Can You Go Out In Public In Underwear If It Really Is Workout Clothes, Honest!

I have always said that workout gear is something that lets you go out in public in your underwear.

I have two sports I participate in.  Inline Skating and Cycling.  Both as an endurance sport.  When you are in a "Monsoonal Warm" climate like South Florida, the problem isn't staying warm, it is getting rid of sweat.  Especially through August, you can be completely soaked in sweat after only a half hour of cardio outdoors.

I cracked the code of how to get proper workout gear for cycling online a while back.  Going to the shopping website that everyone likes to laugh at, I was getting suited up for under $15, even now while rampant runaway inflation goes on.

Cycle Jerseys can cause ten times that, so since I am not flush with cash, the chance for picking up a full zipper spandex jersey for $8 was one of those moments where I said "Yoink, you are mine".  Padded shorts for the same or less.  I paid $4 for a pair of those more than once.

I used to laugh at the people in the cycle pack in Fairmount Park in Philadelphia wearing stinky spandex.  They would be going past in a large group and you could smell them.  You people really should wash better.  I do.  

But the thing is that something that form fitting looks like underwear, something that you wear under your clothes.  If you are in a place where it is appropriate, like a park or gym, great, but in your neighborhood or at a Mall?  Nope, No way.

My neighborhood is not one of those places.  At least not while I am on the bike.  I prefer more "room to breathe" when I am on skates and there is too much rubbish on the streets here to skate.  I will stick to the trails where the worst thing to have to deal with is an errant Karen.

ON YER LEFT!!!

However I learned shortly after moving to Flaky Florida, that you need to watch the weather very closely.  The emphasis is on the VERY.  In fact if you like today's weather you will like tomorrow.  Changes are rather small.  It never freezes this far south, and temperatures only vary, at most, about a degree a week on average.  

Fahrenheit or Centigrade?  First one, then the other.

You have Dry Season where South Florida is a desert for six or more months, then you have Wet Season where the air is liquid and it can rain at ... well, it is raining now isn't it?

A good radar program or website is better than tuning into the local talking head on AM/FM or TV.  I learned how to read radar as well as the well paid loudmouth on broadcast.  Maybe better because my radar program is immediate. 

There is also Hurricane Season - June 1 to November 30.  Better to just hope it spins fish and watch radar, again.

First thing in the morning, I look and I judge if I am in the barrel of the shooting gallery of "green leopard spots" on the map.  Then dress accordingly.  If the Leopard has brought the rest of its friends and you get yellow/orange/red blobs dancing across the map, you are on for a wet time.

I had a walk where I told those who I was going with that we were going to be wet, very wet.  Getting laughed at I took a golf umbrella that had carbon fiber ribs and no metal.  When I heard "there's the FEC from Miami coming North" from them, I said "No it's not a train, that is weather, we are going to get wet.  RUN!".  

After they stopped laughing at me, I told them to get out from under my umbrella since they were waiting for a train and cramping my style.  "Go play on the tracks, you two dinguses!"

This morning, there was a different situation.  More Leopard Spots.  I had my umbrella and a neighbor was asking.  I said if it rains, we're going to get about a half hour of wet.  The response was "So that is why you are dressed for the Tour de France?"

"Mais Oui, mon ami"  

You see this stuff, that is basically a recycled soda bottle with added stretchy stuff, has its purpose.  Not indoors, you need a breeze to make it comfortable.  The dog doesn't care about how you are dressed, nor whether it is raining.  Only if it is thunder and lightning, very very frightening.

None of that in the thermometer's Mercury, Freddy, just some rain.  Bloody unpredictable rain.

When we are out walking in the neighborhood, a short walk is a half hour.  It is why Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) has made it to 15 years old after being a Butt Cancer Survivor.  Exercise plus excellent nutrition, even if I have to take a half hour to get him to eat before sunrise.

I got going and was out a little more than a half mile, call it a kilometer, from the house.  It began to rain in that tropical, soaking way.  It was as if someone was on a balcony above you using a spray bottle at first.  Walking on, my Tour de France spandex was now skin tight, had a sheen of slightly salty acid rain that had blown in off the Ocean from The Bahamas.  

On and off, the rain came during that walk, and it stopped about 15 minutes before getting home.  Rack really did not care.  Cow Dogs, Farm Dogs, and Mc Nab Dogs just don't care about rain.  I didn't either.  That cool rain was fine, and when the rain stopped, I had a breeze.  

The Tour turned into an Air Conditioner.  Form Fitting, and I do look good in that stuff.

But basically it's Socially Acceptable Underwear in this context.  Big hairy scary athlete in underwear, walking his dog, being cooled by the winds off the ocean coming in from Freeport.

So I guess, really, I do wear it in the neighborhood, but rarely.  Even if it does raise an eyebrow.  Even if I do think this stuff looks like underwear that can get ripe if it doesn't go into the washer immediately with "bacteria fighting laundry soap".

I mean, I don't want someone to find me by scent.  They aren't a bloodhound and I am not a rabbit.  

After all, my nickname is Moose.  Not Bugs Bunny, silly Wabbit.

Trust in Dog. When Rack Decides for you that The Walk Is Over

Walking along muttering to myself.  I was trying to put some plan into the day.  That's what I do while following after Rack.

To keep a McNab Dog, or any other herding dog, mentally stimulated in an urban environment, you need to get a few things worked out.  This is a solid rule for any dog, but especially for a herding dog.  

They need to know the lay of the land.  I have seen this sort of thing with Lettie before him, and Rack knows where he is at any given moment.  We would get out onto the walk and I would stop and say "Lets go home!".  At that point, I would be led by my dog to my front door.  The walks are as much as two miles (3Km) at one go, and we have four walks per day.  It gives them plenty of room to explore, to meet favorite people and favorite dogs, and there will be lots of sniffing.

They have always known how to get to the front door. 

For the first few years, we purposely would go out on our walks and try to get our dogs "lost".  It never worked, they would always lead us to the house.  Smiling the whole way.

Trust me on this one, this is why we have a dog.  Never mind that some people would cross the street to stay away from someone with their dog - those are the ones you don't want to run into anyway!  Companionship and protection.  After all, they don't know that my dogs have always been trained to be in any situation, and to be friendly at the very minimum.

While they are out, they are engaged in Dog Enrichment.  Keeping them aware, letting them free think, let them apply their own version of Dog Logic to any given situation.  

Rack is old.  15 years old.  In dog years, that's ancient.  He's learned the lay of the land.  That is why this is so strange.  Getting to the middle of the walk, we would normally head through the central business district of our town.  Lots of friendly people, lots of things to see.  

We stopped. Hard.  Then Rack decided to do a Hard No and turn around the way we came.  It wasn't weather conditions.  He's old enough that when he can hear, it is a Hearing Day, as he is mostly deaf now.  

It wasn't that there were any trash trucks nearby, except the rolling dumpster of a Cybertruck which says more about the owner's bad decisions than the noise levels around us.

Rack is the same dog that once had a trash truck ahead of him, and pancaked on the sidewalk because there was another one coming around the corner behind him and he couldn't escape the noisy beasts.

This was just a Nope, I Am Not Doing This moment.

So we turned around and walked back home.  No thunder, no rain, no angry barking anywhere behind us.  One of those mysteries that has us repeating "Well, this is new!" and following behind.

Who knows what lurks inside that little furry head.  We passed by some of his favorite people that he had just passed on the way down there.  He saw them, gave a wag or two, and walked right past.  I had to say to the people "He's on a Mission!" and continued on to his intended destination.

Hard to know.  Our vet has told us that he has active tumors.  She doesn't know how he's still going on his Bonus Years as we call them.  I insist it is nutrition and exercise - I'm something of a trainer in two sports so I'm a bit of a force of nature myself.

I'm really just thankful that he's doing as well as he has been.

He is also recovering from a bout of pancreatitis.  It exposed his weakening.  He's now losing muscle strength and mass.  He's spending most of the day laying flat out on the cool tiles in the house, and having trouble getting up.  It's a part of being on the trailing edge of the bell curve of how long a dog can last.  Or so we understand.  Whatever his infirmities are, he's in something of a remission this week.  It could change overnight, who knows.

As I explain to everyone, Rack Leads.  We go where he wants.  We watch what he needs and cater to them.  It has always been that way with him, that way with Lettie before him.  Once they learn where they are I simply Trust In Dog.

I would do it all over again.

Rack the McNab Dog has always been tough to feed. Pancreatitis and Allergies do not help.

Please eat your food?

I find myself saying that constantly, for the last almost 15 years.  

Rack, The McNab SuperDog has historically not been a morning feeder.  In fact I believe to this day, that he stunted his growth by not wanting to eat as a puppy.  

He went through his "Prime Years" at around 40 pounds.  Most McNabs are 45 to 55 pounds and I never even got him above 42.  

We got into a "feedback loop" years ago and it calcified into this routine.  I am famously an early riser.  I would wake early enough to get to the park for a workout at sunrise.  Since I have been an athlete since I was a teen, it has served me well.

With Rack, getting him fed and walked, has been a trial.  I never was able to just put a bowl of food down and he'd eat.  I think this is how I ended up with him.  He was left at a vet's office for 39 days and was never picked back up.  Slow Motion Abandonment.  To this day, he loves the Vet, no matter which one, I think they fussed over him.

We went through a slow adjustment process of different foods.  His original diet has shifted over the years but it served him well in his prime.

He had Pancreatitis more times than I care to mention.  This is, I believe, what we are going through right now.  The symptoms seem to fit well.  Loose stools, disinterest in food, low energy, there are more.

He's eaten better than most people.  I've developed a fair amount of knowledge of Nutrition for my own Training Regimen.  It works, I'm constantly amused at the reaction of medical personnel when I explain to them that my resting heart rate is in the low to mid 50s and if I am dehydrated it will sneak up to 60 and I panic.

Long story.  You try doing three marathons a week on a bicycle in Florida temps and humidity.  (Sips some iced tea)  

When I say "Hydrate" I know what I mean.  I bring half a gallon to drink on the trail and it rarely comes home with me after a 2 hour workout.

Pancreatitis in a dog is helped by a lean diet.  The protein has to be prepared so that the fat content is as low as possible.  Boiled ground beef in his case.  I shifted his original diet to boiled beef along with the same tried and true veg to fill out the dietary requirements.

He also has an allergy to grain which manifests itself in an ability to turn poultry into soft serve poo.  No chicken/turkey.  Beef only.  Pork is problematic with dogs.

So he's on "A Prescribed Diet".  

When dogs get older, they have a lower protein diet.  So I developed one.  Vet approved.  

But the same diet over and over is boring.

Waking up at dawn got earlier and earlier to allow for all of this.  I'm now getting up at 4:45AM just to get some food in his stomach, then a mile walk.

That walk is getting slower.

I have always allowed him to direct the walk, a McNab is known to be an incredibly intelligent creature.  If you can't train a McNab, you can't train a dog.  

Rack has a mental map of where the neighborhood is laid out.  Certain walks are on certain blocks at certain times of day.  There is a cul-de-sac near me that is well planted with mature trees and since it is Furnace Hot in August in South Florida, he pulls to go through that street at the 5pm walk.  Other walks are more flexible.

However lately, his historically two mile walks at 530 after putting some food in him, are being truncated in the middle.  His choice, not mine.  He heads back at to the house after a mile.  

He knows where he's going.  In fact yesterday he dragged himself home after a half mile total because that was it, he was done.

But this food thing?  It is difficult.  You have to be flexible.  I don't like pampering, after all, I have a freezer crammed with ingredients to make the next three days of dog food.  The result is that I just keep putting food down in hope he won't be avoiding it all day.

Part of my own Nutritional Obsession is that I make a lot of food from scratch.  There are a lot of recipes for breads, cakes, cookies on here.  In fact, I need to locate my recipe for a cake mix.  Adding two tablespoons of the right dark cocoa to a single layer of white cake mix turns it into a very dark chocolate cake.

This all gives me an excuse to point to the ignored dog food bowl when he's begging for the Cheese Tax when I am cooking for my own needs.

You aren't getting mine in favor of your own.  

If there is one hint I can give is Yogurt.  It is why I make so much of the stuff for my own uses.  He likes it too.  If he is ignoring his food, a tablespoon of yogurt smeared on top changes it into something good.

Not boring is good.

Which is where I am today.   He had Pancreatitis.  I solved that by mixing his normal food 50/50 with white steamed rice.  That bored him more so I added Yogurt to the top.

Since he actually ate the 7 ounces of his diet mix and it only took 2 hours to do so, I filled the bowl again and am going to paint the top with the whey from the top of the yogurt container.

I suspect it's going to be a tough "last year" fighting Pancreatitis.

Since I found my cake mix recipe, I guess I have an afternoon tax.  I'm off to the kitchen to feed Rack again and my own need for Chocolate Cupcakes filled with Buttercream Icing.  Real Buttercream icing, none of this "Bettercream" crap you get in the markets these days.

I'll get off that soapbox.  I have baking to do.

Rack In Rim Or How I Can't Get Anything Done Without Supervision

I was out on the bike over that weekend.  My normal marathon was cut short, in fact, by half.

I have a goal.  If I ride 28 miles, 6 laps of the big gas bag, parked in the barn, in the middle of the park, I can call it good.

Oh sure, it tires me out and I end up having a nap in the afternoon, but after burning about 2000 calories in 2 hours, I am entitled.

Inline Skating the same amount of time is about 3000 calories, so I have this mindset that I'm slacking or cheating myself when I am on that contraption.

I knew this morning that there was a chance of rain.  I have a habit of taking that chance and running with it.  I need that workout, I don't even feel 28 miles in cooler weather.  Or at least what passes for Cooler Weather here in the steam bath and furnace that is South Florida.  

I measure workouts in how far I go past a marathon.  If I get rained out and it is less than a solid 27 miles at least, my records on the spreadsheet take the entry and display them in black instead of green.  Since the workouts are getting easier, that half workout of 13.38 miles was just a Lark in the Park.  Didn't even burn 1000 calories.

That's important because a normal day for me is taking in about 3200 calories.  Or more.  Afterburners are on, and I'm pretty much hungry during my waking hours.

Want that chocolate cake that I have recipes for?  Try to keep up.

I got home and after lunch I was feeling very relaxed but I remember that once I got back to the trailhead and my Jeep, stopping was a bit more "leisurely".  The brakes had gotten wet and leeched trail grit and oil onto the discs and pads.  It needed a servicing.

Luckily I have this down to about 5 minutes of active work once the tools are in place.   It makes me consider working on the Jeep's front disc brakes and whether it is a doable activity.

Probably.

Getting home, tracking mud onto the floor and setting myself up in the dining room floor, I was able to unmount the brake calipers.  Bending the cotter pin, freeing the two pads and the retaining clip.  A few strokes of sanding the pads, cleaning the disc with alcohol, and replacing the parts, I was able to get the rear brake in place.

Rear brakes get more use on a bicycle.  It was that way on my motorcycle as well.

Moving to the front wheel, My Supervisor was sleeping on the job.  Rack, The McNab SuperDog(TM) was sleeping on the job.I was able to get the job done without disturbing him.  Rack is 14, has three active cancerous lesions within his body, so he needs his rest.  I'll let you know when he slows down because he takes me for 5 miles of walks per day.

Buttoning the bike together quickly, that task was finished.  Rack snoring, I was able to get the bike task out of the way and ready for the next trip out.

Oh, and that rain?  Happened again on the next workout.  Wet Season seems early this year.  Must be an El Niño thing.

Rack, After a workout I am not really inclined to pay a cheese tax.

I train, hard.

My doctor is amazed at what I do "for entertainment" on the trails.  I suppose that I could "dial it back" and still get enough exercise.

Or not.

I have been training hard since I was a teenager, and I am not about to stop now.

By that I mean I have been cycling a marathon three times a week, steadily, for more than a year.  

I keep records.  On a spreadsheet.  Because, of course I would.  It's my IT training.

The spreadsheet has areas for all sorts of information including Weight, BMI, conditions, Distances in two sports, and so forth.  

Start out slow and add columns when you need them.  After all, Libre Office wants you to use their software and I would prefer do as they say.

It would be "untowards" if I didn't.

But after training, hard, for just more than two hours, and coming home, I want to shower and then lunch.

We have a routine.  I get my odds and ends inside the house, then the bike, then I can take Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) out back.  

Lately he has decided that I am too slow and he lets himself out.  The front door.  And goes next door and waters their flower box for them.  Leg in the air, wave it round like you just don't care.

I am able to unstrap the bike from the Jeep in that time and typically get it inside the house while Rack is "visiting".  The block is quiet in the pre-lunch hour so I don't have to worry.

But today, wet nose was insistent.  This isn't new.

If my feet hit the floor, my 14 year old dog wants outside.  If I am in the kitchen, he follows me in.

Today was a cheese pizza with toasted Shallots on top.  It makes for a fragrant lunch, sweet and savory at the same time.  Trust me on this one, Shallots on top of a Pizza are an interesting treat.

Since I am constantly training, I am on a training diet.  I may have "Cheat Days" here and there, I am too good of a baker not to.  I do know exactly what goes into these personal pizzas so that I am not overdoing calories and so that I hit the Protein count that my Macros demand.  30g per meal.

While I am slicing cheeses to go on top of the prefab crust, AKA a Pita, I am being stared down.  Of course I am, because I am in the kitchen.  

The thing is that with an Old Dog, you really don't want to push a lot of protein into them.  They may love cheese, and this one is a good low moisture Mozzarella, but since it is relatively high in protein, it is difficult for a dog to process with Old Kidneys.

He is on a training diet too, or rather one I developed with the Vet so that he may last a couple more years.  He's got a long list of Old Boy issues, and about 7 different medicines to support all of that.

It used to be that I could say "Not For Dogs" and he'd hear it.  Then he'd slink away and let me finish the task at hand.  Now, he is either deaf or selectively deaf and I don't trust that he will hear that.  

The solution is to shave a thin piece of cheese and let him have just that morsel while I am preparing my own lunch.

It usually does the trick.

Usually.  

I am his job.  He watches for me.  He watches me.  He is my shadow.  He is at my right elbow now, and most of the day when I am home and settled in.

I hear the ring on the oven, and bring the pizza out to the coffee table.  It has a hinge on the top so that it can be raised just enough that Rack can't get his muzzle onto the table.  I am safe because if I walked off, that pizza would vanish.

Good stuff because the sauce is a 1970s reverse engineered Pizza Sauce.  As good as the best pizza parlor would have had anywhere.  None of that canned or jarred garbage for us!

After finishing the lunch, I have to remember to block off the front door.  There is a floor to ceiling (nearly) window in the door.  Hurricane Impact Glass.  It gives me a great view to the street and people coming and going.  

The problem there is that Mr Cheese Hound sees it too.  He's decided that anyone walking or driving down my block deserves commentary.  Loud Commentary.  

I have a fabric gate that I made about 25 years ago that I place in front of the lower half of the window so that Rack can't see out.  If he did any delivery truck would be yelled at, and if the driver dared to come up the driveway, hilarity would ensue.

Since everyone has deliveries these days from multiple web sites and multiple shipping companies, it means that we are greeted with announcements in Dog.

"Rack you don't have to do that.  Go in your corner."

I'm ignored

"Rack Stop."

I'm ignored with a fusillade of barking.

"Rack STOP!"

He is greeted with a flying hedgehog soft plush.  My aim is purposely rubbish.  It never hits him but comes close enough to break his concentration.  It sometimes comes close enough to break some odds and ends on the tables.

I have to stop tossing the Hedgehog.  The last time it bounced off the Hurricane Window and fell behind the TV Coffin.

The TV Coffin is a large dark cabinet that reminds me of my credenza from my office in the working days.  It has an elevator that never works right because power here is so dirty here and full of power pops.  It confuses the electronics.

"RACK STOP!"  Hedgehog flies again.  Rack scrambles out of the room.  Hedgehog gets wedged under the couch.

I give up, 

At least I am able to have the rest of that glass of Iced Tea.

"No Rack, not for dogs".

No more cheese on the plate anyway.  Since the carbo crash hour is happening.  I'm resting after burning 2000 calories going round in big circles around the gas bag in the barn in the park.

But that delivered package?  A big bag of Root Beer Barrels.  

"No, Rack, that's not for dogs.  Here, sniff."

Annoying furry little idiot and I wouldn't have it any other way.

If I Don't Keep My Feet On The Coffee Table, Rack Will Want Outside, And I Will Wait Again.

Some days I realize I spend the entire time waiting on this furry little monster.

Oh sure, I'm still in my "off days" mentality.  My "support team" is out of commission so I can't train like normal.

Well, normal for me.  For you it may be excessive, but it's my groove and I want my groove back, Stella.

I'm between dog walks now.  Up before 5AM.  I take two walks before most people get to work.  Looking at my watch, it says that I had "6.00 Km" of distance.  Roughly 3.6 Miles for the Metrically Challenged. 6500 steps and it is not yet 8AM.

That second walk is because I dared to laugh at a viral picture and my foot hit the floor.

Rack, The McNab SuperDog (TM), literally leapt to his feet and practically ran to the back door wanting Out! Now!.  

Fine, Dog, I'll get up.  Rinse the mug out in the sink so I can pour the coffee grounds into the garden.  "Gardener's Gold" it was told to me years back and I can't forget that.  What passes for soil here in South Florida is Coral.  Beach sand.  Not very nourishing.

Actually, Rewind that a little.  There are always quirks but this Dog is forcing me to realize that my days home are waiting on him to finish things.  I'm up early and I put on the CBC on the internet radio so I can listen to the news.  

If I do it right, I am able to get things done, but it is never completely right.  So I have to go outside and stare at the dog so he gets things done instead.  I'm standing in the yard with nothing on but a pair of boxer shorts waving my arms in the air saying "Go On!".  

It is a secluded yard but with our two week winter approaching, I know I'll have to dress for that.

There is a cat that is trying to colonize the yard and we won't have that.  I'll disabuse that cat of that attitude if I can, but meanwhile, Rack isn't being so SuperDog and he's afraid of the yard now.

After that, we have a weird ritual.  Feeding him.  He's not a morning person and will simply sit down and ignore his food.  That can take upwards of 45 minutes for what at the next feeding takes under 3.  "You definitely are not a Lab, are you?"

Finally he finishes, we go out into the predawn gloom.   In all reality, this allows me to enjoy the cool morning air.  I get to see things not everyone does.  Step outside, look East toward the sunrise yet to come.

When I am back at training, I rush through this ritual and cut the walk short, but I have seen things like the morning skies doing an impression of the South Carolina State Flag.  The state scares me as being too redneck, but South Carolina has a rather nice flag.  Crescent Moon over a Palmetto Tree.

Coming home, it's back into the kitchen.  Having a high metabolism, basically like at the level of a high school teenager athlete, means I am constantly grazing.  So I am up and down all day and every time feet hit the floor, I have twin brown laser beams following me into the kitchen, asking for some.  

Thankfully I can say "Not For Dogs" and he understands he isn't getting even a sample.  

That doesn't mean I have freedom from twin brown laser beaming eyes.  I've even had to go into the laundry behind closed door to get something for myself.

The ritual is feet hit the floor.  Rack runs to the door.  I let him out and he wanders around watering my Hibiscus.  Normally I can have enough time to maintain my carboload before he comes back.   If he takes two steps out, turns around, that damn cat is back in the yard and I won't have peace.  So back outside, hopefully wearing more than just the boxers, so he can have his time.

Twice a week there is the ritual of making his food.  Of course I am in and out of the refrigerator getting ingredients.  He waits.  He knows that there is going to be the frozen peas.  Then he will get a small handful of them in his bowl.  Until then, more staring.  Tasty Green Ice Balls!

Thinking of that, I wait.  It could be worse, he's well behaved, we can actually leave food out on the counters, but I will get stared down.

Finishing the first glass of Iced Tea I want a second.  Feet hit the floor.  Dog runs to the back door.  Lather, Rinse, Repeat.  I let him out and make that second glass.  In the time he takes to do a circuit of the yard, I answer two texts, seat and fit test the active noise cancelling earbuds, and get set up on the rocker for later activities.  Check that door, he's still wandering.  Too early in my book for that next snack.

I'm waiting.  It's a feedback loop.  It is a cycle of this doing things and waiting on the dog to finish his thing.  I could break that.  The house needs vacuuming.  Since it is cooler, the windows have been open and the breezes are predictably from front to back of the house.  That chases the fur balls out from under the furniture and tells me I have a task to do.

Or so I tell myself.  Actually, it gives me a break.  Someone furry doesn't like the vacuum, most dogs do not.  Open the hall closet, drag out the vacuum, and Rack is up, trotting into the bedroom closet for a hiding place and waiting on me for a change.

Ahhh back on top again, like a proper Apex Predator!  Soon!  I shall have a clean house!  Until then, You get to wait on Me!

Rack, after 14 years, you are still weird. Old Dogs, New Tricks.

Ok, this may be your Ceremonial 14th birthday, but I could use a little slack.

We will never know if it is today or even a different month.  Part of the mystery of sharing your life with a Rescue Dog is having to figure things out on your own terms.  Both of your terms.  As far as it goes, this day mystery is a minor and forgettable one.  It is today because I say it is.  Maybe next year it will be a different one.

We have gone through a number of scares. 

You were a terrified dog when we got you.  Your first walk was across the street on your belly to meet up with the neighbors.  I think you realized that we weren't going to allow you to fail, we simply had no other option.

With a fearful dog, you plan every activity and make sure that there will be success at the end of it.  These neighbors were perfect for that.  Lisa was the older lady who treated everyone with kindness, Bill her son did not fall far from that same bottle brush tree.  The tree is there, Lisa is gone, Bill moved on.

You are now one of the longest residents of this town.  People don't tend to stay long in South Florida.  I've been here myself two weeks shy of 20 years which is longer than I have lived anywhere else.

The thing about having a herding dog is that you have to keep their bodies and their minds active.  I mean, Truly Active, in capital letters.  You can do that as long as you give them long walks, I give you upwards of 6 miles a day.  10K may sound like a lot but it isn't really, especially spread across four walks. 

Luckily for you, I am an endurance athlete.  It is keeping us both alive.

Truly Active means you have to be able to find New Things.  Greeting New People is a major plus, and in a Resort Town near a shopping area is a plus as well.

You have never been a Morning Person.  Too bad, I am.  When you live in a hot climate, you have to be.  There really isn't a winter, it never freezes here.  We get you out before 10 and after 5 daily because you're wearing a black fur coat.

That works well with my own schedule.  Just not yours.  We notice that you eat your food faster at lunch and dinner than you do  before dawn.  It can't be helped.  I just have not figured out why you have to pick mouthfuls of food and pick it all back up after standing on it at 5:30AM.  You don't do that any other time of day.  That meal can take as long as 45 minutes and you are slowing me down from my own routine.

Bizarre.

You don't like being home alone.  Most dogs don't.  I have not figured out how you know when I am coming home after a workout, but you seem to have.  There you are standing at the door, smiling and wagging and waiting for the routine to begin.

It is all about The Process with a McNab.  I walk in the door, you greet me, and immediately after, you go to the back door and ring a bell to be let out.  It is The Process that is important.  Coming home means Greet, Bell, Sniff the Air Out Back.  Lunch is Eat Quickly, Get Ball of Cookies, Ring Bell, Go Out Back. 

If you could figure out how to open the sliding door it would be easier.  I guess that's not happening, sliding doors need thumbs and that is a lot of heavy Hurricane Glass to get past.

It isn't really separation anxiety although science has proven that dogs do have that.  You are only alone for about 5 hours a week plus whatever time it takes to run to the market. 

You taught yourself how to ring that bell at the back door.  There is a string of Elephant Bells that I got for my sister's wedding.  You get your snoot in the string and give it a too gentle shake.  We know you enjoy that because it's like that dog talking buttons, it makes you smile.  You ring that about every hour in the morning, less at other times of the day.

Going for a walk is more strangeness.  "Go get your leash".  You'll walk to the door then immediately back to me.  "Where is your leash".  Back to the door.  It's like playing tennis.  SERVE!

We get the leash and loop it over your head.  You taught yourself to put your foot through the loop on the side strap that snaps under your belly.  You use that trick assertively.  As the foot waves in the air until you realize we noticed, which can be as many times as you need to get your point across.  A couple dozen times when you are excited is reasonable even if it does look strange.

You don't bark aimlessly at a leaf falling in the yard like many, you have a purpose.  If I am sitting here, I tell you that I know about it, you quiet down.  But not completely.  Deliveries become a Discussion. 

"Yes, I know there's someone here, they're bringing us things". 
"GRUMBLEGRUMBLE!" 
"I know, they're here, calm down." 
"Grumble. Grumble?"

A dog that has learned how to process inflection.  I wish that the talking buttons had been a thing when we got you, but that was a different time.

"Moan"  as you sit down.  I swear you are learning the art of friendly discourse even if the hardware in your body won't allow for it.

You are older, you did not get deaf, you are the poster child for selective hearing.  Deliveries sometimes miss you, other times you are startled into action by someone dropping a box at the door which will mean you'll complain about the intruder long after they've left the premises.

You have been bitten, had and survived cancer, and walked thousands of miles each year.  Your first year meant that you never had a problem with the Vet as it is comforting to you. 

I think you made it this far because I have a tailored diet to get past food allergies and pancreatitis bouts that put you in the shelter in the first place.  I think we may have gone through Pancreatitis yearly.  I don't want to think about what hell you went through in your first year, there are still echoes of it in your personality, but I will say that the food issues probably put you there.  A piece of chicken the size of a thumbnail will turn you into a soft serve dispenser.  It's just easier to make your food from a proscribed recipe that is carved in stone.

As you got older, I did have to adjust that diet using spreadsheet to reduce the protein you take in.  You are due for another visit to the vet for a blood test to see if everything is working.

With all the strangeness and weird quirks I'd do it all over again.  At 14 years old you are closer to the end than the beginning.  Dogs only very rarely make it much past this to 20 years.  The breed is not well known, but the McNab breeders seem to think that 16 years is reasonable with expert care.

I'm doing my best to be that expert carer you bizarre and weird dog.  I'd do it all over again.

Dog Food Recipe For Older Dogs With Lower Protein

In Florida, I understand the laws on who is a "Nutritionist" is "flexible".  If you say you are, you are.

For this purpose, I am.  At least as a blog writer.

I have been learning and honing my knowledge of proper "Sports Nutrition" since the Disco Era.  Seeing that I am listening to some Classic Disco right now, that timing becomes hazy.

Never mind that.  In this case, I am trying to keep my nearly 14 Year Old Dog, Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) alive another year or three.  His coat is shiny, his energy is excellent, his eyesight is clear.  His hearing is somewhat hit or miss.  It's also clear that my own Sports Nutrition knowledge is helping.

He also is a Cancer Survivor and has typical old dog kidney issues.

We have been making his food, from scratch, since well before Covid.  We got him because there was a recall on some dog food that killed my prior dog, Lettie.  I feed him nothing from a can, nothing from a bag, and nothing I could not eat myself.

His prior recipe is here on the blog.  That recipe is excellent for adult and younger dogs.

What I am doing in this recipe is reducing the protein content while keeping the calorie count approximately equal.  In order to achieve this recipe, I have been using spreadsheets, nutrition labels, and the USDA food ingredient website information to calculate what I am doing to the recipe.

Original Recipe is 25% of calories from Protein.
Total Protein is about 20.2% with Macaroni, 18.9% with Rice Noodles.

Calories for the recipe is about 3300 calories total.
I get 11 servings, about 3 days of food from all of this. 

It's involved, and should you take this on, feel free to comment here or find me on FB Ramblingmoose or Blue Sky @ramblingmoose. 

The theory goes that 80% lean Burger Meat is about 5g of protein per ounce cooked.  Reducing that to 3.5g per ounce pre-cooked by substituting in "typical" Elbow Macaroni or to 2g of protein per ounce by using Rice Noodles will help.

The reason for this reduction is that he's older.  The Veterinarian recommended a low protein diet because, in an older dog, you have problems processing protein. What happens is that for Kidney Health, and Longevity, they recommend a reduced protein diet. 

Original recipe is here, and it has drifted slightly.  All ingredients are as low salt as possible, no added sugar.  He can't have chicken or other poultry due to a grain allergy. 

The low fat issue is due to pancreatitis that we've had come and go over the years - low fat helps him greatly.  Hence the boiled and strained beef.


Recipe:


16 ounces boiled and strained 81% lean beef.
3 ounces green peas.
5 ounces shredded carrots.
15 ounces Butternut Squash.
15 ounces Kidney Beans.
40 ounces white rice, boiled and cooked.
8 ounces Elbow Macaroni, boiled and cooked.

This makes, for him, 85 ounces of food once cooked.

Meaning, 1 serving is 7.5 ounces.  Give or take. 

The protein count from USDA.GOV is as follows:

Ground Beef:  17.5g for 100g.  1100g for recipe.
Frozen Green Peas:  4g for 85g.  (From package)
Shredded Carrots:  3.5 for 100g.
Butternut Squash: 3g for can (from can)
White rice: 77g for 1100g.
Kidney Beans: 7.8g for 100g, 33g (for can)

Elbow Macaroni is from the package: 7g for 2 ounces/56g
For Rice Noodles, 9g protein per 4 oz/113g.

My math is not perfect.  Your mileage will vary with ingredients and your skill.

Standard Internet Warranty Applies - You get what you pay for, and while I am placing this here, I am doing this to help.  If you have any doubts consult your Veterinarian or Nutritionist.  I'm not an expert I but I can play one on TV.

Reducing Protein in Older Dog's Food Recipe

The story goes that we were told Rack, The McNab SuperDog(TM) is older.  He's got kidney issues.  So to help him live perhaps a little longer, we have to reduce the protein in his food so he might live.

But nobody has told us precisely what to do.  Since I developed this diet for him, I have control over what goes into him.  He acts like a much younger dog but has been slowing down, and slowing down his eating.  At 13, he has a right.

He has pancreatis issues, so I have to "De-Fat" the recipe.  It is much leaner than what I put down my own open maw.

He can't have any sort of poultry so no chicken or turkey.  We believe it is a grain allergy.

He also has about half of the teeth a normal dog was born with, so he licks what you give him out of the bowl.

Since we are taking him back to the Vet for more bloodwork in about a month to see what the results are, and since we have no idea whether we are doing the right amount of restrictions, we reduced the main protein ingredients by a quarter.

Original recipe is here, and it has drifted slightly.  All ingredients are as low salt as possible, no added sugar.

The Recipe as it stands is:

32 ounces boiled and strained 81% lean beef.
3 ounces green peas.
5 ounces shredded carrots.
15 ounces Butternut Squash.
15 ounces Kidney Beans.
40 ounces white rice, boiled and cooked.

This makes, for him, 10 servings.  85 ounces of food once cooked.

Meaning, 1 serving is 8.5 ounces.

The protein count from USDA.GOV is as follows:

Ground Beef:  17.5g for 100g.  1575g for recipe.
Frozen Green Peas:  4g for 85g.  (From package)
Shredded Carrots:  3.5 for 100g.
Butternut Squash: 3g for can (from can)
White rice: 77g for 1100g.
Kidney Beans: 7.8g for 100g, 33g (for can)

That means it is a total of 1696g total.
Old Recipe is 1969g for beef alone, 2023g total.

If it is necessary to lower protein further, there is room.  The White Rice can be substituted for more beef or for the kidney beans.   Vets often recommend increasing White Rice in recipes for dogs with stomach upset.

The reduction is 326g total or 32g per serving which is what I personally try to get for each meal in a day.  Half of the rice above, another 25% of the beef.  It is a 20% reduction in protein.

Give or take a fraction.

I'm not a dog.   Although some may think so.

So I will wait to see what the vet says.  Further reduction in the beef is possible, and the beans can be reduced as well. 

Take the advice for what it's worth.  I am rolling the dice here, and hoping for the best.  I'm not a vet, and canine nutrition is decidedly different from human.  Your mileage may vary.

Rack the McNab SuperDog Going Deaf Means Entertaining Changes and Opportunities

Ok, so he's old.  13 is old for a dog.  McNabs will normally get around 16 so we should have a few more years left in him.

But yes, he is starting to slow down, show his age.  Aren't we all?

I am finding that while he's older, there are things I can get away with that I could not before.

First of all, he seems to be past that cancer scare we had about a year back.  Whew, right?  I am watching every move, every misstep. 

He is a herding dog after all, living in an urban environment.  If you have one, and you are not taking your dog for very long walks, you are doing them and yourself a disservice.

When I got Lettie, my prior Herding SuperDog, I immediately lost 5 pounds.  She demanded walks, and she would get them.  I was already walking all over Center City Philadelphia to and from trains so the extra four walks a day she would get just put the icing on the cake.

Yes, your herding dog needs four walks a day and I bet I could say that about any other breed of dog.

If you have someone telling you that your high drive dog does not belong in your suburban home, and you are sitting on the couch every day, you probably do need one.  In other words, Get Up And Do Something For Crying Out Loud!

Rack, and Lettie before him both, had the benefit of where I lived.   I am extremely active and I think nothing of walking four miles a day through the business districts I prefer to live near.

There is a good reason for that.  Mental Stimulation.  Think of it as Dog Enrichment.  Seriously.  He shows his preferences for where to go on one of these stupidly long walks I take him on.  Through the parking lots to visit people sitting at the bar near the house.  Greeting people.  Getting attention.

I always leave extra time for us to get around at the 5pm walk because he drags me through the bar if he has a choice just to meet up with people.  I'm nervous because bars mean alcohol but so far his winning smile has saved him.

Mental Stimulation is the key to keeping any dog, especially a high drive herding dog.

Sure I repeat myself but you get what you pay for.  Since there isn't a tip jar here, I'll move on.

Second, our boy is losing his hearing.  As in not quite deaf as a post but he is near that fence line.

Oh sure, I can still get his attention.  High Pitched Noises he can hear.  So me, all 6'4"/193CM and 190 Pounds/85KG of me making Mickey Mouse sounds is not generally going to happen but a high pitched "BIP!" will bring him around.

But what I am finding is a relief.  I am usually pressed for time.  Who isn't these days.  Rack's normal activity was to be let out of the back door and wander around.  He would watch me and if I went into the house, he'd stop what he was doing and come in.

Useful, but having that shadow behavior is a little counter productive.   I can't have your food in the bowl if you are stressed about getting out to water my hibiscus hedge, can I?

Different now.  He can't hear me go back into the house so I sneak in, replace water and food, and go about my own business. 

After all, he got to water the hibiscus, I need to as well.

I am finding it easier to get him into the yard and let him do his thing, even if he prefers me outside with him.

Third, it means for a quieter house.  No extreme barking at the door because the neighborhood stray cat has been heard.  The delivery truck isn't quite so annoying if you can't hear it.  Right now, he's laying at the door.  Snoring.  I have been able to go to and from the kitchen, grab snacks, coffee, and set things up on the table with him never rousing.

I could get used to this even if I do look ridiculous talking like Mickey Mouse.

Well he can't hear that anyway, can he. 

Most likely not.  When I talk to him and he did have hearing, he would wag his tail.  Now I suspect he sees me move my mouth and he's hearing Tinnitus.

There are good hearing days and bad ones.  This is a bad one.   The bells on the clocks are going off and he snored right through them.

I'll allow that.  It's allowing me to get my own things done.  Better than being summoned to the back door because he's ringing the bells I have tied on there for just that purpose.  I am able to take the camera out and squeeze off a few pictures without him knowing I am anywhere near.

It's all about going with the flow.  Sure, he's hard of hearing.  He may be deaf as a post.  But he's my shadow.  We're in the Bonus Years and I will look forward to riding this wave as long as I can.

For now, he's letting things happen.  The minute I get out of this chair, he'll be up and asking for that hibiscus again.

Oh wait... there we go.  At the door!

Sedation Reaction In Dogs - Run Run Run Thump is Not Far From True

 

Rack was diagnosed with Cancer.  Left side of the tail Gland, and while you may raise an eyebrow at that, it is where it happened.  I don't want the search results to be ruined by using the clinical term for the location of it, and for this discussion, it's not completely required.

Just think of Expressing That Gland In The Butt.  On the left, specifically.  If you mention that line to a vet or a vet tech they will tell you exactly which gland.

He went in and the surgeon believes that he got all the cancer out, which is the best you can hope for in a 12 year old McNab SuperDog (TM).  That does not give me a prognosis.  It only puts Rack on something that I describe as Permanent Hospice Care since he could easily live 16 years or more, or just 16 weeks more. 

We.
Just.
Won't.
Know.

(For dramatic emphasis.)

Anyway, what happened is that Rack has always been tough to sedate.  As in he's been stitched back together when a pit bull attacked him standing rigid on a table full of meds.  Three times the expected rate of sedation for a normal dog of his size.  He simply did not go to sleep. 

And before you get on me for Breed Specific Behavior - it was a Pit Bull, so save your pontificating.  Oh and get off your own platform as you are getting a nose bleed.  There are a lot of irresponsible dog owners out there.  The owner solved the problem by moving away.  Vanishing.

So stuff your attitude.

Fast forward to today.  Rack came home from being sedated.  My "Very Reputable Veterinary Hospital was amazed at "How Much Sedation We Had To Put Into Him Before He Went Under".  Yeah we know, and that was why we warned you.

They brought him out.  He looked like a cartoon character.  Cone of Healing on, Doggie Depends Diaper on, legs not getting traction so he was galloping down the hall.  His pupils were so dilated that they were reflecting light from down the hallway.

Oh he was trippin' balls, as they say!

We got him home.  It was as if the episode of the Paul Reiser show "Mad About You" had cast Murray the Collie in my house.  You know, where Murray was obsessed with a mouse in the walls of the apartment and was running around the entire episode trying to get the thing.  "Run, Run, Run, Thump!" as Murray collided with a wall or a piece of furniture.  Strange, annoying, bizarre, whatever you want to call the behavior.  Season 2, Episode 2, Mad About You, called "Bing, Bang, Boom" for however long that link lasts.  Definitely worth a watch if you like Paul Reiser like I do. 

No Dogs were Harmed in filming the episode, he said so at the end of it.

This was what we went through that night. 

 

Youtube links do not last forever, so watch it while you can - Bill, Feb 14, 2024

For about 6 hours until Rack wore himself out and the night medications (Tramadol plus Gabapentin) kicked in, he was going around the house, cone and diaper on, and banging into things.  Then he'd back up, turn around, and return repeating the path.

The only other time I saw something like this was on an "Animal Documentary" where an Antelope was walking around in circles, compulsively, due to a parasite.  The predators of the area stopped that behavior, eventually. 

Rack's imitation of Murray stopped around 10 PM and we were able to get a few hours of sleep.

So if you are back from your Vet Visit, and your dog is compulsively and excessively pacing your house, what we did was to give him more.  Literally another Tramadol tablet brought him down to the point where he could sleep.  Turning off the lights kept him asleep.  The next day he did not need any more sedation for a while, until the second meal and the broken stitches meant we had to go back to the vet for a "repair".

It has been a rough road.  Rack is healing.  He has been under medication and some of those are sedating, for a week and a half now.  The first few days were frankly quite dirty.  Blood and gore flying when he would shake.  Any time you operate that far down the intestines, you will get all sorts of infections, and he is on some pretty strong antibiotics right now. 

But we're hopeful, and we're watching, and that is about all we can do for now.

Wish us luck.

Have you ever been asked by a dog to weigh him? I have been about twice a week.

I'm an early riser.  Too many years of getting up at stupid o'clock to get to Fairmount Park on the weekends and to the gym at work before checking in did it.

Beat the rush, you end up resetting your clock.

After all, a full workout, shower, and getting done in time for whatever normal is takes time.

So here I am, at home, and I can't sleep past 5:15 in the morning no matter how hard I try.

There is a definite routine, and even that is carved in stone.  Now that Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) is getting older, I have to get him outside immediately.

Oh sure, he is at my side of the bed, on his back, waiting for tummy rubs.  100 count, I am not stingy when I can.

Then I get him out, and wait. 

After all that I am in the bedroom.  Right in front of the full length mirror, there is an electronic scale.  I weigh myself, and start to get dressed.

However.

Many mornings, Rack decides "me too".

I look down and see twin brown laser beams looking back up at me as I pull up the zipper on my shorts and T-shirt over my head.

"Rack, show me?"  I ask him to look at what he wants me to do for him.

Lately, he looks at the scale.  It's like the little kid looking up to big brother because "Me Too" is how we all learn.  If he doesn't look at the scale, he walks over to it and touches it.

Gently.  One foot on the grey vinyl covering, then the other.

He doesn't yet understand all feet have to be on the square so I have to help.

"Let me help" I say as I scoop him up and lift all four feet on the scale.  It's more like a hug.  I think he likes the physical attention.

I bend deeply and get two readings.  "You're such a good boy".  I feel his tail brush my legs as he steps off the mechanism and walks off.

Rack has always been small for the McNab breed.  He has had digestion issues and allergies, and I made his food as a result.  So there is a blue post-it note stuck to that mirror telling me that his weight was 43.6 pounds as of September 1 and was 41.2 as of April. 

Good.  A little padding is fine.  He's an athletic dog, and a little extra padding helps.

Then I sit on the bed to put my shoes and he helps.  We play the Leg Game where he weaves between legs and gets extra praise and pets and more contact.

You know, it really is a great way to start a day.