Dog Lovers, A Breed Apart

Dog lovers understand how special each of their companion animals is. Dog lovers working at veterinarian offices or boarding facilities like mine recognize the personality of each animal in their care. People get excited when you tell them what their dog likes or how it behaves because they know you see that dog as an individual.



It is the ability to see the individual dog and not just a dog that makes us true dog lovers. When we cry over the loss of a pet, there is always the person who tells us to just get another one. The non dog lover cannot see that there is no other one.


And yet the truth is having another one to care for causes us to go on when your heart is pumping puddles on the floor.


Owl’s wounds are mending. The peroxide soaks are bringing the infection down.


My concern is that flies have laid eggs in the wound. I’ve seen that once before; it’s not pretty. Any advice on what to do here is appreciated. One puncture has two “chambers” The top one is damn near squeaky clean, in the bottom there is a brown something. I think it’s a clot. There is infection behind it or worse fly larva. Previously, I saw a wound at the maggot stage, when they were coming out. It was easy to figure out how to speed that process.


Stormy’s ears are all chewed to shit. His muzzle and the back of his right front leg have wounds that need tending.


Blondie has taken to buddy bumping me. I pick her up with my arms around her chest. She loves it when I shake her. There is no sign of the mange I treated her for last year.


Another neighbor stopped up last night. He told us all the gory details of how Bonita died. We didn’t understand a word, but we knew what he said. I don’t know why people feel required to be sure that you are wallowing in all the pain with them. He left out nothing. Just when I thought he would leave, it started raining. He doesn’t speak a word of English to us. Neither one of us speaks that much Spanish, so I showed him pictures of the neighborhood dogs. Muerte or no muerte was the best I could do. I could tell by his body posture which ones were dead. After a few his head just hung low, we could see his sense of loss.


Just when the sadness was too painful to bear, he spotted a picture of Snow White; she’s alive!