[Dailydrool] Heart dog(s) and Foxy's Ferocious Itch Update (fingers crossed)

[lea pierce]

I've been on the road and able to just skim the Drool, so I hope that I'm
contributing and not out of my mind that we're sharing about heart dogs...

On that subject: I've had 2, one for over 15 years and one for 2 months. My
"beller-boy" Oskar The Loud & Swaggering (beagle) raised me from the time
he was 8 weeks old. I got him at a puppy store in Chicago (read: store that
fronted for puppy mills; I didn't know anything about anything then).

Oskar turned out to be a terrific dog, although my attempt to train him (a
beagle) at a dog training "school" run by two champion German Shephard
Schutzhund (sp?) Neo-Attilla-The-Hun women was a hot mess. You could tell
they just HATED hounds of any stripe. (Oskar was literally scared
sh***less; I'd sucessfully toilet him before going in to the training and
he would lose it--in big piles--the minute he got inside the room.

I had no clue that an 8 month old beagle could hold that much... anything.
I think he stored up his kibble for a week. Going to class was better than
Beagle Metamucil.

Oskar and I mutually agreed to Give Up after lesson/dump #3. The
Neo-Atillas were so happy we quit, I think I could have asked for and
gotten a refund had I thought of it... Oskar and I just slunk off in our
unruly, undisciplined, houndy way. (My ultimate take-away was that all I
had to do was "raise" a sweet dog I liked; to heck with anyone else's
standards.)

Then there's the story of Oskar trying quite ernestly to "connect" with a
girl dog one Sunday while we were walking along Lake Michigan when he was 9
months old. He knew there was opportunity in the air, but all he could
figure out to do was hump her face. (The owner confirmed the bitch was in
heat.)

I was mortified and scared silly at the thought of being an unplanned
Grand-hound. Marched Oskar to the vet the VERY NEXT DAY.

He was also an absolute Triple-Gold Doglympic Champion when it came to
finding the most disgusting dead stuff to roll in--always when I did not
have any way of cleaning him up. Not a towel. Not a kleenex. Not a bottle
of water (or coke, or beer, or wine or Jack Daniels for any darned thing).
Ugh!!! I think the worst was when he found dead Abalone to roll in on the
Pacific shore. I drove home 45 minutes with every window open, close to
retching, cleaned the car out the next day, and it still stank for a week.

Oskar had a big old hound grin when he came loping up to me on the beach
and was genuinely distressed after I gave him a skunk bath. He looooooved
his custom hound cologne. At the time, I had another beagle--Trixie, a
rescue, who had the personality and temperment of a chain-smoking truck
stop waitress with a bad back, flat feet and a deadbeat husband--she
actually hilarious. One of the few times I saw her completely, deliriously,
happy was when she joined Oskar in the abalone role. OhMyDog, I didn't know
a brace o beagles could smell that bad. (Trixie got surly again after her
skunk bath. She actually did have a bad back. Her idiot first family threw
her out after she got out--they left the garden gate open IN CHICAGO--and
Trixie was hit by a car. Her family blamed her and dumped her. Great
people. We've all met 'em. Trixie inspired a friend of mine to give me a
sign that reads "BEWARE: STRANGE DOG" It is still by my doorbell, and I
think quite effective at keeping the unwanted at bay. Everyone else knows
that the Strange Dog is now on my mantle, in a box, having left for the
Bridge in 2008 after her Cushings Disease got to the point where a one-way
ticket to the Big Basset Buffet was a welcome trip.)

Anyway. Oskar was an incredible companion until he died in my arms at the
ripe old age of 15 years, 6 months. A great run. His final gift to me was
dying in my arms, because I didn't have to put him down. I've put dogs
down, and have always known it was the right decision--but it is hateful,
hateful. Oskar had a heart attack, let out 3 soft, wierd howls so I could
find him in the back yard; 20 minutes later he slipped the leash of this
life and sauntered over the Bridge. His first, last, and forever stop is at
the Buffet. That dog was a champion food thief (although never
aggressive--just an opportunist and a slinky weasel).

My second heart dog was Sir Parzifal, my Grail Knight Basset, my first
basset. He only had me 2 months before he was called home to the Bridge,
but what a clown, what a character, what a gift from DoG. He gave me back
hope & laughter.

They give us so much, these wonderful dwarf beasties! (When called upon to,
uh, YELL at Foxy, I do remind her often that she is Vertically Challenged.
She pays notIa bit of attention, nope; she knows she is perfect just as she
is. I never yell at Claire The Trembling; it just would not be right.)

Foxy update: thanks to a lot of great advice and follow up from Droolers,
Foxy is doing a lot better. It has been constant effort and worry since
January, which those with allergic hounds (and ill hounds) know all about.
Lady Foxy was switched to Royal Canin ultra hypo-allergenic whatever it's
called (blue bag) food about 5-6 weeks ago; I'm not sure the food is the
key, but I think it has helped. I was also able to finally figure out that
grasses make her react, and maybe dust. I'm still figuring out the dust
thing.

Anyway, Foxy looks like an all-new hound; fur everywhere, glossy and thick.
She's not digging at herself constantly, or even very much. We do have her
on daily hydroxazine, which Droolers/Vet tells me is in the Benedryl class.
But right now, special food and Hydroxazine and being wiped down everytime
she comes in from outside seems to be doing the trick.

Thanks to everyone who gave advice and helped me to understand what to look
for. And thanks, too, to Golden Gate Basset Rescue (esp. Gloria
Tannehill-Carlson) for giving me the blessing of Foxy as Foster, good
medical care and all the support it takes to help with a chronic condition.
The Lady Foxy is cutting quite the figure on the decks of HMS Santa Rosa
these days! Sure do love this little hound (who has picked up poundage and
is perfect weight now... and not day-glo red anymore!)

Lt. Lea
Dogrobber & Houndservant,
Hound Medic and nascent Canine Allergy Specialist

PS Buckets of drool to down-in-the-rear hounds... to hounds that suffer...
to those who have bid hounds & humans farewell recently. We shall look for
their bright, shining spirits when our Tour of Duty is over.
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