More Than Love

So I was thinking. Why can't I have another dog?

Bandit is so darned cute, everyone overlooks the Pit Bulls, and Charlie would love someone closer to her age and energy to play with. He deserves a great home, and if I say so myself, I can give him just that.

Bandit is a really nice dog, playful and respectful, I think he'll be easy to train, and any dog who can be housebroken in a kennel filled with dogs vying for attention has got my vote. He's a great size - about 40 lbs., not too small, not too large.

But there's so much more to having pets than just giving them a warm place to sleep and lots of love.

First of all, they need attention. I can't just push the older ones aside because the younger ones are more demanding of me. Just look at Trouper being all cute. He's such a smush face. And he does the Cute Thing really well.

Second, can I afford FIVE dogs? I just did some quick math to see what I spent over the last year on regular, every day costs of having four dogs (stay tuned to this post for the results). Nothing extraordinary; other than Buster's recent eye problem, all of my monkeys, knock on wood, are in good health.

So, what's "normal" care? Well, in my house, it's heartworm preventative, flea and tick goo, and the older dogs get joint supplements. And now that Trouper has found poop to be a tasty treat, everyone gets coprophagia pills every day.

I bring everyone to the vet for yearly exams. Now that Buster, Trouper, and Lucy have reached A Certain Age, they all need senior blood panels, which we do twice a year. Buster has chest x-rays to keep an eye on his osteosarcoma - remember, his appeared on his ribs rather than on a limb; my dogs are Special.

All four get regular vaccinations, except for the Special Boy, Buster, who can't get anything but his rabies vaccination because he's immunocompromised.

Trouper has skin allergies, so he gets a daily dose of Atopica - thank goodness for this medication - it's not cheap, but it has relieved his itchy skin and feet remarkably well. If I skip more than two days in a row, he's miserable - chewing, licking, and generally driving himself crazy.

Then, there's my Heart Dog, Lucy. She has a heart murmur, so we have to do an ultrasound each year to check its progress. She's not on any medication at this point, and we're due for this year's ultrasound. Gotta make that appointment... Look at that face! Mwaa!

Charlie is the youngest and most... Let's just say robust. If robust means getting into trouble all the time and somehow coming out the other side in one piece. She's the one who ate the potholder when she was just about a year old and ended up having emergency surgery a week before Christmas. She's also the one who plays very roughly with my older kids, and leaves them with ugly wounds. Not in a mean way, just in an "I thought you were a soccer ball" way. Of course, the other dogs don't care much for being Charlie's soccer ball.


So, here's the part you've been waiting for. It might be the cause of my persistent headaches, now that I think about it.

I looked back over my vet expenses for the past year. Including Buster's recent eye surgery, Trouper's very expensive medicine, joint supplements, Lucy's yearly ultrasound, heartworm medication for four dogs, and annual exams and vaccinations for four dogs... I've spent over $6,400. In twelve months. And that doesn't include food. The pooches have to eat. And then there are treats. And there's Christmas. And Nylabones. Gotta have Nylabones...

Hey, they're worth every penny. And I'll just be an indentured servant to my current employer until who knows when.

So - can I really afford a fifth dog? In terms of love, yes. Absolutely!

Twelve - It's not just for Days of Christmas

Christmas is only a couple of days away, and it marks Trouper's unofficial birthday. Unofficial because we really don't know what his real birthday is; I only know that we rescued him in 1999 and he was about a year old. Since he's such a happy and jolly fella, we decided that December 25th would be an appropriate day to celebrate his birthday.

What hit me like a load of bricks was that this will be his 12th birthday. Not only that, but in the next few months, two more of my dogs will be turning twelve. YIKES! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?? When did twelve years fly by? (And why don't they act their age, doggonnit?!)

We rescued Trouper from New England Border Collie Rescue. He was almost perfect from Day One. Except for the time he jumped on the island in the kitchen the first week we had him. I guess we weren't paying enough attention to him - it's so easy to ignore the big black and white hairy thing under your feet, and following you everywhere. But it was just that one time; you know how quick Border Collies are to learn and all that...

He never had a stitch of the herding instinct in him, never cared about agility, and (as you can see in the picture) always liked lobbing about, just taking in as much love as he possibly could. It's how he earned the nickname Casanova. People, dogs, lizards, the remote control; you name it, he loves it. He'd lick your face off if you let him. (Good to know: he often eats poop.)

Buster is the next to hit the big 1-2, in February. Even though he's a rescue, we know his birthdate because we have his papers.

He was given up twice before he was nine months old. The second time, he was tied to the rescue's railing and left there. Nine months old! He's just a little, teeny Parson Russell, for heavens sake (who could take down a Grizzly) he wouldn't hurt a fly.

When we picked him up at his foster home, he was very excited (standing on the kitchen counter and all). He obviously couldn't wait to go to a "normal" home. In his previous home, he had been given a haircut (a chop job) by an 8-year-old and was wearing green sparkle nail polish. Poor dog. And who lets an eight-year-old play with a dog AND scissors?

His story is great. The woman who had Buster also had a two-year-old Parson. She wanted to - get this - "switch to Poodles." Well, guess what? I'd like to switch to blonde, but IT'S A DOG, not a haircolor you ignorant piece of crap. Good for Buster. Now he knows what real love is.

A couple of years ago, he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. We found a lump on his ribcage, an odd place for it to pop up. Usually this bone cancer appears in limbs, and, usually, it's found in larger breed dogs. His surgery involved removing the affected rib, plus clear margins which meant pieces of the surrounding ribs. The surgery was fairly involved, but he pulled through with flying colors. He then when through some pretty tough chemotherapy, lost his hair (which grew back a sort of apricot color; this pic is pre-op/pre-chemo) and is still biting the ankles of anyone who will get close enough. Only kidding. Sort of. (Good to know: when meeting Buster for the first time, throw him an ice cube. Friends for life, guaranteed.)

Lucy, my little girl, will turn twelve in April. She's a mini-Aussie and she's an R-U-N-T from a breeder. Please don't say the "R" word out loud in front of her. In my eyes, she's THE most perfect dog to walk the face of the Earth. Ever. Don't even try to dispute this.

Anyway. This is the Velcro dog that follows me everywhere. SHE has the herding instinct and uses it every day. Charlie thinks she's the boss; Lucy knows she's the boss.

We tried agility with Lucy; she started through the tunnel. And stopped. Halfway through. Just stopped. And sat down. She wasn't putting on a show for anyone, no-ho-ho. So we stopped agility and went home. She continued herding the boys and is quite content with that as her sport, although the boys might disagree to this very day. (Good to know: Lucy is MY dog; hands off, not kidding.)

So those are my soon-to-be twelve-year-olds. I still don't know where the time went. Or why they still act like puppies!

And this is what Charlie has to say about all of this: