All Our Children Meow and Woof

WE HAVE A WINNER

2008-12-02T10:13:00.003-05:00

After using the random number generator to pick the winner, Rudy is pleased to announce that we have a winner to the little contest we had a few weeks back! Drum roll please:

Sunny, Scooter and Jamie!

We will be sending you an email to get your mailing information.

Congratulations!

Review: Cesar Milan - Mastering Leadership (and a contest!)

2008-11-15T16:33:00.006-05:00

About a month or so ago, I was asked to do a review of Cesar Milan's latest DVD series: Mastering Leadership. First I must say that I might be the human person in the U.S. who has never seen his show. I knew some basics about him and knew several dog owners who were huge fans of his but me? I entered into this review completely blind.

As you might know, The Prof and I adopted Rudy, an Irish Wolfhound mix, in October. We spent the last eight years with an amazing, well-behaved, beautiful Irish Wolfhound. He exemplified good manners nearly all of the time. We brought him to "puppy preschool" and obedience early on. Having worked in a veterinary hospital for nearly three years, I realized from the start that I wanted a well-behaved dog, especially a dog that would grow to nearly 40 inches at the shoulder and 175 pounds. Finnegan spoiled us because he was a calm submissive dog. He would have rather lounged in the living room than played in the backyard.

Rudy is an entirely different story. I visited him several times at the shelter. He showed excitement when he saw me but did not appear to be out of control or aggressive. After The Prof met him, we decided to take him home. Had I watched the DVD before bringing Rudy home, I would have followed Cesar's directions on how to bring home a new dog. And hopefully, Cesar, I hope you don't mind I call you by your first name.

Mastering Leadership is divided into three volumes: People Training for Dogs, Becoming a Pack Leader, and Your New Dog: The First Day and Beyond. Each volume taught a different skill and used various examples to demonstrate a point; however, Cesar kept a common thread or theme throughout each of the DVDs: calm assertiveness.

In People Training for Dogs, Cesar led a seminar in front of a small audience. Initially, it had a Dr. Phil feel to me. And sadly, that is not a compliment. However, the format fit the purpose of this class: reeducating dog owners about what dogs are, how they act, and what we as humans can do to establish a pack. He broke down dogs into four groups: species, dogs, breeds, and names. He explained the importance the each group while emphasizing that dogs are basically dogs. They have a pack mentality, they follow a leader, and most importantly, the humans better be the leader of their dog. Cesar described the "psychology" of a dog and how a dog owner should behave in order to get the result that they want. The point to take home was this: the human must exert calm assertiveness. And boy, can Cesar exert calm assertiveness.

Initially, I thought that this was a bunch of phooey and in no way could my "calm assertiveness" get the Rudemeister under control. Did I mention that Rudy is likely part Tasmanian Devil? No? From the get go, he felt so excited every time he saw us, even if only five minutes went by, that he wanted to jump on us. And being nearly seven months pregnant, I cannot have a 65 pound dog jump on me. So I decided to use Cesar's advice. After all, he had clips showing him with a pack of rather large and somewhat rough looking dogs without him or anyone else being mauled.

Calmly and of course, assertively, I went over to Rudy's kennel to let him out. I kept quiet and managed to stand tall while bending over to grasp Rudy's collar. I made sure that I walked slightly in front and at the door, easily got him to sit before letting him out. Guess what? This worked! At least that time it worked. The next goal for me was to go out on the deck and throw his Frisbee without the whole jumping routine because in Rudy's mind: HI! HI! HI! I MUST JUMP! I MUST JUMP! I stood in front of the sliding glass door and singled Rudy to sit. After he stayed seated, I joined him on the deck where I continued to hold my hand in way to indicate: Rudy if you continue to sit I'll be your BFF (okay not really). He sat but almost shook uncontrollably. Finally, on my terms, I let him get up and began the Frisbee throwing process. Again, this calm assertiveness, or as I liked to call it, The Jedi Mind Trick, worked. I felt pretty proud until I let my guard down and WHAM! Rudy tried to jump on me. Did I forget to mention Cesar emphasized consistency?

Cesar and I started out well. He taught me the basic skills I needed to work with a dog I felt I lacked control over. Each time I interacted with Rudy I had to remind myself to be calm and assertive and ALWAYS do it. It is easier said than done but at least I knew it had the potential to work. I moved on to the next volume, Becoming a Pack Leader. This time The Prof watched the whole DVD with me. Rather than speak to a seated group, Cesar met with three individuals and his or her dog. Each interaction demonstrated a behavioral problem and how becoming a pack leader and maintaining calm assertiveness could benefit both human and dog.

In his first interaction, Cesar met a family with a German Shepherd. When I saw this dog, I thought, okay good, Rudy is not anywhere nearly that crazy! This dog was a little on the psycho side for my taste and the owners clearly had no control over him. Over the course of his lessons, he taught a dog to go from completely wacky to well-mannered. Initially, the dog seemed to not listen to anyone and felt ripping a house guest apart would be an awesome idea. The skills that Cesar taught were simple: calm assertiveness, exercise as a release for the dog and a way to gain control, and consistency. Of course, the owners did not pick up on everything right away but shortly, they began to grasp the basic concepts and not only could you see a change in the family but definitely in the dog.

Next, a Wheaton Terrier or something like that, felt the need for speed. Or at least she felt the need to promptly exit the premises whenever the front door opened and gallivant throughout the neighborhood. I know I should laugh at other's misfortunate but this dog cracked me up. It was if she had to sow her wild oats. Free at last! Wheeeee!!! Okay, so that was not the point of this segment. Again, Cesar demonstrated how calm assertiveness, boundaries, and consistency could tame this wild dame.

Finally, Cesar found a Jack Russell Terrier who was a nightmare on a leash. It seemed his goal in life was to destroy the enemy. And the enemy was everywhere, man. The owner, a pretty laid back young woman who obviously loved her dog, would react how probably many of us would react when our small dog went ballistic, she picked him up to reassure him. Any guesses if this is the correct method for control? If you said yes, you are so very very wrong. Again, the key is calm assertiveness, confidence, and consistency. And not picking up your cute little dog every time he wants to rip apart that yippy little Pomeranian behind the fence.

During each segment, Cesar met with the family and the dog. He assessed the situation and began by explaining what was happening. He demonstrated his methods and of course, made it all look really easy. Then, he worked with the family to implement those tools. What I liked is that it was not as if the family got it right away and everyone lived happily ever after. Instead, each person had his or her hang ups and weaknesses which needed to be overcome. However, Cesar patiently worked with the person and finally, the concepts were implemented fairly successfully. Even though the situation might not match yours or mine, the skills can be applied to different scenarios.

Again, I decided to try his techniques but this time with The Prof's help. Although Rudy does not try to kill people, run off, or act like a spaz around other dogs, he is pretty difficult on a leash. He wants to PULL so much that even The Prof feels like his shoulder could be dislocated. As per Cesar's instructions, we placed the collar higher on his neck for better control. Still, Rudy wanted to PULL and ended up gagging and choking. Next, we tried the old method of putting the leash around our back for leverage. That sort of worked but he still pulled. In order to show how calmly assertive we were, we had Rudy sit at each corner before we crossed the street. He sat but he still tried to take off when we walked forward. Cesar, care to visit us in Northwestern Pennsylvania? Oh yeah, he chases our cats too. It could be a two for one! The key is that we need to continue to work, work, and work some more with him and be consistent. At the very least, Cesar, my new buddy, gave us some important tools.

Finally the last volume, Your New Dog: The First Day and Beyond, taught potential dog owners who to adopt a dog from a shelter, a rescue group and a reputable breeder. I appreciated his emphasis on trying to adopt from a shelter when possible and to us the Humane Society of the United States as a resource for finding a reputable breeder. I respected him even more for saying that.

Cesar met with three different individuals and interviewed them about the type of dog they wanted. The first woman lived by herself in a condominium and had an active lifestyle. Due to her living situation, she required a very small dog. Cesar and the woman headed to the local shelter and looked at various dogs in her size range. He taught her how to approach a dog and what to look for. In every circumstance with each potential owner, he emphasized finding a submissive dog and one which would not require rehabilitation. After observing the dogs, he pulled out three and had them interact with each other so they could figure out how the dogs acted in a pack. Once he determined what role each played, he was able to help the woman select a dog which would be right for this woman. Sadly, the adopted dog was not the same that the woman and I thought she would pick out. But it turned out that the dog we liked was a little land shark. Go figure.

Once they determined this little dog was the one, Cesar suggested taking the dog for a walk at the shelter before bringing him home. He explained the steps for properly bringing a dog into a new home. Besides picking out the dog, he talked about what to expect next when the dog is in the house including where the dog stays in the house and generally proper behavior.

Next, Cesar met with a groovy couple who already had two large dogs and a cat. The woman decided she wanted a Bassett Hound but the hound would need to get along with her giant dogs and her fairly chill cat. Cesar suggested bringing the two dogs to a rescue shelter for Bassett Hounds so that all the dogs could meet and live happily ever after. Amen. Little did I know that there are about a bazillion unwanted Bassett Hounds. I have never seen so many Bassett Hounds in one location. Honestly, I found it a bit disturbing but hysterical at the same time because generally, Bassett Hounds appear fairly mellow and of course, they are very low to the ground. It amused me to see a "mob" of Bassett Hounds in a desert location. Again, Cesar went through the process of selecting a dog and introducing it to the dogs and the cat who resided at the rescue shelter. Thankfully, everyone got along although the three dogs did not seem terribly interested in each other as it was hot and they probably lacked much energy.

Once they determined this Bassett was the one, Cesar joined them at home to show them how to walk their little pack. Frankly, the idea of walking a Husky, some Mastiff type mix, and a Bassett did not seem appealing to me. All I could think of was being pulled in three different directions like a medieval torture device as my limbs were pulled from my body. Apparently, the owners did not have the same fear because they walked these dogs like experts and showed me who is wrong. Cesar guided them throughout the way and for a brief moment, I felt jealous but happy for this new little pack.

Finally, the last family with whom Cesar worked wanted a pure bred snazzy German Shepherd. This family had two young children and I kept thinking: Cesar! Talk them out of it! Too much work! Too strong willed for little children! Noooooo!!!! Apparently, Cesar did not hear me when he recorded this DVD months ago but he did emphasize to the family that Shepherds are strong willed dogs who need strong owners who are Cesar Milan. No, he didn't say the last part. That was my input. Cesar found a reputable breeder (who had their own van with their name on it!) and brought over Shepherds of varying ages. He showed examples of high energy assertive, high energy submissive, and calm submissive/comatose. Okay, again, I'm interjecting. Obviously, he encouraged the family to pick the calm submissive and SHAZAM! a puppy was adopted.

Once they selected a dog, he began the process of working with the family. Because the daughter appeared to be a "high energy assertive" child, he had her not be part of the initial training. Cesar went through all the keys of having a new puppy: establishing boundaries, finding an appropriate spot for the kennel, and teaching the puppy how to walk on a leash.

In each situation, Cesar matched the dogs well and taught valuable lessons including finding a dog with matching energy. Does Rudy match our energy? It depends. When we exercise him a lot like Cesar would tell us to do, he matches it. However, there are days when we cannot give him a 45 minute walk or 45 minutes of exercise. And yes, I feel bad but sometimes we do not have all the time in the world. Is Rudy submissive or assertive? When we are assertive, he is submissive but boy does he try to be assertive when we have our guard down. I must say, Cesar does make it easy to learn and really does show how his techniques, which are really mirroring the ways dogs act in nature, can create a symbiotic relationship between human and dog. Honestly, you must see it for yourself because it has changed The Prof and my relationship with Rudy and made it so much more rewarding.

The kind people who asked me to do this review also provided me with an extra DVD for a lucky reader to win! If you would like to get this DVD, leave a comment about a dog from sometime in your life and link your email (you don't have to put it in the post itself). You have until November 30 at 9:00 p.m. to enter. I will pick a winner on December 1 and let you know via email.

What Breed of Dog Should Obama Get?

2008-11-05T09:50:00.003-05:00

First, I am thrilled to be part of history in the making. I worked the polls as an attorney and voted for Barack Obama, the next president of the United States. Last night was emotional and I feel like the country is on a new path. Now the big question: What type of dog should the Obama family get? One of my favorite things to do is to help friends and families pick out a breed of dog. I enjoy reading about the breeds, figuring out the traits that would fit the person, family, and household and coming up with a list of dogs suitable for person. As you probably know, I am a fan of sighthounds, specifically Irish Wolfhounds. However, I do not think the next First Family should adopt one for numerous reasons including that I don't want the breed to become too popular, become overbred, and lead to numerous giant breeds filling up the shelters. But I have to say the same for any other breed. I imagine when the President, particularly a popular president, adopts a dog, many follow suit and want the exact same dog. And what happens? Dogs are adopted and then the well-intentioned adopters realize a lab does not work in a city apartment and the lab must go.

My solution is for the Obama Family to adopt a mixed-breed puppy from a shelter. This is beneficial for numerous reasons. First, it tells the public that adopting from a shelter is the right thing to do. The adoption can tie in with the message that there are too many unwanted animals and the best thing to help the situation is to adopt from a shelter. And think about the photo opportunities: President Obama (how I love saying that), the First Lady, and their two adorable daughters in a shelter looking at puppies and young dogs. It would send an amazing message. Second, adopting a mixed breed dog from a shelter would possibly prevent one particular breed from becoming overly popular.

So what type of mix should they bring to the White House? I think they should look for a medium to large sized dog. They should work with the shelter workers and volunteers to find a active but submissive dog. Honestly, I do not think the mix matters too much although if they found an Irish Wolfhound mix, that would be pretty awesome. Hey, I'm biased.

Hopefully, the family will find a suitable match and will take my advice because what better person is there to send the message about homeless animals than a popular newly elected President.

Coming Soon!

2008-10-30T10:58:00.003-04:00

I have been asked to review the newest DVD by Cesar Milan! This comes just in time for our new friend, Rudy. Oh, Rudy. He's a charming devil. I will be giving away one free copy of the DVD. My plan is to watch the series this weekend and to write up a review as soon as possible so the kind folks who asked me to do this review do not become frustrated with me. I apologize! For those of you who read periodically, if you would not mind passing on the word about this contest, I would greatly appreciate it! And also, I am probably going to do some more writing on this blog because I'm finding I might want to work on my critter writing. Perhaps a book can come out of all the critter stories from my life? Oh my, I must be dreaming, a very very pleasant dream.

Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!

2008-10-14T11:29:00.003-04:00

Can I be complete honest with you? This weekend I questioned whether adopting Rudy was the right thing. And now you're asking: who the hell is Rudy? The Prof decided he liked Rudy better than Rooney, it's actually easier to say, and so alas, it's Rudy. He responds to it so all is right in the world.

I am rarely one to sugarcoat matters. Rudy acted like a complete and utter nutcase when we brought him home. Yes, I understand he had been in the shelter for nearly one and a half months. Yes, he is young, under two years old, and he has a ton of energy. But I did not expect quite that much energy. Oh, all that energy. I set up his crate downstairs and had two leashes ready, one for inside and one for outside. After walking him and throwing a toy nearly 5,000 times, I decided he expended enough energy to be introduced to the house. House, this is Rudy, Rudy, this is House. Unfortunately, it is not this House.

All he wanted to do was run around and around and around the house checking everything out. And then the cats. Oh the cats and oh hell how did I make my first big mistake. I introduced the cats to Rudy directly and not through a closed door. Big mistake. His response? OHMYGODOHYMYGODHIHIHILETMESNIFFYOUPERHAPSCHASEYES?YES?

In human translation: holy hell I've never been so excited to meet you but if you run, that means I will chase you. GAH! So Rudy went back downstairs, the cats gave me dirty looks, and I nearly cried.

The next day, he couldn't believe he still lived with us. His outpouring of love made my heart ache. He truly wanted to be a good boy but the excitement overwhelmed him. We spent a good part of the day throwing Frisbees, which he can catch if we don't suck at throwing them, throwing balls, and going for a walk. He calmed a bit but still, it was all so very very new and he literally did not know what to do.

Sunday included more playing, throwing, attention, and love. We named his numerous squeaky toys, praised him for good behavior, and worked on "No jumping" and "Sit" and "Stay" before he entered the house. Still, the cats were on strike and wanted nothing to do with this atrocious creature. Ew! A dog! When I talked to my sister on the phone, I wondered how long we could take his behavior with the cats.

But then I began to do some reading and calmed down. We decided that he will need to be downstairs dog until he becomes used to the house and the cats become accustomed to him, he must stay in his crate while unsupervised, and most importantly, we need to be consistent with his training. After all, he is a good, sweet, smart, and loving dog. All he needs is our time and patience and I think he will be sure to give it back.

Introducing...

2008-10-07T11:52:00.003-04:00

Rooney!

Although it seemed entirely too soon to invite a dog into our home, Rooney fell into our laps. After returning from a holiday to Scandinavia, Iceland, and Finland, we brought our Siamese to the vet for some constipation issues. While checking out, the technician mentioned that there was a stray in the back that they thought I would like. I told them we had enough cats but she then corrected me and said it was a dog! In fact, it is an Irish Wolfhound mix! I paused for a moment and then succumbed to my curiosity and asked to meet him. She couldn't run back fast enough to bring him back. And yes, he was absolutely part Irish Wolfhound.

At first, I said no way, we just lost Finny and are expecting our first baby. Oh, for those who still read this somewhat defunct blog, I'm pregnant! And we are having a boy on February 11, 2009! Woot! But wait, there's more because of course there is always more. I called a few weeks later to make an appointment for Mr. Stinny's checkup and innocently asked about Rooney. Let me back up. My veterinarian houses the county shelter and all strays in the county are brought there. Unfortunately with the housing crisis, many animals are dumped as "strays" at shelters. It sucks and as a consumer law attorney, I hear clients stressing out about not over losing their homes but finding a homes where they can keep their animal companions. The receptionist told me that Rooney wouldn't be there much longer. When I asked whether he had been adopted, she told me instead that the shelter is overcrowded and he might have to be euthanized. Of course, I would not accept that information and practically shouted "NO!" into the telephone.

After some quick thinking and complete lack of judgment, I told her that if they couldn't adopt him out, I would foster him. And in Andrea English, foster means bring him home under the guise of "it's only temperary" and in actuality, he becomes a permanent family member. (See also: Mr. Stinny, Shrimpycat, and Zena (another story for a later time)). I apologize for the excessive use of parentheticals. Initially, my husband did not agree with my decision and insisted that we wait to see if another family adopted him. Also, he asked other friends and coworkers whether they would be interested in adopting him. Of course, the answer was always: no thanks. However, The Prof is also a softy so he did not want this dog to be euthanized either. Finally, he met him and was won over by Rooney's smarts and sweetness so alas, let me introduce the newest member to our crazy home who will be welcomed by the kitties this Friday:

An Inspirational Dog Has Passed

2008-10-06T13:59:00.003-04:00

On October 3, 2008, Jerry, another inspirational dog, passed away after a courageous battle with bone cancer. Jerry enjoyed a wonderful, loving, and exciting life with his human parents. During the last year or so of his life, he traveled the country with them seeing new places and faces. Finny and I had the good fortune to meet with them a year ago September. The two of them sniffed, and wagged, and sometimes just ignored each other. I found Jerry to be a sweet and smart boy with parents who loved them with all their heart.

What sometimes brings me peace and comfort is to think about Finny with four legs again, frolicking with his canine friends who passed before him. I imagine Finny waiting for Jerry on the other side with his big Irish Wolfhound grin and tail wagging, waiting to greet Jerry with all of the love that sweet boy deserves.

Finnegan

2008-08-11T12:47:00.004-04:00

We miss you a tremendous amount already.
Love you.

Farewell to a Friend

2008-08-07T11:18:00.001-04:00

On Friday, my husband and I will say good bye to a dear friend. He has been a large part of our life for eight years and endured many ups and downs with me. Normally, I would write this after we say our final good byes but I feel like I need to do this know while he is still with us. I am not ready to use the past tense when speaking about our Finnegan. Our big loving boy Finnegan, the Irish Wolfhound, who will always be part of my heart.

Dear Finnegan,

You came to us during a time in my life where I didn't think I could leave the house again. I felt enormous anxiety that spiraled into depression, fear, and shear panic. I worried that I would be unable to work, shop, or even marry the love of my life. And then youy came home to us. Despite my intense fear of being outside my house, I began to take short walks around the block with you, our goofy, gangly, awkward Finny. Although my shoulders felt tense when I'd first walk out the door into the hot Utah air, slowly, a smile would form on my face as I'd watch this ridiculous boy trot along the sidewalk. Next came human interaction with puppy class and then the pet store to buy food and finally, you brought me out of my shell and returned me to state of wellbeing.

You continued to help me stay stable through after work visits to the dog park and longer hikes in the foothills. When we made our trip across country, you seemed to be the only stable critter in my car. Did I mention I drove the car with all four animals from Utah to Pennsylvania? Thank you, Finny, for being the normal one who would listen to me bitch about traffic, the lack of radio stations, and yes, be subjected to Donald the cat lunging from his carrier at you. But we made it.

Sadly, I could not bring you with me to law school during my first year. However, we changed that situation by finding a pet friendly apartment. Our walks together in the neighborhood (well more so third year) allowed me to release my stress and be in the moment. You are always in the moment with your enduring love.

We returned home to The Prof and enjoyed being a family again. However, in less than a year after we returned home, the limp came. I knew deep down this was not a good thing but hoped maybe you tripped in the yard. That does happen to us from time to time. We are klutzes after all. But of course, it was the bad, the evil, the bone cancer. Due to your spirit and the fact we caught this nasty cancer so early, we decided to treat you. The beginning was sad and full of regrets but because you are such a strong stoic dog, you proved us wrong. You hopped, then walked, and then trotted around the backyard with the energy of a puppy. The pain in the wrist was gone and you wanted to show us every was fine now.

Despite the facts and figures and median survival rates, you surpassed all of our expectations with the grace only a sight hound knows. You enjoyed two full years with us without a complaint and without any signs of suffering. And to be sure, we wanted you never to be in pain or suffer or not live the life you deserved. And you did for much longer than we could ask.

But sadly, your time with us is coming to a close. That strength you hold is slipping fast. Although you try so very hard to be strong for us, it is time to give the gift of letting you go. To let your beautiful soul move out of that weak and sick body to watch over us forever. The next twenty-four hours will be a sacred time for us. We promise to give you all the love in our hearts and when the time comes, we promise to be strong for you as you have been for us.

We love you so very much and will miss you. There will never be another dog as magnificent as you. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of your life.

With all the love.

(Cross posted on my other blog Fretting the Small Stuff)

Finnegan's Friend

2008-07-17T12:12:00.002-04:00

We are sad to learn that dear Meggie passed on. I had a special soft spot for that girl. Something about her wiry hair and somewhat disheveled look endeared her to me. Although I never met her in person, I can certainly say that I loved her. Finnegan and I send our love over to Brian and Kerri and all of the crew.

Feeling Good

2008-06-19T10:48:00.004-04:00

Finny has had three good days in a row and this morning was great too! He is slow to get up in the morning (he takes after his mama) but once he's up, he has energy, is interested in eating food, and is in good spirits. I think part of it is that we have figured out a good combination for his medication where he is comfortable but not feeling like he needs to expel gross fluids from his rear end. Lovely thought, no? Last night we played in the back yard and he helped me search for a kitten that is apparently wandering around our neighborhood. It's not ours but I hate the idea of a lost kitten in the big bad outdoors! Poor baby. He also helped himself to the cat food I left outside for the kitten. He must really be feeling better!

The Prof and I are heading out of town so our caring pet sitters will be watching him and the cats. I hope that won't throw him off too much but they come three times a day and spend a lot of time with him. He is such a good boy.

So here's hoping to more good days!

Happy Birthday, Finny!

2008-06-12T11:45:00.002-04:00

Today Finny turns eight years old. This is an amazing feat for an Irish Wolfhound who was diagnosed and treated for bone cancer two years ago. Sadly, as you all know by now, the cancer came back. Luckily, it does not seem to be bothering his breathing and he is chilling, eating, and getting love. This weekend I plan on making him some Finnegan Muffins (essentially a bunch of peanut butter and flour) so he can enjoy his birthday with some delectable treats.

So Happy Birthday, Buddy! We love you!

The Big C (or M in this Case)

2008-06-04T11:00:00.002-04:00

As we expected, Finny's cancer returned in his lungs. He has a ten by eight centimeter solid mass in his dorsal lung. Well, maybe not dorsal, it's up high just below his spine. The good thing is that it's not pressing on his heart or esophagus. He came home with us last night with two different types of medication, prednisone, and an injectable medication that apparently makes him really happy and healthy. Our plan is to keep him comfortable. The veterinarian is calling an oncologist to determine if there is an type of palliative care we can do to keep him comfortable. She is optimistic that we can keep him comfortable for perhaps six months, maybe more. I would love to get six more months but only if he feels good, is happy, and his quality of life is great. Putting him through treatments or agressive therapy is not in the cards. The only option at this point is to do what is best for Finny.

Oddly, I'm not hysterical or depressed. Obviously, it is sad; however, he will be eight years old next week and lasted two years from his diagnosis. That is more than we could have asked. We love him very much and for the next months, he will be fed gourmet homemade treats, and given more love than he can handle

Healing

2008-06-03T13:46:00.004-04:00

I'm pretty sure that the regular readers probably do not come around here much anymore. Certainly I have not written here in many months for good reasons. Finny has been doing really well. Unfortunately, that is not the case anymore. Recently, he became ill with a fever and swelling in all of his ankle/wrist joints. He has a discharge coming from his eyes and is in some amount of pain. Due to having osteosarcoma, his immune system is out of whack and it could be causing him to not be able to fight infections. The blood work came back normal and he did respond to an injection of an anti-inflammatory. His fever dropped from 104 to 102. When he's feeling a bit better, he will go home with antibiotics, anti-inflammatory medications, and happy pills, aka pain medication. I want to keep him as comfortable as possible. The antibiotics will be started first to see if there is a response. If there is none, it might be that the cancer is back someplace. My veterinarian is also calling an oncologist to see if there are any other options for him.

Our goal is to keep him comfortable and as pain-free as possible. If this event is treatable, that would be icing on the cake but for once, I'm being realistic. He turns eight in less than two weeks and it has been nearly two years since he was diagnosed with cancer. This new illness came on fast and hard. Perhaps it is something wonky. He has had a history of having strange illnesses. But like I said, I'm being realistic. I need to prepare myself as I did for his kitty brother who passed away three weeks ago. At the same time, I might just be numb.

Keep Finnegan in your thoughts. I am not a religious person but think healing thoughts for him. He really needs it right now.

Finnegan: The Book

2008-03-02T21:10:00.002-05:00

Yes! I am still here. My mommy wrote a story about yours truly and the book is now being sold over at Tripawds. If you want to read about and see gorgeous photos of me, you can go to the Tripawds, check it out, and see if you want to get one for your very own!

Public Finnegan Annoucement

2007-12-19T15:07:00.000-05:00

Ahem. Is the mike on? Can you hear me?

Finnegan just hit the 18 month survival point! (loud cheers)

He seems to be doing very well and there is a good possibility (according to his vet) that the cancer will not come back.

Hurray!

Now back to your normal broadcasting.

CONTEST!

2007-11-05T13:48:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Nanook and Pooka.

We have been getting some weird searches over at Finneganland. I don't know what to tell you but I thought I would share BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO BE THE ONLY ONE TO POSSESS THIS KIND OF KNOWLEDGE. Some of the searches are okay, some are - oh my god with the F__? - and some are okay, dude, whatever. So here we go. Please pick one and give your answer in the comments section. More than one person can pick one of the nine options. The funniest one will get some sort of prize from me. I don't know what it will be yet, we are working at that over at the Finnegan Headquarters.

Here are the search terms verbatim (there were some other ones that were funny/creepy/disturbing but we currently can't find them):

Pet Glamor Shots
How to make my own child fence
should we take the puppy into our bedroom the first night
Pictures of possessed girls
Why cats shiver
Photos children looking over fences
kids and Irish Wolfhounds
write a grocery list for two
I have four children and need a wagon to pull them in

Go, you crazy kids!

Deadline is November 15, 2007.

200th Post

2007-11-01T15:43:00.000-04:00

Where do I begin? First, I am still here. I've made it through 200 posts and I think that is pretty damn special. I might be slowing down but guess what? I am 7.5 years old, I have cancer, and I am giant breed dog. Of course I am slowing down. Second, this is about the time of year where I finished my chemotherapy. Pretty amazing, isn't it? A whole year since I went to that hospital a hundred miles away to be injected with poisons. Regardless I barely had any side effects and it kicked cancers ass for the time being. ROAR! So I say, let's celebrate my recovery and lasting power! Let's celebrate dogs all over the world and how awesome we truly are! Let's celebrate the dogs we have lost, the ones we've met and sniffed, and the ones joining us in the future! Because right now I am all about celebrating. I've got the Guinness. Who is with me?

More! Finnegan!

2007-10-26T11:52:00.000-04:00

If you want more Finnegan, and of course you all do, right, RIGHT? then please wander over here and here for more lovely Finnegan shots. And Mama too. Eh.

My Pictures Bring All the Girls to the Yard

2007-10-24T15:57:00.000-04:00

Our attempt at a Glamor shot. Not so glamorous, eh?
I am that big.
Mama is possessed by my beauty.

I'm just possessed.

Mama does not want to get intimate.

These pictures were done by Emma Steinfeld's significant other. He did a fantastic job but we wanted to show some of the goofier pictures today. Mama promises more because she knows how restless you dog bloggers can get!!

2007 Autumn Photo Spread

2007-10-22T15:51:00.000-04:00

Humans are weird. Period. I could stop there but I will finish my thought. Mama and I did our photo shoot Saturday morning in the back yard with Emma Steinfeld's significant other, Al. Of course it kept raining while we posed for photographs. When it did, we ran under the tree, waited for a break in the clouds, and then posed again. Mama is a wuss and insisted on kneeling on a towel while I reclined in the wet grass. But that's okay, I'm Irish and enjoy a good overcast day. So Al took about 100 or so photographs of us and Mama kept worrying about the circles under her eyes, her hair, and her smile. All I can say is one of is photogenic and you all know who that it is, right? Right? Oh yeah.

I find the concept of smiling odd. If a doggy smiles, it's considered snarling, growling or showing our teeth. If a mama does it, she is supposed to be happy, jolly, or enjoying herself. What's with that? And she kept trying to brush me all morning and I would have nothing to do with it; alas, my disheveled look. I know you all are wondering where the photos are because clearly, you could not care less about my beautiful prose. TOO BAD! But the photographer is editing them a lot because Mama takes bad pictures, something about dark circles, weird smile, funny looking (Mama: hey! that's enough!). So when we get the disk and get permission from Mr. Al, we will post a few so you can see the beauty that is Finnegan and the...the...Mamaness that is Mama.

Glamour Shots

2007-10-15T10:53:00.000-04:00

Yes, I am still here despite Mama's new blog. She has not forgotten about me. Mama decided that she wants a friend's boyfriend to take a portrait of her and me. I suppose Daddy can be in the picture but I think it would be nice to have a picture of the two of us. We do have a special bond, after all. So I was thinking if we are going to do portraits then we should definitely do glamour shots. Do you know what I mean? Those really cheesy pictures from the 1980's and perhaps the 1990's?

I was thinking we could have a pastel background with some soft back lighting. I could be looking up at Mama and she could be resting her chin on her fist and be looking off into the distance. Or I could be resting my head on my fist and she could have her arms folded on me as she leans just enough against me to show that extra special bond we have. Of course, all the pictures would need that soft back lighting.

And then I was thinking outfits because we all know the key to glamour shots is coordinating outfits. We could really glam it up and wear sparkly shirts and feather boas. Wow. Now what doesn't say classy more than feather boas? Or we could show our Irish roots and wear green sweaters. That would be really awesome. Boy, I have some really great idea.

Do any of you have any requests or suggestions for Mama and my glamour shots?

Mama!

2007-10-10T10:41:00.001-04:00

Mama thinks she does not get enough space over here. So like Boomer's mama, Ernest's Mama, and Pappy's dada , she started her very own blog. How dare she? Is there any other doggy who has a mama or dada who started a blog that, I can't believe I'm saying this, is not about a dog or hamster?

Hot Weather + Stinky Dog = BATH!

2007-10-08T14:57:00.000-04:00

I'm sure you know that I am not one to complain. Generally, I am an easy going dog. I lounge, I eat, I drink, and I give out love. But there is one thing that gets me every time: baths. What is wrong with a little natural dog odor? A few dreadlocks never harmed anyone, right?

Mama did not have the same opinion as I. Here in the east, it is ridiculously hot for this time of year. Eighties hot. So what was Mama's logical leap from warm sunny weather? Give Finnegan a bath! Oh what a great idea! Soak the Irish Wolfhound! Hahahahahaha. Ha. Ha... heh.

Now I am totally on to Mama's tricks of the trade. First, she shakes the leash so I think "COOL! WE ARE GOING SOMEPLACE WICKED AWESOME AND IT WILL BE NEAT! AND AWESOME!"

And then, she brings me out back and hooks my leash on me. In the meantime, she has put my shampoos and conditioners over by the hose. Again I think: "OH WOW! WE ARE GOING SOMEPLACE SUPER COOL! COULD IT BE A DOG PARK? PERHAPS DOGGY DAY CARE?"

Finally, the last straw, she leads me toward...the other. side. of. the. house. Yes, THAT side. The side with the DREADED HOSE. She almost gets me to the spot where she hooks up my leash and I PUT ON THE BRAKES. Mama tries to tug and pull and prod and bribe. My mistake, I believed her when she mentioned the word "treat". I let my guard down and followed her over. DAMN! She tricked me. Humans suck.

So she soaked, and bathed, and conditioned, and rinsedandrinsedandrinsed. And then she rinsed some more. As I've said before, my favorite part is shakyshakyshaky and the towel off. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

So now I'm clean and shiny and new. I satisfied Mama's need to make me pretty. And guess, what, it won't be 80 for a long time so NO BATH FOR ME! Ha!

NEWMAN!

2007-10-03T10:27:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning I was out back, minding my own business of course, when I heard a yipping from the back fence. Typically, I hear yipping from either side of my kingdom but never from the back. So of course, in my curious Wolfhound fashion, I had to investigate. I tromped over to the back fence and what did I find? A Jack Russell Terrier. A very barky excited Jack Russell Terrier named Newman who was all up in my bid-ness. Well of course I sniffed and wagged and greeted. After all, I am the king of friendly kindness.

And I thought this sniffing between the fence would be it. But what? What? Hello? What's going on here? Dude? What are you DOING? Sure enough, the little bugger squeezed himself under the fence and jumped and jumped and jumped for joy.

WHOA! Settle down! I'm a wise older man without your impish energy. I can't keep up with whatever crazy is going on in your head.

Zipping. Back. And. Forth. Never ending energy! So I played along. I galloped. I woofed. I stomped. A one footed stomp of course. And he dashed and zipped and HEY WAIT! He nipped and then again NIPPED! Whoa!Whoa!WHOA! Do you know who you are dealing with? The king of dogs? The wise and woolly? But no, this little guy wanted to be the boss. The Napoleon Complex could not be quashed. I played the final card and bared my teeth.

By this point, Mama and Daddy came out back, grabbed me and then scooted the little feller over the fence. Did it stop? Did he fear me and stay on his side of the fence?

No. Back under the fence he came. Again Mama grabbed him and Daddy found pieces of wood to cover up the gaps. No matter what we did, he came back until finally there were no spaces for him to slither underneath to gain access to my kingdom.

And so he sits there by the fence. Barking. Hoping to regain entrance to be in the presence of greatness.

I Go to Work...I Go to Work Yo

2007-09-22T16:50:00.000-04:00

Mama thinks I need to work. More specifically, she thinks I need to accompany her to work. Something about bonding and companionship and YAWN whatever. So it is Saturday, my day off, and she dragged my sorry ass off to work. Fine, no problem. But guess what! I refuse to do ANY RESEARCH or write a complaint. That is not in my portfolio of skillz that pay the billz (yes, Irish Wolfhounds can be ghetto too). I am more of an artiste. A thinker. Or is that a napper? I get the two seriously mixed up.

So here I am in Mama's office doing what I do best. Well, yes, napping and looking handsome but that's not all. Farting. Nice stinky ones. She'll think twice about bringing me here again.

By the way, her office has way too many stairs and damn, I was panting. Granted, I was going down the stairs but yikes! that was scary. Mama's guilt did set in nicely and I got about ten dog treats I chomped down and some of her human food as well. Sucker.

More from Jerry and Finnegan

2007-09-19T14:32:00.000-04:00

Jerry's parents are much more Internet and blogger savvy than my mama. That is a fact. Period. They have provided a video of Jerry and me on their website. You can go here on YouTube to see it. Please make sure you have your volume on. I'll warn you, it's a tear-jerker.

Also, you can look here on Jerry's blog for a post about our visit together. And again, he and his folks are really great. We will remember their visit forever.

Just Jerry and Finny

2007-09-16T15:13:00.000-04:00

Note the symmetry and elegance of the tripawds. And the tongues hanging out. Sexay.

Finny is not shy about greeting Jerry. From the business end.

Finnegan in a deep voice: "Let me show you how the big dogs pee."

Tripawds Unite!

2007-09-11T08:31:00.000-04:00

On Sunday, I had the opportunity to meet another proud tripawd (see also, tripod) who was driving around the United States in an RV. And let me tell you, it was awesome! Jerry had so much energy and we were so impressed by how well he could ran back and forth. His humans were awesome too. They sold their business (Mama said it had to do with computers) and their house and are driving around the country in a biodiesel pickup truck and RV.

Unfortunately, the day we met was rainy; however, it did not stop us from hanging out for almost two hours!!! Mama and his daddy kept trying to take pictures of us together but it was tough. As soon as we were in the frame together, Jerry or I would decide we needed to relocate. Mama did get some good pictures of us and she will post them soon! She promises!

Like I said, Jerry is MUCH faster than I am. He is a Shepard and border collie mix and is a bit smaller than me. (Mama: a bit? Finny, you are a giant, pal.) Mama thought he was very sweet. And I thought he was silly. He kept poking his head through Mama's legs. I must admit, I was a bit jealous of the attention Mama was giving him. I suppose it is okay since I get to LIVE with Mama and she gives me attention every day. Anyway, Jerry had a great big tumor in his scapula, as opposed to my distal radius, but the surgeons removed everything. And guess what? He is nine months post his surgery!!! What a great dog.

After two hours of talking and sniffing and lounging (me, for the most part, I'm slowing down, folks), we said our good-byes. Jerry's awesome parents gave me some cool presents! Apparently, Jerry likes Barney the purple dinosaur and they gave me one of his! And the best part: it's pre-chewed! My favorite! I love any stuffy that has already been slobbered on by another pooch. Plus, they gave me some delicious treats and gave Mama a cool sticker to put on the car that says "Tripawd on Board" with a silhouette of a three-legged dog jumping. I'm sure Jerry was the model. Mama felt bad she didn't bring anything for Jerry (nice job, MOTHER!).

Jerry also has a blog that you should definitely check out. It's very snazzy and provides great information. Also, you can follow where Jerry is going and maybe even meet him too! Wouldn't that be cool???

It was a great day and I am unbelievably excited to have met another tripod who is doing so well. And again, I promise, pictures will be up as soon as possible!!

Another TAG!!!!

2007-09-04T14:44:00.000-04:00

I was tagged by ASTA!!! She's a purdy lady, right?

I will tag: Ernest, Meggie, and Wally.

Here are the rules:Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the questions.They must be real places, names, things … nothing made up! You CAN’T use your name for the boy/girl name question. If your name happens to start with the same letter as mine, sorry, but you can’t use my answers!

My name: Finnegan

1. Famous Singer: Fiona Apple
2. Four letter word: Feck (heeehee!)
3. Street: French Street (it's in my town)
4. Colour: Fuschia
5. Gifts/Presents: Feather boa from New Orleans
6. Vehicle: Fiat
7. Things in a Souvenir Shop: Flag from country
8. Boy Name: Fred
9. Girl Name: Felicia
10. Movie Title: From Here to Eternity
11. Drink: Fuzzy navel
12. Occupation: Ferry captain
13. Celebrity: Fred Astaire
14. Magazine: Food and Wine
15. U.S. City: Ft. Lauderdale, FL
16. Pro Sport: Free style skiing
17. Fruit: Figs
18. Reason for Being Late for Work: Forgot to go
19. Something You Throw Away: Forgotten fruit
20. Things You Shout: See #2
21. Cartoon Character: Fat Albert

Foodie Grocery List

2007-09-04T14:27:00.000-04:00

Casper tagged me for five must-haves for Mama and me, so Mama gets to go first:

Milk - she drinks it like crazy. I think she is part cow (Mama gave me a dirty look).
Beer - she drinks it like crazy. What a lush! I'm surprised she can type! (Mama gave me another dirty look and threatened to take my treats away if I keep it up.)
Cheese - smoked gouda and extra sharp cheddar are her favorites.
Fruit - especially plums, strawberries or melon.
Tofu - she's a vegetarian (what the?) and she says it takes on the flavor of anything. I think it looks like !*&^%%

Finnegan's choices:

Canidae Lamb & Rice - it's a staple in our household. Okay only for me but it's necessary especially when Mama is neglectful and makes me eat cat food.
Peanut butter treats - oh yeah. Ever see three foot long drool?
Pigs ears - on rare occasions, Mama lets me have one and DAMN! they are good.
Marrow filled bones - Mama is gagging but what could not be better. As the weird guy at the rib festival say: "BONE SUCKING GOOD!" (And no, I don't know why my vegetarian parents go to a rib festival every year).
Fruits and vegetables - Mama lets me eat things like melons, cucumbers, snap peas and other tasty things sometimes. And they are the best.

Now I will tag: Texas, Pappy, and Asta.

Is it time to eat now?

Apologies All Around

2007-08-31T12:53:00.000-04:00

I know many of you have been waiting in great anticipation for my return. Huddled by the computer, waiting for a simple "woof" from the big guy.

Well hereeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssss FINNY!

Yes, my parents left ME with the four fabulous felines in the care of our able pet sitter so that they could go on vacation. And can you believe they did not bring me? It's just so wrong. BAD BIPEDS! But on the other hand, I think all the travel would have tuckered out this big body of mine. Sure, I am feeling well. Yeah, I am making it but I do get tired easily. And dammit, heat and Finnegan do not mix! So honestly, I was happy to be home with my pet sitter and her two lovable boys who provide me with all of the fun loving attention a dog could want.

Now that Mommy and Daddy are home, I have been getting almost nonstop attention when they are home. Some attention is great: treats, belly rubs, hugs, and kisses. Other attention, eh, I could do without: cleaning out my ears, cutting my nails, and brushing my unkempt hairdo. I think if you charted the number of treats against the number of hours Mommy and Daddy were gone, you could see a close correlation. Perhaps they will be leaving again soon?

The kitties were just as ecstatic as I when my mama and daddy returned home. Certainly the purring could be heard in the next county of the Iraq and as such. You would have thought they had returned from a year long trip around the world, but hey, we like our human companionship.

I know I have a bunch of memes to answer but there is only so much time in the day and I PROMISE to work on them as soon as I can. Really. I promise. A little. No! I will.

I hope everyone is doing fine and I will try to visit you all to get the latest updates.

Vacations and Painting and Car Accidents, OH MY!

2007-08-27T10:30:00.000-04:00

I apologize for not updating the blog. I promise to do all the memes I have been told to do on behalf of Finnegan. The Professor (Finny's daddy) and I went on a much need 10 day vacation which including seeing family and friends in Vermont, hiking the White Mountains in New Hampshire, and more family, friends and SHOPPING in Boston. This weekend I finally finished painting the last bedroom and the house no longer looks so ghetto! Hurray! Finally, the Professor was hit by a truck this morning while driving to work. Thankfully, no one was hurt. The stupid nasty bad bad truck broad sided him broke the window and crushed the driver's side door. Ugh.

The good news: being back in town with our lovable and sweet four (and three) legged babies!

The Story of Finnegan (yes, there are links to photos too)

2007-08-10T10:31:00.001-04:00

Part IV? V? For those of you seeking photographs of the gorgous Finnegan, please see the links in the fourth full paragraph.

Apparently, I am way too lazy to figure out what part of the story I am on. After surviving a cross country trip with PSYCHOS (the dysfunctional cats), Finnegan arrived safe and sound in our new home. Within one month of arriving, I began the pursuit of an overpriced degree in another city in another state. Sadly, because I could not bring Finnegan with me, he stayed at our permanent home with his daddy and cats. It was hard to not have this big goofball around to play with and cuddle. For as long as I can remember, I've lived in the company of four legged creatures. And to have nine or ten months without the critters basically sucked.

So I decided the next year to find an apartment where Finny could be one of my roommates. As my second year roommate and I looked for apartments, we learned that most landlords had a list of dogs, such as pit bulls, rottweilers, and similar "aggressive" breeds that were not allowed. Obviously, Finny did not fit in that category; however, I wondered if they understood just how big he was. I would emphasize how big he was, really really big. Not retriever big or Rottweiler big. BIG. HUGE. I worried that we would arrive and the landlord would exclaim:

"You said big but I had no idea that you meant llama sized needs a horse trailer to transport eats ten pounds of food a day big. No way is this quote-unquote dog living here"

Fortunately, that did not happen and Finny is the BEST educated Irish Wolfhound ever. He can rattle off the elements of a contract better than any canine I know. Well, not really but he also went to school. Because my overpriced education kept me incredibly busy, I learned from a friend about a doggy daycare facility where I could drop him off and he would be entertained all day long by dogs of all sizes. AND, he would be kept so busy running, playing, barking, and doing whatever a posse of dogs do so that for the next day, he would have little energy and would sleep to recover for his next day of school. My friend recommended K-9 Kamp, which was located nearby and was run by a very good looking guy, according to my friends. I wouldn't know, I'm married.

Once I learned about this option, I called and made an appointment for an interview with the owner. Essentially, I had to fill out paperwork about Finnegan's disposition. Then, he had to interact with another dog to see if he showed any form of aggression. Aggression and Finnegan do not go in the same sentence. He's a mama's boy. If I dog attacked him, I would probably have to do the fighting. Even if the dog was chihuahua. Of course, Finny passed with flying colors and I signed him up for two days a week. Let me just say, that was the best money I spent my entire three years in spendy grad school. He loved it. Loved it. Loved it. And loved it. Here's the money shot. God he's cute. Yikes poor little dog.

Besides going to school and learning more than I did, he was (and is) the BEST travel companion ever. I drive a 1997 Subaru Outback and we purchased that vehicle specifically so Finny could have enough room. Of course because that's what animal people do. Every other weekend, Finny and I would make a five hundred mile round trip drive home to visit my husband and the cats. And to do fifty loads laundry because my husband, who incidentally has a Ph.D. in chemistry, suddenly had no idea how to do laundry. In order to give Finnegan ample space to sleep, because that was what he did most of the drive, I put the seats down all the way. My laundry basket, bag of clothes to wear, and giant bag full of books and my laptop were crammed in the very far back of the car so that Finny could have enough space to stretch out. And why is Finny a good passenger? Because riding in a car put him sound asleep. Occasionally, he would wake up, put his head between the front seats to make sure we were not lost, and then go back to sleep. He never puked, whined, or barked. Once or twice he might have let one rip but that can be forgiven and windows were put in cars for a reason. And let me tell you, people never ever stare when you pull a llama sized dog out of a car at a rest area. No never.

So Finnegan and I both got ourselves an education (his probably more worthwhile than mine); however, I can say that he does not have a student loan, I mean a diploma, to show for it. So there.

A Post Sort of about Finnegan

2007-08-07T14:12:00.000-04:00

As part of learning more about bone cancer and reaching out to others who have dogs with cancer, I belong to a few list-servs such as Yahoo's Bone Cancer (dog related). Initially, I would read the posts but they were so completely depressing, I just stopped. You can just cry so much and then it become futile. I empathize with and silently mourn for those who have lost their pooches too soon to this awful cancer but I can only handle so much. Just thinking about "bone cancer" makes me ache. This is a type of cancer that I literally can feel within me. I hug Finny more when I think of the pain he must have felt before the surgery. And I wonder, after the surgery, when he woke up in a blur of pain medication, was he scared? Did he want his mama and daddy to comfort him? And that, to state it simplistically, makes me sad.

But then I realize, hell yeah! It is almost fourteen months since his diagnosis and he is trudging along, one hop at a time. He fights me every time I try to brush him as the shaggy looks is just fine with him. He pushes against me when I try to nudge him out of the way and damn, is that three legged beast strong. His appetite is like no other and if there is food, yes, please, I'll have seconds. When he sees another dog, he is all about pulling me clear across the street for some serious meet and greet of the butt sniffing kind.

So, yeah, Finny is fine, stubborn, but fine.

Not Enough about Finnegan?

2007-08-06T13:24:00.000-04:00

It's been quiet over here in All Our Children Blah Blah Blah land. I'm guessing because it's summer (not too much blog activity in general) and I have not been writing about Finnegan very much. Well, fortunately, I do not have any medical related news. He's doing fine. Nothing exciting. And because it's been so hot, we have not been involved in any activities. It's pretty much Finny, his daddy, and me hanging out with the four felines, trying not to suffocate from the humidity. Damn the humidity! I have some other animal stories circulating in the dark corners of my mind and will hopefully be working on them soon to publish here. Of course, there will be more about the Story of Finnegan but there will be others about the felines, critters with whom I grew up, and other random tidbits. Well then, I hope you come back and see me some time.

You Can't Cage this Tiger

2007-08-02T14:56:00.001-04:00

It took one, two, three, four, FIVE people to restrain the Donald for his blood draw at the veterinarian's on Tuesday. And he peed in the process.

That's my boy.

He's on Tapazole for his hyperthyroid problem which is now chillin' him out BUT he is uninterested in eating. A first for the Donald. I will be purchasing some canned food and flavorful bits for the beast in hopes of getting him to eat. If that doesn't work, the vet will decrease his dose.

Oh the fun.

Donald Diagnosis

2007-07-31T16:41:00.001-04:00

Hyperthyroidism and a mild bladder infection. I'm a sucky cat mom.

Grumpy McGrumpster

2007-07-31T11:27:00.001-04:00

Donald is at the vet's now. I wonder how many people are bleeding.

Oh, and I changed the title to All Our Children Meow and Woof because I feel bad disappointing all those soap opera addicts searching for a blog solely dedicated to the show All My Children. I can't help you here.

My Cat Has a Raspy Meow

2007-07-30T08:44:00.000-04:00

The title is a google search that led to this blog and I thought it would be appropriate for today's lesson: Donald. If you recall, Donald is our orange, polydactyl, crazy, grooming fanatic cat. He is half bald because pulling his hair out is such an amazingly fun past time. And interestingly enough, he does not swallow the hair, he spits it out so I find clumps of unchewed (?) orange hair on the couch, our bed, the floor, and any place else you could imagine. Although Donald is certifiably crazy, he is a sweet boy and quite affectionate with everyone in the house, Finnegan included. Some of the time his meow could wake the dead and he hollers for absolutely no reason. Other times he sounds like a life long smoker with a raspy "Hey, Edith, grab me a beer" meow. And, he is mighty handy with his extra thumbs. Donald has been known to pull ladies' undergarments from drawers, look at said item, and toss them to the floor. Even cats have their fetishes.

The big orange cat has been known to piss off a few people. When he lived with my parents, they allowed him to explore the great outdoors. Rather than venturing into the woods, he elected to break and enter the neighbors' house. Once Donald gained entry, no one is certain quite how, he would settle himself into the home as if it were his. Although this neighbor is a six foot tall man, Donald managed to corner him in a bathroom. Any time the he attempted to make an escape, Donald responded with claws, hisses, and growls. Eventually, the neighbor used a vacuum as his armor and made his escape. He called my parents and sheepishly told them Donald had taken him hostage. This resulted in the neighbor's brother declaring that if he ever adopted a dog, he would want it to be as good a guard dog as Donald.

Besides taking the neighbor hostage, Donald protected my parents' house from the evils of a plumber. While the plumber was walking down the hall, Donald used his thumbs and grabbed the guy around the ankle and would not let go. Suddenly, my mother heard, "LADY! Get this damn cat off of me!" My mother was sure a medical bill would be forwarded to her along with his bill for services.

In Donald's old age, he has mellowed considerably. He is affectionate to pretty much everyone and he is enamored by the contractor we have doing work in our house now. Donald follows him from room to room and when he prepares to leave, Donald sits on the table by the front door and grabs the contractor so he cannot leave. It's sweet and a little disturbing at the same time. We have to sit Donald down and try to explain that Mr. Contractor can not move in with us.

The most interesting part about Donald mellowing is that I believe my husband had a significant role in taming the beast. Ten years ago, I met my husband and my husband met Donald. The two developed a loving relationship and eventually, they lived in sin over at my husband's apartment. This might be the only example in the history of relationships where the cat moved in before the girlfriend.

Donald also has his fans. Oddly enough, my parents' neighbor loves Donald and asks about his well-being. Children adore him and even more bizarre, he is sweet and gentle with them. Well, sort of. Until Donald decides he has had enough or the voices in his head tell him to do something naughty.

Donald is an old man and is starting to slow down. We have noticed that despite eating like a hog - he shoves Finnegan out of the way to steal his food - he is beginning to lose weight. Also, his water consumption in the last month is quite high. This morning I made an appointment for him to see the veterinarian for blood work and an urinalysis. We hope it is something manageable but also realize that he is a seventeen year old cat and he has had a terrific life.

A lump is forming in my throat thinking about life without Donald.

Mama Is her Very Own Animal Cops Show

2007-07-25T09:05:00.000-04:00

Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when she comes for you? (Theme song from the T.V. show, Cops)

For the second time, Mama saw a doggy running up a very busy road with his harness on him but no leash or human attached! Gasp! The last time she saw him, she tried to catch this doggy but she and another woman had no luck. So this time, Mama knew she had to do something. Mama used to be a veterinary technician and her dream is to one day do animal law exclusively. So, she followed the doggy and got out of her car at a safe spot. She tried to entice the dog and gain his trust but no luck. He let her get just so close and then ZOOM! He took off.

Mama continued to chase the doggy up the street. As she followed him, she made a call to my veterinarian to ask who she should call to help her While talking to the vet technician, poor doggy almost got hit by a car and then a bus. EEK! People, please! Doggies must be kept in a safe fenced area. Jeezum crow!

Mommy continued her pursuit through the intersection and tried to call the police but failing in her ability to multi-task, kept dialing the wrong number. GENIUS! (And no, she wasn't dialing 911). Well, actually she did dial 911 but hung up before she thought it had connected. Actually, it had connected and someone called her back. She assured the officer she was fine but asked if she could have the non-emergency number. Mama is so embarrassing!!!

Numerous times, she kept trying to entice the doggy with the promise of treats but he wasn't buying her act. She continued driving up the street through another busy intersection with her hazard lights on all the while trying to think up a plan. At one point, she contemplated using her cell phone charger as a leash to grab the pooch.

Finally, he turned up a driveway and headed to the back yard. She parked her car and followed him to a deck where he sat waiting for someone (the delinquent who is supposed to care for this dog) to open the door. Sure enough, no one was home. Mama found his water dish and long lead attached to a tree. She grabbed the hose and filled up his mucky water dish. At this point, he was either sick of Mama or finally trusted her because he allowed her to attach him to the lead so he would be secure for the time.

Mama returned to the car but before leaving she left a note for the man letting him know what had happened, including that the doggy was almost hit by a car. Also, she wrote down his house address so she could call animal control.

Now you might be thinking, maybe it was a one time mistake. Dogs can accidentally get loose. In fact, I did one time and went on a joy run through my neighborhood. Fortunately, a llama sized dog is easy to spot and a teary mama found me and brought me home. HOWEVER! This is not a one time deal, folks. Mama saw this dog loose just last week running along the same street. And, Mama has seen him running behind his human companion while he rides his bike along the same busy streets. With no leash or anything! Not safe! At all!

Fortunately for now, the dog is safe. Mama is going to call animal control so that they can give this man a warning and hopefully, he will learn a lesson. From now own, Mama is going to put dog treats and a leash in the car so she can safely rescue other doggies in need.

The Story of Finnegan - Part !#%@??

2007-07-23T09:08:00.000-04:00

Yes, I did that deliberately. This post might (might? hell it will) involve strong language. Anyone who has moved across country with a menagerie of critters will understand.

In July 2002, we packed up our house in Salt Lake City to return east so my husband could begin his academic career and I could start law school. At the time, we had one car, a Subaru Outback, and a plan. My husband would drive the rental truck stuffed to the brim with all of our crap and I would drive the car stuffed with all of the critters. Certainly, this was not ideal but we really had no other choice. The idea was that the seats would be folded down and a large enclosure such as this would hold the three cats and Finnegan could stretch out in the back.

I should have known this trip was going to be a disaster when Mr. Stinny, who was freaked out by the fact that all the furniture was gone, peed on our down comforter the night before we left. After washing the blanket the best I could, I had a restless night of sleep and woke up sad with the realization that I was leaving a city and people who I had grown to love. Not just sad, sobbing sad and tired. A great combination for what lay ahead for me.

Because cats do not generally enjoy car travel, I obtained some kitty sedatives from our veterinarian for the trip. I gave all three of the cats (we did not adopt Shrimpycat until 2 years later) their drug about a half hour before our departure time. Still teary, I put a drowsy Mr. Stinny in the carrier. Next, I grabbed Donald who at this point was pissed. Of course, because I was teary, I did not fully comprehend the extent of Donald's pissiness.

Let me just give you a brief background of Donald: he's crazy. And he has opposable thumbs. And he becomes a psychopath when given sedatives. In other words, he has the opposite reaction.

I grabbed Donald and put him in the carrier with sweet blind Mr. Stinny and all HELL broke loose. Donald started screaming and hissing. Before I had a chance to react, he grabbed Mr. Stinny with his big paws and held him as a hostage. Poor Mr. Stinny was too stoned to react so I tried to defend him. Every time I reached into the carrier Donald would swat at me. In turn, I would swat back in an effort to focus his attention on me rather than Mr. Stinny.

Did I mention I was parked on the street? Where people were walking by? And staring?

Donald was hissing and screaming and so was I. Finally, I wrangled Mr. Stinny out of Donald's clutches and ran him inside. At this point, I realized Donald would be riding in the privacy of his own carrier. Every time I tried to grab Donald with a towel, he would scream and hiss and swat and try to bite. In return, I started shouting:

"FINE! YOU WANT TO STAY IN SALT LAKE CITY? YOU F*CKING WANT TO STAY HERE! FINE!"

No, I was not rational but this screaming fit was through a steady stream of tears, now a result of my complete and utter frustration with the situation. After trying different approaches, I finally grabbed Donald, pulled him out of the carrier, and put him in his own private carrier.

But wait there's more! I did not get him out of the carrier before he took a nice bite out of my hand. Not just a little nip, I nice big juicy chomp that I swear to God bled until the Wyoming border. After this pleasant encounter with one of my cats, we got the other two stoned cats in the carrier and Finnegan in the back seat. Donald rode with my husband in the front of the truck while I applied pressure to my new gushing wound on our way out of the city. By this point, I was seriously contemplating taking one of those kitty tranquilizers.

We did not make it far. At the first rest area, we stopped to repack the back of the truck because it was weighted too heavily on one side and the rear tire was smoking. Safe. After a half hour, we set off again into Wyoming and through its rolling hills. Did I mention the rolling hills? That caused the truck to overheat? And resulted in my husband rolling down the windows and blasting the heat? Obviously, this did not work well for Donald and he began to pant. Again we stopped and transferred Donald from the truck to the back of my air conditioned car next to Finnegan.

Both critters had plenty of room and yet, Donald did not agree. Any time Finnegan would shift his weight, Donald would lunge to the front of the carrier and scream and hiss at Finnegan. After an hour of shift, HISS! SCREAM! CRASH!, Finnegan had glued himself to a small portion of the back and as far away as possible from the furry little psychopath.

So yet again, we stopped and moved Donald into the front seat next to me. The unexplained screaming and hissing finally slowed down to a grumble but any time I changed the radio station or flipped over a cassette, he screamed and hissed to make sure I hadn't forgotten about the terror that is Donald. After this pleasant experience with sedatives, Donald did not receive any more ever again never ever ever. EVER! Later on when I told my veterinarian about this experience, she mentioned something about him having impulse control issues. Um, yeah.

He did remain my front seat companion and was rather pleasant the rest of the trip.

Mr. Stinny, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was petrified. Frozen with fear. I worried that Mr. Stinny would have a cardiac arrest from all the stress. I learned how to lift myself up enough and tilt the rear view mirror just in the right position so I could keep a mama's watchful eye on him. If I couldn't get a good view of him or I thought he was too still, I fashioned a patented poking device out of three or four straws that I would use to poke him to make sure he was still alive. Sure enough, he would make a little "Meh" noise and that would satisfy me for the next hour. This went on for the next three days.

Our trip took us through Boulder, Colorado to visit friends and then off to lovely Junction City, Kansas. Because we were traveling with a small zoo, we decided it would be best to find a motel with exterior rooms. Folks find it odd to see a small llama walking through their lobby for some reason. Don't ask me why. My husband, being the frugal person that he is, found a motel that had exterior rooms and was cheap!! Very cheap!

We found our room with such amenities as a bed and working toilet and settled the cats in with their litter box. By the way, even if you offer a litter box in the carrier during a long drive, cats, or at least my cats, will hold it until they are on solid ground. Then, I took Finnegan for a walk around the motel. As we were walking, we ran into the maintenance man and friend who were drunk off their asses and making a lovely meal of hot dogs on a hibachi. They must have been on their second case of beer because one of them slurred:

"I love dogs!"

"Me too!" the friend said.

"What kind of...of (pause) dog is that?"

"He's an Irish Wolfhound" I said while trying to hurry Finnegan along. Well the sound of a friendly voice and grilled hot dogs stopped Finnegan right in his tracks.

"I love dogs!"

"Me too!" the friend said, again.

"Boy, he's a big one. I had German Shepards growing up. They're big"

"That's nice" I replied, using my full body weight to pull Finnegan from these two characters.

"I'm the maintenance man," one of the men said while pausing for a gulp of beer, "So if you need anything just let us know. You want a beer or hot dog?"

Aside from being the maintenance man, he was also the motel cook and bartender! How luxurious!

"Um no, thanks anyway. Have a good night," I said as I finally convinced Finny to keep moving.

I swear as a I walked away I heard: "I love dogs" "Me too!"

The rest of our trip was uneventful. Donald did not misbehave again, with the small exception of peeing in his carrier when we stopped at the rest stop. Mr. Stinny survived and forgave me for putting him in the carrier with Evil Donald and poking him with a straw for three days . Finnegan tolerated the trip and enjoyed all of the attention he received at the rest areas. He was, as usual, a good boy and an excellent travel companion.

As you might have noticed, I did not mention Lilliputian because she was the star of the trip. She comforted Mr. Stinny and only made her loud meezer noises when I said her name in the car, which was nice at hour 17 of our third night of driving when I started hallucinating. So I will leave this exhausting story with a picture of the Queen Siamese:

I Worry

2007-07-17T16:14:00.000-04:00

I am genetically engineered to worry about the small stuff, the big deals, and everything in between. As you, whoever you are, are aware, Finnegan was diagnosed with bone cancer over a year ago and had surgery to remove his entire leg. He has endured chemotherapy. However, he is pretty much the same dog. He eats a lot, walks around, and enjoys his time with us.

Still. I worry. It's been just over a year. When I see him, I hear a voice in the back of my head: Median survival rate is 18 months.

I calculate that's it's been 13 months. Then I wonder: is it eighteen months from diagnosis, surgery or the end of chemotherapy? I think it's from diagnosis and I sigh. How much longer do I have with this wonderful dog? Does he look weak? Has his breathing changed? Is he panting more than usual?

When I arrive home from work, I race to make sure he is still with us. I know this is terribly morbid but this has been on my mind a lot lately and since this is Finnegan and my blog, I wanted to share what I am feeling now. My worry and angst.

I relish in my time spent with him. I demand kisses and hugs as much as I can. I lie on the floor next to him savoring each moment. I laugh at each time he shoves me away with his one remaining front leg.

Still, I do worry.

$$$$$$$$$$$

2007-07-16T10:54:00.000-04:00

Animal companions? Expensive? Nah. Today, after my eye appointment, I will be heading to the veterinarian's office to purchase an eight pound bag of Purina Feline U/R food for Mr. Stinny so he can pee freely, a six month refill of heart worm prevention medication for Finnegan (large breed size times two boxes), and crazy meds for Donald to stop his obsessive grooming - or at least slow it down.

One of those critters is totally getting a job.

Mama!

2007-07-13T13:34:00.001-04:00

If you want to learn more about the human behind the dog, please check out this. You can also learn about Pappy's human there too!

Smile!

2007-07-12T10:35:00.000-04:00

I have been tagged by Asta to put up pictures of me smiling. Hmmm... Here are some recent photos my mommy took of me. I realize in one I don't look as if I'm smiling but DAMN! I look cute!

I am tagging Meggie, Kubrin and the Gang, Winstonberry, and Nanook & Pooka. Please put up lovely pictures of your smiling faces!

Beefy and Brawny versus Disheveled and Scrawny*

2007-07-10T13:58:00.000-04:00

I wouldn't put it past Mama to go to the local animal shelter and pick out the mangiest, goofiest, neediest animal to adopt. When she worked as a veterinary assistant at a cat clinic, she fell in love with this mangy cat named Mouse who was often mistaken for a homeless cat and brought into the shelter. He had grey messy fur and a raspy meow. While working at a veterinary clinic in Salt Lake City, she fell for and adopted Mr. Stinny, a cat who had been hit by a car. Incidentally, he is blind and quite needy, I might add. Attention slut might be an appropriate descriptor for the little man. Of course, there was Lily at the humane society who had just had her third litter of kittens and she weighed only four pounds. Mama rescued her. Shrimpycat was another scrawny little thing abandoned in the woods outside of Syracuse. Yes, she became part of the family too. Then Donald, well, he has so many issues I would have to write a whole post dedicated to the weirdness that is Donald.

And that leaves me. Yes, Mama adopted me as a puppy from a breeder. Yes, I am a purebred Irish Wolfhound. Yes, Mama used her student loan money to buy a dog instead of food. But Mama picked an Irish Wolfhound out of all the other breeds because we tend to look a little disheveled. No poodle cut for us! And, we tend to be on the leaner side, although I did look pretty strong and beefy - mmmm beef - in my younger years. And she prefers similar breeds like Scottish Deerhounds, Wired Hair Fox Terriers, and the like. Of course, I did end up having issues like being born with little to no sight. Go figure.

What does this mean? Is she a disheveled human? Well, kind of. She is not too fussy about her hair or make up. She shows up to work in a snazzy suit with cat hair on it and really doesn't care. She has a history of dating thinner disheveled men (and even married one!).

So, my questions: is there a correlation between a preference for certain types of breeds (and mixes) and attraction to certain characteristics of a human mate?

*This post is inspired by the Today Show had a segment about women choosing thin men over brawny men.

And Then There Were Three...

2007-07-06T10:03:00.001-04:00

It was a year ago today that I had my surgery. If you look closely at the left leg in the photo, you can see the nasty nasty bone tumor.

Another FREAKIN' Public Service Announcement

2007-07-05T14:05:00.001-04:00

I know, I know. You humans just LOVE those purdy fireworks all shiny and loud. For some reason, celebrating the independence of this darling country must involve loud explosions. Fine. I am sort of kinda okay with the big fireworks that you must display all at once at the lake. At least you get it over with.

HOWEVER! Please STOP S-T-O-P with the DAMN fireworks by my house. And yes, I know they are by my house because my mommy found evidence of one such device in our front yard. There is no need to blow sh*t up in a neighborhood where the houses are all near each other and there are big FLAMMABLE YOU KNOW CATCH ON FIRE AND BURN trees all around. AND I do not care if your explosion creates an image of George Washington doing a jig to Yankee Doodle Dandy. PLEASE! No more fireworks. You will make a blind three-legged Irish Wolfhound extremely happy. And that's all the counts, right?

The Story of Finnegan

2007-07-03T15:53:00.000-04:00

Part Trois

I felt a little French was necessary for Finnegan's other lady friend, Sophie. And don't worry Meggie, Finny loves you too. He is just an attention whore. Many apologies all around for any other lady friends we are forgetting.

Once Finnegan made it past the awkward puppy stage and I made it beyond the neurotic nut job stage, Finny grew into a handsome dog. He became a tall muscular boy with spurts of crazed energy. Alas, he developed and carefully crafted the crazed puppy routine. This routine could be dangerous for several reasons. First, our back yard was small and he had a tendency to run into things. Second, if he failed to pay attention to his surroundings AND TO HIS PEOPLE HELLO I'M RIGHT HERE!, he would collide with whatever unfortunate person got in his way. Fortunately, it did not happen too often.

Because he became more exuberant and playful, I decided that I needed to find an outlet for this new found energy. After talking to some folks, I found out there was an off-leash dog park fairly close to our house. Initially, I felt uncomfortable with letting him run around in public without me attached to his climbing rope leash. And then I remembered, he was the quintessential Velcro dog who rarely wanted to leave my side. So then I began to wonder if he would even enjoy the experience of the dog park because he might be too chicken to interact with the other dogs. Well, he wasn't chicken and if I called him, he would run FULL SPEED WATCH OUT SH*T! back to his loving mama. Both of us made lovely friends at the park, every type of dog from a Chinese Crested around whom Finnegan would gingerly walk to the most well-behaved Staffordshire Terrier one could possibly meet.

The dog park became my regular social event in the evening. Because my husband worked late, I would run home, change into something more comfortable (and no, a negligee is not what I mean), and have Finny hop into the car to head to the dog park. Everyone talked with one another and the dogs would race furiously after each other. Finnegan would join in the chase but because of his vision problems (I classify being nearly blind as a vision problem), he was usually at the end of the pack. Despite trailing behind, he had the time of his life every day he went there. I must say that going to the dog park was truly one of my favorite ways to unwind after a long day and I really miss it. I know Finnegan, being the social butterfly he is, misses it too.

Besides playing, Finny can also win contests. He's not fancy and he can't do obstacle courses or super special advanced obedience competitions but dammit, he can win prizes based on his size. Every year, Best Friends Animal Sanctuary or their local counterpart has a fundraising event called Strut Your Mutt. Basically, hundreds of dogs would walk around Sugarhouse Park and dogs and their humans would find sponsors to raise money for the sanctuary. Usually, we went with friends and enjoyed seeing all the interesting breeds. Finnegan says he liked the butt sniffing best.

Besides strutting, the event held competitions for Longest Tongue, Waggiest Tail, and of course, Biggest Lap Dog. Finnegan could probably win all three of those competitions but his specialty was Biggest Lap Dog. Unfortunately, the competition was rigged his first year and he did not win. We believe steroids might have been involved with the winner. Just speculating! Finnegan did return in 2002 to defeat the competition as Biggest Lap Dog. He won something probably involving treats or food. It was a momentous event at that time in his life and he demanded to have an entourage follow him around at all times. The best we could come up with was the three cats, Donald, Lilly, and Mr. Stinny, and once in a while me. After getting past the glamour and excitement of being a champion, Finny returned to earth and went back to what he does best, relaxing, eating, and romping in the dog park.

YOU LOVE ME! YOU REALLY REALLY LOVE ME! Redux

2007-06-28T18:00:00.000-04:00

And other cool stuff, I found that I am being linked from the Irish Wolfhound Society of Ireland. Mommy finds this particularly wonderful because she is half Irish-America, her dad is fully Irish-American, AND SHE JUST LOVES THE IRISH SO MUCH!

HI, COUSIN ELIZABETH!

HI, ANDREW ON THE RADIO! Listen to Andrew on the radio! (not a cousin but a nice person!)

So if you find me from the Irish Wolfhound Society of Ireland, welcome! If you want to learn more about my cancer and treatment, please read June - July 2006 archives and October - November , also December 2006 archives. If you want to learn more about ME!, please read The Story of Finnegan Parts I and II. My mommy is working on Part III.

All Our Children Meow and Woof

WE HAVE A WINNER

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Review: Cesar Milan - Mastering Leadership (and a contest!)

Archives

menu

contact

credits

What Breed of Dog Should Obama Get?

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Coming Soon!

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Introducing...

Archives

menu

contact

credits

An Inspirational Dog Has Passed

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Finnegan

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Farewell to a Friend

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Finnegan's Friend

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Feeling Good

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Happy Birthday, Finny!

Archives

menu

contact

credits

The Big C (or M in this Case)

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Healing

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Finnegan: The Book

Archives

menu

contact

credits

Public Finnegan Annoucement

Archives

menu

contact