The Band Is Back Together Allergic And In The News

This is what Stella looks like today:

This is what Stella looked like at 10pm on Friday night:

(Please excuse the crappy picture quality; I took the picture with my phone to text to Shawn to convince him that I wasn't exaggerating, Stella really was swollen like a mothereffer.)

Friday evening I took Stella to get her annual vaccinations. We had plans to go out afterwards but I decided to stay home because Stel was acting a bit lethargic. I was hanging out with the pups when Stella started acting really strangely - madly scratching her face and dragging herself along the carpet on her back and groaning. In the matter of a few minutes, her face swelled up to the point where she could barely open one of her eyes.

I called Shawn and he was frustratingly calm. He told me to wait it out (!) or give Stella one of his allergy pills. Then I did some swearing and texted him the photo of Stella's poor swollen face. He got the phone number of the 24-hour vet from his mom and told me to meet him there. Because I am a grownup, I called my Dad and asked him to drive me to the vet so I didn't crash the car.

I snapped this photo right before the (awesome! lovely!) emergency vet gave Stel the antihistamine shots. She couldn't get her eyes open and she was gasping when she breathed.

One hour and two hundred dollars later, we were home.

I know that Stella is just a dog but she's my dog. I don't have babies or anyone relying on me for survival. Stella is my responsibility and I felt like I fucked it up. It was a horrible, helpless feeling, one that I hope to never feel again. I'm fairly certain that Stella is trying to send me to an early grave and I'm pretty sure that she is going to succeed.

So Be My Devil Angel Be My Shooting Star

Wolfgang can't pull off "angelic"

More realistic

Oh the shame

Like A Tomato In The Rain I've Got That Feeling Again

Tuesday Randomness

I made a cake with the raspberries and blueberries.

Two cakes, really. They turned out really well but I think I'll use more berries next time.

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I left my pyjama top on Wolfgang's (wire) crate. Later, I saw that he had pulled it into his crate. I thought it was adorable that my puppy wanted to cuddle something that smelled like me.

Please note the gaping hole. He did not just chew my top, he ate it. Like, tried to digest it. AND FAILED. Meaning, he later pooped my top.

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If you haven't already, head on over to Hair Thursday and vote. It's pretty even right now (45% - 55%) so I'm still torn. Come on peeps, make my important decisions for me!

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I think I'm going crazy.

Shawn and I have started looking online for potential condos. I have all of a sudden developed a fear of heights. I've never been great with heights. I have never loved heights. But I've never feared them to this degree.

I have refused to consider anything above the ninth floor. I am almost to the point of refusing to look at lofts because the thought of having a railing that I could potentially fall over is making it hard to breathe. It's bizarre. I don't know where this is coming from. Shawn showed me a 26th floor condo yesterday and I got this horrible, itchy feeling all over. It had a balcony! A 26th floor balcony! Madness!

Also, I have developed a severe hatred of tomatoes.

I have always loved tomatoes. My list of hated vegetables has always been short and unchanging: beets and mushrooms. That's it. I like a wide variety of vegetables and can fake it with most others. But lately I have been repulsed by tomatoes. If I could think of a stronger word than repulsed, I would use it. That is how much I dislike tomatoes now.

It doesn't make sense. I have not had a bad experience with a tomato. I didn't bite into a bad tomato. I did not find any worms in a tomato. I did not read an article stating that tomatoes cause cancer. And yet ... the thought of eating a tomato makes my heart beat really fast and my mind race. "How can I get out of eating this tomato? Why the fuck do I want to avoid tomatoes?"

You see? Crazy.

* * * * *

Because I need to end this post with something other than my insanity ... puppies!

This blanket is usually draped over Wolfgang's crate because he doesn't sleep unless it's pitch black. It has been much too hot for that lately (I woke up one morning and his crate was like a little sauna) so the blanket has been moved to a chair. The puppies? LOVE IT.

So now the blanket has to stay on the chair because it's the only place the puppies will chill out and be nice to each other.

These Blue Shoes Seem To Suit Me Well

My parents came over for dinner last night to celebrate their 37th wedding anniversary (37? In a row?) (Bonus points to anyone who can identify the movie that quote came from.)

We were sitting at the table while the puppies played on the couch. I thought they were chewing their bones until I heard a very distinctive ripping sound. I jumped up, convinced they had just destroyed the couch. My heart sank even lower when I realized they weren't chewing the couch, they were chewing one of my mom's shoes. The shoe was still identifiable as a shoe but there was no way to salvage it. They mutilated the shoe.

Stella has always been a fan of shoes. We constantly find her trying to get into the closet. If we accidentally leave the door open, she will instantly stick her head in and grab a few shoes. She doesn't chew them, though. She gums them a bit but mainly just likes to cuddle them. We think she likes the smell (because she usually goes for Shawn's workout runners or my ballerina flats or other shoes we wear while sockless.)

It looks like we have become a little too complacent when it comes to training the puppies. That changes today. Today the puppies will start boot camp. Today the puppies will embark on their journey to become less horrid. No longer will Stella's wrinkly brow or Wolfgang's old-man eyebrows get them out of trouble.

I am officially immune to this:

and this:

and these:
I won't lie; I am likely not immune to this:

Well Its A Broken Smile Breaking Their Hearts And Breaking Their Minds Bite Hard

Stella is a serious chewer. We have gone through numerous dog toys, trying to find one that lasts longer than a day with Stella and her monster jaws. Stella has one dog toy. It's not even a toy; it's a bone. The Nylabone Galileo Bone "the world's strongest dog bone for powerful chewers", to be exact. Remember when I gave the puppies the Flappy? I had high hopes for the Flappy. The Flappy lasted a week. The Flappy is now dead.

She killed the Flappy. She's not sorry.

So. Stella = powerful chewer. Keep that in mind.

See! Look at her technique! Those are some powerful jaws!

On Saturday I was walking both pups when Wolfgang needed to stop for a bathroom break. I was fussing about with him when I realized that Stella was chewing a bone of some sort. A bone that she was easily crunching through and consuming. I managed to get most of it out of her mouth but not before she swallowed some. So of course I freaked out and called the vet, who told me not to bring her in because there was "nothing they could do for her." Um yes, not the most reassuring thing to hear. The vet told me to monitor Stella and to bring her in if she showed any signs of blockage or internal tears.

So I was feeling a bit fragile.

Fast forward to Sunday night. I took Stella for a walk, completely avoiding the area where Saturday's bone-incident took place, and what happens? Stella finds another bone (there is a SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL for people who throw bones on the street for innocent animals to find and choke on, in my opinion.)

I panicked.

I believe in obedience school; however, I also believe that a dog is a dog. Stella is half beagle. She is completely motivated by smells and by food. If it's smelly food? Even better. She gets in the zone and nothing will prevent her from either eating or rolling in whatever she has found. I don't think that any amount of training will ever "cure" her of this. I usually take a bag of treats along with me when I walk her, to distract her. I had no treats with me Sunday night.

So I stuck my hand in her mouth. I tried to take the bone from her. The smelly bone she was intent on eating. And she bit me.

It wasn't a vicious bite; she wasn't maliciously biting me to prevent me from taking her bone. She was just chewing the bone and my hand got in the way.

I walked home - ten long minutes - while crying and dripping blood, trying to not scare my oblivious pup. By the time I got home, two of my fingers were swollen to the point where bending them was no longer an option so Shawn took me to the emergency room.

Four puncture wounds, one adorable doctor, one surly nurse (I am usually pro-nurse so please trust me when I say that this lady was extremely churlish (example: I told her that I am bad with needles because in my experience, the needle-giver usually wants to know in advance if you're going to hyperventilate and pass out. To which she replied, "well it's not like I'm a fan of them") (oh and then she was all "Okay. On three. One - two - " AND THEN SHE JABBED ME ON TWO! Dear Surly Nurse, that was the fucking highlight of your night, wasn't it?)), two x-rays to rule out bone damage (yes, she bit me that hard), one tetanus shot (note to future self: you had a tetanus shot on July 3rd, 2009. If you ever have to go to the emergency room again, look this info up. The nurses will look at you like a crazy lady if you don't know when your last tetanus shot was), one shot of antibiotics, and three hours later I was on my way home.

Interesting fact (courtesy of Adorable Doctor): 20 - 27% of dog bites become infected compared to 80% of cat bites. The infection rate is above 80% if a human bites you (you can just file that nugget of information under "why I do not - and will not - own cats or bitey humans.)

Here's the thing: I'm not mad at Stella. She's a dog. She was chewing a tasty bone. I put my hand in her mouth. Of course she bit me! Oh and she's fine, by the way. We need to monitor her for the next week or two, but so far everything has been normal. The biggest danger when your dog eats a bone comes from the actual swallowing part - the bones splinter and can easily choke your dog. So now we just wait and hope that the bone fragments don't cause any damage to her digestive system.

What's Your Dirty Hassle

A few bits and bobs from my booze-addled brain.

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Yesterday was Canada Day. It's pretty much mandatory that you barbecue copious amounts of meat and drink copious amounts of beer on Canada Day. Who am I to argue? I hurt today.

* * * * *

Thanks for all your suggestions re: getting the drops in Stella's ears. I've tried them all. Nothing works. It takes Shawn and I roughly fifteen minutes to get the drops in her ears. It involves a lot of swearing (on our part) and scratching (on Stella's part.) Shawn learned his lesson yesterday and put on a long-sleeved shirt this morning before we made our attempt. Stella hates us right now.

plotting our demise

ear envy

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I promise this is the last time I hassle you to watch Goldie's videos ... but please watch Goldie's videos! She's now got a 1 in 5 chance of winning the money and the contest ends really soon. She's bonkers and I love her and if you knew her you'd love her. So watch! Enjoy!

Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 6

Shawn and I fully expected a sad, droopy puppy when we went to pick Stella up last night but instead we were met with a very excited Stella. She came barrelling out of the back room when she heard our voices and covered us in puppy kisses. It was exactly what I needed after a stressful Monday.

Once she got over her initial joy that we hadn't abandoned her forever, Stella calmed down quite a bit. She was lethargic from the drugs and tried to avoid Wolfgang as much as possible. He would try to engage her and she would just slink away instead of trying to eat his face like she normally does.

He was quite flummoxed by it all.

Eventually he gave up and Stella and I enjoyed some puppy cuddles. It was all very nice and sweet until bedtime rolled around and we had to get the drops in Stella's ears.

She was having none of it. We have to put 3 - 4 drops in both ears twice a day for the next week. It is impossible to do. She jerks her head around and I can't see what I'm doing; I just squeeze the bottle and hope that some of the medication is actually getting into her ears. Shawn is 6'3" and weighs over 200 pounds and he cannot hold her down. He can control her legs but then she starts whipping her head around. So he lets go of her legs and tries to hold her head and she starts kicking and scratching. It took fifteen minutes to do this morning and I'm not even 100% sure that any drops went into her ears.

I am begging for suggestions here, people. How do you get drops in your pet's ears?

On top of the drops, Stella has to take two different pills twice a day for the next week. Getting her to take the pills isn't a problem - she's a whore for cheese (she takes after me!) so I just stick the pill in a chunk of cheese and she gobbles it right up. The problem is that both pills need to be taken with food and they need to be taken fifteen minutes apart. This means that I need to feed Stella half of her breakfast; give her a chunk of cheese with a pill in it; wait fifteen minutes; feed her the other half of her breakfast; then give her another chunk of cheese with another pill in it. And then repeat at dinner. So basically I'm putting more energy into planning Stella's meals than I am my own.

However, I am not complaining if it means that my pup is getting better (I will, however, complain about the $300 vet bill we were hit with when we picked her up.)

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And just to make this the longest post ever, it's the last day of the month which means ... beets!

I peeled the beets and cut them into wedges. I drizzled them with olive oil and added five cloves of minced garlic and some sea salt. I wrapped them up in foil and put them in a 400 degree oven for 45 minutes. Then I unwrapped them, drizzled them with honey and balsamic vinegar and cooked them for another half hour.

They were ... alright. They didn't suck. The honey and balsamic vinegar really masked the taste of the beet, especially since the beets ended up extremely caramelized (when we were kids, my parents would refuse to admit that they'd burnt something; they'd always say that it was just "golden." These beets? Were golden.)

To reward ourselves for eating our June beets, we devoured a strawberry rhubarb cobbler.

Though You're A Scrawny Pup I Would Be Happy Just To Cheer You Up

Stella does this thing sometimes where she gives her head a bit of a shake and her ears go all flippy floppy. It makes the cutest flapping sound.

Stella's ear flap from Hillary W on Vimeo.

I couldn't sleep last night because every 30 seconds I'd hear her doing it. Flap flap flap, all night long. This morning she was scratching her ear and groaning so off to the vet we went.

Stella really dislikes going to the vet. I walk her there so she's a bit tired (read: doesn't have the energy to be a total asshole) when we arrive but it doesn't matter - as soon as we near the door, her tail tucks between her legs and her ears droop and I can tell she's storing her energy up for one final attempt to bolt. It happens every time we go, without fail. I'll get the door open, she'll move toward the door so the leash has a bit of slack in it, and then quick like a fox she jerks the other way and tries to run for freedom.

It was the same today, which was reassuring. I think the day Stella is okay with going to the vet is the day I know she's really sick. The vet checked her out and discovered a nasty ear infection.

Stella needs to spend the day at the vet. This afternoon she'll be sedated and the vet will clean and treat her ear infection. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I didn't immediately call Turtle and start crying as soon as I left the vet's office. Stel has only been sedated once before - when she was spayed - and when we picked her up she was the saddest, droopiest puppy in the world.

So if you could think some positive puppy thoughts for my Stelly Belly today, I'd much appreciate it.

I Remember We Were Walking Up To Strawberry Swing

I love summer. 

I love strawberries.

Stella does too.

I Think I Got Something In My Teeth Could You Get It Out For Me? That's Effing Teamwork!

Last week Ben posted a review of the Flappy on Who's Your Daschund. I scoffed - scoffed! - at his claim that the Tuffy Flappy could withstand a week with his pups.

I had to see for myself.

Things started off well. Wolfgang loves his Flappy.

I bought two of the same-sized Tuffies so the pups wouldn't have Flappy envy.

The problem is that nothing tastes better than someone else's Flappy.

Please note the sad, lonely Flappy that has been forgotten by Wolfgang. Clearly it does not taste as good as Stella's Flappy.

Wolfgang is fighting a losing battle.

Tug of war!

The shenanigans were resolved when the pups realized that they could both chew on one Flappy without getting in each other's way.

Overall I'm pretty impressed with the Flappy. The pups had a lot of fun, the squeaker was less obnoxious than other toys we've tried in the past, and neither puppy managed to destroy it. The Flappy isn't a toy that I'd leave with the pups in their crates (Stella has managed to chew the ends off the flappy bits and I'm confident that given a few hours alone with the Flappy she'd manage to chew through the middle bit) but it's definitely a toy I'll let them play with when they're out of their crates. Every toy we've tried with the pups has been ruined (by Stella) on the day we brought it home. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the pups each have one toy - the Nylabone Galileo Bone "designed specifically for powerful chewers" - so I'm very excited to have found another toy tough enough to prevail against Stella's earnest attempt at destruction.

Oh It's You Again Listen This Isn't A Reunion So Sorry If I Turn My Head

While we were away, Stella stayed with my parents and Wolfgang stayed with Shawn's mom. They've never been apart for longer than a day so I was curious to see what would happen when they were reunited. I was expecting a slow-motion run toward each other and a long embrace (you know, with music swelling in the background.)

What actually happened? Was more of their usual shenanigans:



And my personal favourite:

"Hellllpppp meeee!"

In other puppy news, Wolfgang has stopped punishing us for leaving him and has resumed peeing outside. I like him a whole lot more now.

As for Stella, last night she proved she really is my dog: Shawn sold a pair of speakers and came home with a wad of cash. He was in the bedroom sorting it into piles of $100, when I heard him frantically start with the "Stella! Leave it! Leave it? LEAVE IT!" (Of all the commands we've tried to teach Stella, "leave it" is the one she absolutely refuses to acknowledge. She can give a high-five like a boss but tell her to "leave it" and she'll look at you like you're a smelly turd.) I walk into the bedroom and there's Stella, muscles tensed, ready to bolt ... with a mouthful of twenties. I wanted to grab my camera but Shawn thought that maybe, just maybe, I should help get the $160 (atta girl!) out of Stella's maw before it started to disintegrate. He's no fun.

Shelter, Give Them Shelter From The Coming Storm

We weren't allowed to bathe Wolfgang for two weeks after his surgery. For normal people this wouldn't be a big deal but for crazy people like me it was an issue. My dogs have weekly baths. I know this is excessive but it's not actually a germ thing. It's a filth thing. My dogs are constantly dirty. The dog park we go to most often is covered in pea gravel. It's directly across from a construction site. The dogs come home covered in dust. The other dog park we frequently go to is in the woods and is constantly muddy. One of Stella's favourite things to do is to roll in the mud. Also, because of Stella's chewing habits, Wolfgang is always covered in saliva to some degree. Add some urine to the mix (Wolfgang squats to pee. I have no idea why. I have no idea how to make him lift his leg. So he squats. And pees all over his front legs. And sometimes his beard, if he bends his head down to take a look. Which he often does. I love my dogs.) So. Weekly baths. Don't judge me.

By the time his stitches came out and the cone came off, Wolfgang was one smelly puppy. As soon as we got home from the vet, into the bath he went.

Why do you hate me?

Oh the shame.

Wolfgang doesn't mind the bath too much (it involves cookies!) but he hates getting out of the bath. I don't know if it's because he's cold or if he's searching for his lost dignity ("no more pictures, lady!") but he always tries to burrow into whatever is near, whether it's the couch, or Shawn's clothes, or the bedsheets.

puppy bum!

puppy burrito!

Once he was dry and combed, he looked very handsome. A bit scruffy perhaps (I can't bring myself to get him groomed - I love the curls!) but still handsome.

Stella thought so too. Please note the adorableness of Stella sitting on the arm of the chair. (I love her.)

And if that wasn't cute enough, she then balanced on the arm of the chair to get at Wolfgang. She is nothing if not committed.

Why am I showing you picture after picture of adorable puppies? In the hopes that you'll head over to Who's Your Dachshund and donate to their cause. Today is the last day and they have about $350 to go to reach their goal of raising $2,000 for animal shelters. I just made my donation; it wasn't a large one but every penny helps. So if you're feeling spendy, go check it out. The puppies thank you.