No More Toes for the Captain.

Took the Captain in for his appointment today, to get his pink lips looked at. The Doc was pretty stumped and had to go get her reference and look through it for a while before coming back with the educated guest that Doggie has vitiligo. It's another Pointer tendency, from what she told me. I'm to watch for sores or crustiness in the affected areas as signs that there's something else going on, but in all likelihood he's fine beyond the skin color change. Fine by me--he can be Captain Jackson as long as he's healthy. I'll need to make sure he has sunscreen on the depigmented areas if it starts to creep up his nose, also.

While we were in the office, I had his paw looked at. Yesterday I woke up to the sound (and wetness!) of him licking his foot excessively. A claw was broken and splintered all the way back to the quick, and the wound was starting to smell a bit funky. I called as soon as I noticed and they said it would keep til the appointment. I duct-taped a sock onto his leg to stop him constantly licking the foot for much of the day. It sapped all his powers, that terrible sock. He could barely move other than to slither from floor to Best Chair and back again. Deep, abiding sighs in numbers too great to count--the whole canine guilt trip. Only ferrets forced to wear a harness can do the dance better than an intelligent dog. A ferret will go the extra mile and throw in a death rattle before going completely limp and still.

Once the vitiligo was out of the way, Doc called a technician to come and hold the Captain while she took care of the claw. I tried to distract my brave puppy with treats, but he lost interest the second the shears came out. Doc lopped the whole bloody claw off in one move, right down to the base of the split. The Captain screamed and wailed and bled all over the place. It was pretty terrible, and was followed by several minutes' worth of dark-eyed canine betrayal angst.

Doc calmed him down with several spoonfuls of the really good treats she keeps in the office for post-torture apologies, and the Captain relaxed a bit. A few minutes later he was doing tricks for snacks, albeit with more caution than usual.

The bright orange bandage they put on his foot was like a clingy, blood-stained business card for the Ministry of Silly Walks. Poor dude tried not to use that leg at all the whole time it was on, but his torment was not over yet. I took him to the pet food store and bought him a nice new pair of clippers. The old pair was getting dull, and I need to keep his nails extra short from now on to prevent this ever happening again. I also got some fish oil supplements because Pointers tend toward brittle claws, and our floor is hardwood with gaps between the boards. Doc says that's usually how talons get splintered.

I am pampering the shit out of my boy right now. Even still, he keeps glancing at me with this expression that says "You did this. You let them cut off my feet." Oh, Captain, you are such a fucking drama queen.

Also today, I opened up a bank account here in town. My previous bank was in Bellevue, NE, and I'm tired of the inconvenience. I am now considering getting a credit card. I've never had one before, and it's a bit intimidating. But I really should establish an emergency financial backup plan for the future.

Today Was Dogs

PUP SO EXHAUSTED.
NOTHING CAN FIX IT...
BUT A BISCUIT.

My dog is a brave little toaster! I took him for a long, random bike ride on quiet streets to get him good and tired. Came home, had lunch, gathered his paperwork and then we biked to the vet clinic half a mile away.

In the waiting room, the Captain was anxious but calm and whined a few times. I don't blame him at all. Last time he went inside one of those places, they cut his nuts off. I'd want to steer clear too (pun definitely intended).

The only other time I've been at a vet clinic was a few months ago, when I volunteered to take Molly in to have her spay stitches removed. The doctor forced her down without any compassion whatsoever and ripped the scabs off with his fingers and a scalpel. He wasn't unskilled, but he acted like he was angry with the cat and his attitude toward me was dismissive at best.

The Captain has anxiety issues and would be a floppy, retarded sprinkler of fear pee after two seconds with that guy. So we decided to schedule the first-ever Captain Cookiepants checkup with the Cannon Valley Clinic instead.

That place was amazing. It was well-lit and clean and everyone working there was clearly an animal lover. They were gentle and went out of their way in every case to comfort and handle the animals I saw in the lobby. The vet tech and doctor offered treats to distract the Captain for his shots, and even played with him while we talked about his health history and went over the vaccinations he'd need. They were really impressed by his nodding trick and general mellow attitude.

He was not a fan of the needles, which sucked because they had to draw a second sample after the first one didn't work out, but it was over quickly. He's now vaccinated against rabies, distemper, lyme disease, and Scientology. I also picked up a two-year supply of heartworm medication and a one-year supply of FrontLine.

The final cost was more than what I (wincingly) paid to adopt him last year, but I think it says something about the bonding experience that this time around, I was crowing about what a bargain it was.

The heartworm/lyme tests came back negative. He did test positive for antibodies to anaplasmosis (GODDAMN TICKS!), but the doc assured me that 95% of the time, the dog will remain asymptomatic and it's no big deal. He might still get sick months later, so if his appetite and demeanor suddenly changes in the next year or so, I'll just need to bring him in and get antibiotics. Apparently ticks can infect humans with anaplasmosis too, so now I'm extra extra paranoid about one biting me this summer.

Oh, and the Captain's physical condition is excellent. His ripped muscles stood out and impressed everybody, and he's gained 12 pounds of pure muscle in the past six months. Distance running him with my bike is really doing him good.

Great teeth, clean ears, bright eyes. Overall, the one thing I have to do now is stop giving him beef bones to destroy. Not because they'll splinter like chicken and pork bones do, but larger dogs have a higher risk of splitting their back teeth on them. So from now on it's old towels and rawhide for my 62-pound lap dog.

Finally, the vet confirmed that with his dominant Pointerness it's safer to teach him to stay away from the cats than try to make them ok with each other, so I'm going to go back to my "keep Inotek unit in pocket and carry cat around, and shock him when he gets too close" plan, which seemed to be working.

After a day of running and panting and being fed treats and poked with sharp things and meeting new people with clipboards, I thought he would be ready to go home and collapse. Nope! He just about dragged me to the dog park. After being thoroughly trounced by a husky puppy twice his size, he was finally ready to sleep. Now he's conked out on my bed, smelling faintly of Frontline and with a belly full of heartworm chewie.

It is a good life, being a dog.

Next week: LUKA'S DENTAL EXAM!