Dogs on Thursday

Fred’s needing some love, so here’s a shot I adore. It was taken two summers ago, at work. That’s the Knight on the left, and a baby Shadow in the bottom. We were up into the wee hours of the morning, at the emergency vet. They were afraid it was bloat, but we were sure it wasn’t. The good news is it wasn’t bloat. The bad news is, we don’t know why that lump of food is at the top of his stomach, not digesting.

He’s miserable, so much so for those of you who know him, that he’s not fussing. It broke my heart to leave him at home, but Shadow frets him so. Once my mother inlaw arrives from her doctor’s appointment this morning, I’ll go home, load up Fredders, and take him to our Dr. Nancy.

Of course, all of this is going on while Mugsy’s allergies rage on.

Sadly, we’re not alone. Other friends have pet and personal medical issues, and Amanda has had a very sudden, tragic loss. Sending prayers and good vibes out to all of you…

I’ll keep you posted on Fred. Tomorrow’s Mugsy’s 12th birthday too, so I guess this blog has gone to the dogs.

He’s My Brother

This photo was taken late Fall 2006. Many thanks to the always awesome Nicole for doctoring for me!

I’ve decided that as my dogs are both geriatric, my Dogs on Thursday posts should be about preserving memories. One routine moment that happens more than once most days, but never fails to warm my heart, is Fred’s about face to follow Mugsy.

Fred goes outside first most mornings. However, rather than heading off the porch to do his duties, he simply waits right there until Mugsy comes out, and they head into the yard together. What tickles me most is when Fred has been out for a while, asks in, and then makes that predictable u-turn at the door because Mugsy is going out. It’s simple and routine, but it is the essence of their bond. Like most brothers, they fight - sometimes violently, in their youth - but in the end, they seek each other out for companionship. I’ve had the pleasure of being around some truly wonderful dogs, but these two are at the top of the list.

Fred on Thursday

Fred is just so much more cooperative about the whole photography thing. The Knight took this one with my cell phone earlier this week. Fred could be happier, but I think the Knight or “Dadaw” as the dogs call him (yeah, we think our dogs talk - what of it?), awoke the poor ol’ man for the photo op. He’s just such a sweet dogums, and I feel so blessed to have him in our lives.

Happy Little Friday!

Fred and Water

Today’s Fred’s day. You see, he had a rather traumatic day yesterday. It started out GREAT! We loaded up and he went to work, which is generally a happy thing for him. However, less than two hours later, we were headed to the vet. That was bad enough, but then…

I left without him. It was killing me, so much so that my beloved Dr. Nancy rather firmly stated, “Leave now. Don’t stop to pay. Just go!” as she towed an extremely resistant Fredders into the back, for - of all things - a bath.

You see, Fred’s philosophy on water is simple. If he is thirsty, he will drink, and drink AND DRINK it, and then dribble slimed up drops all over the house. Otherwise, water is the enemy. Rain? Pee on the porch. (That’s why they make that pet odor removal stuff, right?) Snow? Stay inside until it stops falling from the sky, and then go outside and play and snort in it until the humans fear you will have frostbite on your low-hanging parts.

So, since Fred is aging, sore and a great actor, the Knight - aka: Dadaw - will no longer bathe his boy, because he can’t stand the horrible howls and screams Fred makes in an attempt to ward off the water. The poor folks at our vet got to do it yesterday, bless them. He looks beautiful, but Fred doesn’t care about beauty.

Oh - and his back got a better report than I’d hoped. He will continue to lose mobility, but Dr. Nancy doesn’t think it pains him, or bothers his dignity to drag his already rather lame left rear leg a bit until he catches some traction. So, we’ll put up a ramp at the front door, and those Staples ream of paper boxes make the perfect step into my vehicle, and hope that Fred stays comfortable and happy (in his own, grumpy sort of way) for a lot longer…

Downward Facing Wick

So, there it is. The yoga sock done in Wick. (That’s color #9 on the site.) You can find the pattern here. I can’t say enough about the yarn. It’s a bit like chenille, but it stretches, so while I might never knit with chenille again, I love this stuff and will be ordering some to make Christmas presents. No, I don’t know how practical the socks are, as my toes are generally what gets cold first, but check back with me after the temperature drops, because I’ve slipped into my sad version of Lotus more than once, just to get my feet off of the cold even through the mat floor!

Hey, look! They aren’t green. How ’bout that!? Pink and brown, and although you can’t really see it, there is some sage-ish green in there too, along with the cream and some - get this, Sharon! - purple. If you’re looking for non-wool fibers, give Wick a try. Yet another soy love affair happening here.

This is also a good time for a little book review. Devon sent me a copy of this for my birthday last month. Sue told me early in our swap-born friendship that Interweave published the best books, and this certainly makes a good case for that argument. Have a problem? (Like needing to cast on 22 stitches in mid-yoga sock?) Just flip to the index in the back, and viola! There it is, with pictures and gooblette-proof text. Even at 10pm, I was able to make it work, rather successfully, if I may say so myself! Now that I have a nice, roomy tote (thanks, Stacey!), this book will go wherever my knitting and I go, unless I am 100% positive there’s no way I’ll need it.

Of course, there are many more books to review, but Mugsy says it’s time to sit together on the sofa and talk about our day, which for him, included escaping into the great room to hang out with Fred. He’d been baby-gated in our room, which is adjacent to the great room, so that they could see each other, but Mugsy couldn’t bother Fred the sore grump and provoke a fight. Evidently, Mugsy knew Dr. Nancy would insist that Fred isn’t as bad off as we thought… Thanks for all the kind wishes. He’s mending, slowly but surely. He’s still a rather old basset with a very bad back, but it seems he’s going to be around a while longer.

All He Needs Is Love

I missed Dogs on Thursday yesterday, in part because we were in transit, but mostly because I was in tears. (Note: no knitting content here.) Yes, we need to vacuum, sweep and otherwise remove Fred’s excessive shedding evidence, but this was snapped moments after we returned from a week out of town. Some of you know Fred’s spine basically self-fused several years ago, and our incredible sitter/friend tried to tell Mark on Wednesday that Fred was worse than usual. Mark insisted that Fred has bad days, but all was okay. Wrong. There’s a reason you should choose a pet sitter carefully, because Tony knows our dogs almost as well as we do, and Fred was hurting.

Indeed he is. His hind end simply doesn’t work much right now. The boys had a small scuffle Sunday, and we were all focused on the tiny wound near Mugsy’s eye. Ha! Big ol’ Fred threw his back out (just like me!), and no one noticed. Now, we’ve known for years that the day might come when chronic pain was an issue for our honey hound, but I was ill-prepared to face it after a long day of riding (read: my own back pain), and after being away from my darling dogs for nearly a week.

The good news is, Dr. Nancy the Awesome has prescribed a narcotic and “bed rest” for three days. If there is no improvement, then I’ll drag the old man (Fred, not Mark!) to the vet for a look-see. Otherwise, he’ll see Dr. Nancy at the end of the month for his annual stuff AND a thorough exam. She’s pretty sure he just twisted and/or pinched something in the fight, and that he’ll be back to his rather limited, sluggish version of normal very soon. Sigh. Why can’t the best dogs live forever?

There’s No Place Like Home.

Let me assure you that after thinking you will have to spend the night in O’Hare with three of your best friends, while a fourth dear-heart sits on another plane on the runway for THREE HOURS, there’s no place like home. Having my darling boys rush out the front door as I pulled in at nearly 7am - awake virtually 25 hours straight - was all the balm I needed to soothe this weary traveler. So, here’s how my boys rest, for this week’s Dogs on Thursday. Mugsy is indeed the little prince of the castle. Here, he reclines amid several pillows and a handmade throw (just beneath his belly), on the sofa.

Fred isn’t inclined to perch up high. He likes his beds big and fluffy, and on the floor. (Pardon the dirt and drool; the cover is washed weekly, but that’s not always enough for a true hound.) Yes, he generally is partially off the bed, despite the fact that it is indeed plenty large. That’s just how he likes it, I guess.

So, since I’ve only had three hours of sleep in the last 35 hours, I hope this canine eye candy will do for a while. There’s a wedding you need to hear about, a trip to Chicago with tear-rolling, side-splitting laughter, and so much more. There’s even a box of books from Knitpicks you need to hear about, and a the beginnings of a Wick yoga sock, which enjoyed the flight into Chicago, but “slept” through the flight home, such as it was. I have a busy couple of days ahead, and then there’s that book Mugsy and I will have to read Saturday and try to finish on Sunday…

Gone to the Dogs

Paula has created an institution. Fred and Mugsy are pretty excited about it. My evening was very full last night - worked all day, drove to DC and back home - so I missed my first opportunity, but humor me, okay? My boys knew I was worn out when I got home, and just smothered me with puppy love. They deserve their moment, even if it is belated!

So, some dog shots you haven’t seen before:

That’s Fred and Shadow II. Shadow is the second sable sheltie Mark’s grandfather has owned, and so, Pop used the same name. This picture was taken two years ago, but Fred doesn’t come to the shop with me much anymore, because Shadow *STILL* insists upson licking Fred *IN* the mouth. My patient old man just walks away and counts on me to make the brat stop. That’s why he’s my hooey hound!

This is Farmer Mugsy. (And “Dadaw” as the dogs call him, but he’s not a willing subject.) Yep. He likes to ride the tractor. He won’t approach a running vehicle of any sort, but if Mark cuts the tractor off and reaches down, Mugsy climbs the steps and up he goes! The black box is his collar for the invisible fence, and it comes off once Mugsy is safely in Mark’s lap. They’re both very content and happy, in case you can’t tell.

Fred likes to be photographed, but Mugsy isn’t always a willing subject. (Gets that from his father, I suppose.) I suspect you’ll also see the other dogs in our lives too, as the weeks go on. We’re all about dogs, kind of like Pedigree.

Crup?

I’m just checking in to let you know that I’m beginning twelve days of running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I’ll be checking email except from the 15th-18th, but I don’t know that blogging will happen much.

Why do I swap, and crazier still, co-host swaps? So I can meet people like Paula! I do believe that particular photo she’s using as her logo is of my Fred’s uncle, who was the Hush Puppy model about 10 years ago. I love it! (And why didn’t I think of that? Mugsy’s literally got his back to me. Guess I should have been Crup Knitter instead of KnitTea, huh?)

In sock news, I have begun Sockza sock #1! (aka: SoS pair #2!) I won’t be showing photos, just in case, because I do want to surprise my pal. I can proudly announce that the yarn was wound with my birthday swift and ball winder, by - get this, Anne! - my husband! He finds it all very interesting. It appeals to his inner mechanical nerd, I guess? I then had to weigh it, so - wise man, that one - I can confirm that this yarn I’ve not used before will indeed make two socks for my pal. I got lucky and got a pal with little feet, so I’m sure it won’t be a problem, but… he’s thinking like a knitter, yes?

Now, back to that crup thing. I hear some of you asking, “What’s a crup?” Well, in honor of the cinematic event, the debut of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I’m tempted to have a contest, but as it would be a month or so before you got a prize, I won’t. I’ll just tell you.

Are there HP fans out there who don’t know? Giggles… Don’t be embarassed. Even folks on my HP forums often ask. This, my friends, is a crup:

See the forked tail? That’s the only way you can tell a crup from a Muggle Jack Russell Terrier. Those of you who own crups know that sometimes, wizards dock the crups’ tails short so you can’t see the fork, but trust me, you *KNOW* if you own a crup.

Still unsure? Well, let me see if Mugsy - a pure-bred crup - can help. Is your JRT just, well, not as compliant as others you know? Do you brag that his disobedience is actually a sign of his superior intelligence? Does he train YOU? If so, you too probably have a crup. Please refer to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for more information.

Yep. That’s our crup, preparing to launch himself into HIS hot tub. Don’t worry animal lovers; we changed chemicals three times until hubby found one that is safe for human and animal consumption; the sales rep drank a big ol’ glass right from the display for him, and he was sold. That’s the other test; crups won’t allowed themselves to be owned by ordinary folks. They seek out those owners with just enough magical ability to appreciate them, which in Muggle talk means spoil them rotten.

PS - Cass, the photos are for you, and anyone else who loves photo-rich posts!

Healing Drool

Fred here. I’m the beautiful basset hound she mentions once in a while. Before the Harry Potter forum, which was before the knitting obsession, she had the basset hound forum. When one of the other bassets or their people had a problem, we sent healing drool. So, that’s what our house is sending to Michelle, Chewy and their household - boxes and all. Please stop in and offer them support, prayers, good karma, hugs, kisses, or whatever nice thing you are into.

While I’m at it, Mommy failed to make a deadline for her little 100th contest. So, let’s say you have until midnight EDT on July 1 to leave a comment, okay? Then, she can pick a winner on Monday, and I bet she won’t let me drool on the prize.

And Auntie Anne? Thanks for naming the dishcloth swap after us. Ahroooo!!