A visit from the evil fairy

I've about had it with the tooth fairy. Not only did she steal two of Alanis' teeth but she also took a huge bite of my money. In the old days, you'd leave a tooth under your pillow and she'd buy the little fang for half a dollar. Now she has increased her prices about 800% and reversed the charges, just because the teeth were still in Alanis' mouth. If you're thinking the exchange deal only works with baby teeth, then I say you've got an age discrimination suit on your hands. Or the tooth fairy does. If I could find her.

Not a happy camper.

Not long after I brought Alanis home a few years ago, I had her teeth cleaned; and the vet had to remove a back molar. A year ago at her check-up, her teeth were fine; but despite bones and chewies, she developed so much tartar in the past year that the other back molar had to be removed along with a tiny tooth behind the left canine. When the tartar gets up into the gum line, the tooth has to go in order to prevent gum disease. The vet suggested that Alanis just has one of those mouths that manufactures a lot of tartar.

Although she's a tiny Airedale, barely 43 lbs, I can't brush her teeth. Just trying to look into her mouth involves a wrestling match requiring two hands, with none left over for the brushing. Miro is the opposite. I've been brushing his teeth several times a week since he was a pup and he enjoys the process, even if he doesn't exactly sit still. Do you know how strong an Airedale's tongue is when you're trying to get the brush up against his teeth while he's trying to lick off all the toothpaste?

I have seen dogs sit passively while getting their teeth brushed. Passive and still, however, are not in the Airedale's vocabulary.

Doggie toothbrushes

Alanis runs away from the toothbrush or mouthrinse and backs into a corner, looking as if I'm about to torture her. Being accustomed to tooth-brushing since puppyhood, Miro participates. That's a key word with Airedales. They participate, with enthusiasm.

While I'm trying to brush his teeth, he wriggles his head and licks the brush to get all the poultry-flavored toothpaste he can. (No, he doesn't look at the chickens and think, "Toothpaste with feet!") I use the big end of this brush because it's hopeless trying to get at the smaller teeth with the small end:

Then saw a brush with three sides that's supposed to enclose the teeth so that you can easily brush the inner side of the teeth without the dog chewing the toothbrush to shreds.

I ordered it from the catalog and discovered the two sides don't open around an Airedale's huge molars. The brush might work on smaller dogs, but we're going back to the regular brush. I also give the dogs bones. Where to chew on bones in winter--that's a whole other problem.

Can't photograph the back teeth without an extra hand, so here are the front.

A gift from Sunshade and Jaffa

Miss Sunshade and Jaffa (a.k.a. Stinky) from Vancouver, BC were in town last week with their humans. We tried to get the dogs together for an Airedale playdate but the timing didn't work out, not to mention the dreary weather all Labor Day weekend. Sunshade, however, was kind enough to send this:

I've seen "Baby on board" signs like this in cars but not an Airedale one. I have it on a house window. If I put the sign in the car, somebody (and we won't name names) might chew it up. You know how those things happen--the dog's sitting around, waiting for you, and something just happens to be near the teeth, which do some idle nibbling and, whoops, where'd that thing go?

Many thanks to Sunshade and her crew! We're thrilled and honored to receive a gift from a blog-buddy.

The bone debacle

I don't like giving my dogs raw bones. When I do, I have to stand around, glazed with boredom, to make sure they don't bite and swallow off large chunks, which an Airedale can and will do with his size extra-large teeth. Then they get messy beards that have to be washed. Then they get diarrhea in the nighttime; it's always at night.

I gave the dogs bones. Photo is the "after" shot.

It happened because there was a discussion about teeth on Airedale-L and whenever there's a discussion about something I'm not doing, I feel guilty for not giving my dogs the absolute best of all possible care. It happened because I drove past a butcher store the other day and butcher stores are as rare as the proverbial hens' teeth. It happened because the young woman at the store exclaimed over my child's Timex watch with the colorful band and light-up face with real hands because she has the same watch and had never seen another adult wearing one. (She had the one with the geckos I used to have and I had the one with the flowers that she almost bought.) As a result, I walked out of the shop with a piece of bone larger than my thigh--not the femur, the whole thigh--that my son sawed into pieces—the bone, not my thigh.

I gave a large piece to Alanis and the smaller chunk to Miró. After half an hour or so, I traded Alanis her bone for a few pieces of super-smelly salmon treat. Miró did not want to trade for super-smelly salmon treat. Seeing me approach, he eyed the treat bag, then picked up the bone and ran. We chased around in circles for a while. You’re not supposed to chase the dog, of course, when trying to pry something loose from him because he makes a game of it. That admonition doesn’t take into account that it’s fun to chase the dog around.

I fetched the offspring and we cornered Miró when he ran around the chicken pen. Surprisingly, he readily dropped the bone in exchange for a super-smelly treat. We then went inside where he drank a gallon of water, leaving a quart of it on the floor along with muddy footprints all over the kitchen. And the hall. And the living room carpet. Alanis, as usual, did not make a mess. Even mud rarely clings to her feet.

Now I’m taking bets. Will it be barf or diarrhea? Alanis or Miró?

She played!

I was sitting in the living room, reading when I heard squeak, squeak behind me. Quietly, I turned and watched Alanis chewing on her disc-shaped fuzzy toy with her size XL Airedale canines. Then she used her front teeth to pull at the fleece. Play!

I jumped out of the chair and we each did a play-bow toward each other before I grabbed the toy, squeaked it, and tossed it across the room. She ran after it and pounced. Then she ran back to me.

No, she did not retrieve the toy. I didn't expect her to. Some Airedales will retrieve; but most prefer to run after the object and either grab it and run, expecting you to give chase, or pounce on it and then indicate that you should retrieve it. After all, you were the one who threw it away.