two inch round open sore on the inside of his elbow area.

X-rays showed an old break, poorly healed, right at the growth plate where the humerus meets the elbow. His rescuers wanted to know what needed to be done to ensure a normal leg and a normal life.

While they couldn’t keep a cat in their condominium, they committed to providing the best healthcare. The real trick was figuring put what really was the right medical course of action.

After consulting several kind, respected Specialists, we decided to wait and see how the kitten would grow. We used the following criteria to be sure we were being fair to him:

1. Be certain he had no pain
2. Be certain he had no lingering nidus (focal point) of infection that would reactivate and make him feel sick
3. Be certain he could move and play without hurting himself, causing the leg to become raw or sore
4. Be certain no early surgery or medical intervention could prevent further damage in the future.

We could figure out the first three on our own. He grew, ate, had no fever, and could not feel the leg- so no pain! We worried he might feel frustration or discomfort about his abnormal leg. After watching him play, we realized that hecthought the leg was normal; it was just a part of him.

The Specialist confirmed my assessment:

“You don’t have an elbow joint left to save; he probably had a brachial plexus avulsion (armpit stretches so much nerves and sometimes blood vessels and muscle attachments rip), and the growth plate is probably damaged so it won’t grow any more. It’s best, in this case, to wait and see how he grows.”

His rescuers were very disappointed. Honestly, usually when people fond a cat or kitten, they do the best they can afford to help the cat, often not affording specialists or surgery. In this case, his people would do anything. They asked about elbow replacement surgery, rebreaking and setting the leg, how to stimulate the growth plate. Not options ethically, practically, or medically in 2009!

They wanted me to answer, “How will his life be? Will he be normal?” These answers are beyond medicine and into the realm of time and destiny.

One afternoon, I passed his cage in our treatment area and he was playing in the kitty faut sheepskin bed and stalking anything that appeared just over the horizon of the rounded edge of the bed. His little head jiggled, his eyes fixed, ears perked forward, tail twitching back and forth and butt wiggling in the air. First my fingers, then my pen, the stethoscope dangling from my neck, and my long straight hair all fell prey to his stalking.

Then his crooked little foot dangled over the edge of the bed as he lay on his side. He stalked his paralyzed foot like it was the best toy ever. He gave it a few hind leg bunny kicks and a few bites until he bored of the game and fell asleep.

Uh oh! What if he continues to attack his own foot, as if it were not alive and attached to his body? Instead of outwardly panicking (which is how I felt), I stayed cool and mentioned to his nurse to keep an eye on the play style and intervene if he started hurting himself. He never did.

He spent the nights at my nurse’s home, riding up under her fluffy white dog’s tail like a swashbuckling adventurer, and the days partly in a cage at work, and mostly loose and playing in an extra examination room.

Each day he comes to work with his nurse foster mom, his rescuers came to visit and play with him for an hour.

“Doctor, come see what he can do!”

There he was, swatting at a string and feather toy with his bent, paralyzed right paw. He learned to throw his shoulder muscle and swat the dangling leg around like an uncoordinated kitty paw tennis raquet.

Now, five weeks after the little kitty was rescued off a street, he faces a bright future. He’s healthy and happy with his normal three legs and he a acts like the crooked right leg poses no issues for him.

His one remaining deficiency actually reflects his human’s shortcomings: we don’t really have a name for him. For now, we call him, “Puppy.”

December 9, 2009 – Pet Carousel: Recall of beef hoof products and pigs ears because of Salmonella risk

December 1, 2009 – Diamond Pet Food: Recall of Premium Edge Adult Cat and Premium Edge Hairball cat food because they have potential to produce Thiamine Deficiency

November 6, 2009 – FDA issues health alert: Pigs Ears and Beef Hooves pet treats manufactured by Pet Carousel because of possible Salmonella contamination

October 14, 2009 – Wysong Corp: Limited recall of select canine dry diets due to increased moisture levels and possibility of mold

September 29, 2009 – Nutro Products: Voluntary recall of select puppy foods because small pieces of melted plastic were found in the production line of select varieties of NUTRO®  dry dog and cat food products

May 21, 2009 – Nutro Products: Recall on select varieties of NUTRO® NATURAL CHOICE® COMPLETE CARE® Dry Cat Foods and NUTRO® MAX® Cat Dry Foods with “Best If Used By Dates” between May 12, 2010 and August 22, 2010. The cat food is being voluntarily recalled in the United States and ten additional countries.  This recall is due to incorrect levels of zinc and potassium in our finished product resulting from a production error by a US-based premix supplier.

These are just the pet food recalls in the last year and they seem to be happening more and more. How do you know if the food you are feeding your cat or dog is safe? Sure the chances are probably slim that your pet will ever eat tainted food but it is these ever increasing recalls that are putting up the caution flags for pet owners.

Pet food is regulated by the FDA. They ensure that the ingredients used in pet food are safe and have an appropriate function in the food. However, there is no requirement that the pet food products have pre-market approval by the FDA. Most of the routine day to day pet food regulation is done on the state level which means there may be differences in the regulatory activity between states.

So what are we as pet owners suppose to do? There really is no easy answer. It is definitely something I plan on researching more and sharing with you. I guess the best piece of advice I can give right now if you are concerned is to research your current pet food company. See if there are any records of their pet food products being recalled. It is not enough to just read the ingredients. Ingredient names can be deceiving. (more on this in my next posting).

Visit my website, Koby’s Best Choice Pet Supplies, to find out about a pet food company that has had no recalls in the 10 years it has been in existence. All the pet nutrition products are all natural holistic and formulated by the company’s own holistic veterinarian. And come back for my next posting on ingredient labeling.

The Without A Home series are a unique collection of short stories about animals that unexpectedly find themselves without a home. Each book takes the reader on a journey, through the animal’s point of view and their own words, of life before the shelter, their stay in the shelter, and then their new live when they are finally given that second chance at life. Each story reminds the reader of some of life’s most important lessons along the way. The stories bring to life the connection that can only form when one adopts and saves the life of an animal.

In Without A Home Inspiring and heartfelt tales of dog adoptions, Spike shows Linda that the shelter can be the perfect place to find the perfect dog. Daisy gives Katerina a gift of her past, Yogi reminds his new master that looks really do not matter, Jackie reminds her owner of the importance of family, and Sal gives Maria an entire new lease on life.

 In Without A Home Inspiring and heartfelt tales of cat adoptions, BT proves to Ashley that love is much more important than looks. The journey for Tasha and her four kittens - Tommy, Snowball, Lily and Smokie – bring to life of the importance of family,while Smokie teaches his new owner Ali, how to overcome her own inadequacies. Jelly and Justin take the reader on a journey of courage and faith that proves to have an immeasurable end.

In Without A Home Inspiring and heartfelt tales of small animal adoptions, Harry the hamster shows Brandon that one boy’s trash is another boy’s treasure. Cindy the chinchilla teaches Gabby that beauty is only skin deep. Reggie the rat drives home the importance of adoption to one young boy named Billy, and Bonnie the bunny finds paradise in the coincidence of her past. Frankie the ferret gives Martha a whole new outlook about animals.

Elaine Marlier works in the pet industry in Colorado, and work with many shelters and rescue groups throughout the state. All of the book signings I do raise money to help the animals. More about Elaine:

http://denver.yourhub.com/Littleton/Stories/Pets-and-Animals/Story~633120.aspx
http://www.examiner.com/examiner/x-677-Dogs-Examiner~y2009m7d26-Author-Elaine-Marlier-writes-books-that-inspire-pet-adoption

Reviews:

I just received the book on Friday and thought I would read it slowly but could not! What wonderful stories! I cried through each one. I love how Elaine incorporated the dog’s point of view into the story. I believe in destiny. My first adopted pet was a cat and I knew she was for me when she put out her paw and touched my hand. If not for a little dog jumping up on his cage he would not have got our attention and we would not have noticed the other dog beside him and gone home from the shelter without a dog rather than adopting two. I especially loved the stories about Yogi and Sal. It is definitely something magical when you adopt a dog. There are dogs meant for special people. Thank you Elaine for such wonderful stories. Definitely a must read. –Carol Ann  Reading, MA

I loved this book. It was so heartfelt and warm. A reminder that we cannot take animals for granted.  They can only “tell” us their needs in so many ways. We have to be mindful to think of what they need and give it to them. Our animals love us unconditionally, we should show them the same respect. This book is a great educational tool as well as it reminds people to adopt their next pet from a shelter. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has a dog.  –Gigi   Edgewater, NJ

This is my second Elaine Marlier book. As with the tales of dog adoptions, this too is a must read. I received my book on Saturday and had it finished by Sunday.  So much for keeping it to a chapter per night which I like to do when reading in bed.  I couldn’t put it down. Author Elaine Marlier did a great job of writing through the eyes of the kittens and cats. You were able to see what they saw. Again, Artist Judith Angell Meyer did a wonderful job of portraying the animals in each chapter, this time it was the felines. You will love the ending… –Maxxie Brown  Mount Morris, NY

You won’t be able to put it down. Simply marvelous, a true work of art. This book is a must read for any animal lover, and when you are done, be sure to pass it on. I brought it to my vet’s office when I was finished reading it, they keep it in the lobby. Highly recommend you read this, it will move you. –Sheryl  J.    Lee, NH

Every once in a while a patient breaks the rules.

Dolly was a small, 2-year-old long hair little cross between a dachshund and maybe a chihuahua or a third tiny cocker spaniel, maybe. She had flappy little ears, a long fringed tail, and feathery fur on her legs and belly.

Her dad had taken her to 6 doctors with no answer. His friends in police Canine told him to come see me.

Dolly was squirmy and wagging her tail, but her ribs, hips, and shoulders stuck out at jarring angles. She ate, her stools were firm and medium brown, and she never once vomited. Her normal laboratory tests offered no clues, save one.

A tiny protein called albumin was low in her blood. The liver can fail to produce Albumin. A liver bile acids test showed Dolly made enough albumin. So I knew she had to be loosing it somehow.

The two main places a body can loose albumin is out through the kidney filters, called glomeruli. Comparison of her urine filtering capacity with the protein in her urine, called a urine protein-creatinine ratio, came up normal (<1). The other albumin leaking culprit could be the intestinal lining.

Usually, if a dog vomits or has diarrhea, albumin could be lost through the walls of the fine network of blood vessels feeding the lining of the gut. Dolly never had diarrhea! We ran the test anyway. Over 3 days, her dad collected 3 separate stool samples, which we froze and shipped to the gastroenterology laboratory at Texas A&M Veterinary College. The test revealed massive intestinal protein leakage!

An abdominal radiograph study (x-Ray series) was normal. Finally, Dolly underwent abdominal ultrasound. A small section of small intestine looked lumpy. It looked like a mass, maybe cancer.

As we went over the upsetting news, Dolly reached out her front legs and stretched her belly, with her rump high in the air.

“Does she do that at home?”

“Yeah, a couple times a day, why?”

“She’s in ‘prayer position.’ It’s a sure sign of abdominal pain.”

Dolly probably felt abdominal discomfort for 6 months!

I performed surgery at 10 the following morning, expecting the worst and hoping for a miracle.

Dolly lay on her back under a surgical drape. I incised along her ventral midline (middle of her belly). In a dog, the strong connective tissue in the middle of the right and left abdomen cuts easily and heals quickly. I exposed her peritoneum, the clear layer over the abdominal contents. I was through that in seconds and on to the culprit region.

I felt Dolly’s small intestine until I found the lump. I gently exposed it outside of the abdomen and made a small incision just behind the lump. I swept my gloved finger into the lumen, or insides, of the small intestine. Something firm and rounded pushed back!

5 minutes later, I was the proud possessor of one green slime-covered squeaker!

I biopsied the sore spot, sealed the intestine and checked everything else in case multiple abnormalities lurked. Dolly was clean, so I closed her up. She recovered quickly!

Two weeks later, she’d already gained 2 pounds. That one little squeaker stayed stuck in Dolly’s mid small intestine for 6 months. The albumin protein leakage caused her body to steal protein from her muscles until she’d lost half of her body weight. All without ever experiencing any vomiting or diarrhea.

Dolly is the reason doctors run tests. She’s the reason I do not give up. She just celebrated her 8th birthday, fat and happy!

Doc Truli answers the phone on an autumn Saturday night.

“Is this the Doc?”

“Sure is, how can I help you?”

“Brandy’s panting real hard, standing in one spot, and hasn’t wanted to eat or drink all day. She’s a big, fat yellow lab. She usually loves to eat.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital in 15 minutes.”

“I dunno Doc, I just want to wait and see.”

“That’s a terrible idea!”

“She seems better now. Bye, Doc”

Brandy waited the whole weekend to see a veterinarian. When her dad finally decided to bring her in, she was grunting in pain, had a fever of 105F, and her abdomen was super painful.

Radiographs (x-rays) showed a strange area behind and above her stomach. Her bloodwork, combined with her physical, told me Brandy was septic, meaning infection was rampant in her blood.

An ultrasound showed fluid in her abdomen where none should be.

“That settles it! Brandy has peritonitis (inflammation and infection free-floating in her abdomen.) She needs emergency surgery to find and fix the cause and clean her out.”

Luckily, Brandy’s family realized by this point that they had already waited too long. They agreed to emergency abdominal surgery.

Once surgery started, as soon as I could see into her abdomen, the unbelievable problem was immediately obvious.

Brandy had swallowed a whole 9-inch wooden shish-kebab barbecue skewer! Probably Labrador Retriever gluttony made it possible.

The skewer went into her stomach and punctured out the bottom of her stomach and into her back muscles 1/2 inch to the side of her aorta. Brandy survived two days with a wooden spike digging into her back from the inside!

The skewer was removed at surgery, her abdomen cleaned, the hole in the stomach needed just a little stitch.

Brandy recovered completely from her incident. She was a lucky dog, another 1/2 inch, or a slightly stronger infection, and she could not have survived.

Female Siberian husky, exactly like the one I found today

I

Today was somewhat laid-back. I took my dog for a walk and suddenly, I came upon a beautiful Siberian husky with clear blue eyes. He was docile and playful, and his leash was still on him. He followed us around a bit and Spike quite liked him. I looked around for an owner, but none materialized. This dog was not fixed, but seemed to have been well taken care of. I couldn’t see any sores, scars, or marks on him. He was also extremely friendly.

I took his leash and not knowing exactly what to do, took him with me. I tried dropping him off at a friend’s place. They had four dogs before, two of them huskies, but now they have only 3. I thought that they could do something, but they weren’t home. Chad’s girlfriend Kate is Taiwanese and knows the area well, so she’d be able to phone people around to find out who his owner was.

Having struck out, I left the dog wander around and brought my own dog home. I left him outside. He wandered back to the dog park. I decided to get a Slurpee. I then went back to the park to check up on the dog. He was at the border of a park trying to make friends with another dog. The owner was leaving and our husky was left alone again. I took him home for real this time. He was very excited.

Yoda the kitten in July 2008. She was so tiny!

I gave him food and water. I had to leave him on the patio for two reasons. My cat Yoda¹ had never seen a big dog before and she obviously didn’t like him. She had her back all curled up and was emitting strange growling noises. I had never heard her do those noises before. They didn’t let up, even with the husky on the porch. The husky didn’t eat, but drank. After half an hour, he started yelping. I couldn’t have that. I took him back out to try and find his owners. I came upon a sort of temple right in front of our apartment. I’ve been told that these house temples are a sort of cover for local gangsters. Anyway, this older man with rotted out betel nut teeth knew exactly what was going on after I explained it a bit with gestures and my limited Mandarin. He brought me down the street to a place where old women were dancing. He gave the dog to the woman. I don’t think that she was the owner, since she didn’t greet him as much, but my guess is that she either knew the owner or would be able to find him a lot quicker than I would.

Spike in quarantine in Taipei 2007

II

It’s a bit sad though. I’ve wanted to get a bigger dog for a while, but I can’t. I don’t have the time nor the place in my apartment for a bigger dog. As I watched him, I knew I couldn’t keep him. He was a cutie, but another dog would have been too much for right now. I barely have enough time for Spike. It made me realize how little work Spike is. He needs two walks a day and some play time inside. He doesn’t bark, yelp, nor destroy stuff. He’s also well trained and fixed. I’m sure that I could have trained the Siberian husky, but it wasn’t meant to be. At least I rescued him from the park, that’s what’s important. He won’t become another of Taipei’s strays.

I wonder what Jo will say to all this. We are leaving Taiwan in about two years. Having two pets is already a burden. Shipping them to the US will be expensive. Luckily, they won’t be in quarantine.

* * * * *

[¹]: My cat Yoda is a rescue. I rescued her as a kitten in July 2008. She was between 7 and 10 days old. I had to bottle feed her milk every four hours. She’s a bit feral, but mellowed up quite a bit since then.

Some people just can’t stand to eat off the same plates as a skunk.

Frankly, I don’t see the problem. It’s not like the plate remains unwashed.

"Really, are they are going through the wash next?" asks Sagie who is washing dishes for Mama.

Unless the skunkie fools you into thinking it is washed. They will lick a plate for ten minutes and it will shine when it has not been into a sudsy dishwater bath. But we skunk people know that and we wash everything.

My family though, my dad namely, has issue. And I can see the point. But these are not dogs or cats doing what dogs are cats do. They are tidy, polite little domestic skunkies.

One Thanksgiving we had everyone to the cabin. One of the last years we were all together, we meaning all of us in the family and both my pet skunks, Jeronimo and Sequoia.

After dinner, I made a feast plate for my skunkies. Brought them out to the kitchen to eat their dinner where everyone could enjoy how cute and sweet and cuddley. Skunk people are like new parents, they never get over the pride and bragging.

Sequoia and Jeronimo usually ate off stompable, unbreakable plastic plates. But all skunk holiday feasts are served on white antique stoneware china from England. Remember the lead in antique china is real, so don’t do this often. But we humans had antique china, so did they, the skunkies. Dining with all but the candles that might set ablaze their little tail feathers.

The next holiday my sister admitted how cute they were. But Dad had a problem. She politely, diplomatically asked if I have plates for the people from which the skunks did not eat.

Since those are their special plates and I have modern day white stoneware for everyone else, rest assured, Dad did not eat from a skunk plate.

But really, only skunk people know. These are special creatures. Intelligent. Resourceful with their surroundings…..

Skunks wipe like people. Skunks do not lick their hineys. They might scoot on the nearest rug to wipe…. but they do not lick. So the plan is to place right by the litter pan the washable rug you want them to use for wiping. But no, skunks do not lick. They wipe and everyday they brush themselves and brush their teeth too. They sit on their fat flat haunches and groom their hiney fluff with their little hands. So cute.

"Can I have your bean?" "No."

Skunks do not eat gucky stuff. Unless of course, we are feeding them crickets and grubs. That more real version of skunk dining is not happening in my house, I kiss my skunks. They must be content with steak and chicken, shrimp and salmon. Proteins that I, too, am willing to eat.

Thanksgiving dinner, skunks eat turkey (no ham or pork, please) and stuffing and yams without sugar. They eat corn on the cob, French bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. They should never eat too much sugar at once but they will eat all you give to them.

Want the Thanksgiving dishes from prep-cooking to be pre-washed before they hit the dishwasher or after they are inside said dishwasher? Skunks can handle it. Just don’t put in knives or fork tines facing up.

Turn a flock of skunks loose on a huge bowl where pumpkin pie filling was mixed, fifteen minutes of licking and it is good to go. Yes, you will want to consider sugar, salt and seasoning intake. No raisin cookies or mock mince meat, since the raisins in those cause renal failure in animals. No asparagus which causes grand mal seizures.

But these domestic skunks, they are thorough if nothing else.

Skunkie moral of the story: I’ve got nothing. Except you want a dish washed right, give it to a skunk.

Thirty pet skunks stories, all about the boys.

Some people just can’t stand to eat off the same plates as a skunk.

Frankly, I don’t see the problem.  It’s not like the plate remains unwashed.

"Really, are they are going through the wash next?" asks Sagie who is washing dishes for Mama.

Unless the skunkie fools you into thinking it is washed.  They will lick a plate for ten minutes and it will shine when it has not been into a sudsy dishwater bath.  But we skunk people know that and we wash everything.

My family though, my dad namely, has issue.  And I can see the point.  But these are not dogs or cats doing what dogs are cats do.  They are tidy, polite little domestic skunkies.

One Thanksgiving we had everyone to the cabin.  One of the last years we were all together, we meaning all of us in the family and both my pet skunks, Jeronimo and Sequoia.

After dinner, I made a feast plate for my skunkies.  Brought them out to the kitchen to eat their dinner where everyone could enjoy how cute and sweet and cuddley.    Skunk people are like new parents, they never get over the pride and bragging.

Sequoia and Jeronimo usually ate off stompable, unbreakable plastic plates.  But all skunk holiday feasts are served on white antique stoneware china from England.  Remember the lead in antique china is real, so don’t do this often.  But we humans had antique china, so did they, the skunkies.  Dining with all but the candles that might set ablaze their little tail feathers.

The next holiday my sister admitted how cute they were.  But Dad had a problem.  She politely, diplomatically asked if I have plates for the people from which the skunks did not eat.

Since those are their special plates and I have modern day white stoneware for everyone else, rest assured, Dad did not eat from a skunk plate.

But really, only skunk people know.  These are special creatures.  Intelligent.  Resourceful with their surroundings…..

Skunks wipe like people.  Skunks do not lick their hineys.  They might scoot on the nearest rug to wipe…. but they do not lick.  So the plan is to place right by the litter pan the washable rug you want them to use for wiping.   But no,  skunks do not lick.  They wipe and everyday they brush themselves and brush their teeth too.  They sit on their fat flat haunches and groom their hiney fluff with their little hands.  So cute.

"Can I have your bean?" "No."

Skunks do not eat gucky stuff.  Unless of course, we are feeding them crickets and grubs.  That more real version of skunk dining is not happening in my house, I kiss my skunks.  They must be content with steak and chicken, shrimp and salmon.  Proteins that I, too, am willing to eat.

Thanksgiving dinner, skunks eat turkey (no ham or pork, please) and stuffing and yams without sugar.  They eat corn on the cob, French bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.  They should never eat too much sugar at once but they will eat all you give to them.

Want the Thanksgiving dishes from prep-cooking to be pre-washed before they hit the dishwasher or after they are inside said dishwasher?  Skunks can handle it.  Just don’t put in knives or fork tines facing up.

Turn a flock of skunks loose on a huge bowl where pumpkin pie filling was mixed, fifteen minutes of licking and it is good to go.

Yes, you will want to consider sugar, salt and seasoning intake.  No raisin cookies or mock mince meat, since the raisins in those cause renal failure in animals.  No asparagus which causes grand mal seizures.

But these domestic skunks, they are thorough if nothing else.

Skunkie moral of the story:  I’ve got nothing.  Except you want a dish washed right, give it to a skunk.

Thirty skunks stories about the boys.

New week-new items. I check all around my neighborhood and found a twin-clothes friend. But Cheesy was not very happy with the welcome.

Claire with her unpleasant welcome

Well, her owner does that to me, too. But she asks that because of jealous. Yes, jealous. You see, she spent too much on her house that she gaped when she knew that Cheesy had a hundred of coins. But Cheesy still love spending at Claire’s house.

Cheesy is waiting to eat that turkey!

But Claire wouldn’t let Cheesy eating the turkey (duuh!). So Cheesy leave with an unpleasant way too, and come to her sister’s house, Snowy. Cheesy always love spending time at Snowy’s garden together with Snowy.

 Cheesy loves her sister, Snowy.

So the end of the day is that Cheesy is having a full day spending at Snowy’s garden!

So, Cheesy likes to visit her sister pet, Snowy (owned by my sister too ). Everyday, they visit each other at Snowy’s house and dance through the music.

Cheesy and Snowy dancing

One day, when Cheesy was visiting Snowy’s house, they went to the garden and took a quick nap on the fluffy grass. But Snowy woke up earlier. She’s not that heavy-sleeper as like Cheesy…

Rise and shine, Snowy!

But a terrible thing happened. Snowy looked at that sleeping Cheesy and was annoyed that she was sleeping for that long, and Snowy was worried that perhaps some insects like ants and mosquitoes could went inside Cheesy’s clothes! She woke Cheesy up for many times, but no result. Cheesy was still snoring. So, Snowy was very annoyed and knew what to do. She walked towards Cheesy and…

Snowy stomped Cheesy!

Snowy stomped sleeping Cheesy right away!!!

My face began beat red. What happened that Snowy was that annoyed and dared to stomp on poor sleeping Cheesy? Cheesy was, for my and Snowy’s surprise, only half woke-up! She didn’t realize that Snowy had stomped at Cheesy, but Cheesy didn’t feel hurt at the head. She slowly woke up, and yawned calmly.

Cheesy’s yawning calmly :O!

Snowy was relieved that Cheesy finally woke up, and relieved too that Cheesy wasn’t hurt at the head, but Snowy told the story about stomping Cheesy’s head. And to Snowy’s surprise Cheesy smiled and explained that she knew Snowy stomped her at the head.

“So why aren’t you hurt at the head? It must be painful!” exclaimed Snowy in panic.

Cheesy beamed and simply said, “you wore fluffy shoes that won’t hurt my head. It feels like a massage to my head, by the way! I was going to ask you to stomp my head with those shoes again when I woke up!”

Puggie's Tongue Hangs Out Ever Since He Lost His Right Mandibular Canine Tooth

I’ve noticed many people are looking for dentistry information for their pets.  There is one board certified dental society, the American Veterinary Dental College in the United States, and a second Academy of Veterinary Dentistry, which has less stringent membership requirements.  Both are sources of official information about dentistry.

There is a practice which concerns Doc Truli greatly, so-called Non-Anesthesia Dentistry.  This is an evil wrong perpetrated on pets, sometimes under the roof of an animal hospital.  The American Veterinary Dental College has issued a position statement speaking out against this practice. I have included the text at the end of this post, in its entirety, or you can go to the Academy site and read it there.

Here’s how Doc Truli first learned of this “practice:”

“Doc, you have a call!”

“Hi, this is Ralph, I’m here with Jamie, the Yorkie.  You need to prescribe antibiotics for her.”

“Pardon Me?”  Who is this? “Who are you?”

“Oh!  I’m Jamie’s groomer.  I just scaled her teeth and it’s bleeding a little and a couple teeth fell out.  She’s gonna need antibiotics.”

“Tell Jamie’s mom to bring her right over.”

Well, Jamie had massive periodontal disease with many, many loose teeth.  Her mom always nodded her head and ignored me when I brought up the need for tooth surgery.  She always said she didn’t have the money.  It took 4 hours in surgery and over $1,000 to fix the mouth, otherwise the bleeding from the groomer extracting loose teeth would not stop.

Yikes!

I found out that there was a company out of California certifying veterinary technicians, groomers, or whomever paid for the class, to scale dogs teeth without sedation or anesthesia.  This is the practice of veterinary medicine without a license!  It is very, very dangerous, and the disease spread or overlooked can kill a dog.  As this company morphs across the US from West to East, they are sued and shut down state by state.  But not until countless animals are injured.  All because people are afraid of anesthesia.

Now, in 2009, there is a new version of this travesty.  Now, the technicians “certified” by this, and other bogus programs, come into veterinary hospitals.  Instead of a real cleaning, exam, and full x-rays of the teeth, the vet actually prescribes the NAD, or non-anesthesia dentistry, often without examining the pet, or even meeting the pet parent.

Sheba Has Clean Teeth, But Raging Periodontal Disease Persists, all Because of Expensive Non-Anesthesia "Dentistry"

One of my medical clients likes the (excellent) groomer who happens to work at a nearby animal hospital.  She had been dithering about dentistry, saying it cost too much.  What did she do?  She got talked into an $180 NAD!  $180!!!! for cosmetic cleaning!!!!  It doesn’t do anything to help her dog feel better, live longer, or be healthier.  They talked her into it.  Did not examine her pet, and a vet who has not been in active practice for at least 7 years was the name on the antibiotic prescription bottle.  This nasty, money ripping little trick has not been found to be malpractice in a court of law, but it should be.  It’s just a matter of time.

Talk with your veterinarian about anesthesia for your pet. Be sure your vet has full dental x-ray capability and uses it on every dentistry patient.  Preferably, digital x-rays decrease the amount of time your pet is under anesthesia, but if your vet’s team is good with the regular old-fashioned x-rays, that’ll be fine, too, (regular old-fashioned x-rays can be better visual quality than digital, anyway).  Be sure your vet team monitors anesthesia rigorously, especially if your pet is under 10 pounds.

Ask your vet about this anesthesia/dentistry check list:

• -pulse oximeter
• -carbon dioxide
• -external heat, like bair hugger, circulating hot water blanket, heating pad, hot water bottles, or heated surgery table
• -continuous core body temperature monitoring
• -blood pressure monitoring
• -protected airway with intubation
• -intravenous fluids on every dentistry patient
• -anesthetist assigned to monitor pet
• -high speed drill
• -dental x-ray capability and familiarity
• -hospital with many tiny patients.  The more experienced your vet is with condo pets and lap dogs, the better.
• -if more than 2 hours under anesthesia, venous blood gas analysis capability

Pet Anesthesia Checklist (pdf)

Pet Anesthesia Checklist (.odt)

If they are missing some of these basics, ask if you may have a referral to a board-certified specialist in dentistry, or search for one on the AVDC website.  I have not listed nearly all the “university” bells and whistles you could have used to monitor your pet, just the basics I use every day.  I believe every veterinarian practicing dentistry should have no trouble checking off every item on the basic list.

The carbon dioxide monitor, the venous blood gases, and the dental x-rays may trip up about 80-90% of regular small animal hospitals.  Very few have invested in this equipment.  Some dentists for people do not have high-speed hand pieces for their drills, so be sure your veterinarian does.

It all comes down to the people working with your pet.  Can you see the treatment area?  Will they show you where your pet will be staying?  Do they look you in the eye when they say they’ve never lost a patient under anesthesia?  Do you feel cared for, and your pet is cared for?  The people can mess up any fancy machine, and many miracles can be performed without fancy machines, although the hidden risks are higher.

The American Dental College Position Statement Against Non-Anesthesia Dentistry

In the United States and Canada, only licensed veterinarians can practice veterinary medicine. Veterinary medicine includes veterinary surgery, medicine and dentistry. Anyone providing dental services other than a licensed veterinarian, or a supervised and trained veterinary technician, is practicing veterinary medicine without a license and shall be subject to criminal charges.

This position statement addresses dental scaling procedures performed on pets without anesthesia, often by individuals untrained in veterinary dental techniques. Although the term Anesthesia-Free Dentistry has been used in this context, AVDC prefers to use the more accurate term Non-Professional Dental Scaling (NPDS) to describe this combination.

Owners of pets naturally are concerned when anesthesia is required for their pet. However, performing NPDS on an unanesthetized pet is inappropriate for the following reasons:

• 1. Dental tartar is firmly adhered to the surface of the teeth. Scaling to remove tartar is accomplished using ultrasonic and sonic power scalers, plus hand instruments that must have a sharp working edge to be used effectively. Even slight head movement by the patient could result in injury to the oral tissues of the patient, and the operator may be bitten when the patient reacts.
• 2. Professional dental scaling includes scaling the surfaces of the teeth both above and below the gingival margin (gum line), followed by dental polishing. The most critical part of a dental scaling procedure is scaling the tooth surfaces that are within the gingival pocket (the subgingival space between the gum and the root), where periodontal disease is active. Because the patient cooperates, dental scaling of human teeth performed by a professional trained in the procedures can be completed successfully without anesthesia. However, access to the subgingival area of every tooth is impossible in an unanesthetized canine or feline patient. Removal of dental tartar on the visible surfaces of the teeth has little effect on a pet’s health, and provides a false sense of accomplishment. The effect is purely cosmetic. (Doc Truli’s emphasis.)
• 3. Inhalation anesthesia using a cuffed endotracheal tube provides three important advantages… the cooperation of the patient with a procedure it does not understand, elimination of pain resulting from examination and treatment of affected dental tissues during the procedure, and protection of the airway and lungs from accidental aspiration.
• 4. A complete oral examination, which is an important part of a professional dental scaling procedure, is not possible in an unanesthetized patient. The surfaces of the teeth facing the tongue cannot be examined, and areas of disease and discomfort are likely to be missed.

"Thank you for my proper dental care, can I sleep on your pillow tonight?" (Who am I kidding, cats don't ask first...)

Safe use of an anesthetic or sedative in a dog or cat requires evaluation of the general health and size of the patient to determine the appropriate drug and dose, and continual monitoring of the patient. Veterinarians are trained in all of these procedures. Prescribing or administering anesthetic or sedative drugs by a non-veterinarian can be very dangerous, and is illegal. Although anesthesia will never be 100% risk-free, modern anesthetic and patient evaluation techniques used in veterinary hospitals minimize the risks, and millions of dental scaling procedures are safely performed each year in veterinary hospitals.

To minimize the need for professional dental scaling procedures and to maintain optimal oral health, the AVDC recommends daily dental home care from an early age. This should include brushing or use of other effective techniques to retard accumulation of dental plaque, such as dental diets and chew materials. This, combined with periodic examination of the patient by a veterinarian and with dental scaling under anesthesia when indicated, will optimize life-long oral health for dogs and cats.

For general information on performance of dental procedures on veterinary patients, please read the AVDC Position Statement on Veterinary Dental Healthcare Providers, which is available on the AVDC web site (www.AVDC.org). For information on effective oral hygiene products for dogs and cats, visit the Veterinary Oral Health Council web site (www.VOHC.org).

Sometimes I must treat a patient without knowing the exact diagnosis. Sometimes thongs go upsettingly wrong.

When we started Nicco on the prednisolone and antibiotic, I still did not have a diagnosis why he was jaundiced, anemic, attacking his own blood, and many, many tests had come up negative or inconclusive. With the prednisolone, Nicco ate better, felt better, the anemia started to resolve, the jaundice resolved. We were on to something good!

Then an 8 inch patch of skin from the back of his neck to his shoulder and down his arm just ripped open. No kidding! My assistant was gently holding him, when a crack opening up in his skin over the shoulder on the left, and the skin just slid back 4 inches like cellophane pulling off a loaf of bread. Then another crack opened over his right shoulder. The epithelium- the outer top layer of skin that holds hair, was so thin I could see light through it. And, by the way, Nicco was furious about this whole weeks in the hospital an intravenous thing. He had had enough!!

So, here I am, my beloved patient on the table in front of me, his mom standing there (she had come for a visit and was thinking of taking him home that night). Yours Truli, my assistant, and Nicco’s mom just watched this eruption of the surface of his skin break into cracks, like the 2012 crust heaving and splitting.

“Thank G*d that happened here!” was the first thing anybody said. “If that would’ve happened to me at home, I would have fainted, maybe died.” Me too. (Another one of those things I think, but I can’t say for the sake of professionalism.)

Okay. Now, if you’re a veterinarian, you’re thinking, “this is real bad.” That’s what the dermatopathologist told me, too. I cut a couple of biopsy samples from the edges of the cut skin (figuring, I might as well get a diagnosis.) I reached for the sterile surgical glue, which I had almost zero hope would actually stay in place and gently peeled the skin back over the underlying fat, glued it in place, gave antibiotics, and crossed everybody’s fingers for good luck.

Of course, the next day, the skin had reopened. I reluctantly put Nicco under sedation (I didn’t want to, he had just had massive jaundice and organ dysfunction and the most likely thing causing the skin problem was a drug reaction, but I had to). You just cannot live without good skin; the skin is the largest organ of the body.

I took tiny sutures used to sew the clear cornea on the surface of the eye, and delicately sewed the skin into place. By now, the skin was purplish in color, and I was sure it would just slough off. But I had to try. Nicco wore a little shirt (he despised it.) But he was eating and drinking, and had not broken with a fever. I weaned him down on the prednisolone pending the pathology results because my most likely theory was either the medication caused the skin reaction, or the unknown disease did in the first place.

The dermatopathology revealed microhemorrhages throughout the blood vessel bed underneath the skin, The disconnect n the microvascular supply had caused the skin the thin and whither and eventually rip. That all sounds great, but it really did not tell us why it started in the first place, or how to prevent it from spreading over his whole body. The dermatopathologist felt it was not a drug reaction, and it resembled nothing she had ever seen before; she sent the samples for another opinion. The second cat dermatopathologist concurred with the first and was equally mystified.

Meanwhile, Nicco was at home, and coming to the hospital every 2-3 days for me to check under his shirt and make sure all his skin wasn’t falling off or infected. It tore open a tiny bit after a few days, but we left it alone. He got his shirt off one night and clawed a 2 inch gash, which I surgically glued shut. 3 weeks into this skin tearing part of the saga, I noticed that Nicco still sometimes had fleas on himself.

“You know, fleas may have triggered this problem in the first place. You really MUST get rid of every flea on him and in his room in your house.”

Here’s the deal: I gave him a Capstar prescription flea pill in the hospital which kills every flea on him. Then, when he went home, he went in a tile-floor bedroom, which mom had flea sprayed. I told her,get IGR (Insect Growth Regulator) products, like VetChem brand or Zodiac brand at the pet store. Well, she sprayed under the bed, she upended an upholstered chair and sprayed that, there was no closet, no hiding places for fleas. Yet Nicco still had some fleas.

After 2 weeks of me trying to figure this out, and his mom trying to get the room cleaned, we figured it out!

“What do you mean IGR? I got this stuff at the supermarket. It says it’s for fleas.”

OMG! Did I not say?….Did I not write in a letter?….Did I not provide a handout?….she never really listened before. Then all of a sudden,she clicked on the IGR part and I helped her pick out the right flea spray. No more fleas!!! Yay!

After 23 wek in his shirt, the purple area started to turn pink. The skin thickened up. After a month, we tried without the shirt on. Nicco was fine! The dermatopathologist called to check up on “the case” and see what the autopsy showed.

“He made it; he’s fine!”

“What? That never happens! But I’m happy for him!”

Honestly, I’ll never know for sure what made Nicco sick. A weird toxin in the garage that we couldn’t find? A disease spread by fleas? An immune system dysfunction that righted itself? And feline Fragile Skin Syndrome is a death sentence. But miracles happen, especially when you don’t give up!

Nicco was anemic, jaundiced, dehydrated, lethargic, not eating, full of fleas, and generally looking like crap.  (Yes, that’s the official scientific term.)

So, the quest for the reason began.  First, I determined Nicco’s Minimum Database Laboratory, which at my hospital consists of a complete blood count, with microscopic cytologic examination of the blood, 12 chemistries of the blood, including liver enzymes, kidney-related toxins, electrolytes, proteins, calcium, sugar, a urinalysis chemistry and microscopy.  In this case, we also checked for diseases that ticks spread, because many of those disease can cause bleeding internally, anemia, and jaundice.

No feline leukemia or feline AIDs on his tests.

These preliminary tests showed anemia, which was regenerative, high liver enzymes, high blood values related to dehydration, concentrated urine (which is good; he was dehydrated, so his body should keep in fluids as much as naturally possible), and high bilirubin in the blood.

Now, if I see anemia and jaundice, I worry that something is destroying blood in the body and the release hemoglobin from the dead red blood cells overloads the liver and leads to extra bilirubin.  So Nicco also had some tests for auto-immune hemolytic anemia.

Well, long, boring laboratory story short, we could not identify a reason for the blood problems.  I treated Nicco with doxycycline, an antibiotic for mycloplasma hemofelis, an infection that attacks blood and is spread by fleas.  I rehydrated him, and retested his blood the next day.

Nicco was much, much worse!!!  Yikes!

Radiographs (x-rays) of his body revealed no reason for hemolysis and anemia and jaundice.  Ultrasound revealed nothing unusual.  Because of anemia, we looked for problems in his bone marrow.  The specialist called and said she had never seen bone marrow like Nicco’s before.  It was abnormal, but she couldn’t say that it fit any particular syndrome.

Meanwhile, Nicco still was not eating well, his bilirubin was still fairly high, and things were not looking bright for the little guy.  I started, as a doctor, thinking, maybe there is hidden cancer somewhere, or a reaction where his body is attacking the blood.  If I am right, predisolone (steroid) will save him.  If I am wrong, and it is an unidentified infection, steroids could kill him.

After discussion with his mom and several specialists, we decided to try prednisolone.  A horrifying, and unexpected result made me question everything I ever knew about medicine.  (More tomorrow…)

Nicco was a very sick kitty cat.  Thin, dehydrated, jaundiced, fleas running everywhere, Nicco, the white short-hair golden eye wonder at could barely manage to croak a little meow of confusion as I lifted him out of his cat carrier and onto the hospital scale.

His mom started the story, “He always seemed so healthy, I didn’t even notice when he started loosing weight.  But thinking back, maybe he’s been drinking tons of water and getting thinner for a coupla months. Nicco usually hangs out in our garage and plays in the storage boxes.  Do you think he could’ve gotten sick on ribbons or party flavors I keep stored for my catering business?”

If you love animals, are a veterinarian, or an aspiring veterinarian, or just have cats that get sick often, you’ve probably already noticed several red flags in the situation.

Nicco’s Red Flags:

Ribbons, strings where a cat can get to them

Kept in a garage (toxic chemicals anyone?)

Sick for months

Weight loss

Dehydration (how do we know?  Remember Skin Turgor?)

Fleas

Oh yeah, Jaundice. “What’s jaundice?” you ask?  Well, Doc Truli will tell you…yellow skin, usually seen first in the back of the mouth, or more practically in cats, the whites of the eyes turn yellow.  In fact, the yellow is what Nicco’s mom noticed most.

“I went to pick him up from behind some cardboard boxes, when I noticed his skin was all yellow, especially his ears and his eyes.”

Yikes!  Jaundice means a build-up up of the metabolic waste-product bilirubin, in the bloodstream.  Normally, red blood cells break down in the body, get filtered and converted vis bilirubin in the liver, and travel out in the bile and the intestines.  So anything which makes extra dead red blood cells, messes up the liver, or blocks the out passageway can cause back-up of bilirubin yellow pigment into the blood, which is carried all over the body and makes a cat or a person feel weak and tired, achey, and sick.

Nicco’s Total serum bilirubin was sky-high!  We became treatment with intravenous fluids to dilute and attempt to flush out the toxin.  But, without figuring out the underlying cause of the jaundice, we were doomed to fail.

Read more tomorrow about Nicco, the jaundiced cat.

The youngest of our children is a precocious boy. We did nothing to make him that way.  He just came from heaven that way.  As a family, we are learning to deal with it – with him.  This makes life more than interesting on more than one occasion.  On top of that, it has allowed me to learn some great lessons as a father.

His name is Colin. Pronounced like “callin’ home the cows,” not “colon.”  He hates being called a body part, especially the colon, and has no knowledge of former Secretary of State Colin Powell.  Plus, he has the honor of having two middle names after his grandfathers Charles Stalnaker and Clyde Needham: Colin Charles-Clyde.  Perhaps his nomenclature played upon his early psyche to produce the character in him, but I rather believe God was in a rip-snorting sense of humor the day he came to us on January 15th of 1996.

One particular time in my fatherhood formation involved his duty to pick up dog duty.  We have never owned a dog or cat because of his allergies and asthma.  However, we were renting a house from some friends and offered to watch their dog while they were away for a year.  A parent should always know that there is bound to be adventure when you mix one Doberman-Labrador dog with a 9-year old boy.  Our desire to help our friends muffled our parental warning system apparently.

Of course, as is always the case in any family’s acquisition of a new puppy or kitty, 0ur children were excited to finally have a real pet.  Up until this time, the only pets they had known were a series of short-lived rats and one Siberian dwarf-hamster.  Having a pet larger than a desert plate was a thrill for them.  Cleaning up after something that created poop larger than soy beans was to be another matter entirely.

My youngest soon became “the poop buster”.  Any time the backyard where we kept the dog needed policing of dog waste, he was called upon for his assistance.  I would jokingly call, “Who ya’ gonna’ call?”  And he would smile and answer, “The poop buster!”  This worked well for quite sometime.  But, admittedly, dog poop patrol does get old.

Here lies the advantage of living in the upper Midwest.  A dog owner has a 6 month reprieve from picking up dog crap in the yard.  We lived in Grand Forks, North Dakota, where the Red River Valley descends into temperatures rivaling eastern Siberia in the winter.  It is flat as a table top.  The wind hardly ever stops blowing.  The snow that accumulates is of the freeze dried variety.  And the temperature is almost always below Zero Fahrenheit thanks to the valley’s ability to suck the air right down from the North Pole.

Thus, in the winter months, the family canine pet is only allowed out very briefly to do its business in the backyard snow bank.  Without any prodding by the pet owner, the half frozen pet scrambles back into the house as soon as the deed is done.  Our Doberman-Labrador mixed dog was short haired and had a disdain for the snow and cold that rivaled my wife’s.  When it hit -30 degrees Fahrenheit or colder, one almost had to pick up the dog and throw it outside to get it to go and do its latrine duty.  This must be done before every bodily orifice is frozen shut.  Then the pet must be allowed in to thaw and the procedure tried all over again.

The plus side to this for the pet owner is that no sane person will bother with the gastronomic remains of the pet until the Spring thaw, which would not be until March or April.  Until then, the owner can be completely satisfied to know that everything will remain where it is in its freeze dried condition until more moderate climates return.  Meanwhile, the pet piles will accumulate under layers of snow.  Any lemony patches of snow will soon enough be covered by blankets of white.  The effect is that the pet owner need not look out at a back yard littered with dog duty.  Nature has performed a wonderful service by covering up the dirty deeds in brilliant white.  It is, however, simply amazing how much one pooch can poop over the course of a winter.

Colin and Ron at Neskowin Beach, Oregon ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2009)

When Spring did arrive for our family, we were surprised at the amount of dog doo left on the ground once the snow retreated.  One could barely make it out the back patio door and off of the deck.  It took careful tip-toeing to make it around in the backyard.  One miss-step and the consequence was an aromatic disaster as well as denial of re-entry back into the house.  Crossing our backyard was like trying to cross the Korean demilitarized zone littered with its land mines.  Nearly impossible.  According to my wife, if you stepped on one, you were on your own until it wore off or you thoroughly cleaned it off.  Meals could be pushed out the back patio door for you.

Finally, the inevitable day came where the job of thoroughly cleaning the back yard was necessary.  The yard needed its first mowing.  I will admit that it did occur to me that perhaps the mower would be a good way of picking up all that crap.  Upon further reflection, however, sanity returned and I decided that my lawn mower and that many poop mounds was not a good combination.  So, I called to my youngest son, “Who ya’ gonna’ call?”  “The poop buster!”, came the reply, though admittedly not with a lot of enthusiasm.  Seems pet care was starting to where on all of our family.

I recruited him and his sister, Juliann, to help me clean up the dog messes in the backyard.  We worked hard at it.  We had the proper store-bought pooper-scooper instruments and made great headway real fast.  When it was almost finished, I left them to complete the job while I went to get the mower ready.  Now, any parent knows that unsupervised children rarely accomplish anything on their own except for getting into trouble.  I, apparently, forgot this momentarily when I left them alone.

Frustrated at how slow the job was going, Colin complained to his sister that there had to be an easier way to do this job.  She suggested to him that, since they were mostly freeze dried from the winter, it would be easier to just pick them up with his fingers and put them in the bucket.  This bit of pure logic struck him as obvious.  However, somewhere in the recesses of his small developing mind a voice must have whispered a message of doubt.  Or, maybe it was just the “eww” factor.  So, he abandoned the pooper-scooper for a stick he found and attempted to roll the Almond Joy sized doggy chunks into a position to get them in the plastic bag lined bucket he was using.  The inefficiency of this method did not go unnoticed by my brilliant child.

Soon he abandoned the stick idea and bravely went with his sister’s ingenious idea of using his fingers.  Lo’ and behold!  Such speed and efficiency.  This could change pet and pet owner relationships forever!  Or, it could get you into a bit of trouble with your mother.

I returned to the back yard after spending some time getting the mower out and ready.  I was surprised to see the wonderful progress my two youngest children had made.  As I congratulated them and cheered them on to the finish, I noticed the odd way (apparently for older brains, anyway, it was odd) that my son was picking up the dog logs.  Curiosity got the better of me and stupidly I asked, “Colin, what are you doing?”

Rather testily he replied, “I’m picking up dog poop like you told me, Dad.”

Assuming he missed the real point behind my question, I asked more directly, “I see that, but why are you using your fingers to pick it up?”

“Juliann told me to.  It’s easier this way,” he replied as if I couldn’t see the brilliant conclusion he and his sister had come to on their own.  However, a glance over at Juliann revealed to me that she was still using the pooper-scooper.  I looked back at him and smiled.

“He is my son,” I thought.  “I’m going to have fun with this,” and returned to the house to find his mother.

I found my wife, Kelly, perched comfortable on the couch with a book and cup of hot tea.  To get her attention, I asked her, “What are you doing?”  After twenty-plus years of marriage she knows this game and gave the usual reply, “Painting the ceiling.”

I asked, “Did you tell Colin that picking up dog crap with his fingers would make the job easier?”  (I know.  I was baiting her.  I’m a bad, bad husband.)

“No!”, she replied, somewhat offended that I would even think such a thing of her.

I said, “Well, that’s what your son is doing out there…picking up dog poop with his fingers.”  I then disappeared into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and watch the events unfold in the backyard out the kitchen window.

Entering the kitchen, I heard behind me my wife exclaim, “What?!”  And before she was even outside where my son could hear her she started calling Colin’s name.  Very loudly.

To understand what happens next, one must understand my wife’s aversion to any animal waste of any sort.  She cannot tolerate it on any molecular level.  This is why our rat and hamster cages were weekly cleaned and thoroughly disinfected with professional cleaners.  Soap and water was never enough.  I, on the other hand, grew up with a menagerie of animals – dogs, cats, pigs, goats, ducks, chickens – and animal manure was something healthy people just lived with around them.  It boosts the immune system.  That’s why farmers and ranchers live such long lives.  Everyone knows this except my precious wife.

Kelly has a natural gag reflex when it comes to the smell of freshly trod upon dog poop. The hint of the smell will send her running into the house and lighting every scented candle we have available.  So, you can only imagine her reaction to finding out that our prized youngest son, our last son, was violating every code of cleanliness according to my wife.  She would have to do something fast before he would be relegated to a life of going about claiming, “Unclean!  Unclean!  Beware, I’m unclean!”

Once she reached the patio deck she had my son’s attention and probably the neighbors’ also.  “You get right in here, young man!  This instant!  What do you think you are doing?  You don’t pick up dog poop with your fingers!”  She said this as if it was a matter that everyone would understand.  But, alas, my son gets his intelligence from his father not his mother.

Colin protested, “But Juliann said to.  It’s easier and faster that way.”  He was obviously dumbfounded by his mother’s lack of understanding the profound logic of his actions.  “I only pick up the dry ones with my fingers, not the juicy ones”, he protested.

“Eww!  Gross!  I don’t care what your sister told you!” she declared.  “That stuff is filthy and will give you diseases.  Get in the bathroom right away!  And take off your shoes!”

Once in the bathroom, our son was made to wash his hands with hand soap and then Pine-scented Lysol several times.  Judged thoroughly clean and safe once again, his mother warned him to be careful about how he handled animal excrement.  He was sent out with the yellow rubbers gloves she uses to clean the bathrooms.  I returned with him to the backyard where he, Juliann, and I soon completed the task.  I then went to bring the mower around to the backyard and instructed the two of them to get our collections into the garbage cans on the other side of the house.

This should be the end of the story. It is not.  I had more lessons as a father to learn that day; instructions in Fatherhood 101 that I apparently had missed with my first three children.  I didn’t know that I didn’t know so much as a father.  But I am learning something new every time one of my kids gets up in the morning.  It’s truly amazing how much there is to learn in one’s short lifespan as a parent.

We had used plastic bags to line the buckets that we used to collect our doggy stool samples.  All that was left was to tie up the tops of the bags and take them to the garbage bin at the side of the house.  Meanwhile, I pushed the mower to the backyard.  Before starting it, I returned to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee to have with me when I took breaks from mowing.  While in the kitchen, I heard a large “Thud!” on the rooftop and then what sounded like pine cones dribbling down to the gutters.  I quickly returned to the backyard deck.

“What was that?!” I exclaimed to my two youngest children staring up onto the roof.

“Dog poop,” came the reply.  It was said as if I had missed something so obvious that I must be daft.

“What?!” I asked but not really asking.  It came more from an inability to process the information I was just given.  Older brains, it turns out, are less able to manage such simple data points.

“What did you two do?” I queried.

“I didn’t do anything,” Juliann said.  “Colin tried to throw the bag of dog poop over the house.”

“Why?!” I asked.  Again, this was not a question.  My old, wrinkly brain was just not able to process what I was just told.  I looked at Colin.  Probably from his point of view, it was one of those slack mouthed, dumbfounded stares that parents give when their brains are short-circuiting from trying to figure our their children’s behavior.

His answer was simply, “I didn’t want to walk all of these bags around the house.  So, I thought I would just throw them over the house to the garbage can.  The first one didn’t get very far.”

I looked at him. I looked at the size of the bags.  I looked at his scrawny arms.  I looked at the height of our roof.  I looked up into the sky.  I looked back at him.  Obviously, I was missing something.  Or, God was getting back at me for the fun I had at my wife’s expense earlier.

Stating the obvious loudly enough for our next door neighbors to hear, I said, “You can’t throw them over the house!  For the love of Pete, just carry them around to the garbage can.  NOW!”

He and Juliann scurried off with a few bags and I grabbed a few and followed them.  I wanted to ensure that no more monkey business ensued between the backyard and the 30-yard trek to the side of the house where the garbage can sat unreached by the moon shot over our house.  I then returned with Colin to the back yard where I boosted him up on the roof from our deck to clean up the mess he had made.

Looking sternly at him, I told him, “You pick up up every one of those dog biscuits!  Do you hear me?  I don’t want them clogging up the downspouts the next time it rains!  You get every one.  Now, here’s another bag to replace the one that broke.   Try and pick up the broken bag so that you don’t spill any more doggy do’s out of it….That’s it…now, pick up the rest scattered on the roof and in the gutters.  And don’t miss any!”

As I stepped back to get a better view of him, my young precocious son asked, “But what am I going to pick them up with?”

I smiled and said, “Use your fingers!”

I’m sure I learned some valuable lessons from my son that day.  It’s just that, for the life of me, I don’t know what they are.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2009)

So the last two weeks or so I haven’t been around much, due to vacation and family emergencies.  The good news on the vacation front is that I managed to go on vacation without bringing home (or even rescuing in situ) any animals!!  The bad news is that I haven’t had time to collect any good stories lately.  Worse yet, my dog got pissed at me for being away so much.  Thankfully not literally, but for the first time she DID sleep out on the porch instead of in my bedroom in her dog bed.

I have a dog and I’M in the dog house!

So to try and make it up to her, I take her ASAP on the weekend to the dog park.  She had a lot of fun in the pond with the other dogs.  Mud galore.  No problem, I have plenty of towels to clean and dry her off for the ride home, as well as towels for the back seat.  Yes, not only am I anal about the mess, she has to sit in the back for safety, away from the airbags.  OK, it gets worse, I even seatbelt her in.  Yes, I know I’m a worrywart, but I digress.  We’re standing next to the car, and I’m toweling her off, and one of her 100 pound soaking wet, muddy, doggy friends comes running up to her to say good bye!  Awww, how sweet!  Wait a minute, no, what are you DOING!  You’re not – yes you are – YOU’RE JUMPING INTO MY CAR, onto the FRONT SEAT, onto MY COAT, and now SITTING IN MY DRIVER’S SEAT! 

Sigh.  His owner was as sheepish as my car was muddy.  Even though I was actually laughing about as hard as I could at all this (my dog was totally confused), the dog’s owner peeled out of there as much as a gravel drive would allow. 

Parks are always good for funny dog encounters, like the dog who kept on climbing into my lap and curling up instead of running around the dog park after her owner.  Her owner got tired of fetching her dog from my lap on the bench.

Another time I was about to hike up a cliff when another hiker with a dog passed me at the bottom.  I was dogless on that hike, and that dog just would not leave me.  He was slobbering on me, and circling me, and just LOVING me.  His owner had to drag him off and they completely disappeared on up the trail.  About 30 minutes later, I hear something running down the trail, and I look up to see that dog hurtling back to me.  The love-fest continued.  I told the dog to leave, to go back to his master, but he wouldn’t.  About 5 minutes later, the owner came stomping back down the trail, leashed the dog, and continued on down the trail, dragging the dog with him.  He hardly looked at me – he was ticked he had to come back down before reaching the top of the trail and now it was too close to dark for him to go back up.

I didn’t tell him I had just spent the last 8 hours working with 20-30 cats, and that in addition to having had cats lounge ALL OVER me, I had all manner of canned cat food smeared all over my clothes after serving it, cleaning it and accidentally sitting in it.  What, you thought I was a dog-whisperer or something? 

Lolita, APBT, eats Hills Z/D & runs 7 miles daily!

No solid data for ranking in order of severity exists. However, let’s group the Mastiff Breeds all together, or they might just take over the list!

1. Mastiff (Bulldoggie-type Breeds):

• American Pit Bull Terrier
• American Staffordshire Terrier
• French Bulldog
• English Bulldog
• English Bull Terrier
• American Bulldog
• Neopolitans
• Bullmastiffs
• Dogue de Bordeaux
• Cane Brasiliero
• Boxers
• Etc. It almost does not matter which continent, Bulldogs itch!

2. Shih Tzus and Lhasa Apsos

This elegant Shih Tzu enjoys hypoallergenic dog shampoo.

• These breeds are so allergic to grasses, dust mites, molds, pollens, etc (allergy syndrome called “atopy”) that they actually have less than a 50% chance of allergy desensitization shots working. Other dog breeds have a 75% allergy cure or control rate with monthly allergy shots.
• You know your Shih Tzu or Lhasa has allergies if they lick their paws, or the paws are stained a reddish brown from stealth licking they sneak when you are not looking (like when you are sleeping.)

3. Bichon Frise (many of these little tykes actually break out each time they are groomed. Then you are in a catch-22. Can’t get too dirty= allergy and infections. Can’t irritate the skin with a bath, blow-dry and brush out! The solution? Ask your veterinarian about allergy treatment of a dermatology referral.)

4. Retrievers

Elmo the LabraDoodle chews his nails. Itch much?

• Labradors
  • including Labradoodles and Goldendoodles
• Goldens
• Chessies (Chesapeake Bay Retrievers)
• Flat Coated Retrievers
• even the Nova Scotia Duck-Tolling Retrievers have way too many allergies. “Hot spots” anyone!!!!

5. Chinese Shar Pei

6. Spaniels, especially those ears! Recurring wax in ears? Allergies are likely underlying your inability to cure your dog’s problem with the ears. (Be sure to ask your vet about the allergies, instead of just another visit to only take care of the secondary ear infection.)

• Cockers
  • American
  • English
• Clumbers
• Field
• Springers
• Brittanies

7. Yorkshire Terriers

• If your Yorkie has thin fur, flaky skin, itchiness, and a greasy coat, odds are, yeast, bacteria, allergies probably plague your little lapwarmer.

8. Wheaton Terriers

9. German Shepherd Dogs

10. Parson’s Russell Terriers (Who are we kidding? Jacks. Do you know the story why the name changed? When they became AKC eligible for registration, the AKC requires the breed founder’s last name to be used for the breed name. The breed founder? Jack Parson, of course.)

Simon, Before Surgery with his Left Lower Canine Tooth Hanging Out

Sometimes cats need emergency tooth extraction. In Simon’s case, his left lower canine tooth avulsed so it stuck out of his lower lip at almost a ninety degree angle. Talk about painful!

To top it off, Simon was 18 years old. Anesthesia carried inherent risk for him, but there was no way he could go on with that tooth like that!  

I put him under light anesthesia and painkillers and delicately removed the offending tooth.

Simon’s recovery after anesthesia was uneventful.  An elderly cat feels sleepy for several hours.  He wobbled on his feet and jerked his head to and fro a bit, trying to focus on my face.  We did not offer any food for the first two hours.  Then Simon started to look more “with it.”  He drank some water when it was offered.  (Just a little bit.  Cats normally do not drink very much; cats are thought to be originally desert animals.)

After two hours, we let him walk around his own bedroom in the hospital, without fear he would trip or try to jump up and hurt himself.  He ate a little dinner, and went to sleep.  Simon recovered quickly.  Some cats are groggy until the morning or afternoon after surgery and anesthesia.  Sleepiness for more than 24 hours warrants a call to the veterinarian.

See the little white thing hanging out of the corner of Simon's mouth? That's the tooth!

Simon ate soft canned cat food for about 5 days.  I checked his gums and they were 100% healed!  Some dental specialists wait up to 2 weeks after dental surgery before allowing a cat unrestricted access to dry food.

6 months after his surgery, Simon had gained a pound, and looks younger than ever!

P.S. Tooth avulsion occurs after accidents, or in Simon’s case, from years of periodontal neglect. The jawbone holding the tooth becomes fragile, the tooth is no longer strong and firmly rooted, and an insignificant bump to the mouth dislodged the tooth. Whammo! An avulsion is born.

Miniature Schnauzer Perfection

[Caution: kinda gross subject matter, but super important.]

Heidi was a salt n pepper 6 year old miniature schnauzer with recurrent bouts of soft stool and
occassional little spit ups of vomit in the morning. Usually she ate well, but about once a month, she would not touch her dinner.

Her parents thought it was normal for a dog to have irregular bowel movements because they get into so much “stuff” on walks, and in the backyard.

Normal consists of regular meals, usually twice a day, and bowel movements 2-3 times daily. If a dog steals garbage, gets gravy or bacon put on their food, or eats a child’s hit dog, then done soft stool and vomiting makes perfect sense.

Heidi was a miniature schnauzer. Did you know miniature schnauzers are likely to have hypertriglyceridemia and a propensity for pancreatitis? I’ll repeat in English: high levels of certain fats in the bloodstream and bouts of inflammation and pain in the pancreas.

Pancreatitis is probably more common than veterinarians think. The inflammation can cause anything from a mild stomach upset to super painful abdominal pain and severe illness.

Heidi suffered from the mild, recurrent sneaky variety of pancreatitis. A blood panel identified the high fats. A special pancreatitis test, combined with her symptoms, and an abnormal look to the pancreas on an abdominal ultrasound study, gave us the answer.

So what did we do about it? There are no drugs or medicines to stop the pancreas from overreacting. In fact, certain medications, like phenobarbitol for seizures, can trigger pancreatitis.

In Heidi’s case, we switched her to avptescriprion low fat diet. Her triglycerides can right down. If they had not, I would have prescibed medication to help her. Luckily, Heidi didn’t need pharmaceuticals.

This little Schnauzer ate better, had nice stools, no vomit, lost done weight, and generally enjoyed life to the fullest once we solved her problem.

P.S. If you are a Miniature Schnauzer parent, ask your veterinarian about screening for hypertriglyceridemia!

NOPE, I’M NOT COMING OUT TODAY

When a skunk is not hungry, it is seldom about the weather.

In the morning, when her door is opened, our skunk Blossom comes out of her den carrier like a race horse from the starting gate. Where is breakfast, let’s get this show on the road.

Lacey, the youngest one, all fluffy and soft, she slides out the door onto the floor yawning.  Lacey blinks as she decides to walk to the kitchen or be carried… no rush. Mornings are for pondering.

The morning it happened, when I opened the door, Lacey sprawled onto the floor, blinking at the white snow-sleet streaking past the wall of windows.  Blossom peeked out and pulled the blankets over her head.

“Blossom, come on honey bunny, it’s warm out here.”

“Nope, Mama, I’m not coming out today.”

Okay then.  Must be the snow, I thought.  This was our first winter season with Blossom so we were not sure of her habits in cold weather.  Perhaps she just figured it’s time to hibernate until breakfast is served anyway.  I picked up Lacey and prepared their breakfast without the usual Blossom-dance around my feet… the one where I shuffle so as not to trip me or tromp the skunkette.

Leaned down to present the little queen with a plate of chicken, nuts, cottage cheese, pear, and cucumber.  Little bits of favorites.

“Ugh,” Blossom said. “Get that out of here.”

“What’s wrong with Blossom?!!” I asked my husband. “Something is wrong with Blossom!”

“It’s snowing.  Cold.  She’ll eat when she’s ready.”

“But Blossom is always hungry.”

If it hadn’t been for the snow thing going on outside, I wouldn’t have second-guessed my instincts.  Lacey was packing a king-size velour blanket under the entertainment center, through a four-inch opening.  Things were different today.

Skunks do not generally say they have had enough when presented a food they enjoy.  They might say they don’t want it, if they don’t like the food.  Lacey does not like canned pumpkin which she refers to as a cousin to that which comes from the bowel system, and frosting this ’stuff’ with honey will not tempt her to even lick the honey off.  But if a skunk enjoys the food, let’s say they discover how to climb inside a garbage can of dry dog food, they will eat until they squeak-and-barf, then eat plenty more.  Promise you, I know these things.

So I knew in my heart that Blossom was not well.

I spent the day giving her colloidal silver and water, limu juice, and trying to tempt her with any food she would eat.  She licked her favorite juice from a syringe but would not even drink it from a bowl.

When I succumbed to taking her temperature three times, poor thing, she had a high temp.

Long day short, by that evening hubby was driving us at optimum speed without over-doing to get us to the last emergency vet appointment of the weekend with a vet she had never met because, of course, her regular vet was out of town, bless his heart.  Just the way it always falls.

Blossom was between us, holed up in blankets in her den-carrier and covered with more blankets.  Black eyes staring from the little den hole.  A long drive into the dark.  But the roads were clear.

She met the vet with no animosity.  Not very Blossom-like, as it took four vet techs to sedate her five-pound butt in order to be spayed.  Tonight she was dehydrated, listless, eyes dull, gut tight, high fever.  Frankly, she may not have lived the night.

It all happened so easily and quickly it seemed.  I was beside myself trying to figure out when I missed the first clues she was ill.   Maybe when I was writing at two in the morning and she sidled into the office and slid onto the carpet in front of the radiant heater for only a few seconds, then disappeared back to bed.  Maybe the different fecal texture I wondered about for a second.  Maybe the way she was so easy to tuck into bed the night before.

The drive home was on the other scale of speed.  Our Denali gingerly paced between rushing semis.  Cruising black ice at twenty miles per hour for forty-five miles.  No, even a Yukon Denali does not feel big enough under these conditions.  For instance, driving between the Christmas tree farm to our road usually takes three minutes and we drove fourteen minutes – which seemed hours to the turn-off.  Plenty of time to fuss over Blossom though.  I would have to say, if she ever decides not to come out because it is snowing, she would have good reason after that drive.

The vet was a miracle-working genius.  Two hours, two injections, re-hydration, and two bottles of antibiotics to be sure we had the problem covered.  Sent home a hungry skunk with a hint of energy.  She still wanted her bed and had no gumption for running the room, but she ate sparse vet rations and snuggled up while we watched television.  Within a few days she was bouncing circles around her sister.

Moral of the story: Listen with your gut.

Literal moral of the story:  If a skunk ever tells you, “Nope, I am not coming out today,” you may want to seriously question their reasoning.  If I had listened to the reason of snow and time to hibernate now, well, we probably would not have a Blossom in our snowdrift today.

See post on too many cucumbers and pecans can dehydrate the large intestines.

Essa Adams is author and publisher of other skunk stories.
Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk In the House! and Other Tail-raising Stories

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A Breath Floats By: An Illusion for the Soul
Contemporary women’s fiction, subversive romance, lady lit.  A novel with three pet skunks and two Newfoundland dogs starring.

When I met Bo, he was four pounds of red

Bo as a Puppy

fuzzy Chow puppy.  Healthy, sassy, and a little nippy, Bo was a handful.

Naturally, Bo had to be taught bite inhibition. All puppies chew everything.  They bite and gnaw on people, too.  Gently teaching a puppy “no bite” consistently, firmly, and fairly goes a long way toward communicating proper puppy manners.  When a puppy plays too roughly, firmly say the chosen words like “no bite.”  Everyone in the family must use the same terminology for your puppy to understand.

How to Teach a Puppy Bite Inhibition

If your puppy still insists on roughhousing and nipping, then take away your attention by leaving the game.  Do not be tempted into wagging or pointing your finger in the puppy’s face of holding the muzzle closed.  This means fun to a puppy!  If you have already tried these tactics, you know that the puppy becomes more hyper and tries even harder to play roughly!

As a last resort, super hyper puppies can be crated for a few minutes, like a 5 minute “time out.”  They will connect the idea that roughhousing results in boring time spent alone in the crate.

Now, keep in mind, if anyone in the house (usually dad) is playing “hands,” rolling the pup, wrestling, on the floor at puppy level, allowing the biting play when it suits the human, your puppy will have a difficult time telling the difference between when roughhousing is allowed and when it is not.  To keep the situation under control, be clear, and forego inappropriate, confusing animal play until a puppy is older and understands the family hierarchy.

Bo’s mom was a natural. By the time Bo was six months old, he sported his Gentle Leader, performed his obedience exercises, and looked fabulous in his full long fuzzy black Chow Chow coat.

That’s when Bo’s mom asked me an unexpected question.

“How do I get Bo certified as a therapy dog?”

The question surprised me a little bit because, usually, Chows are private, family dogs.  They tend to tolerate strangers without enjoying their company.

Bo’s mom was certain he would make a good therapy dog.

I warned, “Don’t be disappointed if Bo doesn’t pass the test.  Chows usually aren’t the obvious choice for visiting nursing homes and hospital wards.”

Bo participated in the Delta Society’s therapy dog certification program.  He passed with high honors!

Bo loves his new job visiting senior citizens.  He remains calm and relaxed, even around wheelchairs and IV poles.  He is living proof anyone can become a therapy pet, with the right encouragement and training!

You and your dog can become a therapy team and provide amazing support and care to people in hospice care, children at risk, and hospitalized patients.  Miracles happen when people give them a chance!

P.S. Doc Truli recommends this video about Baxter, a Chow-mix Therapy Dog.  After a lifetime of service to people in need, even though paralyzed, Baxter visited hospice care patients and provided companionship and kisses, sometimes in the final hours of people’s lives.

Tommy was a 16-year-old diabetic long-hair white cat with yellow-gold eyes.  I met him for the first time when he stopped eating for 4 days.  When I gently pinched the skin over his shoulder blades, it stood up, and did not bounce back into a normal, flat position.  I tried the same trick over his hips; Tommy’s skin just stood up.  This is called a skin turgor test, and in this case, it meant Tommy was severely dehydrated.

Many people become confused by the fact that a cat drinking tons of water can be dehydrated.

“But he’s drinking tons of water, Doc.  I thought that meant he was okay.”

Drinking the proper, usual, regular amount of water is okay.  Suddenly drinking tons of water, is very , very bad.

Tommy’s eyes stayed half closed, his heart rate was too fast (over 240 beats in a minute, even when one is nervous at the vet’s, is still awfully fast).  Normally, I’ll bet his kitty heart rate was around 120-150 beats per minute.  His body temperature was 99F.  What’s normal cat temperature, you say?

101 – 102.5 F.

Tommy was shutting down.  The next step was coma!

A quick blood sugar revealed a level of 550!  The urine had greater than 450.  Given the symptoms, and the test results, I knew Tommy had diabetes mellitus.  Most cats newly diagnosed with diabetes also have urinary tract infections.  A urine culture and sensitivity test showed Tommy did, too.

Tommy needed to stay in the hospital for intravenous hydration, tests, insulin, and close regulation of his body vital systems.  Money was not a severe limiting factor for Tommy’s father, so I was optimistic treatment could proceed.

“Doc, can I talk to you in private?”

“Of course, what’s on your mind?”

“Doc, I’m old, and my knees are shot.  My hands shake, and there’s no way I can catch him.”  Uh, oh, I hope he doesn’t tell me he wants me to put Tommy down…

“Doc, it breaks my heart to say this…” Oh no!  Here it comes…

“Can you help me find a good home where Tommy can live out his days.  I’ll sure miss him, but he needs better care than I can give him.”  Thank goodness!!!!

I spoke with one of my nurses about the dilemma.  With a devilish twinkle in her eye, she offered, “Well, if he takes Spunky, the feline aids positive cat we need to find a home for in exchange, I will take Tommy home and nurse him back to health.  Do you mind if I tell Tommy’s dad I will do that?”

Do I mind? Do I mind? Do I mind if an angel solves my problems without my own cat disowning me because I brought another one home?

Tommy’s dad was tickled pink.  We swapped cats.  Tommy went home with the nurse.  Mr. Tommy went home to prepare for the new cat.  He knocked his back out cleaning and arranging cat beds on the chair, sofa, and two windowsills.  A week later, he was well enough to take Spunky home.  She thought she was in kitty heaven, after her life of abandonment and living on the streets!

A little-known factoid about diabetes mellitus in cats: if treated aggressively enough, with the right kind of insulin, and if you are lucky, it can be cured in up to 75% of the cats!  Within three weeks, the nurse came to me with news.

“I haven’t given Tommy any insulin in three days, and his blood sugar is good.  He is so happy and my other cats wash him every night!”

Spunky stayed with Tommy’s dad until, one day, Mr. Tommy had to go to the ICU, so Spunky came back to the animal hospital.  Being such a cat-lover as he is, as soon as Mr. Tommy came back out of the hospital, we drove Spunky back to stay with him.  Spunky sleeps on Mr. Tommy’s head every night, and sheds fur all over the sofa by day.

My nurse checks on Spunky and Mr. Tommy every other week.  She brings cat food and sugar cookies.  Mr. Tommy’s memory is not great these days, but he always welcomes “my cookie lady” for a quick visit!  Tommy never looked back.  He poses for pictures, which Mr. Tommy enjoys.  But both boys are happy in their new situations and wouldn’t have it any other way!

A 5-year-old male Catahoula Leopard Dog named Smokey arrived in the ER on a stretcher. His one blue and one brown eye darted all around the room in sheer terror. Smokey was utterly paralyzed.

Catahoula Puppy

The day before, Smokey ran and played with his Irish Setter friend, Kevin. He slept well and ate a full breakfast. At 11 a.m. his parents discovered him on his side on the kitchen floor, panting, eyes wide and panicked. His parents scooped him up and rushed to the pet emergency room.

Few diseases cause utter sudden paralysis in a young, healthy male dog. Smokey showed no neck pain, like a slipped intervertebral disc or a rarer spinal disease. No injuries occurred.

It dawned on me that Smokey liked to run and play in his wooded back yard. Sometimes he hinted with his dad and Kevin. On a hunch, I directed the nurse to help me look for ticks.

Sure enough, after about four minutes, we pulled a tick off of his webbing between his hind toes. A few seconds later, Smokey stood up. He was cured!

The return to normalcy is so striking with tick paralysis as to be unbelievable. Your dog looks like death is imminent and then, presto! Back to normal.

Lucky for Smokey, tick paralysis reversed just as soon as someone removed the offending tick.