Tears of Blood

Posted on September 22, 2009 in Dogs

A fellow around the corner keeps a pair of dogs that are too big and too mean for the neighborhood. Nevertheless, we try to respect his property rights. Drake, on the other hand, feels it is his devotion to inform those canines that he deserves their respect. He could get this plain enough by ignoring them as they bark at his passing, but the pull on the leash towards them whenever we pass tells us that this low key approach does not suit him. He has to show ’em.

To avoid overexciting him, we pick up our pace or even run by until we reach a peaceful stretch of path where all the dogs forget about each other. We have another habit to which I must confess: to reward Drake at the end of walks, we sometimes let him walk with the leash dragging behind him. The plan is always to pick it up before he gets to where the big dogs are, but on Sunday night he dashed off before Lynn could grab him.

Straightaway he charged to the barred gate where his antagonists lurked. The larger and blacker of the two of them faced off our brindle boy. Fierce barking was exchanged. Drake squatted down on his side of the fence, simultaneously snarling and screaming. Lynn got his tether and goaded him back to the path. He marched with his head up for the few dozen paces back to our condo. When he got in the door, I pulled down a flashlight and shone it over his face.

The rims of his eyes were bright red. Tears of blood flowed from each. I had Lynn bring me Q-tips, hydrogen peroxide, and a clean paper towel. First, I wiped the bloody tears. Then I examined him more closely. An abrasion arced along the bone next to the eye. I carefully sponged this area. Drake sat placidly as I cleansed the wound and patted his head.

The sight of the blood tears worried me, so I checked the Web. Three different pet medicine sites said the same thing: if there is any bleeding from the eyes, take the dog to a vet immediately. Relaying this to Lynn before I dialed, I first called our regular vet then the veterinary emergency service his answering service recommended.

“I have a Boston Terrier,” I said. “He got into an argument through a fence with another dog and there’s bleeding from his eyes.” Boston Terriers, like pugs and bull dogs, have protruding eyes which can catch on twigs, claws, splinters, and even flecks of paint ((The vet told us that the sensitivity of Boston Terrier eyes is less than that of other dogs. Smushed-face dogs had that in common. He had seen pugs blissfully unaware that there were huge chunks of lint attached to their corneas.)) . We were told to come in immediately.

It was a relief to both of us that Drake didn’t paw at his eyes for this was a sign of trouble. Lynn noted that he tracked her finger well when she told him to Focus. Still eye injuries can be slight at first then become more serious as they get infected, the receptionist told us. Drake curled up in the back seat as we drove down to the clinic which is attached to the Mission Viejo animal shelter.

This place wasn’t new to us: it was the same clinic where my little Ambrose had been put down seven years ago. The staff had been kind, but it still ached as receptionist sent us into the same room where my beloved cat had been put to sleep, where I had rushed out in tears rather than face seeing him killed.

Our dog fared much better. The veterinary nurse happened to know him because she had cared for him at our regular doctor where she works days. Drake did not like the taking of his temperature (what dog or cat does?) but he was stoic as the thermometer did its job. The checkup showed that his eyes were less red than when we left. There was no sign of the red tears ((Our best guess about the blood was that his blood pressure was so high vessels inside the tear ducts burst. As he calmed down, they healed. We have seen no trouble since.)) . The night vet complimented me on my treatment of the abrasion, then rinsed and stained Drake’s eyes green so he could check for corneal scratches. There were none.

Drake left with a tube of ointment that we were to apply to his eyes three times each day. The drive home was so restful that I didn’t see that I had dropped my cell phone back at the clinic. (We recovered that later in the night.) Drake licked his paws, made his bed to his liking, and slept deep until Lynn woke him for his breakfast and morning walk.

Drake Goes on a Spree

Posted on February 2, 2009 in Dogs

Two nights away at the Lawrence Welk Resort didn’t seem like much — we knew the cats would recognize us when we came back — but Drake agonized over our absence despite the twice-daily visits of a guardian. He greeted us enthusiastically at the door until we noticed the detritus of a bender he’d had. The door to the bedroom had been barred to him by our design, so he explored the space under the bathroom sink, dragging out toothbrushes, toothpaste, a bottle of Grecian Formula that I’d forgotten I had, razors, and other plastic accoutrements peculiar to our bathroom. He chewed these into lumps and seedlike fragments, tore open a box of bandages, and squeezed the toothpaste out of a sample-sized tube.

Oh! The second I stopped the celebration of our return by noticing these, his SPU went into operation and he stalked over to the bed. I had mixed feelings about scolding him so soon after our return. For the rest of the day, he favored Lynn over me except when I had a biscuit to present.

The SPU and Other Built-In Features of Dogs

Posted on January 23, 2009 in Dogs

The head hangs down. His little stub of a tail would droop, too, if it were not paralyzed.

The Drug of the Jaw

Posted on November 25, 2008 in Dogs

Doggie has been prowling the house, looking for a den where he can chew pink marrow dreams. A ham bone is his hash pipe. He sleeps it off then wakes to gnaw some more.

Dog Poetry

Posted on November 18, 2008 in Dogs

I have watched my dog devote himself most intently to the snuffling of a tree, a stone, or, in one case, a particular lavender bush in Concourse Park. Being a short-snubbed Boston Terrier, he possesses fewer smell receptors, I suppose, than the 220 million gifted your average German Shepherd or Lab but he still hunts odor like the glaucoma-impaired [[Monet]] hunted color at [[Giverny]].

One can’t imagine the nares-driven richness of a dog’s world. If a dog were to write poetry, we could only render it faintly in our world of sights and sounds as “sniff sniff sniff snort. Deep snort. sniff sniff. Deep snort.” or maybe “Xena the [[Patterdale Terrier|Patterdale Terrier’s]] urine blending sensuously with whiffs of the lavender bush”. Oh there must be love in these grunts, rupturing as they do from the emanations of a passing stray because my Drake drills his fore-shortened schnozz deep into the grass when he experiences them. A short bark is all the declamation he gives in their honor, but I know he feels much more.

Whenas on paws my Xena goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The olafaction ((I’m taking liberties with the spelling here. Sue me!)) of her toes!