Mar 16, 2008

Umquayquay And The Post-Show Wrapup

Some of you might have giggled your way through me mentioning the ongoing exploits of Umquayquay the Ethiopian Hound on today's radio show. Well, I'm pleased to report that the old dear is already thickening up a little in the tummy area, is well-hydrated now and has made for herself a nice daybed out of a pile of hay that was in my garage and now seems destined to remain therein.

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.
  • fan-damn-tastic
  • 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.
  • por-KEE
  • "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
  • iconoclast
  • 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!
  • Whambamthankyouma'amazon
  • 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?


Nancy Dancehall said...

Aw, you're making me cry. What a beauty. She's going to be just fine. She's home now.

Scott from Oregon said...

I have been fattening Waldo up after he got into some spoiled dead salmon in our creek awhile back.

I watched him shit last week and I laughed so hard.

Gold and powerful lateral spray that reminded me of a drywall texturing gun...

I wished I would have caught it all on canvas...

Gordo said...

What a sweetheart, Irr. I'll keep my fingers crossed on the heartworm test. Many moons ago, when I worked in journalism, I did an article about it. The cure is worse than the disease, the vet told me.

Eric Shonkwiler said...

You sir, are a saint among men.

Irrelephant said...

Nancy, don't fret. *s* She is home, I just moved her haypile bed deeper into the garage so she'll stay dry tonight and tomorrow through the storm. She's such a sweet, mellow old thing. That is until we gave her some worming meds. She wasn't crazy over that, even tho the vet insisted that it was "banana flavoured." *lol*

Scott, I'm speechless. *lol* A bad salmon, eh? Whew.

Gordo, she really is a sweet old hound. We're hoping for the best, but even if she is positive and we can catch it early the treatment isn't nearly as bad as it used to be. It's certainly better than the affliction, and with the quantity of mosquitoes we have down here in summer it's a vital concern.

Eric, not a saint, just a guy who hates nothing more than to see anyone or anything treated like they're worthless. (Hence our six cats, three dogs and innumerable previous rescues, help-outs, Katrina kittens, you name it. *G*)

meno said...


You are my hero. Any man who takes care of strays is a fine person.

Mona Buonanotte said...

She's gorgeous! You, sir, are a saint for taking her in!

Irrelephant said...

Meno, like I said, I'm no better or worse than anyone else. I simply hate, HATE to see anything suffer, especially creatures who have come to expect and need things like food and shelter and love from people who have unaccountably decided to turn their backs on their responsibility. It makes me sick, so I answer it the only way I can--with potatoe chips and beds of sweet hay. *s*

Mona, you can see what a pretty, gentle old dog she is--how could ANYONE say 'no' to that sweet hound face? :)

Clowncar said...

Mmmmm...banana flavored worming meds.

Rayne said...

That poor dog.
She looks exactly like our ol'Farm Dog C'mere.
She was a run away, very well trained, and had just had recent abdominal surgery but we were never able to find the owners. She wouldn't respond to any name but would always come to C'mere.
She was some kind of coon hound mix and she looks just like your lucky little lady there. Keep us updated, I really want to know how she does.

Irrelephant said...

Clowncar, I'm still trying to figure out what sort of a vet thought that 'banana flavoured' meds would appeal to a dog. Perhaps "dead skunk" or "ass" would be more appropos?

Rayne, I love that name! *lol* And you know, I've always had 'farm dogs,' just plain ole rangy mutts. They're so much a part of my life that having this old girl around is like...well, like being a kid again.

I'll be sure to keep you and everyone up on how she's doing (day four, tummy is fat and full and she's starting to show a tiny bit of filling out!)

boneman said...

OK, well, here's hoping I am allowed to write in the comment box, because I AM a onefingered hunt'n'pecker.
Actually, now-a-days, I've expanded to four fingers and both thumbs!

Second, I know what you mean.
We used to live about three miles from an interstate coming from the city (Indy) and all the time some kind of jerk or other would bring his dog out and dump it.
We kept most unless we found someone who would take them

One particularly bad time in my life when I wanted to eat a bullet, some jackass dumped a bitch and her entire brood out on the fields. Well, mama dog took the pups around the area big time for most the summer, getting a pup interested in something at a house, then running off.
Yeah, the dog was dumping the pups at houses. Let's just get by that for a moment, eh?

She was finally left with one pup, and her aim, evidently, was to dump it on us.
Well, I wandered out with food, and the pup took to it like flies on a carcass, but as soon as mama took off running, the pup would follow suit.
I finally started tricking them into the yard (food is a great trickery agent) and, despite the big time carrying on from inside the house from five other howlers, I finally talked them in.
Yeah, those two dogs stunk to high heaven, and I figured that, well, if the two strangers were bathing, so should ALL of them.
Later, we would use the term, "Don't let the two black dogs out together" because, evidently, mama was still interested in dumpimg pup.
Somehow the motherhood of that dog effected me tremendously. I named her Ha Ha San (which I think means "true mother") and we named the boy pup Augustus (can you guess what month they were taken in?)

Years later, when she started getting weak and old, I would find myself considering the situation from the other sense. The bastard that dumped her and the pups was a worthless tick's butt clingers, but, because of his stupid, inconsiderate, totally moronic action, I ended up with a dog that "saved" me from whatever demons that were onto me.

(long way to go for such a little punchline...)

So, that's I dunno how to say, "good" that he did what he did because he was not of the mental capacity to raise a dog.

Down the road from where we live now, there is a rug, partially rolled up with, you know, "water" marks on it, and next to the rug is a dog, apparently shot to death.

Now, in the first case, if I ever found the bin laden that dropped off Ha Ha, I would literally LAUGH him into shame.
If I EVER catch the guy with the dog and rug show, he should hope he has friends to peel me off of him.

You got something beautiful, there, guy.
Take good care of her.

Mother of Invention said...

Wishing her the best! bring on the Grade AAA T-bones!

Irrelephant said...

Boneman, I love the image of that momma dog out pimping her pups out to good homes. *g* There's something like evolution going on there, isn't there? *lol*

As for keeping you from the edge--it's funny, isn't it, how something as simple as a dog in your life can change your entire perspective, your outlook? I know the little things matter, but I think the first caveman who first let a wolf into his cave to share the kill of the day couldn't understand in an eternity what a service he was doing countless billions of people. Me and you included.

MoI, you're a sweetie, and I'll tell her so. *g* She's getting her aspirin (for sore joints) with a big piece of American cheese, and she's getting all the treats and kitchen scraps and every bit of loving there is to give.

Anonymous said...

It's not ASPIRIN!!

It's ibuprofen...


Anonymous said...

I am so glad I stopped in here...I bet that sweet dog is glad she stopped in there, too.