Lambiedog

The ascent

Social animal, part 2

    Recently some impressive dogs have let me hang with their pack.  I refer to Ollie, Luke and Mia.

Noticing that they resemble wolves, I have been cautious in their presence, tending to follow far behind them on our hikes. 

But then they had me over to their house and we broke bread together (metaphorically speaking).  Their generosity and savory kibble eroded the barrier of mistrust. 

Still, I wouldn't want to cross in front of them in a dark alley. 

With the cousins

We went back up to Ojai for a sleepover visit before the cousins' upcoming move.

We all sacked out in the playroom, but I couldn't fall asleep.  I was worrying about how I would acquit myself on the hike planned for the next day.  Ella, Leo, and Annie are all such accomplished hikers, and I'm more of a tenderfoot.

Annie was on edge as well. 

In the morning we set out on the hike.  At first I stuck close to Aunt Margie. 

     

Then I spread my wings and flew.

Contortionist

 

Up Westridge

For our most recent outing with Teresa, we took a break from stair walks and instead went up Westridge in Mandeville Canyon.
Although I resisted walking in the heat, and tried to hide in the shade, when we got up high I had to admit that the view was spectacular.  
 

From obese to anorexic

November 2011

December 31, 2012

Whereas I used to have a weight problem, now I am headed in the opposite direction.

After my recent gastric bout, Dr. Galea took me off of the Phenobarbitol / Potassium Bromide combination I had been taking, as that is not recommended for dogs with pancreatic issues.  Instead, to control my seizures, he switched me to Zonisamide.

2009, pre-Phenobarbitol

    All these years I have had to deal with skepticism regarding my claims that my 2009 weight gain was due to the Phenobarbitol. Well, guess what, you non-believers:  I was right!   My weight dropped as soon as I got off of the Phenobarbitol. 

Furthermore, at this point I'm not even interested in eating:  It turns out that Zonisamide is linked to anorexia.   I now pick at my food, and weigh less than 15 pounds, as against 18 pounds a month ago before I changed medications.   The doctor has given me a a clean bill of health and proclaimed me free to eat whatever I want as long, so long as it is not high-fat.  My owner has tried to tempt me, first with homemade food, and now with enticing commercial concoctions bearing names like "Savory Steak in Meaty Gravy".  But I have little enthusiasm.

I ignore my food.

    Although I am now one of the skinny guys, I continue to empathize with the heavy, who are unfairly accused of personal sloth when so often their weight and metabolism are due to factors beyond their control.

 

Stepping lightly into 2013

    What will this year bring?

I hope, good things for all. 

Specifically I want to single out Hillary Clinton and my friend Kerry for good wishes health-wise.  Among canines, my friend Dexter comes to mind.  I hope his tumor will be controlled. 

As for me, Lambie, I feel a renewed vigor after losing several pounds in the course of my recent illness.  My plan for 2013 is to stay slimmed down, and to continue thinking deep thoughts. I'm also thinking it would be nice to acquire some talents.  For example, I'd like to learn to stop at curbs and wait for a signal before stepping into the street. 

Maybe also a showstopper trick would be good.  Perhaps I could learn to jump through a flaming hoop.  Though I don't want to get too ambitious.  Walking through a non-flaming hoop might be almost as impressive.

365 days.  That's a lot of licking opportunities for me.  I intend to appreciate them all.

The chariot of Zeus

Here's inspiration for the golden years:  Zeus' approach to encroaching age.  His limitations could have left him a homebound shut-in.  Instead, he's adapted with dignity, in a way that permits him to still get out and about and to maintain social interactions -- which study after study indicates is a critical component of happy aging.

Life after illness

    Now that I'm on the mend, I'm returning to my old life.

Much is the same:

  -Gorgeous sunsets

  -My unchanged need to launch myself vertically should my owner ignore me while socializing.

 
    Yet, in the food and fun department, there's an unpleasant new rigor.

I'm receiving tiny, boring meals multiple times a day, in deference to my delicate digestive tract.  Further, the snacking situation is terrible.  They've outlawed all treats, on doctor's orders.

Worst of all, my rawhides have been hidden from me.  My family used to be great at noticing when I wanted to play Fetch The Rawhide, or Chew the Rawhide, and at helping me to find my rawhide when I misplaced it.  Now they're pretending they don't notice what I'm trying to communicate. 

How could they be so obtuse now when they've been so empathic in the past?

They throw my mallard and I run after it dutifully, but it's just not the same. Mallard ≠ Rawhide.

Sick pup, recuperating

I am settling in back home after a two-night stay in the hospital with pancreatitis and canine hemorrhagic gastroenteritis. It was a stressful run.

We went over there because I was feeling pretty sick.  This is a set of illnesses that frequently have very bad outcomes.  When the vet tech took me away from my owner, I was too debilitated to protest.

 

    I was hooked up to an IV catheter, and given fluids and antibiotics.

Each time my owner came to visit, the staff would unhook the IV so I could go out for a walk with her.  

 Finally I was released from the hospital. My family was on hand to welcome me back.

 

That was yesterday.  Now I'm still bushed, woozy from my medication, and on a restricted diet.

But I'm grateful to Dr. Galea and his staff for their outstanding care, and very happy to be home.