Remembering Smooch

I said goodbye to Smooch on Saturday. She had a seizure, and the poor prognosis convinced me

it was time to let her go. I buried her at the ranch, in a spot where she will still be able 

to keep an eye on things. 

The song is called "Story of My Life" from The Piano Guys.

The one where Smooch gets bitten by a rattlesnake

Spoiler alert: This story has a happy ending.

It was a dark and steamy night and we were getting ready for bed. I turned on the porch light and opened the sunroom door to let Smooch and Alex outside for the last time. They exited together, Smooch on the right, Alex on the left. Less than a split second later, we all heard the rattling start. M-fin' snake was right there, coiled up on the cold concrete pavers next to my shoe. We had woken him up and he was pissed.

Smooch and Alex began barking frantically, and the snake's rattling was ceaseless and absurdly loud. My brain was yelling at me to stay calm, but that signal didn't reach my mouth. Total pandemonium ensued. I was screaming and trying to catch the dogs, the snake wouldn't shut up, Smooch was running around sniffing sniffing sniffing and not paying the least bit of attention to my pleas to come, nor was Alex. 

Smooch would run a lap, then run over to the snake, Alex would follow her, and I kept running out of my flipflops trying to catch them. After what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably two, I finally caught Alex, picked her up and held her in a death grip against my hip while I put Smooch in a head lock. We were all in a pile at the opposite corner of the yard from the snake and, I kid you not, I screamed out loud "we need a plan!" a half dozen times. 

Then Smooch got loose, I threw Alex into the sunroom steering clear of the snake, then re-caught Smooch and carried her into the house via the pitch-dark driveway and backyard, where I was certain the snake's friends were waiting to bite off my toes.

Whew. The dogs were now safe and I just had to catch the snake, which turned out to be easy because he was still in the same place. This all happened last Wednesday night, by the way, starting around 9:15.

With the snake trapped in a tightly lidded trash can in the garage, I was back in the house by 9:30. I found Smooch sitting on the bed in the guest room and noticed a small drop of blood on the right side of her face. Crap crap crap crap crap. She had been bitten. Strangely, I wasn't freaking out. I was thinking, "It's okay, she's current on her snakebite vaccine, everything will be fine." 

I called the local emergency vet clinic, rather calmly explained that my dog had been bitten by a rattlesnake but she had been vaccinated, and asked what I should do. The person said they were out of anti-venin so I would have to go to the emergency clinic in Albuquerque. 

As I was dialing that number, I'm thinking, "Anti-venin? Why? She's been vaccinated." So I explain my story again and the person immediately gives me directions to the clinic and I'm like, "but it will be the middle of the night by the time I get there and she's been vaccinated, can't we just wait until morning and go to our regular vet?" The answer was an emphatic NO, so off we all went to Albuquerque. 

I had plenty of time on the way there to try to figure out what had just happened. For all 13.5 years of her life, Smooch has been very snake-smart, keeping a respectful distance as she would bark at them to alert me. I concluded she must have been bitten the moment the snake saw her. She didn't react to the bite in any noticeable way, but all the running back to the snake over and over again was either because: a) she was pissed off and wanted to bite him back or b) she was trying to protect me and Alex.

It was a quiet night in the ER and Smooch was taken to the treatment area within minutes of our arrival.

Alex and I waited patiently, passing the time by texting Danni, who was researching the snakebite vaccine and helping me figure out what to expect. All these years I had been living under the very false sense of security that, when vaccinated, a dog would survive a snakebite, the symptoms would be less severe, and it would be no big deal. I was right on the first two counts, but it was indeed a very big deal. I was about to learn that Smooch would be receiving a vial of anti-venin, she would need to be hospitalized, and there was mention of cardiac arrhythmias, ghastly infection, necrosis of the skin...I stopped listening after that.

Alex and I said goodnight to Smooch, as she drooled in her temporary accommodations. The vets would give her a vial of anti-venin as soon as it defrosted and call me in the morning...or sooner as need be.

When the call came Thursday morning, it was good news mostly. The swelling on her face had gone down, but they had found puncture wounds from another bite on her lower left leg. There was no swelling and it wasn't painful, so that one was likely a dry bite. She wasn't eating, but her mouth was bruised on the inside, so it made sense. 

This is getting boring so I'll fast forward to Friday morning after Smooch came home.

A cone was necessary so that she couldn't scratch her face with her paw.

 Smooch was sent home with plenty of drugs.

She rested semi-comfortably for the first 12 hours, then finally found her appetite and began eating with gusto, which is when I started breathing again.

 

We visited our regular vet first thing Monday morning for a recheck. She gave Smooch an excellent prognosis and gave me permission to remove the cone of shame. 

 Smooch: Can't believe that s-o-b bit my leg, too.

Meanwhile, there was still the matter of a rattlesnake in a garbage can in the garage. I was tempted to move the can into the sun and let him roast in his own juices for awhile, but I still believe in snake karma and thought better of it.

Monday night, Alex and I drove down to snake-release road.

 Five days trapped in a can didn't do much for this guy's mood.

Alex: Please be careful. I don't know how to drive this thing.

Having participated in every step of this adventure, I can only hope that Alex has learned some very valuable lessons.

Smooch assures me that she has.

It's been so long I may have forgotten how to do this

I never intended to stop blogging. It just happened –

no particular reason other than I haven't felt like talking.

This malaise began in early November 2016 and I don't expect

it will end before November 2020. You can figure it out.

 When last we gathered here, the door installation was mostly done,

 but it pointed to a plethora of projects that would have to be accomplished

before I could call the room complete.

I wanted to simplify the color palette, so covering up the green walls

with an off-white seemed like a good place to start.

Besides, I had to get the painting out of the way before I could hang

the crown jewel of the door project:

 I found a glass artist on Etsy to create a transom window 

for the empty space above the door.

 It makes the room seem taller and I am thrilled with it.

And how about the lovely chewed edge of the quilt?

Nicely done, Alex. 

Can you believe how long her tail is?

Me neither.

These two. It may look like they were posing for a yearbook photo

but they were actually watching bugs smash into the window.

Entertainment is cheap in the middle of nowhere.

 The new paint color helped me realize that the focal point of the room

should be the views out the windows, so I did not rehang most of the art

that had been on the walls. Not in the bedroom, anyway. 

 The outside of the house may be in danger of turning into a gallery of sorts

and I'm okay with that, except for the part where I realize

how badly this table needs to be sanded and repainted 

and my project list grows ever longer.

This is the part where Alex realizes she can break her pose and go play.

Anyway, back to the original bedroom project, which was crying out

for some softness to balance the other textures going on in there, so I ripped out

the barnwood that cased the picture window and replaced it with 11 yards of cotton gauze.

One more room picture, then I'll shut up about this project...for now.
I took this one while sitting on the window seat, using the phone's panorama option:

In the midst of all the d-i-y frivolity, the hockey playoffs began.

Perhaps if I had not put Alex's bowtie on upside down, the first round

would have had a better outcome.

It was not a happy ending for our team...

 ...but we're already looking forward to next season.

With any luck, I'll feel like talking/blogging again before then.

All's well at the 7MSN

 Except for the occasional morning rainbow, not too much is happening at the ranch,

which is just fine by me.

 Smooch is almost back to normal after her bout of old dog vestibular disease.

She's eating well and going for at least one long walk a day.
She's still a little unsteady but is once again able to jump up on her favorite chair to sleep,
which means I can sleep, which means I have no excuse whatsoever for not blogging
for almost a month, except that it's the homestretch of the regular hockey season
and you may not hear from me again until after the playoffs in June if my team keeps winning.
Misplaced priorities, I know.

 Alex is...so many things. 

Despite her focus and intensity, she is not a good watchdog,
barking at all the wrong times and mostly never.
Her favorite foods are cow poop and the edges of comforters and pillows.
 She has yet to shed since coming to live here.
Not sure what's up with that, but I hope it never changes.

Her exuberance for life in general does not waver...

 ...nor does her total devotion to me.
I can see this becoming a big problem down the road but so be it.

Riding in the cart at the home improvement store remains one of Alex's favorite things,

which is very good because the sliding door I installed in my bedroom 

has inadvertently become the catalyst for a host of other projects.

The old ceiling fan, installed when the house was built 14 years ago, had to go.

I forgot to take a before picture, but it looked just like this one in my office:

Too big, too brassy and too blchh. What was I thinking?

So now I have a ceiling-hugging version, which turned out to be

very easy to install once I got past the head-scratching wiring part (thanks, Tall Paul!)

But then the light fixture in the dressing area didn't look right,

and I might be tired of the green walls, and the comforter with the chewed edge

doesn't look great with the new rugs so yeah...one thing leads to a hundred others.

All of which is to say there might be some interesting "after" pictures

if I ever get to the point of calling this room done.

Meanwhile, know that we're still here and all's well.

Old Dog Vestibular Disease – it's a thing and who knew?

Smooch is going to be fine. 

Let us all remember that as I recap the last few days. 

Monday morning started out no differently than any other morning around here:
feed the dogs, do barn chores, walk the dogs, then work at my desk for a few hours
while the dogs nap. Everything was so normal and ordinary. Until it wasn't. 

Smooch woke up, then started wandering around the house as if she were looking for something.
Then she tipped over. She got up, took a few seemingly drunken steps, then she tipped over again.
Within 10 minutes, Smooch was crated and in the truck, and we were on our way to the vet.
 In my mind, she had suffered a stroke and I wouldn't be bringing her back home.

The vet examined Smooch, paying close attention to her eyes and her movements.
She seemed to know right away what was happening
and went on to explain "Old Dog Vestibular Syndrome."
Apparently it's common in senior dogs and is similar to a severe case of human vertigo.
Smooch would likely be fine in three to five days.
The vet sent us on our way with a prescription for meclazine, which humans take for motion sickness
and which Smooch would take to avoid nausea and loss of appetite.

 Here we are at the Walgreen's pharmacy drive-through, picking up Smooch's prescription.

Until she's recovered, Smooch is staying in Alex's crate, 

where she's safe from the slippery floor (and Alex).

The video below was taken mid-day Tuesday, by which time Smooch was doing much better.

You're probably going to think "This is better?!" 

It is – really! But it's also scary.

I steer clear of Google when it comes to all things medical – human or animal –

for fear of jumping to catastrophic conclusions. But Danni was kind enough

to find and share with me this excellent article on "Old Dog Vestibular Disease,"
which was just what I needed to step back from the ledge.

If you share your life with a dog, you might want to read it now 

so that you won't fear the worst unnecessarily if it happens to your canine companion.

Give the dog a bone

 Keeping Alex entertained during a prolonged bout of bad weather is a challenge.

 She has destroyed every single one of the delightful toys sent to her by friends far and wide.

So I've given up on buying her toys and tried one of these dental care Nylabones.

 She loves it, has yet to destroy it, and would chew it 24/7 were it not for one thing...

...respect for alpha Smooch.

Alex: It sucks to be me.

Me: I'll buy you another one or twelve the next time we go out.