I'm still here...

and so are Phoebe, Diesel and Bailee. In the beginning of May I noticed that Phoebe's lymph nodes were very enlarged and getting larger. I took her in for an exam as soon as I noticed and she was diagnosed with Lymphosarcoma a day or so after. We started chemo on May 4th and initially it was very successful. I mean, hell, she's still here and it's July 23rd, so for about a month and a half we enjoyed total remission. Last weekend though, I noticed those lymph nodes again and back we went to see Dr. Ron and two days later we had confirmation from the Lab that the cytology indicated the cancer was back. Just fucking fabulous. So, I'm on pins and needles waiting to see what the oncologists say about switching up the chemo protocol. Hopefully, we will have that defined before the end of today, since I'll need to arrange with my supervisor and I need to make work travel plans for early next month..
Also around the beginning of May I started a personal wellness endeavor to address some of my potential health problems due to the extreme amount of fatness I have. I am happy to say that making better food choices and exercising consistently has paid some dividends as 've lost 30 pounds. I'm amazed that with all this recent stress I've managed to stay on a plan, but hey, something is working.
The best thing is, that although the cancer is back for Phoebe, she doesn't know it. She's still waggy, happy, prancy, funny and full of life. I know the time will come when she doesn't enjoy life anymore and I'll have to say goodbye. But until that day, we're going to keep fighting the cancer with what we've got.
In other interesting news, Aaron and I watched the movie Kung Fu Panda and decided that Diesel IS PO (the Panda). If you knew Diesel and saw the lengths he'll go to for a cookie, you'd be nodding in agreement and chuckling. Diesel is such a kick in the pants and when he and Bailee aren't being bulldogs, the house is pretty peaceful and the pack is happy.

Really Bailee? REALLY?

Bailee is an escape artist. She's gone under the fence and headed for the hills (another dog actually), gone after the uninvited comcast survey crew and chased down a skater kid.....But last week, oh last week she outdid herself. I was coming in the front door and too late I hear Aaron say "watch out, the dogs"...well she squeezed right out the front door and took off like a cork outta a champagne bottle. Right across the street, until she saw the neighbors out and getting in their cars. Ignoring my calling her, she made a hard turn and bounded across their yard and right into the Driver's lap. Not content to just sit and stay in one place, she bounced to the passenger side, over the center counsel and into the back seat. Everybody was laughing and saying how CUTE she was, so of course she was twice as proud of herself. Mortally embarrassed I retrieved her and introduced us to the new neighbors. Crisis averted...this time.

Cascade Bulldog Rescue Needs Your Help

January and February have been the busiest months CBRR has had in almost 10 years! Did we bust a puppy mill? NO! There's just an overwhelming number of dogs being surrendered, either due to the economy or human's basically shitty nature. Late last month I took a vacation day and headed off to Camp Green, Home of Auntie Lou, Bulldog Goddess Extraordinaire to take little Roscoe to Woodland, WA for a new foster home. I then continued South on I-5 to meet the very lovely and fabulous Kodie Rae (Oregon's Rescue Goddess Incarnate) who was bringing me four, count 'em FOUR bulldogs to bring back to Camp Green. Cletus and Chloe, Kobe and Gracie were deligtful passengers en route to Glorious Camp Green...then the real FUN began! Miss Jewel didn't take kindly to two new girl neighbors and I macguyvered some privacy screens, while arming myself with a squirt bottle....seriously, bullie bitches can sure be BITCHY!

It's too bad that State Patrolman wrote me a ticket for speeding, I'd of rather made a donation to CBRR! If you're looking to help a Bulldog in need, click here: http://www.cascadebulldogrescue.org/donate.html

We can use all the help we can get!!

UGHHHH

You know the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you come home and one of your dogs seems to be injured or in pain? Probably the only feeling worst than that is when you come home and instead of being greeted by wags and body leans, your dog isn't there or has died. Ugh, that's a real bummer...maybe I'll talk more about that later. But for now, I should get back to the topic at hand....ah yes, coming home to someone with an owie.

When you come to my house, you're in for a welcome that is somewhere on the magnitude of a Super Bowl Victory Parade or even Mardi Gras. You see, Phoebe, Diesel and Bailee are most decidedly re-incarnated Walmart Greeters...not the ones that gruffly ask to see your reciept when you leave, but the kind that dries off your cart, cheerfully says "good morning" (or afternoon) and REALLY, REALLY means it. These greeters are relatively few and far between, judging by my Walmart experiences of late, however, like rainbow striped unicorns, they're out there. How I managed to have three of them living in my house at one time is beyond me, but let me tell you, you sure know SOMEBODY is glad you're home. Each has a distinct style of greeting, Phoebe dances, wags her tail in an up and down motion, ducks her head and tries to lean into you for a nice butt scratch. Diesel blasts out of his crate, jumps on you and darts around the house, banking of furniture (and you), all while is nubbin of a tail goes a hundred miles per hour. Bailee, is somewhat more reserved, she comes running but wiggles her entire body from side to side; making up for her lack of a tail. Homecoming is an event...every single day in my house.

So imagine my Monday, when after letting Diesel and Bailee out of their crates, I noticed Phoebe completely favoring her left front leg. She was waling on her tippy toes, literally and my heart went straight into my stomach. Did Diesel slam into her and hurt her elbow or pastern? Did she slip on the floor and twist, tear or otherwise damage herself? It's times like these when I really wish I could talk to my animals, or they could just say "Hey, DUMMY, this hurts!" Naturally, as I tried to get Phoebe examined and determine the source of her limping the bulldogs were beside themselves...in addition to being walmart greeters, they're complete and utter attention whores. Aaron had the audacity to walk in the front door and it was time for Act 2 of the homecoming ritual...we corralled the bulldogs who barked and wailed and protested their confinement and began examining Phoebe's leg in earnest.

Every Spring, when the trees and flowers start doing their thing Phoebe's feet flare up and become inflamed. I ordered special immunity complexes for her, in hopes that I could get her loaded up and ready for the wave of allergens, but Mother Nature had other ideas. Her left foot had become so inflamed that a hole had formed and puss and blood was oozing out of it; of course this was after an initial exam and a frantic call to make a vet appointment for her first thing Tuesday morning. That's when I went into first aid mode, I filled the tub with malaseb shampoo and betadine solution and had her stand in the foot soak for 4 handfuls of cookies...approximately 15 minutes. We then dried her bad foot thouroughly and applied optimmune ear ointment (also good for paw infections), I wrapped her foot in gauze and vet wrap and gave her a dose of leftover prednizone. For the record, I'm not a fan of cortizone or the use of steroids, but when there's a critical, painful inflammation at hand, I'm gonna go for the big guns. We also sat and did some Reiki for awhile and I confined Pheebs to Foley's old Condo sized, soft sided cabana crate.

The next morning we got up and Phoebe's foot mitt had dissapeared (so far without a trace, and nothings come out in Diesel's poo) and she was walking normally. We went to the vet and I told Ron what we had done and he confirmed that I was on point, but that the optimmune was maybe a wee bit of overkill. Anyway, we've got a ten day course of pred and 5 days into it she's recovered 100+%. I really wish something so yucky didn't work so darn good, but what can ya do?

A Plague is Upon Us...

Diesel, Phoebe and Bailee all came home from their week at the resort with a case of the canine cold. The last few days, the girls have felt punky and even Diesel has been a bit restrained. Canine Cough is the canine equivalent of the common cold...so there's not a whole lot a vet, even one as awesome as Dr. Ron can possibly do about it.

It's just hard to listen to their little coughs, hacks and wheezes and know there's not much you can do to make them feel better. I imagine it's probably as frustrating as trying to teach a kid how to blow their nose...except, well, eventually the kid gets it or goes around school know as Snotty or some other unflattering nickname.

We've used a combination of remedies to try and power through this ordeal and I've learned that young Master Diesel is quite like a big ole Pooh Bear when it comes to honey...he LUUUUUUVS it. He loves all food, but this honey stuff gets him over the moon. silly boy.

I'm got Bailee on some childrens robotussin dm, to help her get some of the gunk out. Her nose is very dry and she is lethargic. But, still eating with gusto and telling Diesel when he's crossed the line. Mostly she's sleepy and not causing troubles...which is completely and totally unusual for her.

I think in a few more days we'll have this whipped and we'll all go back to the normal level of insanity around here.

Diesel Demands...

ATTENTION and if he doesn't get it when he wants it, he has about seven thousand different tricks to get it. These seven thousand or so odd tricks run the gamut between, adorable and psychotic! There's the push and snuggle, the galloping laps around the house to announce to everyone (even the spiders and dust bunnies) that MOM IS HOME, there's the counter surfing, the top of the crate bouncing and the low pet me rumble, which will morph into a bark if you're being particularly cruel hearted and ignoring him.

Now Bailee, also demands attention, but she only has about 4 tricks: pouting, squealing, pushing and peeing (in inappropriate places at inappropriate times). She postures over, adjacent to and in the face of her canine packmates, and will climb her humans like a mountain to should LOOK AT ME from the heightof a chairback or shoulder.

Bailee was given to Rescue for Rehoming, because her family didn't have the time and energy to give her the attention she needed. I am grateful to her first family for doing this, their selfless act allowed me to adopt a fantastic little diva when my heart and soul were pretty much shattered by the loss of my sweet Foley. I am fortunate enough to even have some of her puppy pictures and let me tell ya, I would have picked her from Day One out of that litter, she was freaking adorable. She was nearly two years old and had never suffered any hardship...though if you asked HER; not being worshipped as an unctuous object of enchantment, was hardship too terrible for any bulldog princess to endure. (She does think rather highly of herself, doesn't she?)

Diesel on the other hand, was surrendered to Rescue almost a year before his fifth birthday. From what I've been able to piece together about his history, he had been kept as an outside dog, in a pen with very sporadic human contact for the better part of 2 and a half to 3 years. Most of his experiences with his people in that "home" involved rough housing and playing tug of war death matches. There was little, petting, cuddling or soft hands and love for him. When he was surrendered to rescue, he spent several trial weekends in prospective homes, in which he proved to be too much dog for them. The remainders of out of control, crazy, rough play had left indelible marks on his sweet soul.

Diesel's journey really began on a March weekend when I went to visit my friend Jewlz, who is one of the "special" foster homes for Bulldog and Bullmastiff Rescue. She had Diesel for a few months and wanted me to assess him as a second opinion. I met a Brindle and White Wrecking Ball, that ran hellbent for leather and launched himself directly at my chest, to say HI! Fortunately, I twisted out of his way, or I would have felt a 65 pound rocket square in my sternum. I bent down to pet him and he was jumping up and grabbing at my hands and arms with his mouth. It took some doing, but I finally got ahold of his collar and got him to sit down and stop jumping. The mouthing though, oh he kept at that for what seemed like an eternity. I hadn't yet completed a Reiki course, or had an understanding of what it was, but I endeavored to make my heart and hands as steady and quiet as they could be, so that I could get Diesel to relax enough to let me pet him. Finally, I was able to pet him, in long, gentle strokes and let go of his collar. To my surprise (and Jewlz') he rolled right over on his back and let me give him a belly rub.

After that, we put the wild boy back in his crate with a fresh bone and had ourselves a hot tub. Jewlz asked me what I thought about him and I said "There's no way a new owner or average family could take that dog. He's got issues that will take YEARS to resolve and the mouthing is so rough, that he'd be in danger of being euthanized for biting." I committed to helping him find a perfect home and working with his manners whenever I had a chance to go out to Jewlz place. That was in March. In April, I thought we had found the perfect home for him...and in June he went on an 8 hour adventure to British Columbia...just long enough to terrorize the resident golden retrievers, cat and his adopter. I was beginning to lose hope for the little guy, he was such a sweet dog, but his behavior was pretty darn scary...EVER aggressive, but VERY intense and VERY physical.

So, over the Fourth of July, I borrowed Diesel for a few days, to allow Jewlz some extra room at her Boarding place for the HUGE number of dogs she was taking care of that weekend. Diesel came to our house and was great, he slept in his crate, pottied outside, wasn't afraid of fireworks and would chase his kong wubba until he could hardly stand up. Sure there was some mouthing and exciteable moments, but he was good with the girls and was really not a problem at all.

As it turns out, I was the right person to help Diesel overcome his issues. He never puts his mouth on people and unless he's super revved up, he doesn't jump and try to catapult into people either. He can walk on a leash, without dragging me into oncoming traffic and he's perfectly content to sit beside me on the couch or keep my feet warm on the ottoman, for hours at a time...so what if he gets a little vocal if he's not getting petted...he's inside with his family and he's definately owed some undivided attention...if not from the universe, from me.

I used to think that it was horrible to make a committment to an animal and then give it up to someone else. But, after having Bai and Deese in my life, I realize there are far more terrible things than rehoming a dog. As my friend Jewlz is always saying "Every pot has its lid."

Not a holiday themed blog.

I hate holidays. Seriously, all the drama, preparation, clean up, dress-up, etc. is more than I personally care to deal with. Cooking a turkey or a ham is a colossal pain in the ass. I mean, if it was just the cooking it would be cake, but there are bones, carcasses and grease to clean up. I'm not a neat freak by any stretch, so I prefer to not make much of a mess in the first place.

However, I'd be a colossal asshole if I didn't recognize that some of the meaning and sentiment behind the holidays were worthy of note. Yesterday, I cleaned out the last super sized vari-kennel and wire crate of Foley's and took them over to Barb Worrell's place, who is the main bullmastiff rescue person in the Pacific Northwest. She got two boys in over the weekend, one was emaciated and full of yeast and bacterial infections; he'd spent most of the last 6 months kenneled outside after his family lost their house and moved to an apartment that didn't allow dogs. I got to meet him when I brought the crates and cratepads over to her place. The next boy that came in was abandoned at an animal shelter in Spokane, no note, no nothing, we think he's about 8 or 9 years old. Can you imagine? Taking care of another being for that long and then dumping them, without a note or even a name tag?

So I'm thankful this weekend. Thankful that I was able to give some things to help make those boy's lives easier. Thankful that none of my dogs will ever have to be "unwanted" again. The tree are chewing bones; Bailee in the computer room with Aaron and Diesel and Phoebe in the living room with me. I need to get showered and to the grocery store...but it's sorta hard to get motivated while everyone else is being lazy and enjoying the day. Somehow, I will persevere, the dogs are nearly out of cookies and there appears to be only one more bone in the freezer!