Careful What You Say In Front Of Your Dog - They Learn, Rack Did

I remember once I was watching my neighbor's dog, Ellie.

Ellie was trained, pretty well.  She knew to put her paw on you when she needed something.  She was just not too good at explaining what she wanted.

On her best day, she was a dog.  Don't expect them to be human, they don't speak English.

But, they do understand it.  In fact I think it is fair to say, they understand it better than you might expect.

When my nephew Jon was a toddler, he thought I was James Brown the Soul artist.  You see, I can do a pretty good imitation of JB singing "Static!" from the song that was popular back then.

Now mind you I could not pass for James Brown at all, and while I am a fan of his art, I can't say that a 6'4" 220 pound White Dude could lead an iconic Soul group.  Just don't have the "background" for it.

That's the thought that I had in mind lately.  You see, Rack is learning English and doing so

quickly.

The other day I was telling a friend how clocks work and some of the mechanical theory behind it.

For example, A Pendulum where the string or the shaft that holds the weight that is exactly 39.1 inches or 994 mm long is a special pendulum that swings once per second and back in another second is called a Second Pendulum.  Connect that to an escapement wheel and a gear with exactly 60 teeth and you have your second hand.

Rack heard me talking and describing all this, walked over and sat down at my feet.  He then looked up at me with rapt attention like I was describing the mechanics of the universe, and everything, and finished it with the meaning of life.

It is 42, just ask Douglas Adams.  You can't, he's gone, but if you ask the mice and they give you an answer, you may do best to get a towel and prepare for the Vogon Constructor Fleet and the subsequent demolition of Earth.

The point is that Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM) Is a superb dog.  He knows how to Dog.  He's a dog of a lifetime, but that is because while I talk to him, I don't expect him how to Human.  This isn't Family Guy and he's not Brian.

Although if I could just talk to him with full comprehension for 15 minutes... please?

Oh well.

However that Non-Human-Person presents an interesting school of thought.  People learn Language through repetition and what is important to them.

The first thing I start to teach a dog is "Show Me".  They will learn other things first.  But "Show Me" is very important.  If you show me correctly you get what you want.

My first dog, Lettie, learned this in a week or three.  When she got older and lost her hearing all I had to do was to put my palms upward and she would walk to what she wanted or needed and I'd give it to her.

Much more efficient than rattling off a long list of things and being frustrated.   She knew that and Rack does too.

But he's not quite as perfect at it.  Where Lettie was a lead of the pack Alpha, Rack is a definite Beta at the back of the pack of the beta dogs.  He is learning that when I say "Show Me" I am giving him permission to ask for what he wants.

It's not perfect, on his best day, but he gets things across.

And that's the Dog in him.  There's miscommunication, lack of desire, and sometimes they just want attention.   As you can see, Rack sometimes just sits at my feet or stares up at me with twin brown laser beam eyes and wags his tail looking for a little attention.

Attention is a good thing.  Builds the bond.  Even if it is just sitting next to the chair you are in while you're surfing some mindless web page.

That is how I learned "BC" is Rack for "I am going to the front door and look to see if I can find my friend the little wiggly Border Collie from down the block".

Rack met a young female Border Collie shortly after that dog moved into the neighborhood.  She's also a bit submissive, and her energy is the same as Rack's is, so they get on extremely well.

Apparently I refer to her as The Bee Cee frequently because while paging through the internet, I made an aside comment under my breath.  I said "oh, BC".

Rack got up, looked out the window, came back and gave me a confused look.  He's far too passive to give me attitude.

"Oh, another thing you learned!  How about that!"  I'm learning Spanish so I can get out of the house without alerting him on the weekends.   For other reasons too, but teaching the people in the house that "Listo!" means I am ready to go is so far something he has not learned.

On the other hand, he knows I'm going somewhere because of the order things happen in preparing to leave.  I get full on ears up, tail wagging, brown laser beam eyes, and that gaping mouth open smile we all know. 

"Sorry, Rack, You Stay Home and Watch The House" results in his leaving the room after dropping the act with ears dropping, tail drooping and him begging other people.

Yes, Saturdays and Sundays can be annoying unless I actually find somewhere we can take him with us.

I'm in trouble when my dog learns Spanish.  Maybe Sign Language next, although dogs understand that.   We've already resorted to texting in the house so as not to tip off the boy.

So yes, on his best days he's Still a Dog, but Oh What a Dog!

Making Lemonade at 5 AM with the Dog

I'm not really sure why at this stage in my life, my body has decided that 5 in the morning is an appropriate time to wake up.  It just has.  I tried detoxing from caffeine with no effect.

May as well live with it and do things that will improve my life and those around me.

There are some definite benefits to being up well before the rest of the city.  Dad would have said that I'm "Up with the cows".  I don't know why because he was a steel worker from Easton, PA, but hey you never completely figure out your folks.

I get up, get ready, top off Rack's water bowl, and we go for our walk.

It gives me the opportunity to do things with him that I wouldn't do with other people around.  In Wilton Manors, FL, at 5 AM, there are really only a few groups of people up and most of them are easy to avoid.

Dog Walkers are easy to spot, and we're all trying to keep a respectful distance.  After all, we're all in the same boat!

The Police, early workers, and other delivery folk couldn't care a bit about me and my dog.  They're doing their job.  Wave hello to them and go on.

As always, there are the leftovers from the night before.  You know, the people who forgot that the bars closed three hours ago and are sleeping it off.  Easy to spot, easy to avoid.  They don't move too fast.

Walking with Rack has gone from a tuggy job to a much more pleasurable experience at this time of day.  We're really not supposed to be off leash at this time of day.  He has his leash.  Its not always attached To Me.

On that very early walk, we are having a Bonding Experience.   I learned when Rack tugged one too many times one day what happens when he is off leash.   He circles back immediately.  As in gets about 2 dog lengths ahead, turns around and plasters himself to my legs to stop me from going anywhere until I pick up the leash.

"Confused look" Good Dog!

That's all it takes.

He does get more than a leash away when we're walking, and I stop that by stepping on the end of the leash and verbally correcting him.

Trucks still scare him, and since Wilton Drive is where the dreaded 50 bus goes through along with them, I watch very closely.  When he starts to show fear, I stop.  He comes back to me and we wait for it all to pass.

After all this walking and bonding and conversation, we finally get close to the house.

I can tell he wants to go home, he's getting further away from me and needing more correction.  I don't want him  to cross the last Avenue before the house alone.  He usually stops but since it isn't always I make sure to stop him before we cross.

This is all off leash, and it is training him to be better on the leash.  When I walk off leash with a second person he walks right by me, on my left, exactly how I like it.

Crossing the last Avenue, I have learned I can give him instructions and he will follow them.  There's a video about a Border Collie in the English Borderlands that was able to be taken to the fields and do his work with the sheep completely independently of any instruction.  As in All Day Alone.

I simply expect Rack to have that level of intelligence.  Getting past his normal fear is what will get in the way, but it is getting much better.   I tell him to "Go home and lets wash your feet".

He's still a "Yellow Footed Collie with bad aim".  I still have the Foot Wash station on the porch to at least clean him up before we go in.  He walks the last bit at his own speed to the yard, turns up the drive, walks up to the porch and waits for me to amble up to the hose to wash him off.   Independently.

It's still well before 6AM and I haven't had my coffee yet, so of course I'm walking slower than him.

After his foot wash we have a routine.  We walk him through the grass and around the car, back to the front door.   It gives the water time to run off his legs and brush off any crud that has gathered on his toes.

He now does that Independently too.

How about that?  He walks around the car, comes back to the front door, and waits for me to unharness him and let him in.

Small victory compared to that English Border Collie, but my own Rack was completely shut down when we got him.

We're making lemonade out of those lemons.  Turning a weakness into a strength.  It always takes a different mindset when you have a fearful dog.  Things are done on THEIR terms, and at THEIR speed.   Not on yours.

I am learning too.   My little guy is teaching me patience.  I'm excellent at setting goals, rules, boundaries, and limitations.  Plans are laid out, and he's great at following them.  In his own time.

I'm finding out also that his own time can be much faster now than it was.  Fear can fade, but you have to allow it to.

Just have a little lemonade while you're waiting.  It's quite tasty at 6 AM.

Solving My Fearful Dog's Picky Eating Problem

My dog Rack is a McNab Dog, coming up on 2 years old.  He's a rescue, not that there's anything wrong with that.  My Lettie before him was a rescue, and if Rack would allow it, I'd probably foster another McNab.  We simply aren't ready for another rescue.  If and when we are, Rack will let us know.

McNabs are a comparatively rare breed outside of the Western US, although I personally think that there are more of them than the "experts" think.  They look like a Smooth Coat Border Collie, with the main differences being that there is no undercoat, the feet are webbed, and the temperament is much more laid back.  Even if a smoothie has an undercoat, there may be significant McNab blood in them, just like Lettie was.

No matter what kind of dog, McNab, Border Collie, Similar Breed, or a Mix, you're in for an amazing ride!  We definitely are a herding dog family, even here in the city.

But they do get fearful from time to time, especially with what they're put through in the whole Shelter/Rescue/Foster/Re-homing cycle.  Rack is still, almost a year and a half later, exhibiting the PTSD that you see in dogs.  He hides when the house gets too loud like when things get dropped, and forget seeing him during thunderstorms.  There are three places he will hide, all of which are "dens" to him.  If I need him, he will come when I call if it is not thundering or, Dog Forbid, firework-y out there.

All of this manifested itself in the weirdest behavioral problem I ever saw.  Rack will skip meals.  He simply would not eat.  We have had him checked out at the Vet with this in mind and we all concluded it was behavioral.  So in the house we all, myself definitely included, "tread lightly" and keep noises down. 

But my little furry puzzle still skipped his meals.

Finally after asking a friend of a friend who once was a dog trainer in Stockholm, Sweden, we got a clue.

What happened is that since Rack is such a beta dog, and a weak beta dog at that, he needs to be given permission to eat.

How about that?  Given Permission To Eat? 

A dog's reputation is that they'll sniff your food, steal food from tables, eat your own dinner if you don't guard it and train against that kind of behavior.  I have seen that all in dogs that I have had in the past.  But not Rack. 

How we are going about it, and this is definitely Work In Progress, is to have him eat with me.  Rack sees me as the alpha here.  He is the weak beta.  When I eat, I always eat at a table now.  No meals in the recliner.  This rule must be rigidly adhered to, at the table. 

He doesn't care about setting the table, just the same ritual all the time.  Rituals are important with dogs.  They learn you and your routines and strive to be as much a part of it as possible.  The stereotype of the rancher with the pack of cow-dogs in the back of the pickup is a great example of that. 

What I do in my suburban South Florida Home is that I invite my dog to the table.  He would not come to the table on his own, I don't think he sees himself able of approaching The Alpha like that.

The ritual is like this:

First I make Rack's food.  Put the bowl together and set it on the edge of the dinner table I choose.  It is nearby and he can see and smell it, but it is just out of reach.

I will then comment, clearly so that it can be heard, that I am hungry.  That clues Rack in that something Food is happening.

I cook my own food.   If it has long prep time, I will prepare Rack's bowl noisily and set it on the table before I am ready to sit down with my own.

Now I will begin eating.  If Rack does not show, I will call him to the table.   "Rack are you hungry?  Dinner time!".  He will come into the kitchen and slowly join me.  Head down, ears down, and settle next to me as if to ask if he is allowed.  I pet him and let him know it is ok.

At this time I may even take a few bites of the food.  He may show interest in his own bowl. 

His bowl now makes it to the floor and I go on about my own food.

Usually by this time, he's snuffling around the bowl and should start eating, but not every time.  When he doesn't I may have to "prime the pump.  If I have finished and he has not started, I will hand him a piece of kibble and get him started.   It takes judgement to see where his head is at.   If he takes it, try another or a small handful. 

It literally can be as bad as single piece of kibble for a quarter of the food before he gets to the point that he will eat on his own.  This happens if we have a thunderstorm in the area and South Florida is where "Thunderstorms are Born" for six months out of the year.

Normally though, it usually only takes him being given permission to eat in the morning.  Evenings are a bit more difficult, so I make sure the house is quiet and try again.

Some say to simply remove the food.  I tried that and with My Dog, it didn't work.  Since he readily skips meals, taking the food away simply made the problem worse and he was losing weight as a result.

Intelligent breeds require a gentle touch.  Not to say "de-dog" or "humanize" the dog, but there really is a lot of conversation going on and while dogs are excellent at reading you, you may not be so good at reading THEM.

One last thought.  Every dog is different.  Most won't need this kind of care.  But with a fearful dog, you have to understand the first thing they think might not be anything other than fear.  It is up to us to figure out how to combat the fear.  Most of it can be trained out.  Lettie was this bad when I got her in her own way and by the end of her life, she was the Dog of a Lifetime.  Rack will be too, it just takes time, patience, and training.

Rack's Bad Ear Day

There are just some days that you have to go with the flow.

Actually that would be every day.  You can't control everything, that is the job of a Border Collie.

I don't have a Border Collie, I have a Mc Nab Dog.

Mc Nabs were bred from the same "source" dogs as a Border Collie, but they were bred for a different temperament and different conditions.  Their native Mendocino County California is a warmer climate than the Border Lands of Scotland and England.  Divergent needs mean that my own Rack has webbed feet and no undercoat.  He can take the heat better than a Border Collie, and will plop himself in the full sun of a South Florida Summer afternoon to recharge.

Solar Cells tend to be black as well.

A Border Collie is a wonderful dog, but they never rest.  You must give them work or you become their job.  It is up to you whether you want to be awakened at a strange hour for a five mile run. 

A Mc Nab is more patient.  He'll lay there and watch until you're ready, then ask "What are we doing today, Boss?".

That would be my Rack.   He learned my routine, sometimes I think a little too well.  He also tries to convince me that his way is the best from time to time.  Quirky little beast, to say the least.

On this particular morning in question, I happened to get up at a normal hour.  I still beat the sunrise by a half hour or more, and that was enough in itself to set my entire day later than usual.

While my own Mc Nab tends to act like a Business Analyst, he takes a subordinate role to my own Project Manager mindset.   It fits well, but I do have my own tendency to "Over Plan" things.

Knowing that routine gets him confused sometimes.  He's got some habits that are making me do some things with food that I realize are not for the best.  A bit manipulative?  Sure, but show me a dog that isn't going to work their way into your lives and your heart - if you don't have a heart of stone.

I finally got him reestablished on a normal eating schedule the day before.  Too many Summer Wet Season Thunderstorms had him rattled to where he hid the entire day under a table, in the corner, in a fetal ball.  When the rains broke, I was able to get some errands done.

Who knows, it may even get dry enough to get that yard work done.  After all, things are growing faster than I can get the weed eater at them.

The next day he must have realized that he could do a little campaigning.  Unfortunately, I was also taking advantage of the dry morning.  I had run out of coffee, and unlike you, most likely, that means I need to roast more.  Roast today, Drink tomorrow is the rule.  Get the popcorn popper out, pour a half cup of green beans into the hopper, plug in and wait for Second Crack for a lighter roast.

Repeat four times.

Since I was preoccupied in the kitchen, my mutt decided he wanted to go outside.  You see him going outside makes yogurt magically appear.  He had left half of his food in the bowl.  That bowl normally gets partially eaten, then I spend the rest of the day placing it in front of his nose telling him to eat.  If I get frustrated, I pour a tablespoon of yogurt on top and mix it in.

That leaves a half bowl of yogurt encrusted dog food and one happy dog.

Manipulation, 1, Human, 0.

I had him outside and was doing my best to ignore him.  Kind of difficult, if you ask me.  He's looking at me through the window.  I'm entertaining him as I dump the roasted coffee into the "cooling jar" and stir them around to let them cool.  Grab my own first course of breakfast, and he's still staring at me through the window.  It is as if he's saying "Soon, my precious yogurt will appear".

Yes, but not for you my furry charge, not yet.

The entire half hour of breakfast, coffee roasting, and my own puttering was spent with this dog staring back at me.  Every time I looked, the one ear was down.  His down ear never completely stood upright, and the upright ear isn't quite as bolt upright as some other Mc Nabs are.  But since this is a breed that the standards are set more for What They Can Do rather than What They Look Like, it certainly doesn't matter.

Besides, that "down ear" works and looks comical as he bounces around the neighborhood on his daily march.

I'd finally had quite enough of being stared at.  The yogurt hadn't even hit the bowl yet.  I still had one course to go, and since I was at a logical breakpoint, I'd let him in. 

Squeezing past my legs through the partially opened door at the back of the house, he shot through to the kitchen. 

If a dog can show disappointment, this was when my own Rack decided to show it.  There was an enclave of food in the bowl.  Half of a bowl full of dog food sat packed to one side with an invisible border through the middle.  That is to say, dog food but no yogurt.

Yet.  Maybe Later.   Eat your food you silly dog!

He slunk off to his alternate den to tend to licking those webbed feet.   Dog food, no matter how premium it is or isn't, is just not as attractive without the remains of my own breakfast yogurt on top.

Too soon, pal, you didn't let me eat it this morning.  Maybe later.

Rack's Six Month Anniversary - Picture

Six months ago today, we made the long trek up the spine of Florida.  Past the nearby cities, through the Citrus Groves, into the splat that is the Theme Park ridden area of Orlando, and finally to Deltona.

In Deltona we met Gisele and entered her home to adopt Rack.   Rack was named Les Paul when he was with The Dog Liberator, he needed a name, and they chose that musical one.   It didn't quite fit us, and we were trying to come up with one that did.  Since we were recovering from the loss of our Dog Of A Lifetime, Lettie, we settled in on a name that she suggested. 

Rack.

When we stood in our large kitchen in Philadelphia shortly after we adopted Lettie back in 2002, I asked Kevin for a little help. I needed a baking rack.  When I said that word, Lettie snapped to as if being ordered around.   We never found out why, but when it came time to name our boy, it stuck.

Like many other, or even most other highly intelligent dogs, those surrendered to a shelter may shut down.  Rack was one of the most severely shut down dogs I had ever seen.   But like Gisele said "He's in Deltona, He needs you".  Our heart strings were pulled, Kevin said "She's good, lets get him!".  

So we did. 

Lettie was shut down when we got her, but in a much better frame of mind then.  She did give us the experience we needed to work with dogs like Rack.  

In the six months that we've had him, we've watched him grow.   He's gone through three different de-worming treatments, and missteps with dog foods that held him back.  He's put on another 10 pounds, grew about 4 inches in height, and has a coat so shiny that when you pet him your hand comes back with lanolin.  Robust is what we'd call him.  Thanks to a suggestion by a neighbor, we got him on Orijen dog food.  No Chinese sourced ingredients for this one.  I don't want to go through the syringe feeding that I did with Lettie near her end.

He's still showing signs of his trauma.  Loud sounds are triggers to him and make him turn and try to hide.  Twice a day we walk out to Wilton Drive and have a sit down on the benches.  At 6AM it's quite quiet, but at 9AM it's an experience.  He is getting immersed in the buzz of the city.  The 50 bus is bad enough, but in the morning when the trash trucks pick up the bottles from the bars, he notices it even a block away.

On the other hand, he's one of the sweetest dogs I've ever met.  He's a McNab, a not very well known breed outside of the ranches of California and nearby states.  Incredibly intelligent, eager to please, he'll simply do what you ask as long as you don't drop something that makes a noise.  A similar breed to the Border Collie, but definitely not one.  The BC's are a bit more high strung, my McNab has a mellowness to his personality that you have to experience, but once you do you will understand.  There's a sweetness and a subtlety to him that is hard to put to phrase.  The ranchers will say the difference between a BC and a McNab is the way they work.  Perhaps that is the best way to say it.  They're both great breeds, but the McNab is it's own.

It's not all sweetness, having a Herding dog means that you absolutely must exercise them.  Fortunately he's good with the 4 miles a day that we walk, and everyone in our society could use that.  Anything less and you are in for a strange experience.  The ranchers and breeders in California can't understand how Their Dogs can live in an Urban Environment, but we are proof that they can adapt and adapt well.

Intelligent Dogs aren't for everyone, nor are active dogs.  Some people should only have a dog from a toy store filled with polyester fluff - a stuffed animal.  I'm doing my best by him and as a result my dog is growing every day. 

He's still the "Yellow Footed Collie" as he learns how to properly water a rock or a hedge, but that gives me the excuse to work with him more so that he doesn't get fearful.  That hose in front of the house gets a workout frequently and will until he grows into a better aim.  Once he learns that particular "trick" I may just let him on the furniture.  That picture was taken when he invited himself on the chair.  First a wet nose on the elbow, then he pulled himself up bit by bit until he was on Kevin's lap.  He didn't want to leave the chair when Kevin did so he stayed behind.

Smart dog, huh?

So six months on my rescue and I are continuing our journey.  He rescued me when Lettie left us.  Now we can grow together.

Slow Motion Herding

Lettie had slowed down.  Our usual route shrank down from 1 1/2 miles at the peak three times a day, to one block or less.  In fact this was one of the last walks we had together.

That block will take a half hour or more.

As we're walking around, we're a slowly moving target for all the neighbors to chat up, complain about speeders, and get all the news of the neighborhood.

While we were walking we will see the usual strange wildlife that is around here in South Florida.  Lizards and Geckos are common, and no they are not the same thing.  An occasional iguana, snake or some other reptile will show underneath the foliage.

There are also the more mundane animals like Squirrels and Pigeons. 

In her younger days, she was quick.  Lettie would just miss catching the squirrels that would be in the back yard of our Philadelphia home.   Squirrels would be missed because there was a double right angle turn in the form of an S.  When you're trying to run in that close corners, you're just not going to be at your peak speed.

Those days are gone but not forgotten.

Near the end of our walk last weekend, there was a flock of Muscovy Ducks that had just landed near the end of the block.  About three houses up from the corner by the way we were walking was about 6 full grown black and white ducks.  They tend to wander around properties around here, cropping the grass and looking for whatever they can find for their next meal. 

Completely harmless and fairly approachable.  In some parts of the world, they are a prized dinner item instead of being mildly entertaining to my dog.

As we approached the flock, both dog and bird took notice and began to make plans.

When you are 12 years old, your speed isn't exactly great.  But your memory is still sharp.  The Eye is formed, and the gaze is piercing.  Stepping forward toward your avian charges, you move along with a purpose.  Things are not where they belong.  There was a flock of ducks that don't belong there so you are going to herd them along.

Walking at 1 mile per hour, a very slow pace, she put one paw in front of the other.  Moving toward the ducks, she deftly convinced the ducks to move from property to property toward the corner.

When we reached the corner, I got a quick glance looking for approval.   Getting the nod, literally, she stepped into the intersection, driving the flock across the street to the opposite side.  Giving the traffic a show, she guided the flock to their safety.

We actually got a "thank you for the show" from the Minivan as it moved on its way.

Just another day on the job for an old herding dog.

Goodbye Lettie

Today is Lettie's Last Day.

She came into our lives November 30, 2002.  A year and a half old, she spent the year before in a shelter, and six months before that with her first family.

She had escaped or had been abandoned in the North Dauphin, PA area around that time.

Lettie is named after the Animal Control officer that saw her potential and took her to the No Kill Shelter that I found her at.  Thank you Paulette, I am forever in your debt as a result.

She has been with us for the last 10 plus years and now it is time to say goodbye.

She went from being terrified of other dogs to being one of the most well behaved, if not a bit wary,  dogs that I have ever had the privilege to know.

After having the thyroid problems for 2 years, and the chronic renal failure for around one, including 3 months of twice daily feeding via syringe, it's time to end her suffering.

At 1pm today, I have an appointment to lead her "Across the Rainbow Bridge".

Goodbye Lettie.  We're done.

Chronic Renal Failure 1, Lettie 0. We're Done.

If you are reading this blog for information on Chronic Renal Failure in Dogs, you will want to search for that tag here.   I've documented the last two years of my dog, Lettie's life.  All the mistakes, all the trials, and all the triumphs in combating the disease.   I've been told I did better than most, a year past the formal diagnosis, three months of syringe feeding, and so forth.

While I am not a vet, I may be of help. 

Yesterday I made hard decisions.  

We all think they were the right ones.

What made it final for me was the feeding session yesterday morning.

I've been syringe feeding my dog, Lettie for the last three months.  I had a visit with the vet the night before, Wednesday.  The vet expressed shock that I had been feeding her with a syringe for that long.

Her reputation was that she needed "Caution".  She's fear motivated first, so if you scare her she will show you teeth.  And by "you" I mean, Me.   I've gotten growled and snapped at, and sometimes she even connected.  It's fear. 

Take one extremely intelligent dog and surrender her at 6 months to a shelter.

Six months later at her first birthday she gets out and lives with me the rest of her life.

Sure, she's going to be fearful.

The vet said we'll have a longer life expectancy if we shift over from the prescribed "I/D" diet for Pancreatitis, to "K/D" for Kidney Disease.

He didn't realize that there isn't a dog on the planet that likes "K/D" food.   The consistency is like modeling clay, play doh specifically.   She fought me every syringe.

In fact, yesterday morning, when I went to feed her, it took me 20 minutes to get one syringe in her.

A Syringe is 1 1/4 ounces of food.

That's 1/2 of a bathroom paper cup.

I realized after 40 minutes that she had given up, and now it was time for me to as well.

I had a discussion with Kevin about this, and initially he said that he thought maybe we might...

But he came around too.  It didn't take much discussion really, maybe a sentence or three.

The 20 minutes a syringe was the clincher.   You see the first time I fed her that K/D food, she rejected it completely.  Pump a small bit of about 1/2 Tablespoon into the side of her mouth behind the canine tooth and wait. 

I didn't have to wait long, she immediately spit it out.  

It was a grey brown blob sitting on my foot.

I kept after the entire syringe and reloaded those blobs that were all rejected and I realized that I just spent 5 minutes feeding a dog who completely rejected 100 percent of the syringe.

Try again.

I had the time after all, but it was almost the same story.   She only kept in about 5 percent this time.  This was on Cerenia, a powerful Anti-Nausea drug that you are only supposed to keep her on for 4 days.  She was on Day 7 of this.

Eventually after 40 minutes and 2 syringes I quit.  She should get 10 syringes a day plus a lot of snacks.

I was due for a vet visit later, and that gave me time to think about it.   The catheter in her leg had to come out.

When I got to the office I had decided that we should cease all treatment, and only provide Hospice Care.   Make her comfortable and see how it goes.

While waiting to tell the vet this, I weighed her.  She was down another .8 pounds.  

.8 pounds is not shocking except that this was in One Day.

In short, She was telling me "It's Time" and I had to stop being stubborn.   It isn't helping her.

We spent an hour at the vet, and everyone came to me and told me that we were doing right by her. 

Armed with some "A/D" food for "Anorexic Dogs", three tissues to help me from tearing up, and minus one leg catheter I went on my way.   With plenty of goodbyes, and eyes teared, we got in the Jeep and went home.

Lunch with Lettie was different.   All the rules are off.  It's like giving Grandpa that one last slab of Death By Chocolate when he's in the hospice and has diabetes.  

I was grilling chicken and she was getting some.  Never mind that the salt would mess with her system from this frozen chicken breast, she wanted it.

In fact, I'm glad I grilled four because she had 1 and 1/2 of them immediately, and another 1/2 at dinner time. 

Real Food makes one feel better even if it is bad for your long term survival.

This morning, syringe feeding the A/D food took me under 10 minutes.   An entire can went into her in that time.  

She looked at me confused when I told her "We're Done".   The battle was over and she was expecting more fight.

So you see, she realized it too.  She stepped forward and put her head down and gently on my chest.  Whether it is to show acceptance or thank you I don't know.

The Final Appointment for that trip across the Rainbow Bridge is scheduled for Wednesday 1PM April 10th, 2013. 

We wanted one last week to enjoy each other.  Eat bad food.  Bark at the plastic duck in the pool.  Sniff the Lemons on the tree.

Dog Stuff.

"We're Done."

Finally, Some Good News From The Vet

This Chronic Renal Failure is a bear.  Especially in a pet since you can't really do Dialysis or a Kidney Transplant. 

On the other hand, sometimes you get a pleasant surprise.

Lettie was in the Vet's office for two days of fluid replenishment via IV.   When she first got there they did blood tests.  Her "Blood Urea Nitrogen" levels were three times higher than normal at 120.  

Today they were in Normal range of below 40. It wasn't even listed on the "Exception" report I saw.

She snapped back.

Of course it still takes me 30 minutes to under-feed the dog.  That's by her choice, not mine.  I'd give her cans of the stuff if she'd eat it.  My understanding is that there isn't a dog alive that likes "I/D" food.

So today I get to bake a can down to "Dog Food Jerky".  Slice the food down to under 1/4 inch thickness.  Roast at 350 until the thinnest pieces are crispy.

Only then will Lettie eat the damn stuff willingly.

That's what Chronic Renal Failure does.  It makes you have to eat food that you don't like.  At the end of it, you have to be forced to eat it.  One can is 10 syringes.  If it is roughly 700 calories per can, that's 70 calories a syringe - about 1 1/4 ounces each.  She should get 5 in the morning, 5 at night.

Last night I managed to get 4 into her and 3 this morning.

If you are reading this because you're researching feeding your older dog, that is why I am writing this down.  I'm also writing it down because I can be absent minded.

What happens is because the dog will starve themselves, literally, to death, you have to make allowances.   Push food at them.  When your dog is at the point that you are taking them in for IV Fluids, the gloves are off.

Today I got the following recommendation.   Since she's starving herself, the "Creatinine" levels are high.  That indicates that she is "eating" her muscle mass.   To reverse that, feed lean meats - raw or cooked.   Just make sure that if it is cooked, it is cooked without salt.  If it is raw, make sure that it is clean.

Cook the chicken, cooked or raw meat from pork or beef. 

Chicken bones only if they are uncooked - Personally I will avoid that due to the risk of salmonella.

So Mrs Dog gets another day or so at the spa.   It will buy her some more time.  Maybe a month, maybe more, maybe less.  We just don't know.

I strongly doubt I'll put her through this again.  Her demeanor is much less "fiesty" than she had been.  Right now, on day three, she seems to be much more passive, as if she's giving up.  This is an alpha dog, or a strong beta dog.   She's also very fearful.  So to see her personality just "flatten out" says a lot.

For now, my friend will be sleeping next to my bed.  She will be waking me up no doubt since they're
leaving the catheter in her leg and I'll have to keep the blue "Cone Of Shame" on her.

But for now, we're hopeful.

Waiting on the Vet - Day 2

This was the view when I opened the bathroom door this morning after my shower.

Mrs Dog, waiting on me, and our daily routine.  The problem is that the daily routine has been interrupted.

This is day 2 of the latest treatment regimen.  She's been to the vet before, and generally doesn't like it.  I can tell that she's not feeling well because she's a very passive dog about it all.

Yesterday's results were very bad.  There's a specific measurement of the "Blood Urea Nitrogen" levels.   It tells you how well the kidneys are functioning.  In my dog, they basically aren't.  I was told "normal" is 34.  Hers was 120.

Four times higher.

While that was before any treatment, we do know she's not feeling well and her kidneys aren't working. 

What we're doing is taking her to the vet for an IV drip of fluids to see if we can get the numbers down.  She'll have her blood tested mid day today after a day of fluids yesterday and the morning treatment.  At that point we'll see where she is.

Another day at the "Day Spa" for elderly canines.

Chronic Renal Failure is not an easy thing to treat in a dog.  If it were a human, she'd get dialysis or a kidney transplant.   For an almost 13 year old dog, that just isn't going to happen.

Waiting for the Vet to Open

All weekend, we've been busy.

Some was good.  I had a good friend finally show up from Key West for a long weekend visit.  Never mind that this should have happened back in 2011, it happened and it was good.

Some has been quite bad.  

Lettie is going through another relapse of her Chronic Kidney Disease.  She's been refusing food all weekend.  It's been a battle to get her to keep some of the food down.

She's supposed to get a can of special diet a day.  That breaks down to 10 syringes of food.  Five in the morning, five at night.

I'll give her a squirt of around 1/6 to 1/4 of a syringe, about 1.25 ounces per syringe.  She'll spit out more than half of it.

So needless to say the feedings take forever.  It took me 30 minutes today to get two syringes in her.  That's basically 5 tablespoons of food for a dog that should be around 45 pounds.

Not enough.  That is the kind of feeding I've been going through all weekend.   If a dog will get sick, it's bound to happen on a Friday, and especially if there is some sort of holiday going on. 

Trust me on that.

I'll be calling the Vet shortly.  I'm sure they'll want me to bring her in.   She's not easy to handle any more.  A dog who's main motivator is the avoidance of fear results in all sorts of adjustments.

Keep things calm and quiet.  Watch for her tail to tell you if you're going "too far".  Talk to her, which is difficult since she's profoundly hearing impaired.

Life is tough when you are an old dog.

Wish me luck.  This basically is here to remind me of what we've been doing so I can repeat it back for the vet when I call in 11 minutes or so.

8 AM.

Laundry Logistics

Mine, Ours, and the Dog's.

Doing my own clothes is no big deal.  Toss them in, pour the soap on, press buttons and go.

Ours are pretty much the same.   Grab everything from every corner of the house, and toss them in with the bed linens.  Temp-Boost Hot and boil the little suckers down.  Gives me some nice clean towels for the Kitchen, Bathroom, and the bed linens are nice and smooth once a week.

It's the Dog's wash that gets to be intriguing. 

You see, she wants to help.

Start with taking the linens back into the master bedroom.  Time to make the bed.   She's lounging around taking it easy but hears some random sound and looks up.   I'm not in The Chair so she goes searching.   Since she's a bigger creature of habit than even I am, this itself would give me time enough to get at least the bottom sheet on the bed.

Hurry, she's only made it to sniff the laundry room!

Flip the top sheet out on the bed and there are paws padding through the kitchen out to the Florida room.

Quick, smooth the top sheet out!

And there's the black nose sniffing past the night stand.  I've been found out!

Toss the pillow onto the bed, move over to the side that the dog is on and she backs up.

Now it gets fun.  I grab the spare set of dog mats, both of them, from the closet and toss one on the floor.  She moves to sniff that mat and of course the one on the floor that needs to go to the laundry now has 45 pounds of McNab Dog on top of it.

"Look!  Over there! (gesture gesture gesture)" Ok, forgot she's almost deaf and just staring at the clean mat in my arms.   I "fake the throw" and she looks around moving just off the mat.  In one deft motion, I manage to make the old mat disappear.   Pointing at the new one, she goes back to sniffing it. 

Run, Quick!  Run!  Out to the living room.  Grab the other two mats before she follows!

Now I drop the one spare mat down on the floor and am inspected.

Have you ever seen a dog pout?

There's a third mat that we've given her, of course, as her privileged position in life requires.  Since dogs are "Den Animals", they like to be in semi-enclosed spaces.  That is why crate training is not a punishment, but more of a "natural state" way of being for dogs.   All except lap dogs.  Those little yappers get territorial of the few square inches of your lap that you need for important things like tech manuals, your lunch, and the plans to take over the world, Pinky.

Lap Dogs are a lost cause.  They can be trained but I have to wonder how some people manage.  I'm good at training dogs, but those little things?  Yer' a better man than me Mc Duff!

That third mat is right next to my big chair and in a sheltered place just under a chess table in the corner.  Sometimes it is under it, other times it is repositioned with a precision that only a web footed paw can manage.

It is now gone and in my hand while I whisk it away to be heated and washed.

Yes, you're going to be social today.  That third mat doesn't go back until it's well and truly clean.

Now she's acting like the little girl next door who would say loudly to everyone when her security blanket was taken away...

I want my guggie!

Oh well, guggies will be washed, and little Lynn is now a beautiful woman who doesn't need her security blankie either, Mrs Dog.

Sharing Breakfast With Dad - Picture

I realized that I was sharing breakfast with an old friend more and more these days.  It's the complete opposite of what we're used to doing, but when you're an old dog they make adjustments for you.

I used to get just a bowl of this stuff.  Smelled like sheep, crunched like a bone, and came in a big bag.  Dad would keep the big bag in the corner by the box he called trash.  I wasn't allowed in that box, and wasn't allowed in the big bag of crunchy sheep either.

Dad knew just how much I could have and gave it to me in my bowl.  It said C, A, T on it.  I think he was playing a joke on me because I couldn't read.  It made him happy so I didn't care.

I started getting sick last year.  I'm getting up there in years, and Dad didn't realize that I didn't want the crunchy sheep any more.  He took me to the doctors that one day and I don't like that.   They treat me well, but I just don't like anyone poking me.

I never did.

That was when Dad gave me strange food.  Some of it I liked a lot, others I wouldn't go near.   We all got real frustrated then until I showed him just what to get and what not to.

He slips once in a while and gives me peanut butter, but that makes me sick the next day.   I heard him say "no more".  I guess that's it for the peanut butter.

Lately I follow him more than usual.  I know my time may be short and I want to show him I still care as much as I can.

Breakfast time is the best time to follow Dad.  I'm a little slow on my feet now, so I have to stand back and stare at him.   He tells me that I "have the most beautiful brown eyes on the planet" and then gives me some of what he's having.

The other day he laughed as he gave me a bowl of this stuff called cottage cheese and said "I'm going to have to stop giving you this or you will stink up the place".  No idea what he means by that but it's OK. 

I lick at that bowl until I can get enough out of it but it is hard to eat.  The bowl starts on one side of the house and ends up on the other.   I stopped just before it ended up going down the one step to that warm place in the back of the house.  Florida Room I heard it called.

Well, I'll have to catch you later.   The sun is out today and I can catch a nap there on my place near where Dad sleeps every night.  The sun makes me feel better and I like that.

LettieLettieLETTIE LEAP!

My old girl turned 12.  She's definitely showing it, but Lettie is a textbook description of the breed.  She's a McNab Dog, and it's a breed that has all the intelligence of a Border Collie, and maybe more, plus she's much more focused.

My Lettie expects everything to be Just So.  To the point that if I'm overexcited she'll cling to me and try to "help".  That usually just gets me more "overexcited" because now I have 47 pounds of mostly black dog getting in the way.

But that Just So Thing is important.

Everything really has a pattern.  In my life I try to at least keep things under control and she fits in perfectly.   Settling down to write this, I moved from my desk chair to the futon next to the window in the Florida Room and propped my feet up on an old Mac.   This is just not to be so she got up and began to walk away after giving me the look as if to say I have just lost my mind.

I may have.

When things are not "Just So" and she can't control them, that's when life gets comical.

Back in March she got sick and we were trying to figure out how to balance her thyroid medications along with her fading kidneys.   We spent way too much time at the Vet's office.   Mind you, I really like our Vet at Family Pet Medical Center.  They saved her twice when she had her seizures, and brought her back after this latest episode.   I now have a dog who is on a very strict regimen of low protein foods and any time she asks for food she gets it.  It's like watching someone go through cravings, they'll eat what they want until they get what they need.

As much as I like the Vet, she doesn't.

She wants in and out and home as fast as possible.  That's a shame because she is really well liked by all there, and in about a month is going in for her check up.

Get ready Lettie, things will get Weird.

Last time there we sat in the waiting room long enough for all three of us to get fidgety.  She wanted out.  She was dragging me on the purple leash to the door as I repeatedly pulled her back to the seats.  We tried moving around the office and each time it was back to the door.  We tried showing her the TV but she wanted none of that.   She didn't want the kittens either but I don't blame her.

Then out of nowhere it happened.

A High Pitched Sound was on the air as the one Vet Tech came bounding out the door to get my Senior Dog.

"Lettie?  Lettie!  LETTIELETTIELETTIELETTIE!"

It was a siren of energy to a dog who is not exactly a fan of that.

Who knew a 12 year old dog with a bad pair of kidneys, thyroid problems, and most likely a fair amount of arthritis had it in her.

I was sitting on the bench next to Kevin when all the sudden there was 47 pounds of fearful dog leaping through the air.  She deftly thread herself between the two of us while in the air.

This dog must have invisible wings because I swear she changed her angle while she flew at the bench.

Tail got planted firmly between legs, jaw gaped open, and she started to shiver as she hid behind Kevin's back on the bench.

We didn't even know she that could hear at that point, even though now it was clear that on that day she could!

The reaction was so strong and so out of character that even the TV went silent for that moment before the room broke out laughing.

Calming the old girl down, we told her that it was her turn and she got the expert care from Family Pet Center that we expected.

She's still out on that mat.  I'm still on the futon that functions as a couch.  I guess I'm being Weird.  She doesn't do Weird.

If you can't groom your best friends, who can you groom?

This morning, I committed a grievous offense.

Waking well before dawn, as seems to be habit, my feet touched the floor, or as close to the floor as I could.  I tried quietly to grab my socks from their spot on my shoes next to the bed but then she was on me.  

Dark in the predawn hour, she was a flash of black and grey,  a wet nose on my knee as I slipped the one sock onto my foot.  Yes, my faithful sidekick had slept with one eye open awaiting the time where I'd be ready to be here to entertain her. 

My Dog Lettie.

Just turned 12, as best we know, she moves stiffly when she wakes but still spry enough to be excited when she sees me move from one spot in the house to another.   What's Next Dad! is what she seems to be saying, ready for all comers.

We moved into the bathroom, as soon as she got her invitation, and I closed the door.

I went about my morning ablutions, half awake, thinking of nothing but the morning haze as the phone went about its business of turning itself on and gathering up the information I needed to decide how to dress for the day.  

Absentmindedly I looked down at my mostly black companion and thought that she needed some loose fur groomed.  There were, shudder, little clumps of grey undercoat that were loose and needed tending to!

So half awake, I reached down and began to remove them.   Pluck is too strong a word, more like coax them out of her thatch.

This was when she turned from the friendly sweet dog we all know and love to ... Cujo.

Too well mannered to act on her extreme displeasure of the indignity of the act, she started by breathing heavily.  That escalated quickly.

Breathing became a low rumble.
The lips curled away to show still sharp teeth.
The low rumble turned into a throttled breath and a growl to bring fear in the heart of a lesser man.

Through all of this I was busily removing some of the unneeded disconnected undercoat and gathering it up to be placed into the little painted bamboo trash can kept for just such emergencies.

She was, decidedly, unhappy with the action.

Finishing up, I left the little room, the little trashcan with a chihuahua sized pile of fur in the bottom, and the little door was opened.   Out like a shadow in the dark escaped the herding dog to the open prairies of the living room.

Signing to her that she needed to go out and water the grass, she sheepishly looked at me and ambled outside to do her business.

Later during her official walk, she kept well out to the end of the leash, wary of another evil grooming session.  You see that was only one of the haunches that was cleared of loose fur. 

Groom all you want, we can make more!

By the time we got back all was forgotten.   She was back to begging for scraps of Bagel with Lemon Curd and Cream Cheese, Fruit from the Oatmeal, and wondering why I was perfuming the backyard with roasting coffee.  We're back to being best friends again. 

If you can't groom your best friends, who can you groom?

More On the Dog Food Dog Snacks

One of the most difficult things you have when your dog gets old enough that the kidneys are going is to find something that they will eat.  It's called "Chronic Renal Failure" meaning, the Kidneys are Going and it's not going to get Better.

It is a feedback loop. 

I'm thinking about my own girl Lettie here, and how she is reacting to things.  She's following the path pretty much per the book.

Today, there's a food that she will like.  It's her best friend.  Yum, think Premium Chocolate draped over the most wonderful pastry you've ever had.

Tomorrow she's feeling awful and won't go near it and in fact instead of biting it, she bites your hand.

That feedback loop thing is what you're seeing.  What is happening is that yesterday she ate too much of a good thing and today she's feeling awful.   You, the not completely all knowing human, thinks "Ahh!  yesterday she loved this, I'll feed more!" and reaches back into the jar for "more". 

The nonspeaking older dog with bad kidneys, thyroid problems, arthritis, and questionable hearing looks at the offered food and thinks "I feel like crap, go away" and walks into the back room.  You get frustrated and try again.

Don't.

Eventually that casual relationship gets burned in like that CD you made for the car.   You know, your special mix tape for the old Toyota because the car doesn't have a USB port.

Casual relationship becomes truth and carved in stone because there's imperfect conversation going on.

Now you can't feed her "that" any more.

The very "Special Renal Diet" foods that are the best for her are the ones that she hates because to all dogs they taste horrendous.

Good luck with that.

The trick is to feed small portions of each food, one ounce or less at a time, and switch foods each time.  That way she gets confused as to why she's feeling off and will eat later.

Kind of like "NO! Mom NO Broccoli!" from a 2 year old.   That same 2 year old comes back a couple years later and discovers that stir fried broccoli is a wonderful thing and looks forward to the trip to the Chinese restaurant just so they can have some of that weird tree like vegetable.

Ok, so that was my own experience and it really was asparagus which I now love even if I can't cook it right.

Yesterday, that terrible tasting dog food that I used to make snacks was completely devoured.  I mean she was begging all day for some of the stuff.   When I originally opened the can she literally ran from the room.   Almost tail between the legs yipe-yipe-yipe time...

So read on and see if that recipe works for you.  All I know is that when I warm up the oven to make my bread next time, I'll be cooking some more dog food on a separate cookie sheet for her later.

Sliced 1/4 inch or less thin and cooked at least to Jerky texture.  Just the way she likes it.

Good luck people with older dogs and cats, I hope this helps.   If it doesn't, realize that your pet is giving you a course in Dog Psychology.   Become the Dog Whisperer because that's what they need.

Dog Snacks from Dog Food - Recipe

When you've got an older dog, things change.  My own Lettie got to the point where she simply stopped eating the same food she lived 10 years on and we had to change.   She was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure, which you can only treat in dogs with lots of changes to their diet.

Mainly, you need to reduce the amount of protein, phosphorous, and potassium in their food as well as increasing the water. 

There are special diets but dogs generally hate those. 

So what do you do?

I've switched from regular dog food to a combination of "Lettie's Burgers" and treats.  The burgers have added bread crumbs in them to reduce the protein, and the treats are all low protein treats of 12% protein or less.  Normal Dog Food is around 26%, 70% Lean Ground Beef when cooked is about 18%.

The problem is that those treats are expensive and probably not the best for your dog.   The solution is an interesting one.

Those same cans of Renal Diet food that she hates when scooped out into a bowl can be made into a treat, as well as any wet dog food with a paste consistency.  

Simply slice thin, about the thickness of a tortilla chip but under 1/4 of an inch, and bake in the oven.  350F for 30 to 45 minutes depending on thickness until crispy.  Store the resulting Dog Food Jerky in the refrigerator and use within a week.

That of course depends on whether your dog likes chewy or crispy treats.   My own experience last night was that 40 minutes at 1/4 inch thickness gave a chewy treat.   1/4 inch is about 1/2 the width of your smallest fingernail, your pinky - very roughly.

The proof was in the pudding though, the very thinnest crispy pieces that were like a potato chip, Lettie devoured.   The thicker ones were like a Jerky that she ate slower, and the thickest ones she wouldn't consider eating. 

That's my own dog, your dog will have their own preferences.   I'm sure if you have an older dog you know them by now.

This morning, I had a pickle jar full of little roughly triangular pieces of Dog Food Jerky and she ate about 1/3 of it so I call this recipe a success.  The one can made a "full" pickle jar. 

If you have dry dog food that you can't get your dog to eat, try pulverizing it in a blender and then adding back water until you get this same paste consistency.  Then you can always try feeding it directly or baking it until done. 

Again, remember that thin is best!

Who's Been Here?

Now that she's reached her "Senior Years", Mrs Dog is making the best of her time when visiting the Vet's office.

She's loving the short hop from the house in the car.  She's always been a better riding companion in the Jeep than just about any human I know.  I'll get out the blanket, lay it out on the seat, open the door and she's in there like a shot.

At least she used to be in there like a shot.  Now that she's almost 12-that-we-know-of, she stands by the door of the car and wags her tail with a foot up on the sill of the door.  Those old bones won't pull her up into the cabin of the Jeep on a good day.  She needs help.

Once we get to the Vet's, it's a challenge to keep her distracted from Those Other Dogs.  Eventually she'll settle in.  Just hand me a kleenex, there's cats about.

Of course, any good herding dog finds things to get into.  The corners are full of new smells, the walls have fur, and all is different. 

The mental stimulation is good for any dog, even one who is not as smart as my girl still is.  It's just a stressful time.  All you have to do is let the leash go and she's glued against the door trying to make a break for it and the green prairies of Fort Lauderdale beckon.

Her prognosis is good despite her Chronic Kidney Disease.  She's got between two weeks and two years.  The key is finding something she'll eat that will keep her going.  Right now, she's enjoying Honeycomb Cereal.   Yes, a dog that will eat your kid's cereal is pretty common.  A dog that will only eat your kid's cereal is my dog.  Strictly speaking there are other things, but the rule of thumb is if she shows interest, she gets some. 

The diet has been turned upside down, dog food is off the list in favor of carbs and fat in order to keep the protein levels down.  On the other hand, she's got a lot of energy on this weird diet of Granola Bars, "Cannibal Crackers", and a burger every other day.  Too many burgers and she is all "logy" the next day until the salt in the blood balances back to normal.

We're all learning.  She's trying to teach.

Chronic Renal Disease and the Dog Buffet

No, I am not a Doctor.
No, I am not a Vet.
I do not play one on TV.

If you're depending on this for some deep information, the best I can give you is some insight into what I personally am doing with my own dog. 

Talk to your vet.

That's what I did.

Last weekend, my dog had simply collapsed.  She stopped eating and we took her to the vet.   Her Kidneys are going, and if this were a human, there would by Dialysis involved.  We're flushing her with fluids to let her kidneys process what they can and are hoping that we can keep her going a little longer.  That's the standard treatment these days for dogs in her case. 

Diet is low Phosporous, with plenty of protein and plenty of carbs.

If she gets through a month, she may make it to a year.  I'm not sure that we're going to be given that gift of a year.

The trick is that she simply doesn't like her food.   Not just dog food that she's been eating since we got her as an active adolescent, but any food at all.  We have a packet of anti-nausea drugs to give her before any food gets into her.  Trust me, that was a trial.  She may be sick but she still can show her teeth and her distaste of "personal maintenance".  If that helps get her through the weekend, we'll get more next week.

Now I have become a Chef to the Dogs. 

Today, it is Boiled Chicken, Boiled Beef, Tofu, Cottage Cheese, Yogurt, Steamed Rice, Dog Biscuits.  All of that is laying in one ounce portions on plates.

She may eat it today.  She may not.   I won't know until the food has been served.

So the plan is if you have a dog in this position, good luck.  Serve small portions.  What she may devour today, she will turn her nose up later today.

This morning the laundry list of foods didn't work.  She got Tortellini today instead.   After licking the yogurt, turning her nose up to the Morningstar Farms Vegetarian Sausage, ignoring the rice, I gave her one Tortellini.

Cheese Tortellini today she seemed to like.  I managed to get 8 in her before she walked away for another nap.  That's one ounce of Tortellini.

Seems like I'm losing this battle today.

We have three varieties of dog food in the refrigerator, another in a bag on the floor in the kitchen.  None of that works.

How it was explained to me is that "just like in a human", Chronic Renal Failure makes you feel awful.  Sick to the stomach, tired, cranky, achy.   I feel sorry for any being who has to go through this, and gives me a view into Dialysis that I really don't want.

So if Lettie wants a bit of my Graham Cracker, she's going to get it.  Yesterday she ate 1 cracker, 1/2 serving of the stuff.  I keep them here to make pie crusts, so I guess there's some for her too.

The best suggestion I can give someone is that if you're cooking something for the dog, make sure you like it.  You probably will be finishing it off.

So to finish off my breakfast, I'll be having a couple eggs with the rest of that vegetarian sausage.  May as well use it up and it may tempt Lettie with some more food.

What do you do with a Picky Eater?

All her life, for about 10 years, my dog was a "Swiss Watch". 
Very regular, very predictable, very regimented.
Most of that reflects my own philosophy of life. 
Things have a pattern, and you get the best results when you stick to them.

Now she's getting old.  Not just older, but she's acting old.   The walks are slower, she gets creaky when she gets up, and she won't go as far as she did before without rolling to a stop for a smiling rest.

When I got her I was told "Purina Lamb and Rice and limit the treats".  We did and we had for the most part a very healthy run. 

Recently she began to leak at night.  First a spot on the mat, then puddles.  I know now that if I wake up at night to the steady rhythm of "LickLickLickLick", I've got something to clean.

The vets put her on a "Renal Diet".  She won't go near that stuff.  Refused to eat it, I gave in and put her old standby out for her to eat.   She picked at that.   Clearly a dog who doesn't eat well is having other issues.

I tried softening the renal diet with some pork gravy but that spiked her salt levels and she drank a lot more water.   That created more puddles.   So we threw our hands up, backed off the renal diet, and went back to the old standby full time with water softened in the microwave.

That worked for about a week until she bored of that.

Panicking we tried some soft dog food varieties.   Good results for a day or so until she started cutting back her meals.

This sort of thing always happens on a holiday.   Over the Labor Day Weekend, she cut back on her food until Saturday she practically ate nothing.  Sunday the food that I offered her was ignored. 

While all of this was going on, I was cooking eggs.  I set up a pot of eggs and hardboiled them.  Knowing that dogs will eat the things, I kept them for after the morning walk.

We got back and she ate some of the dog food that she seemed to like so we didn't give her more.  

After noticing that she hadn't ate all that food, she was getting wobbly.   You see the old adage is nonsense.  "A Dog Will Eat When They Are Hungry" is only for "normal" dogs.  Mine has always been exceptional, and when they get old, their needs changed.

So she got the eggs, and devoured them. 

I spent the entire day in the kitchen Labor Day making boiled chicken, boiled eggs, steamed rice, and a few things for us.  By the time I was through, I had fed her 800 calories of rice, chicken, and eggs, as well as a few cookies, tablespoons of yogurt, and a few things that escaped the pot and landed on the floor.

Clearly she was hungry but not eating.

So today a trip to the vet is in order.   This picky eating continued to this morning where a bowl of Rice and Egg was only half eaten.  I pulled out the big guns and fed her a cup of rice and one chicken breast and she ate that like it was her last meal on Earth.

The trip later this afternoon will tell me more.   I may have a quiet house tonight minus one dog kept "For Observation".   Through it all she's acting normal, happy and Perky.   If a twelve year old dog can be described as perky, I guess mine is.

So why do I share all of this?   Easier for me to get my thoughts down on a blog so that if I need to remember it, it's in one place.   May as well, I have all this technology at hand, I can use it to my benefit.

"Lets Go!  Ride!  Car!"... and when we get there, I'm glad I can still lift her!