Keeping It In Perspective

Yesterday evening Robert and I paused and wondered, if after nearly two weeks of remarkable recovery on DJ's part, was he backsliding? Was that a limp he's developed today? Did we let him walk or run too much? Should I not have allowed him to go up and down the stairs yet? We fretted and worried. Would we wake up to find him unable to walk well or falling again?

This morning DJ went down the stairs easily and with coordination. He trotted out to the backyard readily. His hind legs still kind of swing from side to side, but they have all along. His back paws don't always land solidly on the ground, but for the most part he seems to find where to put them and moves along. In other words, we didn't need to worry, but we didn't know that. A new day brought reassurance— and some perspective.

Today the dogs also got a special treat: bones. Now, if you have a Yorkshire Terrier or a Jack Russell, or even a Woodle, then you might think the bones we give our dogs are absurd. Even most dogs that are wonderful mixes, as humans are, of various genetic traits might find these bones to be enormous. You might think they're from Tyrannasourous Rex, these bones are so giant. But our dogs are like the NBA players of the dog world—only without the grace and athleticism of professional basketball players. Our dogs are, relatively speaking, huge.

So the bones we give our dogs, are just the right size for them. They can gnaw on the bones and chew to their hearts content; holding them and moving them easily with their gigantic paws. I realized this morning watching them, that they operate so intuitively, not stopping to think, our dogs don't need perspective. They are in the moment. We however, are prone to think about the past, the future, and wonder in the present. Sometimes just a little perspective though, can help us realize that we are what we are, and comparison to others— or worry about the past or the future— just takes us away from the here and now. Perfect or not, that's what we've got, so we're going to try to keep it in perspective and in the present. How's that for something to chew on?

Standing Ovation

Sometimes the successes in your life come from where you least expect them. Last week was a difficult week for the Fursons. Our youngest Furson, DJ Puppy aka Furzee, had spinal surgery. He has a condition called Wobbler's Syndrome, which as you might guess, is indicated by an inability to walk in a stable way: the dog wobbles. DJ first exhibited symptoms around Christmas time, when he fell— down some stairs. Then again on a slippery floor. We first thought he pulled muscles, or that our floors were too slick. Then we thought he might have blown out his knee when he fell the first time. We took him to the vet and they prescribed some pain relief and said to come back in a week or two if he didn't improve. He didn't improve, and in fact started to drag his front paws on walks. Fortunately Robert researched enough to suspect that this indicated a sign of nerve damage. We got him into a neurologist who immediately recommended an MRI. Following the MRI, it was determined that DJ Puppy has Wobbler's—a syndrome where the spinal cord outpaces the growth of the vertabrae, compressing the spinal cord and causing nerve damage and a loss of control of his limbs. It's a condition that causes falls, rather than the falls causing the condition.

After seeing Dr. Sisson at Angell Memorial in Boston, we booked a date for DJ to have surgery. This appeared to instantly improve DJ's condition. His paws started dragging less within two weeks. His mood improved. He fell less frequently. As he seemed to stabilize, we questioned whether or not to even do the surgery. It's an expensive procedure with a small but real chance of catastrophic results. We consulted our neurosurgeon; he wisely reminded us that while we could keep DJ on anti-inflammatory medication, this syndrome is progressive. Which means that if we did not act at some point, it's likely he would become paralyzed. The doctor also advised that the better condition the dog is when he goes into surgery, the better the results.

So we did it. Or rather, the outstanding and wonderful Dr. Sisson did it. It was an 8-hour operation. DJ was in the animal hospital for two nights. Dr. Sisson mixed DJ's dinner by hand and personally took him on the short outings to check his progress. There is a six inch incision on DJ's chest, and another small one on his shoulder where a bone graft was taken. When we went to pick DJ up last Wednesday, he was again falling. It was a difficult, difficult week. The nature of the operation required our 136 pound dog to be in an extended position for a long time; this potentially caused additional pressure on the spine; our doctor thought this would be temporary but our own nerves were tender and we as "dog parents" were worried all over again when we picked him up last week.

But resilience is key to survival. Dr. Sisson was correct in his projection that DJ Puppy would likely continue to improve daily, and over the course of just one week, DJ has gone from post-spinal surgery drunken dog to fast-moving big beast! He's walking (even running at times) well, his mood is getting back to Joyful (his middle name, remember?), and he's as naughty as ever. Just yesterday he started to put his mammoth paws up on the counter at the vet's to reach a treat from a jar at the back of the counter. All of which I take as a good sign.

Here's another good sign, one that the universe is supporting you even when you don't know it. For Christmas I had made a calendar of images of family pets for our niece & nephews. Apparently our nephew Ben, a brave and talented public speaker, brought the calendar to school—and reportedly his middle school class has fallen in love with DJ. They heard about the surgery, and on Tuesday, while DJ was still at the hospital, Ben raised his hand and asked his teacher if he could make an announcement. Of course, she said. Well, he reported, DJ Puppy has come through the surgery and is recovering nicely. The class applauded—and continued on to give him a standing ovation. It might be the equivalent of a middle school urban legend, but I suspect it's all true. While DJ (and we) were struggling, an entire class of young people—the next generation of doctors and presidents and teachers—were showing faith in Furzee's resilience. Well, they were right. He's doing just fine.

Thanks for all the support,
the Fursons

For more information on Dr. Sisson, Angell Memorial Hospital, or Wobbler's Syndrome, see:
www.mspca.org/vet-services/angell-boston/neurology/neurology-casestudy.html

Some Days You Just Do The Best You Can

As the old year crumbles into memory, and the new year becomes present, alive, and filled with future, sometimes we are enthused, invigorated and refreshed. And sometimes it's just a lot at once. After returning from a wonderful week visiting family both Upstate NY and on Long Island, we realized DJ's hind legs were not working properly.

He was having a great deal of difficulty going up and down stairs, and seemed to have almost no push off from his rear quarters. Robert had told me that the dog had fallen down stairs at my parents' house, but didn't seem this disabled at the time. That was troubling enough, but once we were home our very slippery floors were like an awful indoor skating rink for a massive injured animal. He walked with a limp on both sides; he became afraid of the stairs and has refused to climb them. He didn't seem to ever bark in pain, but after falling in the kitchen one night our gentle giant simply whimpered for help, as I struggled to lift his torso up so that all four limbs would no longer be perpendicular to his body.

We gave him canine aspirin, waited a few days, and let him sleep downstairs. I took him on gentle walks to keep his legs from getting stiff and keep his circulation going. One night after Robert had gone to bed, I stayed up late with the dogs watching Julie and Julia, DJ on the couch with me, his head in my lap dozing. Robert responded to the downed dog by getting things done; we agreed the slippery floors had to go, so he found carpet treads online, then went to Home Depot and came back with a truckload of inexpensive and mostly awful carpet runners, area rugs, and more carpet stair treads. Our house is now has a West Elm meets double wide trailer feel to it, but the dogs aren't skidding and stressed.

Finally after a few days, DJ's joy has started to return. But his injury had only somewhat seemed to heal. So I called the vet, Robert and I both aware that Bernese Mountain dogs are prone to hip dysplasia and other really uncomfortable and unfortunate physical fates. In the winter I drive my 95 Honda Civic for the most part, and it's fine—except when you need to stuff a 150 pound dog into the back seat. But it turned out actually to be easier than the usual mode of transport (a Ford SUV), because my injured 2-year old could simply step into the small car, and lay comfortably on the back seat. No climbing, scrambling, or futile attempts on my part to lift the beast.

At the vet, we got good news. She manipulated his legs and observed his walk, and said she felt no indication of hip dysplasia; that that condition normally comes with severe stiffness, popping or grinding sounds, none of which she noticed. When I told her about the new carpeting, she said to the dog, "Sometimes we make our houses ugly for the ones we love, don't we?" DJ was prescribed some anti-inflammatory meds and I was told to bring him back in a week if he's not getting back to normal. I was also told, however, that our cuddly puppy was topping out at about 20-25 pounds overweight, and this extra weight certainly would do nothing but add more injury to the next fall.

So, after one week of 2010, one of our dogs has already been to the vet (via a vehicle not intended to transport livestock) and limps around; the house looks like the "before" picture for an HGTV transform-your-home-with-new-carpet show; and at least one if not more of the Fursons and their caretakers have signed on to a 2010 diet. But now both dogs are getting long daily walks. They are safer in their home. And we're all ok—maybe even improving. These are just a few of the many many gifts we share in the new year, gratefully.



http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/julieandjulia/

Season's Greetings from the Fursons

The Fursons are about to take off to another state on a whirlwind 4 doggrandparent, 4 nephew, and 1 niece Christmas tour, but before we do, I thought I'd share this snippet of spirit. The dogs don't have a religion; they know only fulfillment of their basic needs: food, exercise, etc. and that's what they seek. And play—my dogs seek play: with each other, with their friends Lucy, Peaches, Jasper, and even tiny Molly. Well, they also seek some cuddling and belly scratching, and I swear I've seen all of our animal smile at different times. Lexa and DJ like to hear when they're doing good, and they love to run to the door, tails wagging when Robert gets home. So maybe they seek some affection, connection, and affirmation. Plus they all surround us when we sit down to watch tv, so clearly the pack is a kind of community they want to be a part of. Then there's that little slice of something else—if one of us doesn't feel well, or if one of the dogs hears a wimper or a cry, both dogs appear aware, concerned, ears cocked, eyes intently looking at the one in pain, not to mention the cats who will simply sit on and warm a sick person. Their actions if not their religion show a semblance of compassion and caring. I'm trying to learn as much as I can from the planet, and besides the range of smells and sounds I can't ever learn from the animals, I'll take that reminder. It doesn't take a building or a book to teach us how to be a good pack, make someone purr with complete trust, or have compassion for someone who's suffering. Let's spread that good feeling and those actions this season and into the New Year.

Season's Greetings from the Fursons, shown here in a ridiculous last-minute photo with Santa at Petsmart, where most passersby thought Lexa was gorgeous and DJ was our pet bear.

Spectator Sport

Lucy's back, this time only for a few days. The usual mayhem began instantly like a shot out of a gun: she and DJ began playing with a stuffed leopard, each pulling on one end, a canine tug of war over a fake feline. My cats naturally went into hiding—one downstairs and one in the closet, preferring a safe nest to the threat of getting underfoot or maybe being mistaken for an unfortunate toy.

But by day 2, the cats had reappeared, and were lounging on the dining room table like it was a pool side chaise. I was working on my laptop, and after a time, I realized they were watching. Not me—the show. My two cats were watching DJ and Lucy wrangle through their play; chasing, pulling, boxing (Lucy is a Boxer after all), jumping, sliming, you name it, the cats appeared amused. It was as if they had bought tickets and ordered drinks at the sky box above this new kind of gladiator. Johnny, normally somewhat fearful, was even dangling a paw above them, as if to say "keep 'em coming", "give us a good show, chaps!" while Charlie eventually moved to the floor, stretched out like a king, watching at home plate.

Finally, the dogs took a break—well, more like DJ took a break and trotted over to the front hall to lay down on the cool tile floor, panting. Lucy, Johnny, and Charlie, all watching, waiting for the next round.

Sometimes You Gotta Do One Just For You

I have a "contact" whose identity I'll protect by calling him/her "The Head of the Cat". This person surprised me last night, when "they" (I'll mis-use "they" to avoid revealing "their" gender) pulled out a cat hat. And put it on one of their cats. And then put it on the other cat. Unbelievable. Cats don't need hats. Especially not beanies with propellers and velcro chin straps to keep them securely in place. There were even ear holes for the furry, pointed cat ears to poke through.

The hat was placed on the cat with such matter-of-fact elan, such seriousness coupled with complete amusement, that I couldn't help but be totally entertained. The Head of the Cat didn't leave the cat hat on for long. They recognize the cat doesn't need or want, much less like, the hat. As soon as I snapped a few pix, the cat hat was removed, placed on the other feline model, then just as quickly removed—as if it had never happened. I was stunned by those few moments, and am still delighted with the evidence.

While my contact bought this cat hat and fitted it to their animals purely for their own delight, living this phrase "sometimes you gotta do one just for you", it became something for me too. So do something just for yourself, and see the positive effects it has on others. But don't leave the hat on for too long...no one wants to be caught in a beanie and have it posted online the next day.

The Lake Life

The Fursons are back at home, after a week away at the lake. Robert and I bought a boat, got married, and spent a week by the lake. The photo you see here is of DJ, snoozing on the screened porch at our rented lake house. The floor of the porch was spray painted with stencilled nature images. The furniture is wicker, with floral cushions. The view directly out front, which you can't see here, is of a tranquil lake and distant mountains in upstate New York. To the left and the right are tree branches, housing the porch like a nest. Birds land just inches away and peer in. Off to the right, there is a small cement statue ensconced in the the leafy green surroundings.

Days on the lake are slow. Evenings with family and friends pick up the pace a bit, but during this week after our wedding, our days were spent on the boat, in the water, napping, and reading (the kindle for Robert, a book for me) on the porch. While the dogs rest because they are spent from romping by the shore, taking in the boat breeze, and chasing our niece and nephews; we rest because the days leading up to this week of lake life are packed with work and deadlines and meetings and making art and creating new projects. Here the dogs rest from the activity, for us, rest is the activity.

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*ps: What we're reading?
Me: The Shipwreck that Saved Jamestown
Robert: The Elegant Universe