Prescription?

Depressed? Weary? Anxious? Horrified about Katrina approaching the coast? Can't sleep, eat, concentrate, get anything done? Aha! I have the perfect prescription for you! Five minutes nose to nose with a mellow Malamute will convince you that
a) everything is right with the world,
b) even if it isn't, here is a special place where magic rules,
c) you just have to breathe with this dog, and
d) there's nothing that matters that can't be seen in her eyes.
I will admit, is has been an awful day, but one short Allie treatment is the magic potion to set the world right. Where do you get your therapy dog certified for "Soul Dog"?

The Baker Dancer

One of the objects I studied at university was a Hellenistic bronze statuette called the Baker Dancer. She is a strange little woman wearing a thick, richly pleated dress with a long, transparent mantle over it that covers even her head. Her face is covered by a tight veil with eye-holes. The head is tilted, giving the impression of movement. One hand draws a fold of the mantle to her face, while the other arm is outstretched and displays the fringed hem of the garment to good effect. Her free leg kicks out a bit and the booted toe peeks out under the dress. She is very undancerly by modern standards -- chunky under the voluminous garments. It is the free hip that juts out awkwardly higher than the standing hip in a non-balletic, off-balance pose, belying the popular interpretation that she is spinning, and yet what is she doing? She is eminently realistic, and yet the entirely mannered work of the invisible artist. She is exotic, gorgeous, mesmerising, infuriatingly enigmatic, familiar, strange, and new every time you see her.

Why am I wittering on about the Baker Dancer? Because you remind me of her in many ways, Allie. I was admiring your mask this morning. Some call your face "dirty." It is one of the many ways in which you don't conform to the Malamute standard, bless your heart. You almost have goggles, but they are a soft, taupeish gray and flow gently into a Mardi Gras mask that extends down the side of your face like batwings, shading into reddish browns, golds, grays, creams and white. It is as though you were wearing a veil of gossamer (not that I know what that is, but it's traditional) pulled tight across your face and shimmering in many shades against your contours. You could not be more gorgeous. Your expressive brown eyes are set in high relief by their halos of white. The little hairs swirl in perfect order to create exquisitely molded landscapes, some white hairs marching off into lush eyelashes. It's amazing how the merest twitch of those tiny muscles can transform your face from Contended Dog At Rest to Poor Starving Baby Must Have Cheese Now ...

You are so familiar to me, and yet completely enigmatic. I don't speak dog, let alone Malamute, and you are so much of an individual that I don't think I would get you even if I did. Sometimes your basic body language is clear even to me -- Must Go Out Now, or Take Me To Work. Other times I'm just stumped. And when I look in your eyes, there's so much someone there, but I have no idea what you're thinking, other than Stupid Human. I'm always asking you, How high? and you persistently refuse to tell me, Jump.

Under the Fence

Back in my domain. Gave the cats The Eye. Set a few things straight with that young sprout, Ghost, and Sascha the rhodie mix. Then humom absolutely insisted that I spend some time outside in the backyard. Well okey-dokey. The gals next door were also outside so I went over to investigate. Lucy, the little black Lab mix, was shy and gentle as usual, but Zoe, the big brown pit/? mix that mom calls the Psycho Bitch from Hell was yelling her head off as usual. So I decided it was time to mosey on over there and have a little chat with her. Turning my rather substantial self into a different form of matter altogether, I slid beneath the fence and rematerialized in their yard. I raised a single eyebrow. Suddenly, there was complete silence. The Psycho Bitch and I communed. She agreed, and wandered off. I reassured Lucy, and we had a refreshing round of chase. Then I lay down in the shade and had an overdue snooze. When humom came to find me, of course I was on the other side of the fence, with no visible means of transport, and no way to get me back. I smiled sweetly. There ensued three hours of high drama including long-distance phone calls, earth-works and excavations, involvement of neighbors, tears, rantings, cajoling, treats, recriminations and regrets, during which I had several meditative naps and a pleasant game with the gals. When I was brought back into my yard, I was finally allowed to stay in the air-conditioning (d'oh) and got many special treats in apology, and quite right, too. I mean really. This is the way I get treated after a stay at the vet's? Guerillera Alexandria out.

Humom Returns

Return of humom! No big deal, of course. Megan at Dr. D's took great care of me. At first I was a bit astonished to see the multitude of colors stuck in her ears, but she used a nice voice, and I immediately set out to make her my personal slave. I gave her the big brown eyes, the waving plumy tail, the ingenuous smile, and then presented her with the snowy white tummy to rub, folding my paws gently on my chest. Who can resist the bunny pose? Sure enough, I heard the requisite "awwww," and felt the strong fingers on the tummy. After that, my visit there was a breeze. They gave me masses of fluids, and I was a sweet angel and didn't try to pull the needle out like I do at home. I even ate the icky k/d. When humom came to pick me up, everyone told her what a sweet temperament I had, what a pleasure it had been and what a wonderful dog I was. Hah! I don't work by stealth for nothing! On the way home, humom mentioned that I had cost an arm and a leg. Hahah! She can't fool me, I still count 2 arms and 2 legs. Anyway, for my next fluid treatments, she is trying to sell her hair on eBay -- as if anyone would be interested in such a pathetic display. Fortunately, she took my advice and put a picture of my gorgeousness on the site. Maybe it will dazzle and distract. Now to restore order at home and to put that young sprout, Ghost, Sascha the rhodie mix, and those pesky cats back in their place. Guerillera Alexandria out.

Second day away

Today is Allie's second day in boarding at the vet's. She is getting her fluid treatments, and is eating and taking her supplements. They are lovely people there, and their experience with renal dogs is vouched for by other patients. Still, taking Allie there, an hour's haul during excruciating "rush"-hour traffic, had every nerve in me screaming, "don't do it! turn back!" Driving home without her was horrendous. I'm two-thirds of the way across the country now, and of course I keep calling, and they keep reassuring me that she is fine and doing well, but until I see that wagging tail and those brown eyes, and feel her warm breath on me again, I'm going to be a wreck. This does not bode well for my 10-day trip in September. What is it with these dogs?? She is perfectly fine without me, but I'm totally dependent on her...

There is good news: Allie's anemia seems to be gone! All that good food and the supplements are helping in one sense anyway. Her other kidney values are still too high, but we have one good reason to celebrate!

Ghost at Home Depot

Alexandria here. Well, my training of that young sprout, The Magnificent Ghost as he insists on calling himself, is finally paying off. He came back from human training (joke!) yesterday all puffed up and full of himself. Harrumph! But it wasn't because of anything they worked on at training (Stand! I ask you!) but what happened on the way home. Apparently the car was shaking like it was going to fly apart into a million pieces. Humom was scared and didn't have her phone with her. Ghost won't admit it but I bet he was REALLY scared! He's terrified of thunderstorms and fireworks and buses and children and basically everything. Macho man! But I'm working with him. So they stopped at the Home Depot to see if they have a savvy person in the car department who might help. (Note to humans: HD does not have a car department). They wandered around for a bit, and Ghost did not lift his leg on anything! He also did not cry and try to run away when he saw large men, although he did use humom as a shield. But that's okay! And he did not run away from those nasty children, who insist on squealing and lunging in your face. He was a Very Good Boy, and a nice lady gave him a hot dog on the way out. I'm very proud of him, and will continue work patiently to impart my wisdom to him. Remember: Be Nice, Get Treats. You can always do something outrageous later.

Mouth

Allie has the softest mouth. This is in contrast to The Magnificent Ghost, who feels that the Malamute, being descended from the wolf, should act accordingly, and interpret "treat" liberally, in a crocodile-like manner. What's a finger more or less? And blood adds that special spice to the bland Milk Bones ... But Allie's mouth is as soft as a pony's nose, and tender as a queen cat with her kittens. I love to hold a Natural Balance roll cube for her to suck slowly out of my fingers. This is her training treat, but what the hell, it's also fun to have her practice a few moves just for the pleasure of giving her some treats. And she'll nibble on those cubes even when she won't touch anything else. Thank you, Natural Balance! The most fun is giving her her Baytril, which I cover with cream cheese. She happily sucks it down, then thoughtfully and meticulously hoovers all of my fingers that have been involved in the gloppy task, making sure there is not so much as a hint of cream cheese remaining. It's the most wonderful sensation. Not slobbery or sloppy (I was kissed by a Dane recently, oh boy), reticent and delicate, completely concentrated on the job at hand. I have no doubt that she could carry an egg in her mouth for miles without breaking the shell.

Bedhog

At some point in the night, the cats got frisky and Allie decided they needed chasing. After satisfactorily concluding her task, she returned to bed, but not to her usual place, on the right side taking up 80% and leaving me clinging precariously to the left edge. Instead, I was turned toward the middle, so she jumped onto the tiny sliver I had cleared on the left, put her head on my pillow, and used her entire body weight to shove me, ever so gently, further toward the middle. No, I did not leap to my feet, proclaim my alpha and banish her cringing to the foot of the bed or her crate. Instead, I let her sleep happily in my place and slept in hers, enjoying her gentle breathing, the coarseness of her fur and the obvious glee she took in getting to sleep with her head on the pillow. She has a great sense of humor, and bless her for that.

Sunday

Last night, Allie decided to take the "medium" walk. The "short" walk is just to the traffic light and back, lately with many stops in the shade in between, to contemplate life and observe the world around us. The "medium" walk goes all the way around the blocks with the playing fields along the creek, and features many opportunities to sniff, greet other dogs and offer to eat them, and cover oneself with burrs and unspeakable substances. Allie made it all the way around without once demanding to be carried -- an interesting proposition with an 80-pound dog. She did not actually chase any squirrels, but she gave them the evil eye, which made my heart soar. What a great day, that called for an extra yoghurt treat, not to be shared with the cats!