Lambiedog

More staircases

I need to do some catch-up reporting on my recent activities. Although I was sidetracked for a week with chemo problems, there's still been lots going on.

I'll start with the first weekend in December, when we met Teresa in Echo Park to do Secret Stairs walk #13. It was short and easy.  There weren't a lot of stairs involved, but such staircases as we did encounter were quite elegant.  

Afterward, we went to Dinette, a pleasant outdoor cafe on Sunset Boulevard.

 

(If you've noticed that I am wearing a pink collar in the photos, you may be wondering whether perhaps this is a first signal that I am transitioning.  No -- it signifies only that we left my collar at home and didn't notice until we got to Echo Park.  The local Walgreen's only had cat collars, and pink ones at that -- so I adapted. My temporary garb even came with a delicate bell attached.)

A couple of weeks later we did one of the most challenging walks in the Secret Stairs book:  #29 - the Los Feliz / Griffith Park loop.  We'd been avoiding it, but it was one of the only remaining walks we had not yet checked off.

It turned out to be worth the effort -- and I did put in effort, walking the entire way without once requesting an airlift.  We circled around Frank Lloyd Wright's Ennis house, and walked up the hill to the Griffith Observatory.

    I wore my blue collar this time.

In my next post:  Holiday excitement.

Quality of life

I'm poised to start an oral chemotherapy regime of Chlorambucil (Leukeran) combined with Prednisone.  These are strong drugs.  Just having them in my body is a scary prospect, although the web includes numerous reports from veterinarians attesting that this regime is both effective and generally well-tolerated.

Another element here is also alarming. Chlorambucil, a powerful drug, can actually be carcinogenic to those coming into contact with it incidentally.   Directions for the administration of Chlorambucil caution that it should be handled wearing protective gloves because it can be absorbed through skin contact.  And not only during the direct handling of the medicine: 

Because of the potential for absorption of the drug or its hazardous metabolites through the skin via contact with urine, feces, saliva, vomit, etc., you should wear gloves to clean these up.  Washable items coming in contact with these should be handled wearing gloves (and a protective gown if needed) and then washed twice. Use these precautions for a minimum of 48 hours after the last dose is administered. 

Saliva? 

I'm a licker.  Other dogs specialize in hunting, herding, retrieval, and so on. I specialize in licking.  I love to lick.  I emit probably two hundred licks a day.  My favorite spot to lick is the area around and including the human nose and mouth.  It is my way of connecting, and of expressing my joy in the world. When my licking is repulsed I feel like I'm being punished.   

So this is going to be a challenge for us. We're going to need to eliminate the cues that start me into my licking spiral, and add new elements to maintain my joie de vivre.  There are many ways to skin a cat [such an unfortunate phrase].  Although licking must be eliminated from my happiness lineup for the time being, I will endeavor to keep this from negatively affecting the quality of my life.  

I might take a page from Dolce, who has gotten into contemplation, eastern religion, inner awareness - that sort of thing.  She has a  favorite meditation spot on the edge of the bluff.  She seems so at peace.  I could try that.

Bowed but not broken

I had another surgery three days ago.  Two new mast cell tumors, two more incisions on my right side--one at the same site as the August surgery--both cutting into muscle.  

It knocked me out for a bit, but I made haste to return to the activities that bring me happiness.

Back from medical leave

    

A couple of weeks ago I had surgery to remove a mast cell tumor. It hadn't metastasized to key organs, but watchful waiting is the new world order.

   The experience brought me down.  All that poking and prodding. The pain. The anesthesia. The meds. The anxiety.  The Elizabethan collar.

 

    I was miserable.  For a while I lay low and let it all roll over me. 

Finally I rebounded.  On our 'walks' I stopped asking to be carried. I relocated the spring in my step.  Now I pal around with Snoopy, sniffing at this and that. I race down to visit Buggsy and Beverly.

 Sadly, however, Buggsy is actually no longer there to visit:  In July he had a fatal accident. His family misses him a lot -- he was dearly loved.  Below is a photo of him from 2014.  He's the dog on the left, standing next to Beverly and David.

    When I go to their house I still always search for him.  First Beverly gives me a treat, and then I do a check of the house to see if I can find him.

     

Ups and downs on a Temescal hike

It was time to shake things up a bit:  get off of my sofa, see the world, and get some exercise.  I decided to take a hike into Temescal Canyon.  

Thomas was the obvious choice to lead the trip.  He is familiar with the Santa Monica Mountains, he uses good judgement, and I trust him.

We went up via El Medio, and thence onto our initial trail.  The view was wide and lovely, and we stopped to enjoy it before continuing our ascent.

 

But things got unpleasant a few minutes later, when Thomas spotted a cruel sign on the trail ahead of us.  He tried to turn me around and pull me back before I could read it.  But I ignored him and, scampering ahead, was exposed to the sign in its full horror.

We turned back down, of course, descending into Temescal Canyon and into a mood that I would characterize as more minor key.

      
    To get back home, we walked up Sunset Boulevard.

When we passed a mysteriously empty picture frame on the hillside retaining wall, Thomas seized upon it as an opportunity to build up my shaken self-esteem.    

He exhorted me to hold my head up high and be proud that I'm a dog.

  What a wise leader.

Celebrity pressures

    Sunday morning we did the Secret Stairs Walk #33 (Bronson Canyon Loop) with Teresa.  The walk took us through an attractive part of the Hollywood Hills, starting and ending at the Scientology Celebrity Centre. 

The Celebrity Centre's website explains that it is intended to "cater to those individuals.... upon whom society depends the most....the artists, politicians, leaders of industry, sports figures and anyone with the power and vision to create a better world."  

The website goes on, 

Now one might argue that these individuals already have benefits that many will never have. But, ask any one of them — ask yourself — it can become a lonely world. Subject to the unusual pressures that come with prominence and responsibility, being looked upon under a microscope for good or bad — these are burdens others can’t imagine. Not to mention the counter-attack such individuals are subjected to by those less-ambitious who would rather fight to maintain a “status quo” than allow another to attempt a change or improvement. 

You see, there’s no shame in helping the artist. In fact, in the larger scope of societal help, we had better help the artist if we wish to advance the society at all.

When we returned to the Ons' house, I wasn't sure that I wanted to leave.  I sat on their stoop for a while, thinking about how they understand how to treat an artistic Celebrity such as myself. They get the pressures that come with my prominence and responsibility.  When I stay with them I feel like I can let go of my burden for a little while; get out from under the microscope of scrutiny that is my regular companion.

Teresa spoke softly and supportively with me.  She acknowledged the hardships of living what others might see as my cosseted life at the bluffs. Promising that, just as the Celebrity Centre pampers other prominent leaders, she and Roger would be there to help and cater to me when I really needed them, she encouraged me to get in the car and cross the hill back to my lonely world on the other side. 

Which I did, because I had an inkling that there might be a really good sunset that night.

New Year's Day hike with Thomas

via Instagram

What I do when no one's around

    A dog-owner with a home security camera provided this top-voted answer to the Quora question, "What does a dog do every day [when it's at home alone]?"  The gist of her answer was that her dog mostly sleeps, walks around, and waits for her to come home. 

    I don't want to cast any aspersions on her dog, but my own experience is far different. I am incredibly active both physically and mentally during the moments that I am at home alone.

    For one thing, I see that time as a critical opportunity for me to go back to the well, figuratively-speaking, and recharge my creative processes.   I fit in some slow breathing and meditation. I eat the breakfast I was too emotionally wrought up to focus on while everyone was at home.   I reorganize my rawhides.

    Additionally, I am acutely aware that I have been left in charge, a position of responsibility.  From my monitoring station on the sofa, I observe the neighborhood closely, integrating my observations into a constantly-updated internal representation of threats and opportunities.  We're talking substantive and sustained work here.  I'm often exhausted by the time my owner gets home.

    Several Quora respondents' answers included the observation that their dogs appear to be able to measure the passage of time, for example coming to stand near the door shortly before the owner would routinely be returning home.  In this area, their experience mirrors my own.  I too find myself very tuned in to the passage of time.  I pick up my cues and clues from changes in the ambient light, as well as from repetitive patterns of neighborhood activity, such as children coming home from school.

    If you're worried that all this cogitating is overtaxing me, please don't be.  Remember, what doesn't kill me is making me stronger.  Given that I will soon be entering my ninth year, I think it's a good thing that I devote so much bandwidth to staying mentally acute.  It's my canine version of Lumosity.

Best seat in the house

via Instagram

Training

Yes, Virginia, you can teach an old dog new tricks.  Following an unfortunate incident where I recklessly ran across Asilomar in my haste to get to the bluffs, I've been learning 'Stay' and 'Come'.

I sit at the curb during 'Stay'.     

  

 

When I hear 'Come!', I zoom across the street.

   
Nine times out of ten [variable reinforcement], there's a treat waiting for me.