And you better pick yourself up from the ground, before they bring the curtain down

Back in December 2010 Piglet went lame in his left hind leg, but after several weeks of rest and painkillers (Rimadyl and tramadol) he recovered and by spring was almost as good as new; by summer you'd never have known anything had been wrong. Then last October it happened again, only this time it was his right hind leg that was the problem. We tried the rest-and-painkiller treatment and six weeks later he was mobile once more.

So when at the beginning of November it happened yet again (right hind again) we immediately started the routine treatment. This time it didn't go quite so well; his left leg's not as strong as it was and is finding it difficult to support him, so I took him to see a McTimoney chiropracter, who tweaked and twiddled and said she thought it was possibly a slipped disc. He enjoyed the outing (he loves the car) and was noticeably more cheerful for the rest of the day, if not moving any better. However a week later - four weeks after it started - there was further deterioration to the extent where struggling to get to his feet had him screaming in pain, which had never happened before. (Harry was the drama queen, Piglet the stoic who never grumbled.) It's the most indescribably awful, gut-wrenching sound - clearly something's badly amiss.

The vet came (impossible to get him into the car now, it'd be far too painful) and examined him, gently moving his leg this way and that, flexing and extending all the joints, and other than shouting at her as he always does (she takes his friends away when she visits - he can see the shadow of the Grim Reaper hanging over her) he wasn't bothered at all, but he did wince when his lower spine was felt. We got him to his feet and she too was horrified to hear the screams this produced, and agreed this is serious pain. If it can't be controlled then this is terminal because it's inhumane to allow it to carry on. She gave me some syringes of yet another medication (Vetergesic) which is used as a sedative as well as analgesic, and can be absorbed through the mouth rather than injected - I've never given an injection and don't want to experiment on my own dog. After a bad day  hopefully we'd all get some sleep.

Yesterday was bad; I tearfully became convinced that we were reaching the end, and we semi-decided to call the vet over after today's surgery, I gave him the additional meds at about 9.30 last night. I don't know whether it dulled the pain at all, but he had a bad trip with it, and was panting and shaking and drooling and howling, staring around, seeing ghosts and goblins and not recognising me at all, until he finally started to relax at 1am.

I dreaded coming downstairs this morning to more screaming, so when I looked in on him and he wagged his tail at me and got up with only a small cry and asked to go outside, my tears were of joy. He's had a good day today, no screams and using his leg a little, so there's still a little hope that he won't yet have to lose his life over something so stupid, because otherwise he's so well. It's very difficult to get out of the mindset that medication has to be given to a strict timetable, and within determined limits to avoid longterm damage. When you realise the alternative is death, the risk of 'longterm damage' is non-existent. So if he needs extra pills he'll get extra pills.

Tomorrow is another day, but tonight we're happy.

Older but no wiser

Gosh, it's been nearly a year. How did that happen? Blogger seems to have totally redesigned itself in the interim so this might not work.

Anyway, this is Daisy winding Piglet up. It was making Gardeners World very difficult to watch, especially when she nearly landed on my plate.

You've got to pick a pocket or two

Poor old Piggy; what a thing to happen to a gentleman of mature years! We opted for the surgery, and it was done on Monday. We were terribly anxious, especially as the blood tests showed that his liver isn't functioning quite right, but as his kidney function was normal (very good in a dog his age) we went for it. He was, not unnaturally, rather sorry for himself that evening when he was home (his expression reminded us of the Skecksis from the Dark Crystal) but luckily seems to be making a good recovery. He looks very strange from behind, because he used to be quite a well-endowed fellow, and now is rather ... flappy. But that should improve with time. I hope.

Son, you are a bachelor boy

The son in this instance is Piglet, about whom we have to make a decision. Daisy, you see, is a little girl who will, in a few months time, become a Big Girl in an interesting condition, which will make having the two of them in the same house one of the visions of hell. There is absolutely no way that Piggy can be allowed to gain his manhood, but I have little doubt he'll disagree and will work himself into a terrible state of stress which would be very bad for him at his time of life.

We've been running through the options:

1. Piglet could be boarded somewhere for those few weeks. The disadvantages of this are that I wouldn't trust just anyone enough to look after him properly; Piglet's tricky at the best of times and being away with strangers ... I don't think so. He's never been in kennels - I don't think it'd be fair. Boy might be able to have him at his place - he's the only person I'd trust.

2. Daisy goes away - I know from experience how careful you need to be with in-season bitches; not many people do. Kennelling would be out of the question for her - the trauma to the other dogs there of such a tantalising aroma adding to the usual kennel stress would be very unkind.

3. One of two options for Piglet; chemical or surgical castration. The surgical option is the most certain, but at nearly 12 he's not a good anaesthetic risk although he's very fit and it's not a long operation. It would, after a few weeks, guarantee that he wouldn't be able to sire pups, although the desire and ability to try aren't always lost.

The chemical option - an implant called Suprelorin - is supposed to be good; I've had both good and bad reports of it. It takes between 3 and 6 weeks to take effect and lasts about 5 or 6 months before fertility starts to return. Again the desire isn't always lost.

I'm dithering about what would be best longterm. We can't possibly have puppies; just keeping them apart will be a nightmare of noise and stress; but I don't want to risk Piglet's health. We've got about a month to decide.

Another pleasant valley Sunday

Daisy had a really good day today, despite starting it at 5.30 which had this result by 9 o'clock ...



She still hasn't overcome her carsickness, so we're trying to do short journeys which end in something fun, so that the car begins to be associated with Good Things. She's stopped the desperate salivation at the mere sight of the car keys, so that's an improvement.

Today the weather was gorgeous so we decided to indulge ourselves; a ploughman's, with a well-kept pint, in a pub garden sounded ideal. The dogs were loaded in the car and off we went to Wroxton, a chocolate-box village near Banbury. When we arrived (before she'd been sick, hurrah!) we reckoned a walk in the fresh air would cheer her up - luckily we know the footpaths (to several geocaches!) fairly well, and both dogs enjoyed running through the long grass and flowering Ladies Bedstraw, stretching their legs after the albeit short car journey. We met a couple walking their dog who was only 8 months old, and she and Daisy had a wonderful game whilst Piglet looked on, doing the canine equivalent of rolling his eyes and sighing heavily.

By this time the pub (the North Arms) was calling us



and we made our way to the only empty table in the beer garden. Now, normally when we go anywhere with the dogs it's to the accompaniment of children's voices crying "Ooh, dalmatian, a dalmatian, look, a dalmatian!" sounding very like a flock of seagulls. Which is why were surprised to hear a child say "Oh no, I don't like dogs". Tough luck, we thought - they're on the lead, behaving perfectly - shut up and deal with it. The child's mother, on the next table, told us he was afraid of dogs. "Oh dear, that's a shame" I said, smiling at the brat, saying "Don't worry, we won't let them off the lead so you'll be perfectly all right." And he was - it was his mother who was teaching him her fear; the child was actually quite interested in them, asking all sorts of questions ("Do you know how many spots they've got?" "If she's 4 months old, how old is that for a person?" and so forth). I hope we helped him override his mother's influence even a little bit.

By the time our food was ready (the ham took a while because it had only just been cooked and had to cool down slightly) another table, with an umbrella against the hot sun, had become available so we took our quiet, calm dogs and moved away from the noisy disruptive children to enjoy our lunch in peace.

By this time Daisy was quite tired and full of the lunch I'd brought for her, so was on a charm offensive, gently kissing everyone who wanted to say hello to her, and offering them a paw, and won everyone over. Poor Piggy didn't get much of a look in; nobody notices the elderly gent when there's a pretty little girl around.



She wasn't sick on the homeward journey either, so the good experiences of the outing (a fun walk in an exciting new place but with Piggy for security, playing a proper game with another puppy, watching children and learning they're not Dangerous, making friends with Strangers - all of enormous benefit when learning about Life.

Give me your answer, do

She's growing up.

Daisy, 4 weeks



Daisy, 6 weeks



Daisy, 12 weeks



Daisy, 15 weeks

Cos you look sweet

Our new baby has joined the family! We collected her from Oop North this morning, and she was only sick once during the long drive home. She was understandably a little bewildered when she arrived, especially when the only vaguely familiar thing (another spotty) viewed her with horror


as if she had recently beamed down from Mars. After a few minutes with her making all the right subordinate moves he started to come around, so I'm sure it won't be many days before he's more comfortable in her presence.


She does look very small in a Big Dog's bed!

Give me your answer, do

The puppy passed her hearing test and we've decided on the name Daisy. This is her at 6 weeks of age.



We collect her on Saturday! I wonder how Piglet's going to react.

I really wanna know

Last time I was looking for a puppy it took ages. I spent about a year getting my name on waiting lists and visiting litters, but although all the puppies were sweet there wasn't one that said "Hello, I'm yours" to us. Then we heard of a litter where there were six dog puppies and one bitch; it was essential that the chosen pup was a bitch, so I didn't hold out great hopes for this one. Still, nothing ventured and all that, so we went to see them. I scanned these seven puppies on the floor, and my eye was caught by one in particular. I bent down to pick it up - and it was the bitch. So we had her - and Clover was a very much loved member of our family.

Well, I'm not really sure how it happened - one casual email has had a rather surprising result. I expected to go through months and months of fruitless enquiries but I seem to have paid a deposit (refundable if the BAER result is unsatisfactory) on a four week old baby:





we walked into the room they were in, and all the puppies were asleep except for one, who was sitting near the door looking up at us; and this was the only available bitch, the one the breeder had suggested we might be interested in. I bent down to stroke her face and she seized my finger and started sucking on it.

All being well she comes to us at the end of May. But she needs a name ...

Three wheels on my wagon

About three weeks ago Piggy started favouring his back left leg when we were out - not limping exactly, but being slightly careful with it, so after checking for thorns in his pads, and all that sort of thing (nothing) we reduced his exercise a bit. This didn't seem to help, and after another couple of days there was a definite limp, so I gave him the standby painkillers for a few days as well as more rest. After 5 days of no improvement at all - in fact he started to go on three legs completely - we went to the vet, and he was gently manipulated to try to find out where it hurt. There was slight stiffness, but when something hurts you tend to tense and 'guard' it, so that was only to be expected. As the usual painkillers weren't affecting it we started him on something else, and dramatically cut his exercise - on-lead toilet breaks only.

A week later he was no better - in fact he'd started crying when he first got up, and wouldn't put any weight on the leg at all. We had to make sure that when he needed a wee that the chosen recipient was on his left side so that he could put his weight on his right leg and not try to cock that one and so collapse in a heap. So yet another type of painkiller was added to his cocktail of drugs, and we decided to sedate him and x-ray to check for severe arthritis or a bone tumour, and also manipulate a relaxed dog to check for damaged tendons.

Nothing wrong with these hips. In fact for an 11 year old dog they're very Mary Poppins (practically perfect).



Then we took a lateral x-ray to look at the knee-joint. That also showed absolutely no sign of any damage (but did show that he was very hungry - his gut was completely empty!).



However there is some spondylosis at the lumbo-sacral joint (where the spine enters the pelvis; if you look carefully you can see a semi-circle of bone beneath the vertebrae. It's possible that this is overgrowth is pinching a nerve, but spondylosis is (apparently) very common in older animals and usually causes no problems at all, and is only discovered on x-rays for something entirely different, like a fractured leg. So that could be completely coincidental.

Manipulation showed the tendons to be intact as well. So although it's good news that there's nothing obviously seriously wrong, we're really no further forward. He's still going on three legs, although when he's been walking slowly for a few minutes he's starting to use the leg again which helps stop muscle wastage, and he can use the leg to scratch himself without trouble. And he'll wriggle about on his back and stretch his legs quite happily with no sign of discomfort. It's just the weight-bearing that's the problem.

Oh, and by the way, are you laughing now?

Piglet's always been a strange dog; he views Life very seriously. He's never seen the point of toys (unlike Harry who adored toys) unless it was to take Harry's favourite toy to annoy him, or playing games for pleasure. The concept of 'fun' has passed him by, and he totally missed out on the sense of humour gene (which Harry had in spades and was one of the many traits that made him so endearing). Piglet's always been more self-sufficient and anxious; I can see many characteristics in him that, in a human, would suggest a degree of autism. However in the months that he's been an only dog he's started to choose to be around us and seek our attention much more, which is nice.

Because he's never bothered about playing with our other dogs he's also never wanted to interact with dogs that we meet when we're out. He likes to ignore them if he can - he'd rather they didn't come too close unless he's met them amicably several times; if a strange dog pulls towards him he'll lunge and snap to drive it away. There were a couple of tricky moments at Cropredy when he felt pressured by dogs coming close (in a very crowded pub, for example), especially if they reminded him of dogs he knows he doesn't like (collies - they stare - and very hairy dogs mainly). However at Cropredy he also displayed a behaviour we've never witnessed before. As we were walking along past dogs of various shapes and sizes which were glanced at and ignored we saw another dalmatian; the first he's seen since Beattie left us. Piglet's ears pricked up, his tail started wagging and he pulled me towards it, squeaking with excitement. When we got close he knew it wasn't Harry or Beattie, but he was still keen to be sociable. His reaction brought tears of sympathy for his obvious loneliness; perhaps we ought to get another one sooner rather than later.

It was his and Harry's 11th birthday yesterday.

Hear the dogs howling out of key

And they think this is 'home', do they?



Acksherly it could be worse



What's 'caching'?



I don't know what a durdle is, and there's no sign of a door anywhere.



A castle full of maidens? Where?



I could be asleep, you know.



Where did that fat bloke go?



So that's a holiday, is it? I wonder if I'll get my 5.30 am walk tomorrow.

Sweet sweet, the mem'ries you gave me

Back in the autumn when Harry was injured and we were having to manhandle him through to the sitting room every evening so that he didn't feel abandoned, we rolled up and stored the nice rug to protect it from his unconscious incontinence; the situation was quite stressful enough, thank you. The horrid carpet that it was hiding (and had been in situ when we moved in 20 years ago) didn't matter, so life became a miniscule iota easier. Then it was a case of 'out of sight, out of mind' and after Harry left us the rug stayed rolled up in Boy's room out of the way until last weekend when, after the loss of Beattie as well, we thought we really needed to try to get back to what passes for normality around here. So we carried the rug downstairs and laid it down in the sitting room again.

It was heartbreaking to see Piglet pressing his nose to it and inhaling deeply, wagging his tail in joy at the scents of his remembered siblings, then drooping disconsolately when he looked around and realised they were still missing.

One is one and all alone

Yesterday evening Beattie started breathing really fast in her sleep; I thought she was having a dream but when she woke she was still panting hard. She tried to get off the sofa but her back left leg wouldn't support her at all, and she was getting very bewildered by it. We took it in turns to support her back end as she went round and round and round in clockwise circles - after 15 or 20 minutes of this we managed to settle her on her bed and left her to sleep, exhausted, wondering what would happen overnight.

This morning she was back on her feet again; even more doddery than usual and somehow not quite herself. She enjoyed her breakfast as usual, and came for her normal extraordinarily slow walk up the road - business almost as usual but in slo-mo. Every step needed a stop to sniff at where she was; we managed a couple of hundred yards in 20 minutes, and she only fell over once. She ate her lunchtime biscuit then needed help to get on the sofa for her afternoon nap - the back leg was playing up a bit again. But it was odd - the expression in her eyes was somehow different; there was almost an element of fear which there hasn't been before. We'd been told in the past "Better a week too early than a day too late" when it comes to deciding when a beloved pet should be helped to leave this mortal coil. Don't allow them to suffer. But it's so hard - you want to keep them for as long as you can, but you don't want to fall into the trap of keeping them alive for your sake, not theirs. 15 years is a long time, and you never want it to end.

I held myself together remarkably well at work, and at close of play Sarah came back and I cuddled my Beattie on my lap while she was given the final sleep, the way I wasn't able to cuddle Harry. She gave a few heavy breaths and slipped away from us. I'll never know whether I timed it right - whether it was too soon and she was still getting enough pleasure from life to make all the frustrations of her old age acceptable to her, but that's something I have to live with. There's no going back now.

For the first time in nearly 25 years we have only one dog. Sleep well, my sweet Beetle.

What a tale my thoughts could tell

On Sunday Beattie decided that she was going to go for a proper walk with Daddy and Mummy and Piglet. No being left behind for just a potter up and down the road; this was going to be like the Old Days, and when Beattie decides something there's no changing her mind.


Beattie has two speeds - slow and stop - and Piglet was very good and didn't get too bored walking at a geriatric pace but was pleased to eventually reach the fields where he could be let off the lead to stretch his legs. Beattie bumbled along enjoying the pleasant sunshine, only occasionally having to be pointed in the right direction having been diverted by an interesting smell. But it took a lot out of her, and on Sunday night she wasn't comfortable. After a night's sleep (plus blundering about knocking over furniture) she was a lot better and had a quiet day, but by the evening she was very unsettled again. She wouldn't sleep on the sofa as usual but was staggering between Ned and me, wanting attention, and tangling her legs and falling over when she tried to turn round. We decided that The Time had come - that she was getting distressed with life.

So we had a crap night, and when the surgery opened I phoned for the vet to call in and Do The Deed. Piglet can certainly read my mind. All morning he was fussing and whining, and going over to Beattie and sniffing her, then coming over to me and trying to climb into my arms (not helpful when doing the washing up) and generally behaving totally out of character. During the course of the morning Beattie decided she was feeling much better, and went and lay in the hall again waiting for a walk, which is where she was when the vet arrived. When the door was opened she rose majestically, wagged her tail briefly at the vet and had to be restrained from wandering outside. Piglet greeted Sarah happily and pushed in while we discussed her condition, because by this time my nerve was failing me. Then the odd thing happened; Sarah asked directly "What do you want to do?" whereupon Piglet put his hackles up and he barked very crossly at her. Beattie bumped into the vet's bag, pushed it out of her way and strolled off nonchalently into the kitchen while Piglet put himself determinedly between her and the vet.

I bottled it completely and Beattie has a stay of execution to see if she'd just overdone the exercise on Sunday and was going to settle back to what passes for normality; Sarah left. Piglet's back promptly went down and he went and settled down in his bed - no more fussing me for attention as he had been doing earlier. He must have known that his sister was under threat and he wasn't going to let it happen. One day soon it will have to happen, that's for sure - just not today.

Happy birthday, fweet fifteen

Fifteen years ago this puppy came into the world.



Not all the plans I had for her future were realised, but that's Life. There have been several times over the years where we thought we'd never see this day, but here we are.

Happy fifteenth birthday, Beattie!

When I'm calling yooooo oooo oooo ooooo

Piglet has changed since Harry's death. Although he's stopped searching for him in every room in the house, or looking round for him when we're out on our walks, he's become less independent and confident and much clingier, and likes us all to be together in the house. Anyone going out causes distress, and now whenever Ned leaves for work he gets summoned to return to the group:



This can go on for some time. Luckily our neighbours don't seem to be bothered.

Computer-wise I managed (with a bit of help) to remove the old defunct commenty system; shame, because I thought it was very good. Unfortunately it means that none of the comments on previous posts show, and it looks like I'm a real Billy-no-mates who's been talking to herself for the past however many years. I was able to copy them all over to the hard drive, and if I have a spare few years I might replace them all, but as it'd probably mean copying them all individually I can't see that happening in the near future.

I can see inside your head

For a long time now Beattie's normal daily routine, after breakfast and a visit to the garden, is to while away the morning sleeping on the sofa till lunchtime. All sorts of chaos can occur around her yet she slumbers peacefully through it. So yesterday, when I had to do a homecheck on prospective adopters for breed welfare, the plan was to leave her there and take Piglet as sole accompaniment. (When I first started doing this I used to take Clover and Beattie, then I changed to taking Harry and Beattie because he was bigger and potentially more of a shock to the people I was visiting - better that they change their minds before getting a dog than after - and then when Beattie got too frail for this Harry came on his own. This was to be Piglet's first go at home visiting; a more untypical dog would be hard to find, but needs must.)

So how did Beattie know what was going on? Just we were getting ready to leave she woke, descended majestically from the sofa and appeared in the hall, demanding to be taken too. So insistent was she that nobody was going anywhere without her that she stumped up to the front door and leaned her head against it. There's more going on in her head than we realised, and although she's incredibly wobbly she's not ready to give up on Life just yet.

Now I'm here

Now you see me ...



...now you don't!

There's the sun, the moon, and Harry

Harry (Dalcross Bandleader) 25/8/99 - 26/11/09

Once there was a little fat sausage


who became a beautiful puppy


who grew up to be a stunningly handsome dog


with a sunny, happy, clownish personality


who loved to run


and jump


and bounce


and then run some more.



Which is why I couldn't condemn him to a crippled half-life of indignity and frustration, although I would have loved to keep him with me forever.

Sleep well, my Baby Boy, my dog in a million. I love you. May your star ever shine brightly.