A lost dog

What do you do when you find a stray dog on Saturday night?

It was almost five-thirty Saturday evening; I would be exactly on time for a small dinner party. Except that up the road in the opposite lane, I saw a large RV swerve as a dog ran into the road, across, and down towards the lane where I was driving behind a compact white car. The car in front and I pulled over at the same time.

The driver in front of me opened her car door and evidently called to the dog, for it approached and then backed off. I got out of my car at the same time as two beautiful young women got out of the car in front. The three of us cornered and caught the dog, a trembling Sheltie cross.

We established that it wasn't her dog, her friend's dog or my dog. I said, "I'm really glad I'm not the only person who stops to pick up stray dogs."

Green eyes wide, the driver said to me, "Did you see? The other driver almost hit that dog!"

I nodded; I was a lot older than she and had seen a lot more. Her astonishment made me feel even older. But I was grateful--and said so--that she could read the dog's tags and I wouldn't have to try to drag a terrified animal to my car while I fumbled for reading glasses. The dog had a license and a rabies tag naming a veterinary clinic that was only two blocks away. No tag with dog's or owner's name. Naturally, everything was closed, with no emergency contact numbers on their automatic messages.

We stood soothing the dog and trying to decide what to do. I could take the dog but I was headed for dinner at a friend's house, someone with a beautifully clean, ordered house with perfect floors that screamed "no dog here." I worried about the dog staying alone in my car. I worried about this timid, gentle dog coming to a strange house and having to endure an inquisitive Alanis and boisterous Miro. The driver of the other car speculated about taking the dog to her condo where she had a small dog and a "no large dogs" policy. This dog looked about 40+ pounds.

I suggested calling the emergency vet office a couple of miles from where we were. When I drove around town last year handing out information about KDOG at veterinary offices, who knew it would prove so handy to know all the vet clinics? One of the young women found the number and called. The emergency vet would board the dog until animal control could be contacted on Monday. They'd also check for a microchip, which might lead to the owners' phone number.

We persuaded and dragged the trembling, crouching dog to the women's car, a spotless BMW. "Are you sure?" I asked, looking at pale leather seats. They were sure. We had had a dry two days (two whole days!!) and the dog was not muddy. The dog flattened himself to the ground and managed to gain twenty pounds with mysterious doggie gravity.  It took all of us to peel him off the grassy verge and push him into the back seat.

They thanked me for stopping. I thanked them, saying it was the first time I'd encountered someone besides myself who would not pass by thinking this was none of her business. We went our separate ways.

But there's no answer to the question. With shelters, animal control offices, and veterinary offices closed on weekends, what do you do with a stray dog? What if you don't know where the nearest emergency clinic is? What would you do?

(Note: I called this morning only to discover the clinic is closed during the day on weekdays. An update will have to wait until this evening.)

Another reason to clean up promptly after your dog

Set aside the "ewww" factor and consider this story from Science Daily* . In an air quality study done in Cleveland and Detroit during the winter, the dominant form of bacteria found in the air came from dog feces. Because this was only one study done in the Great Lakes region, no one can say how the bacterial count in these cities compares to others.

Ephemeral sculpture

People notice the smell of dog poop, especially if they take a walk and find someone else's dog's poop on their shoes, but who considers what the smell means? Then take super-dog cities like Seattle and Portland where we outnumber the national average of one dog for every three people and, well, we're lucky to have air blowing in off rivers and oceans--I think.

The scientists intend to study the microbe populations in more cities. Imagine a bacterial atlas of the United States, adjusted seasonally, to help you decide where to take your next vacation and what areas to avoid in your search for clean air.

I see this bacteria count as one more justification for wacking non-scoopers upside the head with my plastic bag of poop. Instead, at those rare times when I see someone not picking up, I cheerfully offer them a bag because I carry extras.

Always prepared

*R. M. Bowers, A. P. Sullivan, E. K. Costello, J. L. Collett, R. Knight, N. Fierer. Sources of bacteria in outdoor air across cities in the midwestern United States. Applied and Environmental Microbiology, 2011; DOI: 10.1128/AEM.05498-11

Sock monkey

Where do running socks go when they get big holes in them?

Surprisingly, Miro seemed not to notice.

Blog Hop dog box give-away

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Since there were no plows or harnesses to mend during the cold, dark, short, ugly (ok, I don't like winter) days, I got out the scissors and paint and did a couple of decoupage projects. Now I have extra boxes. What to do? Give one away, of course.

inside

 The box is about four inches at the widest parts and three inches high, just right for storing your dog's collar charms or those tiny treats you keep by the door.

 

Side and back photos.

I used magazine bits and stickers. Tragically, I didn't find any Airedales but there are lots of other cute dogs.

If you'd like to enter to win the box, post a comment and sign on as a follower if you haven't already. I'll write down all the names and let Miro pull one out of a hat---no, scratch that; he'd eat the hat. I'll jumble the names and pull one at random next week and send this tchotchke off to the lucky winner after I contact you and get your address.

BARK BARK BARK BARK!

A 50-lb Airedale’s bark has the depth and volume you’d associate with a 150-lb dog. Once they get going, they’re really into it: LOOK LOOK SOMEBODY HERE SOMEBODY HERE SOMEBODY WALKING BY just in case you missed the fleeting glimpse of a passer-by while standing beside your dog looking out the window. A few people on my Airedale list recommended a device that responds to barking with a high-pitched sound that irritates dogs’ ears so much that they stop barking.

My friend Nelda Moore of Kentucky writes: "I bought one hoping to curb Hannah's enthusiastic barking. The noise [of the device] was ear splitting and we all cringed when it went off. I set it to go off at 3 barks. Hannah quickly learned to bark twice, pause, bark twice, pause, bark twice.... How can they be so smart about what works for them and so dumb to 'learn' what works for us?"

Maybe I won’t buy that Bark Breaker I was considering.

Park Tally with Alanis

1. A woman complimented Alanis' perky walk. Alanis, remember, could teach at a charm school for learning smooth gaits.

2. A young  German Shepherd Dog on a Flexi who tried to gallumph across the wide path before his person got control of him.

3. Two elderly people followed by two Newfoundlands getting out of a van. I calculated that's at least six Airedales in poundage and a dozen in drool.

4. One beautifully liver-spotted  German Shorthair Pointer trotting along by herself, pausing, looking bewildered. I approached saying, "Are you looking for your person?" Although a dedicated fuzzy-face aficionado, I like this breed for some reason. A jogger went past behind me--past the many, many signs asking people to keep their dogs on leash--saying the dog was his. She was at least fifty feet away from  him.

5. And who was the fiercest dog of all? A two-ounce Yorkie grumbled, yapped, growled and charged. He was with two young women who tried to pick him up in a towel. (Why a towel?) He wriggled away and went on with his, "Lemme at 'em; I can take 'em." Tactfully, I did not laugh aloud.

P.S. I saw a smaller-than-adult Steller's Jay on a branch across the yard. That could be my boy from the other day.

Do not read if you're easily embarrassed

I have mentioned in the past that Miró loves his bed. Meaning he humps it with great enthusiasm. Often. Tonight I was watching the latest episode of Bones on TV when I looked over during a commercial and saw him standing with back arched and that stupid look dogs get on their faces when they’re going, “Uh oh.”

I look for the source of the problem—his undercarriage. The dog has an engorged, extended penis that’s giving a bit of a bounce every few seconds. Is my first thought, “Poor doggie” or “How embarrassing”? No, my first thought is, “How much is this going to cost if it’s not going away on its own?”


I Google “engorged dog penis” and find a question on vetinfo.com by some idiot whose dog has been like that for two days and she’s wondering if something is wrong! Dr. Mike writes that the bulbous glands at the base of the penis “have managed to engorge outside of the prepuce, which makes it difficult, or impossible, for the penis to retract.” The advice is to take the dog to the vet, or emergency room, where the dog may have to be anesthetized while the vet uses traction sutures to put the equipment back in place. I don’t know what traction sutures are but the dog's situation doesn’t sound like something you can fix with a little olive oil.

It’s kind of dark in the room so I can’t tell if the glands are out or in but at least I know Miró hasn’t been in that condition for two days. It's more like five or ten minutes since the previous TV commercial. Thiniking about teenage boys and cold showers, I fetch the spray bottle used for the parrots’ baths and fill it with fresh, cold water. When I spray the affected area, he doesn’t even wince. I bend down to look. Is the swelling going down? It looks like it’s going down. He throbs again. No, it looks the same. I spray some more and wait. Besides, the commercial is long over and I’m missing the whole show.

I watch TV for a few minutes. Miró wanders over and flops onto the carpet nearby. Normality restored. I’ll keep the spray bottle handy; he probably hasn’t learned a thing from this experience. Maybe I'd better not watch Bones with him in the room.

Airedale missing in Mexico

Erika Reyes lives with her family in Mexico City. When they were on vacation in the beach town of Guayabitos, her Airedale Schatzi ran off on January 1. Schatzi is microchipped and Erika is doing everything she can to find her dog, including offering a substantial reward.

I'm posting this because it's what I can do and maybe it'll help get the information where it needs to go. Erika takes excellent care of Schatzi. The dog's escape is one of those terrible things that can happen in a split second, one of those things we hope never happens to us.

If anyone has connections in Guayabitos or nearby towns (Puerto Vallarta), now's the time to contact them.

CH Terrydale HK No Doubt moves to the States

Now retired from showing and mothering, Alanis has come to live at my house. She gets a place where she can be fussed over as Head Dog and I get a much-needed Airedale companion.