Love runs deep ...

... when you give your heart to a pet.

On this day a year ago, we lost a piece of our soul ... our family's soul.

Meathead, my son's English Bull Dog and my grand dog, passed away at his home a year ago.  He left such a big hole in all our hearts.  To this day we still mourn his death.

A looker!!
Meaty as a younger guy - charming, yet a stud muffin even from day one.

A few pictures of a short life well lived as a devoted family member.  

Cared for.
Struggled with bath time, but don't we all.

Pampered.
His grandmother always made sure there was a pillow to rest his chin on.

Devoted.
Recovering with his Papa from a near death illness
one year before he died.
One of my favorite pictures.

Adored.
Tucked firmly away in his Aunt's heart.
Such an old old guy in this picture.

Dear Meathead,

Rest in peace my sweet grand boy.

Your time with us was too short.  

But I know you stuck around as long as you possibly could,

  even though the last years were hard for you.

  Although I have many questions surrounding the afterlife

 I never doubt for a single minute that you are there waiting somewhere

for your family

 in whatever serves as a "heaven."

The thought of anything else is just too painful to bear.

Love,

Grandma  

A Yearly Bath

Trust no one!

Really!

Trust no one!

So here I am, the Meathead, the main dog, the man ...

at my Papa's camp grounds.  

Soaking in the beautiful sun.  

Life is good!  I am with all my peoples.

  No problems on my radar!

Suddenly the sun is blocked - by too many bodies!

Hmmm... too much attention focused on me!

Hey, Meathead, Milo here.  This doesn't look good.  Not good.

Not good at all!

What!!!  Water on my back?

I think I remember this happening before.

This is not a good development!

Crap!  Soap!  

This is not going to throw me!

  Proceed with dignity!

Sigh!  Water again!  

OK, guys.  You knew this was coming. 

The Shake!

Ah, better.

This is unacceptable.  I am not happy.

I will not forget!  

I am never going to forget this, Grandma.  You could have rescued me instead of taking pictures.

My eyes are closed. My expectations are totally dashed!  

Finally.  A towel!  

I repeat!  

Trust no one.

Grandma is so ...

... Grand!!

She adores us!  

So a little introduction.

From left to right, 

I am Meathead, the English BullDog.  I am the senior member of this family even though Grimace is a year older than me.  You see I was here first as a puppy.  Grimace was rescued at the age of 3 - so I have seniority.  I am 10 years old.  I am magnificent!

Next in the center is Milo, the French Bull Dog.  He belongs to my Aunt Kris and he is 2 - a young, energetic, egotistic,  pushy, overly alert, and exceedingly cute dog.  The last quality saves his butt more times than you could imagine.  We remind him frequently when he is being a "yo-yo brain" (something that happens frequently), that his mom was shopping for a blond female French Bull Dog when she got him!  Blond!  Female! How she got side tracked by a brown male (even if he has melty bedroom eyes), we will never know!

Lastly on the right is Grimace, the Pug, who is my adopted brother and a pretty good friend to everyone.  He is 11 years old.  But he loves Grandma with an intensity that would be considered stalking in the human world!  

Anyway,  here are The liver cookies our Grandmother bakes for us every Christmas.  They are cut in the shapes of hearts and bones. And she doubles the quantity of liver listed in the recipe.  She knows her boys!!

Shapes are very important. 

Like

very,

 very

important!

Making these cookies in simple circles is a bad idea.  When Grandma made these last year they were in circles.  They were cooling on the kitchen counter ... she was busy in the living room.  Then Grandpa came into the living room chewing and chewing away, asking ... "These aren't chocolate chip cookies, are they!"

:-)

Since we don't like sharing our liver cookies, (and Grandpa doesn't like liver), the shapes save our treats for us.

New followers ... Welcome to Grandma's blog.

An introduction to Grandma can be found here.  Information on Grandma's first Give-Away (it isn't liver cookies), can be found here.

Sincerely,
Meathead

Meathead

He is improving.

It is slow, but he is pulling back from "the brink" we so terribly feared just 2 weeks ago.

This past Friday I took him back to the Emergency Vet for a repeat chest xray.  My son met me there.  The xray showed improvement - the shadow over one lobe of his lung was receding.  The vet could see more heart and lung than before.  She could see more inflation of the lung.  That finding along with his general increased energy means that the antibiotics are making a difference.  They are leaning away from lung torsion as a diagnosis (exceedingly good news) and towards a deep seeded pneumonia.  His symptoms for pneumonia are considered atypical - so the vet cannot be definitive on her diagnosis.

No matter, he looks and feels better.  He will continue on his antibiotics for another 2 weeks and another xray will be done.

He is an old bully.  Age range for English Bull Dogs is 8 to 10 years.  He is 10.  And he is no stranger to many near-death experiences.  My daughter and I still vividly remember the time he chocked on food, stopped breathing, lips and tongue turned blue, and he collapsed.  She and I had minutes to turn the situation around.  The Heimlick Maneuver is very hard to perform on a stocky bull dog.  But adrenaline is a mighty "drug" and sticking my hand clear down his throat didn't hurt either.  He survived.

I suspect he will be on antibiotics for a long time.

It is a reminder that nothing lasts forever.  I will take every beautiful moment I have with this deeply loved bully and treasure it because "the brink" isn't gone forever either.

What Matters

Life has a way of stopping you dead in your tracks, pealing away the extraneous in an instant and focusing you on what really matters in life.

I will be gone from my blog until next week to focus on what really matters.

We had a serious scare with my dear dog, Meathead.  He is an older English Bulldog.  Thursday night my son called and said he needed help getting Meaty to the emergency vet.  Meaty was having trouble breathing. Within minutes I was out the door.  (My husband later said I didn't even hang up the phone.)

Tests were inconclusive, but the x-ray showed something near his lung.  The vet recommended the specialists at another ER vet clinic 40 minutes away.  Meaty spent the night at the second ER.  After more tests and exams  - the firm diagnosis was still missing.  Pneumonia, tumor, lung torsion ... maybe, maybe ...  It came down to treating for Pneumonia.  If not Pneumonia, the only choice left was euthanasia.  Surgery in such an old bully is not a humane option.  Antibiotics were started.  My son, his wife and their dogs spent a long weekend at Grandma's while we waited to see if Meaty's breathing improved.  We showered Meaty with love, with treats, help up stairs, and our undivided attention.  If this was his last weekend at Grandma's, we had to make the most of it.  The outcome was this ...

A guy and his dog.  Buds!
More weekends at Grandma's are in the future.

Struggling with the right choices for Meaty was difficult, especially when you aren't sure what the diagnosis is.  We are apparently treating a deep seeded pneumonia.  His breathing has improved greatly - almost totally normal. Antibiotics will be part of his regimen for at least 2 weeks, but maybe longer.  A repeat chest x-ray will be done in 2 weeks.  We are hoping for good news.  My son and his wife deserve the "Dog Owners of the Year Award."  Such heart wrenching choices they struggled with this weekend.  Thankfully they made all the right ones.

If that black cloud wasn't enough, my daughter-in-law's mother was hospitalized and is seriously ill.  She was in the ER with her mother while my son was in the Vet ER with his dog.  Now hours are spent at the hospital at her mother's side ... wading through all the issues and decisions that go with being a first line care giver.  My heart goes out to her as I have a sense of what she is dealing with.  We are all worried for the family.

Just those two issues should have been enough bad karma for this couple.  But one of their friends was in an auto accident and very seriously injured.  He spent the week in Shock Trauma with a life changing injury.  He has a long road ahead to recovery.  This was shocking news for all of us.

It was good to have everyone under the same roof to help juggle the many competing issues that kept falling on their heads.  Some of the bad has started to resolve, some of the bad has yet to begin the mending process.  Some things can't be fixed by simple antibiotics.

But this week my focus will be family - what really matters.

I'll post again sometime next week.

PS - If you pray, please spare a few prayers for my son and daughter-in-law ... and for her family.

Just a Normal Day at Grandma's House

Meathead
Ahh.  Sleeping on Grandma's lap!  Heaven.

Grimace
Sawing out some ZZZZZZZ at Grandma's feet.

Milo
Sleep?  Really?
 I did that last night!  Looking for action!

Oh crap!  He is at it again!

But Grandma I WANT TO PLAY!!
Pleeeaaasse.

Grandma, this is Meaty speaking.
You know, your first born grandchild.
I have "rank" here.  I am the Meaty!
Can you please make Milo stop?

OK, Grandma, you owe me big time for this!

I'll give him 5 minutes, then I am done.
Done!!

The couch is the only safe place for me!

My other caregiver role

(Meathead in 2004 - his more "buff" days)

This morning at 5:00 am, I awoke to the sounds of heavy breathing and restlessness ... only to discover that one of my granddog's, Meathead, was having a Grand Mal seizure.

As some of you may remember from a previous post, Meathead has canine epilepsy! His seizures have been part of our lives since he was 3 years old. And over the last 5 years medicine management to control them has been an ever increasing and challenging responsibility.

For those who have not experienced seizures, it can be a frightening situation to view. For Meathead, he falls to his side, legs are extended in a rigid position, there is strong jerking movements, sometimes his head is arched back, he drools extensively, heavy labored breathing, and sometimes he loses stool and urine control. He has no awareness of his surroundings. For Meathead, that state can last about 60 seconds - which feels like a long 60 minutes when it is happening to a loved one.

Post seizure disorientation can be almost as unsettling. He seems to come awake, but doesn't know his surroundings and cannot focus on any one thing. He paces quickly around in circles and pants greatly like he is overheated. Stairways need to be blocked because he can not safely manage to descend them during this period. Eventually he pulls out of this disorientation, able to focus on you when you say his name. The panting slowly subsides and usually he falls asleep. This period can last from 15 minutes to 2 hours.

How do we manage this condition?

Meathead is on 2 seizure drugs given twice a day. Since the age of 3 he has been on an ever increasing dose of potassium bromide. When that medication alone couldn't prevent seizures (as frequent as twice a month), he was started on phenobarbital. That combination of meds reduced his seizure activity to occasional strange behavior and extended his grand mal seizures episodes to about 6 months apart. A big improvement. But epilepsy is never cured, just controlled. There are breakthrough seizures, like we had this morning - always heartbreaking to watch.

Managing the actual seizure has become almost second nature for me. I try to remain calm (although my brain and heart are in overdrive), I administer 1 cc of Valium rectally to ward off any repeat seizures (cluster seizures are also a part of his history), stairways are blocked, noise and lights are reduced in the area, and an ice pack is placed on his lower back. Otherwise, we are just calmly present for him waiting for the episode to pass. It always does.

So here I sit, now 6:40 am in the morning, wide awake with a morning coffee, trying to work off the Adrenalin that shot into my system at 5:00 am. Meathead is peacefully asleep on the couch trying to catch up on the rest he missed for the last 90 minutes.

In moments of reflection I often wonder how is it that some people get a life time of care giving for others, while some folks never have to care for anyone other than themselves. Is it because I can, that I was born with a predisposition to help and assist others? If my nature was less wired in this fashion, would my caregiver load be less? Or is it something that is common to all humans? Is it an element of our natures that is developed and refined by practice?

I don't know the answer, but I know I have had my fair share of experience in this role. I held the traditional role of caregiver to our children. Mom is my third elderly relative to require extended assistance. My cat has degenerative kidney disease and needs subcutaneous fluids every other day to live. My husband's eyes are failing (my next care giving assignment, I am sure). My son's dog has epilepsy.

I have had a lot of practice in this role.

So now it is 7:30 am, the coffee isn't keeping me alert. I would really love to just take a morning nap. But in an hour, mom will be up ...

Better get a second cup of coffee.

3 Dog - 2 Cat Weekend - Day 3

Now you might have noticed that the cats seem to be absent. They weren't. You just have to know where to look.

Max and Wally have a favorite place. It is our bathroom, which is located as far as you can get from the living room where the dogs hang out.

This spot is a favorite for several reasons: it is quiet there, it is far from the dogs, it is the space where Max gets his fluid treatments for his degenerative kidney disease (behind him is a medical sharps container for his needles) - which means many many treats are despensed here, and it is where they can hang out together. They also have a litter box here and you might notice a white mug on the counter. That is their bathroom water bowl. They like their water out of a mug! :-)

But they aren't always hidden away. In the morning, they enjoy sitting in the kitchen watching the birds on the balcony. Max found a special place where he could hang out in the kitchen, but still be above the fray.

He enjoys sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. Here he is hanging out with Grimace nearby.

All is cool.

We can relax, stretch out our neck, be superior!

He also enjoys sitting there with Meathead nearby.

Yes, these mutts are OK, reasonable, companionable!

And here is Max with ... oh, guess not.

A shot of Milo's ears.

Epilogue

These weekends now are pretty tame compared to last year when Milo was an uncontrolled baby. Last year there was much chasing around and nipping and cat hissing and dog barking. This year those behaviors are much reduced. He knows the rules and follows them about 70% of the time. Huge improvement, really.

Now he is pretty much just one of the pack. Enjoys eating his meals with his cousins, taking long morning walks with Grimace and Grandma and afternoon naps with everyone.

He is a dear little soul.

3 Dog - 2 Cat Weekend - Day 2

So the weekend starts with a nice calm walk with Grandma - Meaty and Grimace, enjoying their senior stroll to check all the various pee spots in the neighborhood since their last visit.

Then there is the meeting between Meaty and Milo. It starts out as play, and evolves to overheated fatigue for Meaty and frustration that Meaty has pooped out for Milo. Meathead is an old guys and Milo is a young teen, so it is an admirable effort on his part to humor Milo.

Night time typically looks like this - blow up mattresses across the living room floor for my daughter and I with each dog settling where they are most comfortable. Getting settled for sleep takes time due to shuffling of sleeping positions. In the early morning (3:00 am seems like a good time) Meaty decides he needs to step outside for a short visit to empty his bladder. It becomes a group visit with all 5 of us going outside. As we stand in the quiet of the neighborhood when most normal people and animals (wild and domestic) are tucked into dream-land and the street sounds have totally disappeared, we wait for 3 pooches to do their business.

Day time typically looks like this - napping all around! After all, we need to rest up for the nights!!

And there are the walks to the "necessary".

And occasional visits with the neighbors.

Milo (right) with Cleo, one of the neighbors

"Wow, girl, what happened to your legs?"

Meathead making a point.

"I don't know about you, grandma, but I am done here!"

S - is for Stud

How many readers did I capture with this topic? And how many will read through to the end?

You see, Milo, my youngest grand-dog, celebrated his first birthday this month. My daughter's neighbors gave him this present for his birthday - a dog bone with the word "Stud" on it.

Perfect!

He so reflects that attitude.

His name now is:

Milo, first name,

Stud, middle name.

Even his "cousins", Meathead and Grimace have picked up on that stud attitude. And they don't like it much.

A picture is worth a 1000 words!!

His stance says "I own this street, this sidewalk, this bone, this bed, this mama, this food, this treat ..."

Even in rest - one studderly eye is open as if to tell me, "Really, Grandma, put down that camera and turn out the lights. A guy needs to get his rest."