Bath Boy

Trooper, a week late on his bath.

All bundled up now and getting warm. What a fuzz ball. d xo

Lost Dog, Found Dog: 3 Weeks In

I have a dog...another dog, a second dog. I have TWO DOGS.

Sometimes, I still can't believe he is a dog, but it's been three weeks and so much has happened since that very dark, cold night on December 6th. If you haven't heard, while out walking Zephyr, I found this animal scurrying down a leafy gutter.

I took this photo (above) the day after I found "the lost dog" states the .jpg title on this photo. He was headed for the pound--says me. Uh-huh, sure.

This is "the little guy" (above) one week later...

I was just "fostering him" and (below) keeping up with Zephyr through the leaves. Zephyr's been a great sport about this fostering business, because it's not forever, right?

And two weeks later...coming back from mom's in the foothills, stopping to get apple pie and take a walk in the orchard at Machados, my favorite road stop.

Going for broke in the orchard. The little guy was getting healthier and a lot faster. Now, dad calls him Zippy, but I still haven't found a name.

And by week two and a half, I was the only one who wasn't clear where little guy was living for good. Below, showing off his "night-walking jacket". Seriously, I wish it glowed and had blinkers.

This is the dog the vet dubbed "aggressive and unadoptable" making quick friends with a big shepherd at the dog park. We later learn little guy is completely deaf.

Zephyr, bless his patient heart, has put up with little guy even when he wants to run and hide from him.

Eventually, I gave in.

Zephyr is giving in.

Even my parents, friends and neighbors have given in. ;-)

And what an adventure one turn of the night has taken us: Little guy has been to FOUR vets, has been medicated, diagnosed, poked, prodded, washed more times in three weeks than Zephyr has in the last year. He's visited two pet stores, has two coats, rides in the jeep, in the basket, out of the basket, in my arms. He's been in Starbucks--and kicked out of Starbucks (nicely) and has been warmly welcomed in by family at Christmas, even when he peed on the floor, a few times.

Week three...23 days later, this is our family.

And, although we have tried out dozens of names--Possum, Scout, Rusty, RuDolpho, Ugg--what my step-father calls him, Zippy--what my dad calls him, Gutter--what the guy at the SPCA named him,  Butterscotch, Domino, my nieces great finds, I have FINALLY come up with a name that is sticky: Trooper.

Trooper is what my dad called me when I was a kid, if I helped stack the wood, shovel the deck, kept up on a hike. It's what little guy does every day to keep up with Zephyr.

I will continue to call him little guy, but now, instead of "lost dog" on the vet papers, it will state clearly, Trooper.

d, xo

Little Guy: Dental, Earaches & Hope

So, I find this little dog and my whole life gets flipped for a loop--Zephyr's too, poor guy--but that's how life works. It's okay--or, it will be okay, or it is depending on how I look at it--the glass is half empty or half full. And people have been SO GENEROUS. I'm floored by it all, but not used to the flurry, commotion, attention, distraction, the whole EVENT of it all, I just haven't caught my breath yet.



Last night, at 3am, Zephyr and I were startled awake by little guy yowling from his box. I ran downstairs to find him all agitated. I took him outside, not much help. He was all in a dither, scratching his ears and wobbling.

I took him back to the vet today, way out in the burbs--the vet I was going to specifically for a dental overhaul CONSULTATION. Alas, 30 minutes later we had a mass ear infection diagnosis plus an extensive dental layout. We walked out with a boat load of meds: TrizUltra + Keto: ear cleaning fluid, Mometamax: a steroid, I think, Biomax: an antibiotic and Tramadol for pain. Ka-ching: $140. There goes Christmas.

 Plus, the dental estimate which ranges from an absolutely easy-peasy surgery at $195 to the most extensive teeth extractions, neuter and prolonged anesthesia at a conservative $473. Please lord, pass the wine...

As the honeymoon of finding little guy wears down and the cost goes up, I am settling into my former panic--bills, bills, bills, rent, and, oh, Christmas. My niece is the only one receiving this year and I feel shitty about that. I'm having a bad-grown up moment. Then I think of my niece and how she'd give up a present for little guy because she adores him, even though she's only met him once so far.

I have to remember--over, over and over--that the universe has been incredibly generous. Strangers have donated money, kind wishes, encouragement, direction, dog treats and good comfort. I look in the mirror, again and again, repeat with shaky will: I AM BLESSED.

d, xo

Big Day, Big Hearts, Big Dog Park

We had a big day. Little guy was wheezing and scratching his ears. It was time to go to the SPCA and see what help they could give us.

There, we met Bobby (cute young guy with floppy bangs who was very sweet and helpful).  He named little guy, Gutter--since that's were I found him--but no. I'm not naming him Gutter. Bobby took little guy to see the vet and get some more info. on his conditions:

1) His eye is not a cataract but something called "nuclear sclerosis" similar, but not the same.

2) His teeth are bad but not so awful there's no repair bad, she believes.

3) Little guy definitely needs to be neutered, but also they don't want to do it, because of his age, he needs blood work done before hand for his own safety. Good to know.

Bobby got on the Internet and the phone--while little guy peed on his floor. Oops, again--and we may have a vet who can do the neuter and teeth for a lot less--still potentially expensive, but we will see. At least there is hope. :-)

Oh, and this: while we were standing there, a man came in to make a charitable donation. He asked about little guy? I told him, we chatted, he went back to give his donation. On his way out, he stopped handed me  a TWENTY DOLLAR BILL. Merry Christmas, he said, and walked out. All I know is his name is Greg and he gets enormous generosity karma points and wings. :-)

After the SPCA visit, we needed some park time. The dogs meet another big guy and sniffed over something together.

This place is amazing, out behind the courthouse in an industrial area. You'd never know it was here unless you had a dog. Big dog side on the left; little dog side on the right. :-)

Shot from the same spot, a great skate park on the other! What a cool place! Off Power Inn Road in Sacramento).

What a day.

d, xo

Saturday, Sunshine, River

We've had the most incredible weather this December. Grand blue skies, slightly chilly, sweater weather. Eventually, it will surely rain, but for now Mother Nature practically demands we go to the river.



The guys waiting for me to get it all together.

Just starting out on the dunes. Little guy got a new bright orange jacket just for these wide open range occasions. Easier for me to spot and, hopefully, less likely to look a rodent, or hawk/coyote dinner.

 The only time he stands still is when he's peeing.

 Purveying the river. Happy dogs.



Becoming friendlier.



  The nearly impossible to pull off, family photo.

Back at the car; nap time.

We spent the whole afternoon wandering up the dunes, down along the water. Zephyr swam, little guy tip-toed through the sand. We tromped up the levy and down the trails. It was absolutely beautiful.

d, xo

Dog Days

I think this pretty much sums up where we are with the lost dog, er, found dog. Sometimes the universe dishes it out and you just have to give in. 

Merry Christmas from the pack of 2 & 1/4.

Debra, Zephyr & little guy.

Park Morning, Found Dog, Day 7

Our daily ritual, plus one.

It's a bit more, walking two dogs--one small, one large. It's like adding a toddler to the quiet loping of two. Little guy is here, there, everywhere. He isn't impossible, just more.

We had his vet visit today, which was a lot more--more news, more worry, more expense. Little guy has a cataract, terribly bad teeth, bad skin. He's much older than originally declared, 8 to 10, perhaps more. He was declared "aggressive" after nearly biting the techs, and therefore unadoptable, leaving me sour and less hopeful.

The vet today (new to me) is very analytical, no bedside manner. She could have been talking about a car engine, not a dog. "The dog is lucky, at this point." Less hope, less hope...

My father, who I rely upon for pick-me-up fluffing, was rather dismissive, time to move on, enough of this distraction, you gave it your best, now enough is enough. (He didn't actually say these things, but his implications were loud and clear.) I prevented my mother from taking the same route. I may disconnect my phone, because really, WHY do I have to decide anything?

You know that old writing adage, "You may only be able to see as far as the glow of your headlights, but you can make the whole journey that way"? Well, that's how I feel about this. I am not going to MAKE a decision. Something will happen. I may find him a loving owner. I may keep him, the world may collapse, etc, etc. butwe can do it, live it, one day at a time. That's all I've ever got in me anyway.

I took Zephyr out on a big dog walk after it all. We went out kicked leaves in the dark, tromped under the stars, through the park, followed the glow of the tennis court lights and just were.



Back home, right now, all dogs are fed and presently sleeping. Zephyr is upstairs on my bed. Little guy is downstairs on Zephyr's bed. All. Is. Well.

This morning in the park.

Zephyr finds a stick.

Little guy in his new coat with a collar. The stitching is in dog bones. It's very dapper.

d, xo

P.S. I'm changing his hash tag from #lostdog to #founddog because, really. ;-)