Monday, October 1, 2012

All Gryphon Updates, All the Time...

Newfound employment makes for a dusty, abandoned blog, it seems.  Sad for the blog, but good for my bank account.  Yes, that's right, I have finally given up being a perpetual student for a real job IN MY FIELD!  I've landed a dream position as a technician at the vet clinic where I take my pets. Everyone is very nice (and patient), and hopefully the daily newbie anxiety I feel will soon vanish.  I just want to be good at everything, stat!

Anyhow, this post is to update folks on Gryphon (yes, he DOES get most of the post content...don't tell the others, but he is definitely my favorite).  His back end has been steadily deteriorating.  Even watching him standing in the living room you can see his hindquarters sinking slowly to the floor (without his knowledge it seems. The front half is confused as to why we're so discouraged), and he is now permanently living on the top floor so he doesn't take a header down the stairs.

X-rays at the vet have determined that he has spondylosis, a condition (as I understand it) where bony growths projecting from the spine are effecting (affecting? I never know which one to use) the function of the spinal cord.  Certain reflexes are weak or absent and a pair of hemostats clamped between his back toes produces no reaction.  The (kind of) good news is that this growing paralysis does not hurt. Like I said, while the back half is having trouble standing and walking, the front half is happy and normal as ever.

It is heartbreaking to see him stagger or fall, but we try to help out as much as possible by hoisting him up stairs or onto the couch.  After our last visit to the dog park (a horrific experience where he momentarily went over on both back legs and was dragging himself like seal), Gryphon will not be going off leash anymore.  I have to wrap both of his back feet when we go for a walk, because they knuckle over and rub against the concrete, causing bleeding from both his toenails and toes otherwise.  We may look into a second hand doggie wheelchair if he gets worse.

We are trying to stay positive (I promise the next post will be cheery and chock full of dick and fart jokes) for our big boy. I love him so.  If you have a chance to stop by, please come and visit. Big Gryph would love to see you.


Friday, August 3, 2012

Homeward Bound

We often lament the presence of assholes in this world. While I can lament with the best of them, I have a special place in my heart for the gutless-dickwad who tossed two puppies on a busy highway some 11 years ago.

Thank you, douchebag, for being such an a-hole.  If is wasn't for your heartless actions (plus the goodness of quick-acting citizens and an accommodating animal shelter), I would not have adopted the dog who turned into my best friend of over a decade.

Yes, it's true. Some degenerate actually left two five week old puppies on the Hanlon (a busy highway in Guelph).  The story sparked enough outrage to merit a newspaper article, and people were actually queuing up to adopt the "Hanlon Puppies".  Coincidentally (and completely oblivious of the story), I had decided to adopt a dog and happened to waltz into the Guelph Humane Society while the black and brindle pup was still available (the other puppy was yellow).

(Excuse the cruddy-quality photos. They were taken with *gasp* FILM)

Flash forward 11 years and my puppy and I are still BFFs. True, we're both a little (okay, a lot) stouter and creakier than we were, but still happy together.  Adopting Gryphon is the absolute best thing I have ever done. He has taught me so much about life and myself, I feel that I can never repay him. Even as I type this, he is ignoring his cushy bed in order to snug up close to my computer chair on the floor. 

Hang on while I put his bed next to me...

 Much better. 

Anyways, Gryphon's health is pretty good for his age, despite back legs that don't seem to want to work the way they should (a repaired cruciate ligament in his right knee five years ago is now taking all the weight in the back end as the other knee deteriorates with no option of surgery).  He drags his back legs, wobbles and wambles like a bowlegged pirate when he is sore, but he NEVER wants to be left behind and is always wagging his tail. 

We have lived in several cities in Gryphon's lifetime, but I always wanted to take him back to Guelph to visit all of his favorite puppyhood places.  This summer, Nik (like the good guy he is) took us back home for the first time since 2003.  I think Gryphon could have cared less WHERE he was, he was just so happy to be with us (without Bruin, even!), but I was simply ecstatic to be back in Guelph.  It has changed a lot (in a good way) but most of my favorite places and landmarks are still intact.  


 Road trip? My favorite!
Checking out the view from the hotel balcony

Someone got his very own ice cream at The Boathouse

 
 The covered bridge along the Speed River trail leads from The Boathouse Ice Cream Parlour...

 ...to our favorite swimming spot (we walked this trail daily when Gryph was a puppy)

Ahhhhhhh

We hit up the university campus (someone had already painted the cannon when we got there, darn!)

 Gryphon blends in seamlessly with the abundant hippie population in Guelph

 Namesake

We wanted to wander in the Arboretum, but discovered that Gryphon had sprung a leak from walking on the pavement all morning (when his back legs drag on concrete his nails grind down and bleed) so we just snapped a picture of the sign and took him back to the hotel

After a power nap and a foot wrap, he was good to go!



I made this collage once we got home with a picture of us taken on the trip, and a photo that had been taken the day Gryphon was adopted. Same park, same characters, 11 year span. Pretty freaking cool...


We look good for a couple of old farts, don't we?

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Sleep Sequence

I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night.

~Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes
 




Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Frrt.

Now, I'll be the first person to speak out against buying pets on impulse; an animal deserves careful planning and money put aside for its care before it comes home.  However, I want to tell you about the little weasel that made me eat those wise words two years ago...

It started out innocently enough: a friend and I were having a girly day shopping at the mall. I was buying scented tea lights, of all things (although those who know me know that candles are a bit of a worrisome addiction for me; visiting my apartment is akin to attending a seance).  Thus happily laden down with bags of fruity-smelling wax, we were wandering the mall when we happened upon a pet store. Despite knowing about the many evils of pet stores (especially ones in malls that sell puppies), the 2 year old in me can't resist going in to oogle the animals.  We made our way through the store uneventfully, until a musky whiff made me turn and exclaim: "Oh! They must have ferrets!"

Indeed they did; a tall cage full of hanging furniture and two snoozing ferrets. One was a half grown white knee sock, and the other just a tiny ball of brown and black fluff.  They were curled around each other slumbering in complete bliss.  I've always been interested in ferrets, but never enough to ask a pet store employee to let me hold one.  That day was a different story, and momentarily I was holding the smaller of the two nestled in both hands.  The tiny thing woke up, blinked blearily at me, sneezed, stretched, and promptly fell back asleep. The helpful sales girl informed me he was a boy, and only 3 months old.  For a weasel, he was almost unbearably cute. A little crowd had gathered around us to pet him; everyone likes baby animals. Some 18 year old d-bag with his arm slung around his girlfriend pushed in close and proclaimed loudly: "S'cute, eh babe? I could get that if I wanted, I could buy that right now. You want one-a those?" While I was proud that he could string a sentence together, I worried about the fate of any ferret with someone who didn't seem capable of pulling his pants up over his ass or putting his hat on straight.  I held the little critter until they swaggered out (the idea of ownership quickly forgotten in the midst of shopping sounds and shiny objects) and then tried to return the still sleeping furball to its cage. In his sleep, the ferret had curled his little fists around the lapel of my coat, and when I tried to lift him back, he hung on tight.  Something bubbled up in my heart just then, and I didn't give him back.

I couldn't.


We bought the bare essentials (my friend thoughtfully helped me out) and headed home with a little cardboard carrier poked with air holes. We set up my foster guinea pig cage and I hopped on the internet to learn as much about ferrets as I could. After the fact, I know, but I was a quick study.


He slept a lot. He sneezed a lot. He had coccidia (ew).  I had the wrong bedding in his cage and too few litter boxes.  Eventually I got everything set to rights, and man, all I have to say is:

Best.
Pet.
EVER.



Ferrets are fearless, curious, and always up for an adventure.  Kirby (as he was quickly named) will chase the cats through the apartment and pester them until I have to go to the rescue. "Saving" a wailing 15 pound cat from a 2 pound ferret shows just how tenacious they can be.  Kirby lives to play and explore and steal (mostly my underpants, which he then stashes under Nik's dresser).  In the summer the dogs, the ferret, and I all go around the block together, much to the amusement of our neighborhood.


We have had a couple of types of cages for Kirby, but eventually upgraded to the ultimate weasel dreamhome: The Ferret Nation.

Kirby has not snuggled with me since the week I bought him; he's been too busy! He has to rearrange his cage furniture and wrestle with Bruin and run down the block and chase Nik's ankles and make Stubcat cry and sneak off to poop in the corner and and and...

...you can see how he has to prioritize.


You can find videos of Kirby on my YouTube channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/brindlepants) that will help you appreciate the brattiness, the badness, and the absolute sweetness of owning a ferret.

At the end of the day, after I've caught him peeing beside his litter box, or pulled him off a screaming cat, or had to dig through a whole cupboardful of pots and pans to retrieve him, Kirby sleeps as if he's in a coma.


There IS rest for the wicked, after all.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Dog Days of Summer

We shaved Bruin for the summer and found a TON of great markings underneath...hurray for summer haircuts!

Before...

And after! Brindle-riffic! Brin...tastic?