Singing Those Veterinary Blues

Karen-in-Ohio made an excellent point, asking how families manage the kind of expenses that pets can incur. There are hundreds of small charities out there helping owners with overwhelming medical bills. If you search for "charities to help pay vet bills in -my state-" you'll quickly see what's out there. If you're an animal lover, looking for a way to help folks in straightened times, this is an excellent way to do so.  

 

 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Those of you who are regular visitors to JRW will remember the saga of Walker, the $15,000 cat. I was discussing the epic while a guest at Hallie’s house, and she pointed out it was more like $17,000, with the USDA certification fee, the in-cabin airline pet fees, and having to buy Youngest a brand new ticket when we discovered Jet Blue didn’t allow pets to travel IN the plane. So for now, Walker will be known as the $17,000 cat. That’s $26,265 CAD, for our northern friends.


I say for now, because I recently discovered Walkers stubborn refusal to put on weight is due to a hyperactive thyroid. Easily cured by giving him two pills a day (at the current cost of $200 a year) for the rest of his life, which should be another 13 to 17 years, if he doesn’t escape the house again and fling himself under a passing vehicle. OR I can solve the problem at one go with a radioactive iodine treatment for $1,700 - $2,000.


Dear readers, I invite you to picture my face upon hearing this.


Reds, have any of you gone to absurd lengths to keep a pet healthy? Does anyone have a veterinary tale as unbelievable as mine?


RHYS BOWEN: My daughter’s dog just tore an ACL. This involves surgery at UC Davis veterinary hospital, plus constant monitoring for two weeks, plus being confined to a small area so that she doesn’t overuse the leg. A month before surgery she tore the second ACL. That surgery will be two months after the first one. And believe me, neither is cheap. I gather the ACL tear is a common problem of the breed. My other daughter who has a delightful mutt sniffed and said, “Pure breeds!”


DEBORAH CROMBIE: Our German shepherd Jasmine hasn’t quite caught up with Walker, but it’s close–like maybe a new sofa and a trip to England amount on the good old Citibank card. What happened to her was so bizarre that I don’t think you can blame it on the breed. We will probably never know what caused the infection in her neck, and it wasn’t a sudden decision to commit to surgery or a course of treatment, it was one trip to the vet, another to the pet ER, then another to the vet, etc., etc. The good news is that after three months, even though she still has a couple of staples and still has a wrap around her neck and a soft e-collar, she’s almost completely healed. I sure wish we’d had pet insurance!


HALLIE EPHRON: I’ve never had a dog, and cats only briefly before being hospitalized with asthma and having to give those sweetie-pies up. But I get it. A pet is a commitment, a chore and a delight. Heck, we took our hamster to the vet when he came down with testicular cancer. Of course we did.



JULIA: Hallie, I'm trying SO hard not to laugh at the idea of hamster testicles...


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Oh, my darling cat Lola lived to be 20, and in her most senior years, she was often at the vet. She would NOT get into the cat carrier to go there, though. She would stick her legs straight out wide, stiff, like a cartoon cat, and refuse. The only way to get her to the vet was to put her on my shoulder where she;d ride like a parrot. Of course, I would have done anything for her, even at the end, where she was still fine, but frail, and would eat only fresh ground turkey or chopped up fresh shrimp. Fine with me, whatever she wanted.



As for giving Walker pills, Julia, good luck with that. Lola would gobble up whatever I gave her to try to hide her pills–lamb, tuna, chicken–then swallow dramatically, then daintily spit out the pill.



JULIA: I've bought some fancy pill pockets, Hank - we'll see how well they work.


JENN McKINLAY: Oof, I’ve had some pricey vet bills when the schnauzer had his cancerous toe removed and when one of our dogs went into kidney failure while we were traveling and we kept her on dialysis until we could get back (only because she wasn’t suffering and we returned within days). I’ve always had pets and I believe as their person our deal is that I take care of them to the best of my abilities and as long as their quality of life is at the forefront of every decision. Since I like my critters more than most people, paying for their care is a no-brainer. LOL.


LUCY BURDETTE: Agree with the others–paying exorbitant sums for medical care as needed is part of the deal when acquiring a pet. After we adopted Tonka the Aussie, who was “free” because his teeth were not show-dog quality, he tore his rotator cuff three weeks into our tenure. The breeder told us to bring him back, she’d exchange him for another dog. Can you imagine? After three weeks we were hopelessly in love. So we paid for the $3000 surgery and many other procedures over the year. Money well spent for the joy he brought!



JULIA: This reminds me of the Mastercard ads: Pet Food - $30, Pet Cataract Surgery - $3000, Having a best friend for life: Priceless. How do you feel about it, dear readers?

The Pet Family Circus

Looks innocent, doesn't she?

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: When Ross and I were starting out married life, one thing we agreed on was having kids. We had both experienced being folded into large, seven-member families, and we talked about shooting for four or five kids ourselves.

Dear readers, I'm here to tell you it was a mercy that never happened, because I'm living in a house with four dogs and two cats - no opposable thumbs to open doors, no diapers, no meal prep other than scooping out of a bag - and I am utterly overwhelmed. 

In part, it's because these animals have the kind of seemingly random personality types you used to see in those 1970s disaster movies. You know: there's the nun, and the conman, and the rich guy, and the concerned mother, etc.

 

The look of ennui. Or Prozac.

Janey, is, I guess, that grande dame - she'd be played by Gloria Swanson, who was actually in Airport '75, in case you were wondering. Once a high-spirited (aka prone to run away) bundle of nerves, age and a daily dose of Prozac has mellowed her out considerably. Like a lot of us older ladies, she's put on some weight: my daughter-in-law calls her Miss Chub-Chub.

 

Kingsley you've read about before, he's the senior of my 'boys.' He would definitely be Ernest Borgnine; the tough older guy who's used to being respected and listened to. He's still quite fit and active; he can race around the dog park (well, at least for one lap) and has no problem with getting all up into the face of upstart youngsters.

 

Their natural habitat: coats, bed and heater.

Which brings us to two-year-old Karma. Yes, she was named after the Taylor Swift song. Karma is a b----, get it? Karma has the sweet nature of a child who wants to be everyone's friend, inside fifty pounds of solid muscle. She would be portrayed by Andre the Giant, or perhaps Gwendoline Christie, if she could act like she has brain damage. 

 

My daughter-in-law has done her best, but Karma is, shall we say, underperforming on the 'obedience' tests. I have to block-check her with my body in order to bring in poor Rocky, who weighs twelve pounds and whom Karma really really wants to play with.

 

Rocky will be represented by Roddy McDowell. I don't think I need to say more than that.

 

Then there are the cats, both of whom are also intensely interesting to Karma. Neko (Elizabeth Taylor) hides away upstairs and hisses dramatically whenever any of the dogs comes close. Which they do, because Karma and Janey, perhaps feeling unsure sleeping over at Granny's house, follow me EVERYWHERE. Making my bed: they're there. Trying to feed the cats: Yep, there. Sitting on the toilet: oh, you know they're there. I'm trapped and can't get away. 

 

 

Walker, a/k/a the $15,000 kitty (Fred Astaire, natch) is a little bolder, daring to come downstairs and try to resume his usual spot overseeing my work at the laptop. However, I'm periodically interrupted as Karma notices him and chases him all over the place, insisting (in language perfectly understandable to another highly active 50 pound dog) Let's be friends! Let's play! Walker fled beneath the tablecloth and I accidentally stepped on his tail while making lunch. Sorry, old boy.

I'd tell you more, but it's time to round all the canines up and drive a half hour to a dog park so Karma can run around like mad for an hour, which will hopefully lower her energy level enough for all of us to make it through the rest of the day.

Dear readers, have you had adventures in pet sitting?

 

 

How Often Do You Go To the Groomers?

Kingsley before...

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Yesterday, my Shih Tzu Kingsley went to the groomers. One of the facts of life about having certain breeds is the standing date with the groomer, who will take in your pup looking like a Victorian street urchin and return him ready for the Westminster Kennel Club show.

 

Kingsley needs this service more often than Rocky, as the former seems determined to shed (no pun intended) the Shih Tzu's history of pampered imperial pet for something more akin to one of Jack London's wilderness dogs. Kingsley comes back from foraging around my three acres with a staggering amount of twigs, leaves, and most damnably, burrs embedded in his coat. This wouldn't be TOO awful if he, like Rocky, would sit obediently while I pick out everything (usually while cuddling on the sofa.) No, burr removal is an activity up with which Kingsley will not put! 

 

...and after.

Therefore, he needs more frequent grooming, and has a different result than his more biddable pal. Rocky runs out shiny and fluffed, neatly trimmed and very photogenic. Kingsley comes out shaved, like fresh meat entering maximum security. (I could also use the metaphor of a new recruit at boot camp, but Kingsley's personality is much more "commit crimes" than "serve country."

 

All this has me thinking about my own grooming, i.e., visiting the salon. Dear readers, will you be shocked when I tell you I can't recall the last time I went? My regular gal left the state during Covid, and I just started to... let it grow. I've trimmed off the ends myself a few times, but since I've gone with my natural color and I wear it up in a bun or a twist, I don't see the need. I admit, I do miss the luxury of leaning back and having someone else shampoo my hair, and I occasionally look at others' shiny, keratin-treated locks, but, eh. Not enough to fine someone new.

 

How often do you go to the groomers? 

Too bad hair salons don't give us theme bandanas.

Escape from March

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: This past week I was staying at my sister Barb’s house in the DC area. She and her husband are celebrating their 25th anniversary and a landmark birthday with a trip to Greece (which also doubles as a visit with their youngest son, a student at the University of Athens.) They have three, shall we say, unique dogs with unusual temperaments and needs, and they asked if I could dog- and house-sit while they were away.

I was happy to, because my sister is the bomb-diggity and it’s nice to be able to do something sweet for her. But also, like many folks residing in northern climes, I LOVE getting out of Maine in March.

March is the WORST month in the northeast, bar none. At this point, we are all just so damn tired of winter. So. Damn. Tired. Yes, temperatures are trending upward. (It hit 40F/5C yesterday, woo hoo!) Yes, the snow is melting, turning everything not covered in stone or asphalt into a mucky mire. No, I don’t have to leave the water trickling overnight like I did in January and February.

But it’s been  almost three months since Christmas. The excitement from seeing beautiful snow flakes falling has become an existential dread. The once-new woolly sweaters and boots feel like penitential garb. Sitting close to the woodstove has gone from cozy to claustrophobic.

Kingsley doesn't like March either

And as the snow slowly, slowly melts, the revealed landscape is all brown and gray - dirt scraped up from the road, dead grass, sodden trees. We still have two more weeks before the earliest colors - our ubiquitous forsythia. A good month before the daffodils and narcissus.

Meanwhile, in Alexandria, it’s in the fifties, and the sun is shining. The grass is greening, and the daffodils and visible in people’s gardens. The flowering trees and shrubs that make the DC area such a wonderland in spring aren’t in blossom yet, but the signs of life are everywhere. I wear sneakers while walking her (weird little) dogs. Sneakers! I haven’t worn anything except boots or slippers in four months. I go coatless on the morning walk - although admittedly, this is me being a Maine resident for most of my life. Everyone else I see walking their dogs has at least a windbreaker on.

So it’s been great getting away for week. Just that small taste of spring gives me the strength to carry on through mud season. How about you, dear readers? What’s the worst month where you live, and how to you power through it?

The Grateful Days of Winter

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: This is the start of the hardest part of winter. Christmas is well and truly past, the excited glow of setting new goals and planning for the upcoming year has dimmed (I see you, already skipping out on the gym) and most of the country is bone-achingly cold, covered in ice and snow, or on fire. The earliest southern gardens won't see new life for at least another month, while in the northern states, we've got three more months to get through before the forsythia blooms.

So whether you're huddled up against the cold and dark or fleeing fiery disaster,  this is an excellent time to cultivate gratitude. Studies have shown it improves your mental and physical well-being, and at the very least, it will keep you from annoying your loved ones with constant whining.

To kick up off, here are a few things I'm grateful for:

 

1970s disaster movies - I honestly can't explain this, except to say I want to watch something that's exciting and action packed, but that doesn't get my heart rate up. I tried watching Carry On, but seeing Justin Bateman be bad was just too distressing. You know what's the opposite of distressing? George Kennedy, who was in every disaster movie of the decade. The Towering Inferno, Earthquake, Airport - you know it's all going to be okay with manly men like Chuck Heston and Steve McQueen on the job. (Also, they're always paired with women obviously fifteen years younger - was that a 70s thing I missed?)

 

Yes, there are 2 dogs here. Look closely.

My Shih Tzus who don't need exercise - I love my dogs all year round, of course, but it's when the weather is crappy they really shine. I have friends and family with hearty, active breeds: standard poodles and pit bull mixes and terriers. Rain, snow or impending fire tornado (have we had one of those yet?) those doggos need to move. My boys? Oh, heck, no. They were bred to sit on the emperors lap. It was probably an honor for a courtier to carry their ancestors out to do their business. Rocky and Kingsley run outside, pick their paws up in a way that clearly indicates their disgust with snow, and run back in as soon as mission accomplished. They spend the rest of the day lazing 1) in front of the wood stove or 2) by the space heater.

Not having to go anywhere - See Shih Tzus, above. I know this is the time of year lots of people start pouring over the internet version of travel brochures (an I the only one who misses those?) but not me. I don't want to get on a boat or a plane. I don't even want to go to the Hanneford for groceries, and that's only three miles away. I am in my house like a Hobbit in its hole and I like it.

 

Shea butter moisturizer - As soon as my forced hot air heat kicks in, my skin becomes dryer than Arrakis. In fact, I could use an opposite stillsuit, that wrings every drop of moisture out of the air and, I don't know, circulates it all over my body. Until some smart kid invents that, large tubs of shea butter are my best friends. I slather it on until I slide out of bed every time I roll over. Sadly, I have yet to figure out how to moisturize my back below the neck and above the waist - you know, that part where you yell, "Honey, come get my back for me!"

 

Cat recovering - Have I mentioned my daughter's cat before? When Virginia departed for grad school in The Hague, she left her kitty with me, after a heartfelt speech about how much she loved the animal, and how vital it was to her mental health, and how it would be the pet her small children would remember someday. So naturally, after this foreboding start, the cat escaped from my house and got hit by a car. Now, if it had been my 14 year old Neko (who's smart enough not to run into the road) I would have cradled her gently while the vet eased her into the next world.

But I can't do that with Virginia's two-year-old wonder kitty, can I ? So after approximately $570,000,000,000 (okay, not that much, but it has been enough to buy a mid-range used car) AND spending the past 15 weeks living in a large dog crate on a table next to my desk (have to keep the cat company, or he yowls) I'm happy to say Walker the Bionic Cat is doing much better. His surgeon thinks he'll be able to travel to the Netherlands with Virginia in early February, and if he leaps off her balcony into the canal below, it'll be her look-out, not mine.

 

 

 

 

Now it's your turn, Dear Readers. What are you grateful for in these dark days of winter?

Bonus Shih Tzu and cat jail content

Fourth of July Favorites

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I was thinking of writing something , you know, star-spangled and patriotic, but in the run-up to this holiday ( a four day weekend for some!)  I found myself dwelling happily on all the things I just plain love about American's celebration of their national holiday. So, of course, that means... a list!

1. BBQ. Whether it's southern pork slathered in sauce, or Latin American slow-roasted and thinly shaved meats, or good old hot dogs and hamburgers, I adore a good barbecue. Make a side, bring a six pack, and show up at your friend's house for a whole day of sun and fun.

2. Naturalization ceremonies. What better way to honor the founding of our country than adding new citizens? Am I crying? No, that's just the chopped onion for the hot dogs.

 

3. Themed desserts. The more red-white-and-blue, the better. Thank heavens some of summer's favorite fruits are reliably red strawberries and watermelon. Also, grateful that the Founders went with those colors. Can you imagine coming up with sweets if we had gone with, say, the colors of one of our Revolutionary allies, Spain? Try making an appealing shortbread out of red and yellow.

4. Dogs wearing patriotic gear. SO CUTE. Just make sure to get them into the quietest place in the house before the fireworks start going off. Poor babies.

6. Houses flying the American flag and bunting. This really looks good in New England, where so  much of our housing stock is pre-twentieth century. A dear friend of mine sent me a pole, bracket and flag for my birthday this year, and I'm ridiculously excited about installing it tomorrow.

7. Small town parades. Honestly, any and all Fourth of July parades, but the home town ones - with the high school marching band, and the kids on their decorated bikes, and the fire department driving its antique hose truck - those are the best. Have I told you I won the decorated bike award at the Argyle parade in 1973? 

8. The high-brow music. Many cities, Portland among them, have free outdoor symphony concerts on the Fourth. They play the usual marches, the military service hymns, and the 1812 Overture (which has nothing to do with America but is GREAT for fireworks. They also play new and interesting works by American composers, and classical pieces the audience might not otherwise hear. 

 

9. The low-brow music. I have SO many problems with it politically, but when someone puts on Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red White and Blue" and cranks it up I am right there singing along. I mean, how can anyone resist a line like, "We'll put a boot in yer ass, it's the American way?"

 

10. INDEPENDENCE DAY, the Roland Emmerich movie. A family tradition (I watched it yesterday with the Maine Millennial and her new beau) that never pales. The evil aliens. The stirring presidential speech. The redemption of the drunken dad. And, of course, Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith at their sexiest. It's the American melting pot at its finest.

How about you, dear readers? What are the things you like about our own Independence Day? And for our Canadian friends, what do you usually like to do when you celebrate Canada Day on July 1st? (I know some celebrations have been cancelled this year due to the fires.)

 

 

Images by Rudy and Peter Skitterians, Jill Wellington on Pixabay, Samantha Jean,  Thomas Park at Unsplash, manseok Kimon Pixabay

Pets on Parade!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: The Pet Parade started in 2014 when, desperate for something to write about, I pasted up pictures of the animals in my household, then numbering two dogs and two cats. It was one of the best performing posts of that year, which gave me a hint about the relationship between JRW readers and their furry friends. So we did it again in 2016, this time with the back bloggers chiming in with their pets. Then in April of 2020, when we were all locked away at home, washing groceries and compulsively reading the CDC Covid statistics, we had the Parade of Pandemic Pet Pals, which gave us all something to smile about. For most of us, this is a much better spring that that was, so what better way to celebrate than with *sound of trumpets* Pets on Parade!

 

Maury Mechanick: This is a followup to the pet parade back in 2020.  I had sent a photo of Teddy Roosevelt Ruff Rider, our precious golden retriever, who among other attributes, had actually met Peter Abrahams/Spencer Quinn in person, and was a big fan of the Chet & Bernie series (including being an active poster on the Chet the Dog blog).

Unfortunately, only a few months later, the time came for Teddy to cross the rainbow bridge, and we lost our most precious boy. But out of loss comes renewal, and about seven months later, young Franklin Delano (notice a theme relative to naming) entered our lives.  Franklin Delano is actually Teddy’s half brother (from same breeder, shared father but obviously a different mom, given the eight year gap) and if I would describe Franklin in a single sentence, it would be that when they passed out personality in the puppy line, he clearly went back for seconds and thirds.  He also is a big fan of Chet the Jet, although he not yet had the chance to meet Peter in person (although if we can get Peter to attend an upcoming Malice, that will definitely be arranged) and Franklin, under the rubric of WTAFP (which refers to Wookie, Teddy and Franklin’s Paw or me) continues to be an active participant/poster on the Chet the Dog blog.
 

The first picture is a very young Franklin a few days after we got him.  The second is Franklin watching the 2022 Westminster Dog Show, and the last was taken last October in Vermont, near Quechee.
  

Mary Garrett: More of a houseguest, Prince the Eastern Grey Tree Frog appeared my first winter in this house and spent the winter, singing for his supper of one small cricket every other day, on advice of a MO Conservation Agent.  On the Agent's orders, I took Prince outside in the spring, to choose safety and room service or freedom and other frogs.  An amazing leap to a tree was the answer.   ;-)

 Judi Purcell: Rosie, Rowdy and Sunny.

 Flora Church: Sharing Jimmy (Crackhead), our orange tiger male and youngest of the lot with his sister Missy. PK, the oldest female who doesn't like any of the other cats but has the prettiest green eyes and the greatest purr. Munch our longhaired male, aka Mr. Handsome, and Missy the gray shadow, prissy, spoiled rotten, and talkative. And Nemo, the boys' childhood companion, now elderly and wishing there were no cats in the household. 

Leslie Kurtz: Echo and Freckles

Pat D.: Jack the Wonderdog, AKA, Jackyouasshole

 Mary Cunningham:

After losing our beloved rescue, Lucy, last summer, we decided the best way to honor her memory was to adopt another rescue. 

We recently brought Murphy, a Bischon/Shihpoo into our home. He's supposed to be an adult, but he has a lot of puppy in him; keeping these two senior citizens hopping! 

As luck would have it, two days after we got Murphy, hubs and I both got sick with a cold/virus. Can you imagine providing structure to a new furry kid who is trying to figure out where he is and how he fits in? It's been a challenge, but we are so glad he's here providing joy, companionship, and lots of mischief!  

 

 

 Liz Milliron's always fabulous Koda, smiling:

 

 Mary Robert: The mostly white puppy is Jellybean. She is not yet a year old. She likes to up the yard and play in the mud. Molly is the black and white dog. 5 years old. She is supposed to be a chiweenie (chihuahua and dachshund) but she is an overachiever in the growth department as well! 

They are a handful but they are sweet!

 

 Jeanie Brandt: S'More enjoys his walks. Lots of good smells in those leaves!

 

 Gilian Butler: My one-of-a-kind, sweet and loving Marley (died in 2018). She was the best!

Margaret Turkevich: Jazz (pink harness) and Louie (blue harness) sniffing the daffodils.

 

 Martin, in Edith Maxwell/ Maddie Day's office window:

 Annette Dashofy's Kensi Kitty:

 

 

 And last, but certainly not least, Kathy Reel's Lulu!

And a happy addition from Lynda Bowlin: Keith, Bob, Taj, Spenser (JULIA: Named after the poet? Or the detective?) and Maren.  

 

 

 

 

 

JULIA: We'd love to hear your shaggy dog (and cat) stories in the comments, dear readers!

 

Cartoon by See Bang, from Comic4Squares.com