The Little Pack

This morning started the same as any other other day. I trudged into the kitchen and cursed the fact that I forgot to make coffee last night, started cooking my breakfast and then stole a few extra minutes of shut-eye on the couch. While I was eating breakfast, my husband took the dogs out. When he came inside, he said that something was wrong with Dixie. She was laying down, trembling, and whimpering. She did not want to walk at all, and she was clearly in pain. I looked at the clock-6:30AM. An hour and a half before I could bring her to our own vet. She was in too much pain to wait it out. So my husband and I both called into work and took her to the emergency vet. After a shot of morphine and 2 xrays later, and way more money than I care to recall, we saw a very large stone in her bladder. By now the regular vet was open, and we took Dixie and the xrays there. The stone was very large, even if it was somehow missed the first time around in October. She had surgery today and did fine. The good news is that her bladder didn’t rupture. However, going forward, I’m not sure what the future holds. She had surgery in October, was cathetarized in January and 2 weeks away from her 8 week follow-up this happened. She is on Science Diet U/D which for her stone type is supposed to be the best thing for her. We were told absolutely, positively nothing but this food and water.  We are pretty good about it now, although she does steal the others’ food when she can and we occasionally let her lick the plate or give her a tiny treat. These are all strictly forbidden now. I pick her up tomorrow and we will take one day at a time.

We went out for a little while tonight. Jack hadn’t finished his dinner–shocking, I know–so we picked it up and left it on the dining room table. Big mistake. We came home to a chair pulled away from the table and half chewed dog food spit all over the table. Which means:

1. One of the dogs is capable of pulling out the chair.
2. Which means one of the dogs is smart enough to use said chair to climb up on the table.
3. Which means one of the dogs was on top of the table. Eating.
4. One dog in particular spits half chewed pieces of dog food around her bowl while eating.
5. That dog, unsurprising, is Cheyenne.

So we think that she was on top of the table eating and watching out the window and when we came home, she quick spit it all out and came to greet us. Sigh… will she ever cease to amaze us?

Don’t tell the others, but these two may be the sweetest of the bunch.

And, yes, Archie really is that big.

When Cheyenne was little, I would get up early and take her for a walk before work. One spring morning before leaving the yard, she very intently sniffed the ground in a particular spot repeatedly. Before I could think this was strange, she scooped up a baby bird in her mouth. The baby was so young that it still had downy feathers. Seemingly out of nowhere, her parents appeared, squawking and flapping their wings. Meanwhile, I completely stressed out, asking her to drop it, drop it, for Pete’s sake Cheyenne please drop that thing and not so silently pleading with God to please let the baby bird live. Have I mentioned I am not a morning person? It’s 5 in the morning, I haven’t had any coffee, I can barely comprehend what is happening and now there is a newborn animal in peril because of my dog. Perfect. Of course, the baby bird has a sibling and of course Cheyenne notices that one too. She finally drops the bird which is still moving and we go on our way. The entire way I pray that the little bird lives. I hope to wear her out enough to forget about the baby birds. She doesn’t. I am pretty sure that there is no adventure in the world exciting enough to make Cheyenne forget about something this special.

On the way back, I keep her on a ridiculously short leash past the baby birds all the way to the door. For the next week, we supervise her every step, but she does manage to get the bird one more time. My husband chases her around the yard and the poor thing ends up clear across the yard from where it began. We go out to check on it a few times and somehow, it survives. We wait several more days to let her in the yard off leash and sure enough, when we do, we hear the tell tale signs of squalling birds and high pitched, desperate chirps. I run to the window and see a literal flock of birds dive-bombing and attacking her. Panicked, I run outside–how much can the poor little thing’s heart take?? However, this time there is no baby bird. The other birds have remembered that Cheyenne represents danger and have decided to retaliate. She looks slightly bewildered at all the ruckus and I simultaneously laugh and feel satisified that she is getting what she deserves.

It all began with Cheyenne:

And was soon followed by IO:

Dixie followed suit:

Most surprising of all was Jack:

Slowly, but surely, they are breaking in each cushion on each piece of furniture. It amazes me the way they emulate each other. Sometimes they will be really shy to try something new, especially in the case of Jack. As comfortable as he was, he hadn’t quite relaxed. They make me laugh every day.