X-Rays and Rescues

Once again, I'm begging readers -- especially bloggers -- to help me choose a better hosting site.  I wrote late last night for about an hour, adding to and editing this entry, then SAVING it…only it turns out Blogger.com didn't care to actually save any of it.  Frustrating is not a strong enough word.

Daly-lookalike monument outside Denver Animal Rescue, made of dog tags -
It's much, much bigger than it appears here, 5/9/2012.

The good news: Daly does this utterly hilarious bunny hop when he bounds down steps and out into the back yard.  The bad: I've been unable to capture it on video.  It turns out that puppies are a lot like babies in yet another way -- they will do something entertaining right up until you're attempting to film or photograph it.  I'll keep trying, though…it's worth it.  Here's an alternate clip, with the bonus of him knowing his name.

Video: more of a run/hop, hiking down Mt. Sanitas

There is another reason that hop of his is so heartwarming -- he's extremely lucky that he can do it at all, especially with no hint of a lifelong limp or anything like it.  The break in his femur discovered after he was dropped off at Animal Control was severe enough to say it didn't look good for the little rascal to keep his leg, even if he wasn't euthanized.  The story was that he was put high up on a TV by some kids, and fell backwards, breaking his leg…and that story is complete bull, according to the veterinarian who showed me the characteristics of the fracture.  She said it was a step or a kick, without question.  Aside from the natural "who would do that to a poor defenseless tiny animal?" reaction, I'd like to add that if it was anything remotely intentional, I'd gladly return the favor to the perpetrator.

Seriously, someone could hurt this monkey?

(taken almost a month ago - he looks tiny)

That explanation was provided after Daly received a second set of X-Rays almost two weeks ago, to check on his healing.  It was still less than a month since his Easter Sunday surgery, so even an optimistic forecast would show that he's on the right track but still in need of some growth and fusion, right?  Well, that turned out to be nothing for a wonder-pup.  The dog's femur shows a complete heal, with no signs of the big break that interrupted it…and I'd be lying if I said that I had restricted his activity in order to see that through.  It's just crazy puppy growth, said the vet clinic, and while I agree with that, it doesn't change my belief that something pretty special took place.

Incidentally, I love that he's a Collie in one vet's opinion and an Australian Cattle Dog in another's…guess he's both, plus German Shepherd.  Post-racial, I should start calling him.

Look above the joint…that is a BAD fracture.

Less than a month later, look again! A fused femur.

The little wolf/coyote/fox/dingo went under the knife again last week, this time to get snipped…and I wish they were able to do something to force bladder control too, since every time I think he's house-trained, he manages to piss away on a rug without even motioning for the door.  Once again, his recovery from a procedure was really remarkable.  I was told to keep his activity to a minimum for a couple of days (riiiight…with two adult dogs in the house whom he just can't leave be), and to expect him to appear woozy and without appetite for at least the rest of that day.  One car nap later, he was his exact feisty self again, goading Bodie and Dana, eating away, and wrestling with his same-age girlfriend in the park.  I didn't even get one chill night out of his neutering!

Daly's Snoopy impression, while spooning Dana

I did end up with a very pregnant stray in my truck's back seat on the day I dropped him off, though…she was so scared, and so about to pop, that it was a struggle just moving her.  How did that happen, you ask?  Georgia Lee Cameron, president and founder of the nonprofit rescue who saved Daly, showed me around the state-of-the-art Animal Control facility from which she took in Daly, and from there, we took this poor mama-to-be on a ride.  One stop later, she was transferred to one of the outstanding volunteers for fostering…and probably birthing of a litter within hours.  Just a regular day in the world of Life Is Better Rescue.

Denver Animal Shelter, where Daly was dropped off.

One very pregnant and very scared stray.

Holy moly, Daly just caught a fly!  He's a regular Mr. Miyagi, only it didn't take him 70 years!  I watched him get captivated by a buzzing fly for a while, rapidly jerking his head as it zipped back and forth, and then take a few lunges with his tongue against the door glass, and then…zap!  Like a trained killer, he brought that sucker down and gobbled him right up.  I'm now totally willing to forgive the lack of notification before the pee incident earlier.  Puppies, man…what a trip.

One last: Daly copying big bro Bodie, as usual.

Once more, here are the links to LIBR's website and Facebook page.  They don't just do far more than their part, in immense voluntary time and effort, to rescue lovable beings and find them homes -- they pay for what they can to mend the wounded, as they did for Daly.  Please consider helping them in any way possible!

Life Is Better Rescue

Facebook: LifeisBetterRescue

Joys and Frustrations

This was written on Monday, May 7, but I didn't post it at the time due to lack of available photos.  I thought I could quickly crack the code on why one Apple product (MacBook Pro) refuses to upload photos from another (iPhone) due to an unspecified "error"…and I was wrong.  So I'm stuck e-mailing each pic I like from my phone to my gmail, and going through a painstaking process from there, since iPhoto won't recognize the ones I just downloaded.  C'mon...help a brother out, Apple.

As I look at him now, drifting back to sleep all curled up in a ball, it's hard to remember how strongly I felt a couple of days ago about changing course and letting him go up for adoption.  It's not like he couldn't keep his food down; in fact, tonight was the first time I'd yet seen anything come back up through his gullet...and given how many different things he decides are edible each day, that's impressive.  It's not like he's chewing up everything within reach -- not yet, anyway, and since he isn't roaming around unsupervised much at all, the jury's still out on that common habit.  And it's not like he's refusing to sleep through the night…while I grumble sometimes about his wake-up times, he's been doing alright for a critter still younger than three months.  In fact, he's been a pretty ideal puppy all around, house peeing and disobedience aside.  So how could I even consider parting with him, right?

Update time.  He's all stretched out now, back in another one of his favorite poses: head off the doggie bed and on the floor, wolf ears still standing completely straight up from his head, eyes shut tight as if he's forcing them closed, white-socked paws stuck straight forward…he likes to jab with those little mitts, like a sparring partner.  I couldn't get a good shot of it, but trust me, it's adorable.

Anyway, here's more or less what happened: I suffered a crisis of sorts the other day, brought on not by anything the little monkey had done, but by other stuff.  Daly only factored in because as I doubted everything I was doing and not doing, the urge to shelve everything did not mesh with a responsibility like raising a puppy.  And I do not take that responsibility lightly -- which is problematic at times.  If I didn't care so much about how he turns out, I could take a more laissez-faire attitude towards the whole process, rather than fussing about what he's eating off the ground, stressing about whether he's learning fast enough, or giving up my chance to get in a workout because I've got to make sure he gets his exercise in.  And I'm not trying to portray myself as saintly in my initial dog-raising attempt, because I'm far from it.  Hell, I've already worried that through snapping at him, I've screwed up my chance to win his love and loyalty.

It all sounds pretty stupid, I'm sure -- especially to those who've regularly cared for dogs, or simply just grown up with them.  "How can this be so hard?", you probably think.  But I found myself wondering how, on the short side of 40, I'm going to change my ways however I need to to look out for him properly…and honestly, whether I'm willing to prioritize it enough to do so.  There's still an out, in that I haven't officially adopted him yet.  But once again, and after a bout of reconsidering, I'm thinking I don't really have much of a choice.

See duck...Daly's new toy, an immediate favorite.

See Daly attack duck, his favorite activity besides peeing.

See duck's guts and honker. This took only two days.

Those wolf ears perked back up and rotated when I resumed typing just now.  Because even when he's trying to sleep his tired butt off, he doesn't want to miss a damn thing.  And holy hell, does his gas cut some fierce odors through the room!  I still haven't figured out if it's the fancy food I feed him or the treat sticks I reward him with all day.  But he's growing by leaps and bounds, noticeably a lot bigger, longer and heavier at 12 weeks than he was at 10.  He's ridiculously charming, or just so cute that people just can't help themselves, and sometimes even become blithering idiots at the sight of him.  There's a lot more to tell, and in the interest of remembering to do so, his rapidly healing leg, his first big hikes, and his first snow are just a few of them...