Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The diagnosis.

No dislocation. No sprain. And thankfully, not bloat.

Ms Pea had some rashes on her tail and that was what she was moaning about all night. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Laugh probably.

Her tail is still limp and hanging down. It's obviously sore and she's not using it. It's swollen near the base and there are some red bumps and lesions in the area with a bit of pus. It's called pyoderma or "pus in the skin". That sounds horrid but Georgia's looks to be just an extremely mild infection.
 In fact, you can hardly see the bumps at all in this picture.

What a cry baby!
This picture below, from the Merck Veterinary Manual link above, is [incredibly] labelled as superficial pyoderma.

I hate to think of what deep pyoderma looks like. Here's a description though -

"The hallmarks of deep pyoderma in dogs are pain, crusting, odor, and exudation of blood and pus. Erythema, swelling, ulcerations, hemorrhagic crusts and bullae, hair loss, and draining tracts with serohemorrhagic or purulent exudate may also be seen."

Good god. I'm very glad that's not what Georgia has!

She's now on anti-inflammatories and antibiotics and has been snoring away all afternoon. I'll also be continuing with her medicated baths this week, with special attention to her tail. She's going to be one unhappy puppy.

While at the vet's...
"I've put on 3 kilos?!!"
"Please PLEASE don't make me go on another diet. I'm sick."
"See? I just lost 20 kilos by putting my paws on the floor."

Thank you to everyone who followed our little story last night as it unfolded. I was very glad for your company!

When your dog gets sick in the middle of the night [not sick enough for an emergency dash, but sick enough to keep you awake] and you have no medical degrees hanging on your wall, you start to google for possibilities and answers.

Here's a condition I found which exactly described the way Georgia's tail was looking. It's called many things including cold tail or limber tail, and might be of interest to those of you who live in Very Cold Places and whose dogs like to go swimming in icy ponds. [You know who you are!]

Interestingly, although it's supposed to be a fairly obscure condition, our vet knew what it was and brought it up himself when he saw Georgia's tail. He'd apparently come across some cases while he was working in the UK.

There you go. Live and learn.

I'm looking forward to a nice peaceful night tonight. I hope you and your pups have one too :) x

Strange night.

It's just past 4 in the morning.

I've been up since one-ish. Georgia's been really restless.

After more than a week of grey skies and rain, it was suddenly very hot and muggy yesterday. We had to turn on the air conditioning to cool the house down and to keep the mosquitoes away. They're swarming despite the bug spray, mosquito coils and citronella we've been burning.

I think there's something wrong with Georgia. I thought it might be the air conditioning in the bedroom. She's not great with cold. She's been walking in and out of the bedroom, going down stairs and back up again. I checked out back, to see if maybe she had a bad tummy, but couldn't see or smell anything.

I decided she was just probably feeling the effects of yesterday's heat or not liking the air conditioning. Then, at 3 something, she started crying.

I found her at the top of the stairs.

Her tail was hanging down and looking really limp, almost between her legs. She let me palpate it. It's definitely sensitive around the base. I've run my hands all over her body, looked into her ears and spread her toes to check for ticks. In this heat, that's always a possibility. Maybe she ate something bad. She picked up some buns in the bushes at Elkington the day before yesterday. I hope it wasn't baited food.

All sorts of bad thoughts are going through my head at the moment.

I was sitting in the guest room with her when I started writing this, but I'm downstairs now because she's moving about again and occasionally whining.

It's almost 5 now. I've been googling pain at base of tail, limp tail, problems in the anal or rump area.

I can't wait for the vet to open at 8.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Why dogs love who they love.

I don't know the answer. Do you?
On Saturday, Kristine posed an interesting question on her blog - if you could ask your dog just 1 thing and he was granted the power to reply, what would it be?

If you check my response in the comments section, and The Cushion's, I think it'll become obvious why Georgia's favourite human is him, and not me. [The question must have been top of his mind because he blurted it out almost immediately.]

So our dog doesn't love me as much as she does The Other Half. It's okay. No sympathy or denials required. I was going to count all the votes from the last post, biased or not ;) for fun.

But, my own observations are enough.

I've heard from girlfriends that their girldogs prefer their other halves too. They're all daddy's girls apparently. Could this be true? Is there some kind of scientific evidence of this phenomenon? Or are we just a bunch of failed disappointed dog owners clutching at straws?

Anyway, I'm hoping it's as simple as that. And not that Georgia's canine instincts tell her I'm A Really Bad Person.

The Other Half often tells Georgia, in that barf-worthy baby voice he reserves only for dogs, "You'll always be my girl, Jaw-Jah!"

To which I can only respond with a bright smile on my face, "It's okay, Georgia! You don't have to love me! You just have to love someone."

And I mean that, from the bottom of my [ever so slightly sad and bitter] heart.


Here are the promised pictures from Saturday's phở lunch, which The Cushion insists I include, no doubt as proof of his devotion.
"Are you sure you didn't hide any of my beef under the noodles?"


Of course [not to sound like a sour grape], there is some debate that dogs actually love at all. This might not be the most appropriate sentiment to include in a dogblog read mostly by doglovers but, as you can tell, I'm not at all an·thro·po·mor·phic an(t)-thrə-pə-ˈmr-fik

And here's a somewhat related topic -

* Why people love dogs.

An excerpt :
"Over thousands of years of living with humans, dogs have become wily and transfixing sidekicks with the particularly appealing characteristic of being unable to speak. We are therefore free to fill in the blanks with what we need to hear. (What the dog may really be telling us, much of the time, is, "Feed me.")"

"Are you sure you didn't hide any of my beef under the noodles?"    "Are you going to feed me?"

"It's okay. You can let go now."

On yet another somewhat related topic, Pamela asked this question, also over the weekend  - does loving dogs automatically qualify a person for sainthood? [She didn't use those exact words.]

She included a riveting video of Hitler and his [apparently beloved] dog, Blondi. I guess that sort of answers the question.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The follow-up to the post with no name.

In case you're one of the 6, 999, 999, 975 humans who missed that post, here it is.

I've been thinking very hard the last few days about how to write this report. I want to present My Cushion and My Typist in a fair and unbiased way, so that no one will ever guess that my favourite human in all the world is My Cushion.

I've decided to just tell you what my humans do and let YOU vote on whether I'm right in thinking that My Cushion is really the most useful!

Here goes!

The Hardworking Provider vs The  Home Cook.
 My Cushion works hard 5 days a week to feed me. He brings home the bacon [or to be precise, the chicken breast fillets and wings, lamb neck bones and beef steaks] once a week. I eat quite a lot. He goes all the way to the city to get me my meat because fresh is best. [Otherwise we'd be going to Woollies up the road].
 "Only the best for my Georgia," he always says. 

My Typist is my cook.
She can be quite slow and it's always the same recipe.
My Typist is also my nutritionist. She keeps a close eye on my weight and makes sure my meals are lowfat, nutritious and well balanced.  It's a real shame she can't be as disciplined with her own diet.

I went from this voluptuous figure...
...to this skeletal frame, thanks to My Typist.
Some days, I feel like Vicky Beckham.

The Obsessive Bather vs The Gentle Butt Squeezer.
I usually get bathed by My Typist. This is by default because she doesn't have to go to work like My Cushion and is also more finicky about cleanliness. 

This week, I got 3 medicated baths because my skin has started to get itchy and lumpy again. Allergies are the bane of my life.
There are no words to describe how much I hate that blue leash.

My Cushion is the only one who dares to squeeze my butt. 
Dr Dog taught him how to do this dirty important job. He does it without with hardly any complaint despite great personal risk [of being squirted on, which is what happened earlier this week].
Perhaps he needs to improve his technique.

The 7-Days A Week Walker vs The Occasional Carer.
My Cushion takes me out every morning. We leave at around 6 [depending on how long he sits on the potty]. He also takes me out most evenings [even after a day of hard yakka].
Sometimes, we walk to the fishmarket over the bridge. It's a very long walk.
We've never taken pictures there but we will one day, to show you.

Every Saturday, My Cushion takes me out for a phở lunch at our favourite Vietnamese cafe. It's like a father and daughter moment except that he's not my father and I'm not his daughter [being a dog]. He gets the noodles and soup, and I get the meat.

We also go to the pub off and on. 

This is where we usually go for a pint of Guinness. It was Mr T's favourite pub.
Once, a human got thrown out for complaining about the dogs in there! It's da best pub eva!

Despite the welcome sign, dogs are not welcome at this pub below.
This may be considered deceptive advertising.

When does My Typist take me out? That is a good question and one that My Cushion likes to ask too.

My Typist is my carer. Whenever I feel crook, she's the one I look for because someone has to clean up the mess. 
She's very conscientious about washing/mopping/hosing down/disinfecting the bedding/rugs/floors/yard when I have a bad tummy so that everything stays hygienically clean. She's especially useful when I get sick at night and will sleep on the couch by me all night if she has to, to make sure I'm okay. [And why not? It's not like she has to go to work in the morning.]
To be fair, My Typist does have flashes of brilliance like when she made me this E-collar out of some old plastic scrap. You can read about that traumatic experience here if you like.

The Cushion vs The Typist.
My Cushion is very good at being a cushion. 
He doesn't fidget like Someone Else [whose name I shall not mention since I don't want to appear biased]. He will not move at all when I'm sleeping on him. Not to pick up the phone. Not when the doorbell rings. Not even when Someone Else yells for him to come rescue her from a cockroach or spider in the shower. He is 100% committed to the job which is very nice.
My Cushion never complains that I'm too heavy [I'm only 43+ kilos]. He doesn't whinge that I'm hurting his knees or that he can't breathe. Compare that to My Typist who often tells me, "You're not a chihuahua, you know, Georgia Little Pea!" - a remark I find quite offensive.

My Typist also fancies herself as my cushion. Sadly for her, I don't.

My Typist is my typist. She types with 6 fingers even though she has 10, ofte makes typo erros but is otherwise, quite dependabl;e.


That concludes my report on my humans and their many job responsibilities! I think you'll agree that it was written in a very non-judgemental way. It's important to me that I have not in any way compromised your opinions or turned you against The Typist.

That means it's time to vote! Who do YOU think has the more important job in our little home? It's okay to be honest and say it's My Cushion.


psst. Want to see something scary? CLICK HERE.

Update! 11.40am My Cushion picked up TWO typo errors so I had to re-publigh this post! My Typist can;t even do that right.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Apparently, we're the driest inhabited continent on earth.

Who would have known?
Yesterday, My Typist found out that my friend Kol's mama got out of her sickbed to make Kol some peanut butter cookies because it was Peanut Butter Lovers Day. 

My Typist felt so guilty was so inspired, she decided to make me a yummy peanut butter treat this morning!
It was delicious and I was really happy that she had gone to all that trouble!

Here's the recipe with step-by-step instructions on how to make it, in case you want to try it too!

1 tsp peanut butter [crunchy or smooth]
1 bikkie [lowfat multigrain if you're on a diet like me]

Spread peanut butter on bikkie. 
Serve immediately.
"Can you just forget that I'm on a diet and make me another one?" 
"Please? It's Stryliah Day!"


 "Oh my goodness! Is that a Vegemite Special?"
Sometimes, My Typist is okay. 

HaPp * StryliAh  * Day!

My Cushion took me out to see the Stryliah Day ferrython! He was a bit sad because he used to take Mr T there and they would sit on a picnic rug and have some wine and watch the boats and ferries go by.
We didn't see anything today because it started raining, so we came home. I think we're going to watch some telly now.

p.s. The driest UNinhabited continent on earth is Antarctica! For more interesting facts on Stryliah, CLICK HERE.

p.p.s. I don't know why but Kol's peanut butter treats look a lot better than mine. I do hope My Typist didn't just play a cruel trick on me.

Monday, January 23, 2012

The post with no title because My Typist has a headache and can't think of one.

Everyone in our little home has a job [or 2 or 3] to do. There are [almost] no slackers here.

My primary job is to entertain my humans.

For example, a long time ago last year, one of my best party tricks was this. Some of you might remember it.
It always made my humans smile and they're very sad that I haven't done it since coming home from holidaycamp. What can I say? I must have grown up a lot there.

However, I do have a new party trick that I suddenly thought of just last week! Sorry, My Typist can't seem to embed the video here today [whatever that means]. So if you want to see it, you'll have to CLICK HERE.

This should amuse my humans for at least a month or until the neighbours complain.

Of course, I don't just entertain my humans. That would be selfish. Occasionally, I help entertain guests that drop by [not so many because my humans are not too sociable  shy  not too sociable].

This is Ms Im who came to visit last week.
 "Thank you, Ms Im, for coming to visit My Typist and her stitched-up eye and for the lovely lemon tarts!"

And these are Ms Michelle and Ms Karla.
"Thank you, Ms Karla and Ms Michelle, for coming to visit My Typist and for the homemade soup too!"
I'm very good at entertaining, as you can see. I like this job. It's simple to do and it makes everyone happy.

FOOTNOTE: The human who kicked My Typist in the head didn't come visit but he baked made a vegan raw organic chocolate cake for her.

This is all that's left now.

Although that sounds awful, it was quite yummy. Truly. [At least that's what My Typist said because I'm not allowed chocolate.]


My 2nd important role in our little home is as a peacekeeper. How does this work?

Well, when disputes break out, I'm the only one either of my humans will talk to. I can't say I'm too comfortable being caught in the middle like that. I personally don't speak their language too well at all, so communication is patchy at best. But here's what I do to help de-fuse the situation.

I put on my sad face.

These are re-enactments because my humans haven't had a dispute in a long time, at least 2 weeks.
"I am very sad that you're both having a dispute. Please make up soon."

You can see this 1st picture was taken a long time ago when Mr T was still with us. But the expression is exactly what I would use.

Sometimes, my humans can be a bit stubborn. As you may or may not know, it takes a long time for anyone in this country to say "Sorry."

If that happens, I move to my Stage 2 expression. This is a bit more fierce and involves more eyeballing.
"Oi! I don't like this! Stop disputing and get my brekkie!"

Surprisingly, my very basic negotiation technique often works as my humans don't like to see me sad, worried or angry. This is called emotional blackmail. I suspect there is always some kind of emotional blackmail going on in peace negotiations.


My 3rd role in the house is especially important on cold days and every other day in-between. This is to sit or lie down on my humans and be their non-microwavable personal heat sac.

This role causes the most friction in our house as I can realistically only be a heat sac for one human at a time. Sometimes, this friction leads to a dispute, in which case I have to simultaneously perform my role as peacekeeper. [Very tricky.]
 "Hurry up and sit down please. I am a very popular heat sac and haven't got all day."
 "Is that good? I bet your thighs are warming up nicely."
"The stuff we dogs have to do to keep our homes happy and harmonious..."


Apart from the 3 abovementioned indispensible job functions, I now also go to work with My Cushion.
"Am I going in to the office today?"
"I know it's summer but you're a tad under-dressed for work, don't you think?"

It's only a part-time job, and I go in just once a week. I'm not too sure what my role there is yet as the office is still in some state of flux.

However, I believe it has something to do with walking around and letting people pat me and give me treats, thereby promoting a sense of peace and relaxation in an otherwise stressful environment.

Perhaps I'm supposed to be a therapy dog of some kind like my friends Bert and Blueberry and Bunny.


My goodness! This post has taken a long time to write! I didn't realise how many responsibilities I have in this family.

You may now be thinking [or not, as the case may be] - "Poor Georgia. She works so hard. I wonder if her humans are just as useful." 

Well, of course they are! [This statement is entirely my own. It was completely unsolicited and no one has paid me to say it yet.] And I shall tell you what their job functions are tomorrow [or maybe the day after the day after, depending on how busy My Typist is].

Until then x

P>S>  I'm sorry for the lack of a title today. Obviously, someone in our family is not pulling her weight. There will no doubt be repercussions.