Now, before you freak out, I'm laughing at this whole sad, sickening thing because it's keeping me from crying, becoming fiercely angry, deeply morose and otherwise get all wound up over something I can't do very much about. My house is a dumping grounds for abandoned and neglected animals, and most times I do what little I can and send them on to either the Humane Society or, in a few lucky instances, new and loving homes.
That is she: Umquayquay the Ethiopian Hound. Truth be told I'm thinking she's part Doberman Pinscer and part Weimaraner because she's got a peculiar brownish-grey tint to her. This may also be deeply-encrusted dirt, but I'm thinking not. She wandered up Saturday morning while I was enduring more of the family trying to pick the bones of my not-yet-dead Uncle, and me being me I first made sure she had no open sores, no froth from her big, lippy jowls nor an issue of blood. Passing the initial tests with flying colours I took in her advanced emaciation, her gentle nature, her greying muzzle and her very worn-down teeth (she's obviously an older dog) and decided it was time to keep her, if she'd let herself be kept.
A water bowl full of fresh tapwater was greatly appreciated, but a big heaping bowlful of Belle's advanced nutrition diet was snubbed. By a starving dog. This worries me, but I guess even a starving dog won't lower itself to eating the sort of stuff a supermodel eats for supper.
So, a brief foray by Mrs. I into town brought back a big bag of Kibbles N Bits, also known in this household as "potatoe chips" and our dear Miss Umquayquay pounded into it like...well, like a starving dog. She's been keeping it down well, so Stage Two has been passed with flying colours.
The funny thing about her is that she's SUCH a Farm Dawg. She watches the chickens but doesn't chase them, she tried to get into the trailer when I got it stuck in the back backyard this morning, and she follows us everywhere we go outside. I know it's mostly due to her joy at finding a new pack after what looks like a very long time without one but she's also really good, very sweet and mild.
This afternoon she got some Advantage put on her, so she's been doing the "Dying Flea Shimmy" all afternoon as the horrid things sicken and go crawling around before they die. It's rewarding to know that we've helped turn her life and her fortunes around. I'm hoping that she was simply a hunting dog who got lost (not as rare as you'd think) and not a case of neglect and abandonment but there's no telling for sure. She'd no collar, and while she does have an ear tattoo it's not very helpful. Inquiries will be made at the local vet offices but judging by her advanced starvation and the callouses where her hip-bones have been rubbing on the ground I'm not thinking she'll be claimed very fast if at all.
So? Now I have a Farm Dawg again, having grown up my entire life with one about. As soon as she puts on some weight we'll bring her to the vet to be thumped and palpated and peered at (she has amazingly clean ears for a stray) and we're hoping desperately that she's not heartworm positive. If not she'll go on preventative and live out her days here in her big straw bed in the garage that she's made her own. If she's positive? We'll keep her happy and as comfortable as we can. At such time as it becomes necessary we'll put her down as humanely and as lovingly as possible.
I'm hoping that thus far the quality of her life has improved, if not the quantity. It's all I can hope for right now, so I'm going to smile and ruffle her big ears when I go outside to see her, and I'm going to make sure she has plenty potatoe chips and pizza bones and table scraps, whatever fattens her up. Plenty of fresh water too--she tried my dirty, soapy truck-wash water and seemed to find it pretty palatable but I'm going to stick with fresh tapwater for now. Tomorrow we'll deal with tomorrow's problems. It's the best lesson any dog can teach us--live in the Right Now.
There you are. Umquayquay the Ethiopian Hound, said joke hopefully to not make much sense in a few more weeks. I'll keep you posted.
And so, without further ado:
The Irrelephant Show Cone! Er, List!
- Is a marriage implied to cross all genetic boundaries?
- He's a hunt & pecker?
- farmyard life
- homo dogs
- because I haven't said "breasts" yet . . . damn!
- Little Caesar's, now with more Ol' Roy
- Pagliacci's is the shiznit.
- What can I get for free, dude?
- We serve goats as this establishment.
- I had sea cucumber at a wedding once.
- There once was a fellow McSweeny.
- McSweeny's Sea Cucumber
- on a steek
- food du jour
- gaping hole
- Oh, God, the cone is back.
- "My mind is more like a distribution center." - Maggie
- I like it up against the wall, but only when the kids aren't home.
- had it set on 'puree'
- banjo assigned to him at birth
- Happy Conening!
- beer and scotch
- Nancy, are you sleeping around?
- bang, bang, bang-bang-bang
- You-go-kway, it's your birthday
- I'm really snotty this morning.
- warm confusion
- Stucco violated the cone.
- like a defibrillator
- "I don't do words on Spring Break" - Nancy Dancehall
- Oh, Pants!
- The Harrison Cone
Give a listen, and be sure to bend an ear to Schmoopie's eye-opening Cone Report and be sure to go see Maggie's post about her Poem of The Week which talked about rich soil, pH balance and distribution centers. It seems she's been voted Commander In Chef or something, too. Perhaps some sort of strange, Canadian knock-off?
Thank you, won't you?