My Grosse Liebe (My Big Love)

My Big Poppy, my sweet boy, my grosse liebe has crossed the bridge on January 16th.  I’d love to be more eloquent in delivering this news but honestly I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through typing this.  This turn of events was so unexpected that I’m still in shock.  I’m numb.  But unfortunately not numb enough because I feel the incredible pain that his departure has caused.

I know that some of you may be thinking, geez he was 12 years old.  Your time with him was short.  And I agree.  Every day I had with him was a gift and I knew that.  But I had managed to convince myself that he would not leave me until after his 14^th birthday.  And up until Saturday morning, his issues were very run of the mill.  At least they had seemed that way.

He had turned up with a small bruise on the inside of his thigh Monday evening.  I hadn’t seen any event that would have led to such a bruise, but it certainly happens that they fall, or play a little rough and someone has an unexplained boo-boo.  The next day the bruise had spread, and the day after that as well.  But by Thursday it had begun to heal up.  It was all going exactly according to my prior experience with greyhounds and bruises.

Photo courtesy of Bille Axell, Axell Photography

I did notice it was still fairly swollen but assumed that was part of the healing process.  Friday it still looked to be healing.  Saturday morning he went outside and came back in OK.  He was eager for, and ate his breakfast.  Right after that I noticed he was limping and having real difficulty lying down.  I went over and checked his leg and it was swollen more than the previous day.

I called Dr. Amy and soon we were on our way to see her.  By the time we reached her office, his leg had swollen further and an ugly purple bruise covered the inside of his leg.  Dr. Amy did x-rays and blood tests.  Her news was not good.  It appeared to be hemangiosarcoma.  She had seen it before and it had presented just like this.  But to be sure, she wanted to send us to a vet hospital further south where they had experts to evaluate it.

I headed south.  My poor baby tried to be stoic but I could hear him crying in the back and it was killing me.  Given we were in the midst of a snowstorm I could not go any more than 45 miles per hour and I have never felt more helpless in my life.  We finally got there and Blue wasn’t able to get out of the car.  His entire leg was swollen up and extremely bruised.  They got him situated and eventually came to talk to me.

Their opinion was hemangiosarcoma, osteosarcoma or possibly a blood clot.  Of the 3 only the blood clot was potentially survivable but given the fact they could not get a pulse in the damaged leg and it had been that way for so long, he would most likely be facing amputation regardless of the eventual diagnosis.  And to properly diagnose it they would have to conduct more blood tests and a series of pelvic x-rays that, given his state, would have been very painful for him.  After the tests, they would have wanted to keep him onsite on IV pain medication pending a consult with an internist on Monday. 

My big baby boy was just that, a big baby.  He was very squeamish and he did not deal with pain very well.  I had made him a promise when we had lost the fight for Girly Girl’s life that if it ever came to that with him, I would not put him through it.  Such an easy promise to make when you

aren’t actually facing that situation.  I spent a good deal of time going back and forth trying to decide what to do.  The vet we were seeing was very kind but refused to give me any percentages on outcomes and wouldn’t even give me her opinion on “what she would do.”  That probably wasn’t a fair question to ask her.  But I was so lost sitting in that sterile room trying to decide life or death for a soul that meant the entire world to me.  My heart wanted to do everything possible to keep him longer.   

I finally asked if they would bring him in so I could sit with him for awhile.  I hoped that I’d see some clear sign in his eyes.  I had hoped for that with Girly Girl as well.  People always say that you’ll know when it’s time.  But so far I have not had a clear message on that score for either Blue or Girly Girl.  Most of you reading this will have been in my shoes at some point in the past.  So you know that there is truly nothing more terrible than trying to make a life or death decision for someone who cannot express their wishes.  Who has no say and only relies on you to make the right decision.  It is a terrible awesome responsibility.

I kept going back to three things.  He was 12 years old.  We had had a great run and by greyhound standards he had lived a good long life.  I had promised him I would not make him suffer any more than absolutely necessary, even if that meant I had to let him go.  And a dear friend who had just gone through this same tragedy with her greyhound told me that her guiding principle was: it was better to do this thing a day too soon than a day too late.  In other words, no extra suffering just for your selfish wishes to keep them with you as long as possible.

So I called the vet back in and told her it was time to let me baby go.  I had sat with him in my arms while trying to make this final decision and I stayed there with him in my arms while they prepared everything.  I told him over and over again how much he meant to me.  Thanked him for making my life so much brighter.  Reassured him that Girly Girl would be waiting for him and that he’d run again with no pain.  I told him Mumma and Bettina would be all right.  And when it was time, he would come and meet us.  He went out of this world with Mumma telling him how much she loved him.

Blue was an old soul.  A friend called him a gentleman greyhound.  He was very much that.  I am already missing his gentle good morning wake up (always an hour too early but he did have a snooze button).  I miss our special cuddle times on the couch on Saturday and Sunday mornings.  I miss seeing him lying on his big boy bed with his man pillow and his cozy blankets.  I miss the cheer-leading him up the stairs when he struggled to come up due to pain in his back end.  I miss mushing up his peas so he could eat them with all his missing teeth.  I miss having to slightly cook his chicken livers because he couldn’t stand the texture of raw ones.  I miss him standing at his food dish at suppertime and chirping at me to urge me to hurry it along.  I miss him staring at me intently with his ears straight up, trying to tell me some important thing.  Mumma’s head was always too thick to receive the message.  Blue had more friends than I ever have had or ever will have.  He was responsible for a number of greyhound adoptions among our friends.  I know that all greyhounds are special, but there was something about his manner that made him stand out among a field of stand outs. 

At this point, with the waves of sorrow and pain coming every few minutes, I don’t know if I’ll bring another hound home.  I told Blue we would do so in order to honor his memory.  I’m sure in a month or 6 months or a year when the pain is a dull ache and the waves are more spread out, I’ll feel differently.  At least I hope so.  There will never be another Blue.  But he made such a difference in so many lives while he was here.  If ever a hound earned his wings, Blue has.

Sleep softly sweet prince. Royal Bluejay (Blue) 12/10/2003-1/16/2016

Post Script:  I hope all of our friends will forgive us for letting you know this news via this channel.  It was hard for Mumma to type this at all let alone type it many times in various emails.  

Post Post Script:  Grammy had a visit in a dream on Saturday night (the first night without Blue).  She was visited by Blue, Girly Girl, Fox and Bea (Blue’s littermate and beloved of Joe Shuster).  They were running together in a big field of tall grass.  They were all young and sleek and running with sheer joy.  Blue stopped and came back to the bridge, as though unsure which side he belonged on.  Fox, Girly Girl and Bea lay down to wait for him.   Then Grammy woke up.

Let's Face It Mumma, You Can't Get a Present Better Than Us

Happy Holidays to All Our Friends, Family and Readers!

Keep Your Good Wishes Just Gimme the Presents

The Milestones Keep Coming

It's hard to believe that EIGHT years ago today I went to Maine Greyhound Placement Services and met this breathtaking 4 year old greyhound.  He was white with two gray patches over his ears.  At that time one of the gray patches also covered most of his eye though these days it has faded to white except on his ears.  This greyhound was a serious handful but I was so taken with his beauty that it didn't matter.  I chose him.  He was strong and had no leash manners.  Heck he had no manners of any kind.  Early on he seriously injured my rotator cuff when he decided to take off after a leave or a bag or something interesting to him but unseen by me.  He was always doing stuff like that.  He never listened.  Anyone who knows him now never believes the stories of his early days.

What I didn't understand about Blue then was that despite his rowdy behavior, he was a very gentle and sensitive boy.  He had the misfortune of coming into a home that already contained a small brindle heart dog.  He got a bit short changed in that respect as Girly Girl shone very brightly in Mumma's eyes.  Being the sensitive boy that he is, I think he felt the role of second fiddle that I had cast him in.

Because of this difficult start it took us a long time to build a strong relationship.  For most of the time that Girly Girl was alive, I had the distinct impression that Blue, while happy enough with me, would be just as happy with anyone.  That has changed with 8 years of cohabitation.  He's my big Poppy, my Buggy Boy.  I can't imagine life without him in it and I think that he has come round to loving his Mumma as much as she loves him.

I still think he's breathtaking.  I have had the amazing privilege of watching him become a handsome old man.  He still has flashes of the silly goofy boy he was in his salad days.  He never met a blanket or a bed that he didn't like.  He has a fondness for body pillows.  He's lost a fair number of teeth but we've made accommodations for that.  Since he can no longer easily pick up his beloved sweet peas (they keep falling out of all the gaps) we now mash them up into a thick sweet pea slurry that he can eat over his dinner.

I truly can't believe we've had 8 years together already.  Blue manages to charm everyone he ever meets.  His requests for attention and his greyhound lean are legendary.  There is a long list of people who would be happy to take Blue "off my hands" if I ever wanted to give him up.  That list started on the day after I got him with his first vet and is now longer than I can keep track of.  But Mumma will never be taking anyone up on their offer.

Happy Gotcha Day Royal Bluejay.  There will always be a big boy bed and a man cave for you here.

When You See It Coming

Sharing your life with greyhounds is hard.  I suppose sharing your life with any canine is hard, but when it’s greyhounds, it is more so.  When you have a dog, and it stops eating or it starts limping, you don’t automatically think stomach cancer or osteosarcoma.  But with a greyhound, you do.  Why?  Because the odds are high that a limping greyhound has osteosarcoma.  Or one that isn’t eating has stomach cancer or some other equally nasty health issue that will limit lifespan.

Handsome Vinnie

When you have a greyhound that reaches age 10 or more, the odds go up astronomically that a health issue that might not seem so dire in other dogs means something very bad for yours.  We have dear friends who have an older greyhound and they are facing these odds now.  It hits home for me because their hound, Vinnie is so similar to Blue its scary.  They’re the same size; they both have all sorts of odd lumps and bumps.  They’re both white with some patches of color and adorable spots.  As they’ve aged, their color has faded to the point where sometimes you mistake them for each other in photos.  And they’re both about the same age (Vinnie is about a year older than Blue).

Vinnie has recently started to display clear signs of pain and he’s off and on with his eating.  Now, mind you, Vinnie has always been a bit of a finicky eater (at least since we’ve known him).  And he had a hock fracture that ended his racing career which has always caused him some pain, especially when he has been standing for awhile.  But recently he has been having a lot of difficulty with his hind end.  Standing is difficult.  Going up and down the few stairs to his backyard has sometimes required assistance from his Mum and Dad.  Getting on and off the couch (his favorite place in the world, and it is HIS couch) has been a struggle.

Vinnie has been to the vets and at the moment, the diagnosis is that he does NOT have osteosarcoma

Vinnie is more art than greyhound

but the fact that he isn’t eating so much is concerning.  They sent him home from his last visit with special canned food that seems to be of interest to him.  He has pain meds which seem to be helping him.  But we hear from Vinnie’s Mum that it’s a step forward and a couple steps back.  Everyone who loves him is trying not to think the worst.

But of course, when you have a greyhound that is exactly what you do.  After reading Pat’s email of a couple days ago I have been thinking about Girly Girl, and the fact that Blue is Vinnie’s age and has hind end problems of his own.  And that Vinnie’s brother and sister both passed of cancer (Emma with osteo and Jim with stomach cancer).  And that Blue’s littermate sister Bea passed from osteo and his half brother Fox suffered terrible medical problems before we had to let go of him in January.

A greyhound reaching age 10 has beaten many odds.  With Blue turning 12 in December and Vinnie either at or on his way to 13, both have dodged many a proverbial bullet.  But how many times can you cower under a table while the dropping bombs land on other people?  How long before that bomb with your name on it rains down?

As I told Vinnie’s Mum, the ONLY thing that is good about seeing it coming is that you have time to say all the things you want and need to say.  Girly Girl and I had many a deep conversation and I believe that she understood.  If not the words, then at least the sentiment behind them.  When she left I felt like she knew she was loved beyond reason and would be missed forever.  Blue and I have been having similar conversations of late because I hear the bombs dropping all around us.

I realize it’s a zero sum game.  No one gets out alive.  But does it have to be now?  Can’t it be next year?  Or the one after?  We are sending every last ounce of positive energy we have to Vinnie and his family.  If you have any you can spare, please consider sending out some positive thoughts for them as well.

Wordless Wednesday - Grass is Greener

Brusha, Brusha Brusha, Each and Every Day

Blue was scheduled for a dental recently.  I typically don't get too worked up about them, but Blue is 11 years old and I had hoped he wouldn't have to go under anesthesia again.  I know in my head that anesthesia is much safer than it used to be and that he was going to be in great hands with our vet, Dr. Amy.  But somehow your heart and your gut never gets the message from your head.  

6:45 Get up, brush teeth, brush hair, let the kids out to potty.

7:15 Take Blue and head to Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center.

7:35 Post to Facebook from Dr. Amy’s parking lot that we’re there and Blue’s adventure has begun.

7:37 Discover one of our Facebook friends (Nova Beaudry) is also going in for a dental today.  Begin a discussion on how nervous we both are.

Dr. Amy checks on Blue and his fellow patient in the recovery area.

7:45 Leave Blue with Dr. Amy to have his teeth cleaned.  We went through all the scary questions.  What do we do if he has complications?  Do you want us to save him? Etc.  When your hound is 11 years old, those questions take on a whole new meaning.

8:15  Start haunting Facebook for updates on the Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center page.  I know that they generally don’t have a lot of time during the day to post.  But I do it anyway.  It makes me feel a little better.

9:30 Bettina seems to be moping around without her big brother here.  Or maybe that’s just me projecting.

9:45 Decide to help pass the time by stress eating.  There goes a half a bag of Blue Diamond almonds (toasted coconut flavor-super yummy).

9:53 Talk with Nova’s Mum on Facebook regarding how much we miss our kids.

10:00 I look at the clock for the millionth time.  Blue was the first one to go into “surgery” today.  There’s a good possibility that he’s now knocked out and having his teeth cleaned.

10:30  Check TVWC Facebook page again. 

This picture actually makes him look better than he did.

10:39  Can stand it no longer.  We post to the TVWC page.

10:56  Wondering if Blue’s procedure is done at this point.  Taking no news as good news approach.  Check the TVWC Facebook page again, just in case they posted something.

11:24  Check the TVWC Facebook page again. 

11:30  Refresh the TVWC Facebook page just in case I was missing something.  I wasn’t.  Dr. Amy told me I could call to check on Blue after noon.  That seems like forever away.

12:04 Check the TVWC Facebook page again.  Surprise, no new posts.  Decide it’s now “after” noon so I am going to call and check in.

12:10  Spoke with Dr. Amy.  They are done with his dental and he is just now waking up.  Katie is cuddling with him as he does so and they have him all covered with heating pads to make sure he is warm.  Dr. Amy said that Blue’s mouth was “a mess” which doesn’t surprise me given how bad his breath smelled.  He lost 9 teeth in total which were extracted.  I think, once he heals up and flushes the anesthesia out of his system, he’s going to feel much better.  I am relieved that he is done and that everything went well.  Now I just have to wait until 4:15 when I can pick him up!

12:14 Post a thank you on Facebook to Dr. Amy and her staff for taking good care of Blue and making sure he had a friendly presence at his side when he came out of anesthesia. 

12:19 Sent a tweet out with the good news.  Took a deep breath.

12:40 Missed Blue during lunch.  Especially when I dressed up Bettina and sent her out for her

This is the 3rd time I've ever seen Blue sit in all the time he's been
with me.  And it's the only time he was slow/stoned enough that I could
catch it on camera.

break.  I broke a Stella & Chewy’s treat in half and only used one of the halves.

12:45 Facebook chatted with Auntie Drena to update her on Blue’s status.

2:19 Checked the clock to see if it’s time to go get Big Poppy yet.  It’s forever until 4:15.

3:27 Getting to 3:45 is killing me.  Hate being 2/3 of a whole.

3:45 Head to Dr. Amy’s office to pick up Blue!

3:48 Get stuck behind a farm tractor with no clear way to pass.

3:53 Finally hit a straight way so I can pass said tractor.  What is a tractor doing out in the depths of winter anyhow?

4:15 Arrive at Dr. Amy’s office.  I can hear Blue crying as soon as I hit the door.  When I get to the window I can see him, stoned out of his mind, in one of their recovery crates.  

4:20p I get the full rundown on the procedure.  Blue has lost 9 teeth and he’s going to be pretty sore because one of the teeth put up quite a fight.  I get antibiotics and pain meds for Blue.  I have a small stroke when it comes time to pay the bill.

4:25p They bring Blue out to me.  He’s walking like a drunk, he’s whining, he’s got a pressure bandage on his right front leg where his IV was placed, he’s got drool and blood all around his mouth and he looks like hell but one thing he’s pretty clear about is that he wants to get out of that building.

5:06p  Make it home with our patient and breathe another sigh of relief.  We’re all together again and everyone is fine.  

Happy Howlidays!

Like Fine Wine...

On December 10th my Big Poppy turned 11 years old.  We've had a discussion and I've let him know that his goal now is 19 years.  I thought about 20 years but I didn't want to get greedy.  So 19 years it is.  And when we get to 19 years, what's one more year?

We celebrated that evening with a big birthday cookie and some presents including his most favorite of all, Greenies.  In honor of the 11 years Mumma decided to forego a silly birthday hat.  But I make no such promises for his 12th birthday.

The Big Cookie

About to punch the paparazzo in the face.

Bettina photo bomb.  "Ummm, where is my cookie?"

It's just a scarf Mumma.  Not a fashion shoot.

What's a girl got to do to get her own Big Cookie?  What?  I had one in October?
I'm QUITE sure I would have remembered that.

A Tale for All Hallows Eve (Well, Really a Brag for All Hallows Eve)

The Petco where Mumma has a part-time job was having their annual Halloween contest this past Saturday.   Since getting this part-time job I haven't been able to do any of the Saturday fun activities that I used to with the kids.  But I was determined to find a way to enter them in this contest.

Luckily Grammy agreed to be bribed into going to my house and picking up the hounds and bringing them to Petco so they could be entered.  As many of you may already have suspected, they were entered as a small flock of sheep thanks to the lovely costumes that we got from Etsy.

There were an awful lot of cute costumes in the contest including a family (mom, dad, kids and two dogs) all dressed as superheroes.  As they started announcing the winners, I was hopeful but nervous.  When most creative costume went to someone else, I thought that we'd missed out.  But then they announced the grand prize winner!

Was it us?  Did we win something edible?

Victory Lap!

And here's the loot (the well-chewed marrow bone was NOT part of our winnings)

Throwback Thursday - In Honor of Marrow Bone Day

Thursdays are marrow bone day in our house.  Instead of the boring old rawhide chew for snack, the kids get a nice raw frozen marrow bone.  In honor of that momentous occasion we post a video of Blue from last Thursday.  Typically they'll work on their bones for an hour or more, but don't worry, this video has been condensed through the magic of the Hyperlapse app and you'll only waste 30 seconds of your life watching it.

It Ain't Like It Used to Be

I had read a blog entry on Tales and Tails recently that talked about the familiar phenomenon (at least for greyhound parents) of being unable to go in public with the hounds without being stopped every few feet by the general public.  Mrs. Taleteller was mentioning how just about everyone she encountered talked about how they had never seen a real live greyhound before. 

Back when Mumma first got Girly Girl and then Blue, it was mostly that way for us in Maine as well.  No one had seen one and everyone was amazed by them.  Even the questions we encountered about greyhounds were pretty similar to Mrs. Taletellers experience and we really liked her idea about getting a card made up that covers the most common ones.  It’s been more than 7 years now since my first greyhound and I must say that our local rescues are doing a pretty good job with PR because for some time now, we have met far fewer people who have never seen a greyhound. 

Most people we meet have seen and touched a live greyhound.  And more and more, they tell us that they own a greyhound, owned a greyhound, their cousin, sister, mother owns a greyhound, or they live next door to someone who owns a greyhound.  This has been an interesting change for us and certainly brings hope for the future of greyhounds.  I made a comment to this effect on the Tales and Tails blog.

Still I wasn’t prepared for what happened the very next night.  Mumma is refinancing her mortgage thanks to an offer from the mortgage company that was too good to be refused.  Our closing was scheduled for the night after our comment on the blog.  The mortgage company had engaged two notaries to come to my house at 7p in the evening when it was convenient for me and conduct the closing.  That alone blew my mind. 

The two notaries presented themselves at my door at 7p as advertised.  They stepped inside and both caught sight of Blue and Bettina at the same time.  I heard, “OH LOOK GREYHOUNDS!  We have an Italian greyhound now and we had a full size greyhound a little while ago.  We just love them.  They’re the best breed ever.”  And it went on from there to a full discussion of the merits of greyhounds while I signed 2 pounds worth of documents.  They even mentioned that mine wasn’t the first house they had gone to for a closing where they had encountered greyhounds. 

After the papers were signed, they took their leave absolutely covered in greyhound hair and nose snooshies.  Blue and Bettina, having extracted the maximum amount of attention from our visitors, were both contentedly napping.   I stood there shaking my head in amazement.  I had just lowered my house payment by more than $100 a month and these strangers from out of nowhere were greyhound fanatics like me.  It sure ain’t what it used to be!

Greyhounds in Sheeps Clothing

Blue:  Mumma got our new Halloween costumes today.
Bettina:  Ah ha ha ha ha, ha hahah ah ha ha!  What a dork!

Blue:  You think you're so smart, I said she got OUR costumes today.
Bettina:  Wait, whaaa?

Bettina:  BLOODY HELL!!!

Blue:  Look at it this way, you may have discovered your true self.
Bettina:  As a stooge for Mumma's whims?
Blue:  No as the black sheep of the family.
Bettina:  I'm going to go and pee on her bed... and then yours.
Blue:  Baaaah Baaaah Bettina.  See ewe later!

Gregor Mendel and the Big What If?

I realize that what I’m about to say is utter heresy in the world of animal adoption, but what if you could get your hound unspayed or unneutered?  I admit that I sometimes wonder about this.  Don’t crack those knuckles to warm up your typing fingers just yet.  I cannot be the only person who has ever had this thought.

Baby Blue
(thanks to Drew H. for the photoshop assist)

As I sit looking at my sweet, handsome, big goof Blue, it seems a shame that there will never be any baby Blue’s spreading their handsome genes and sweet nature to the world of greyhoundom.  Blue was a decent racer but not fast enough to be a stud dog.  It seems such a loss to the greyhound gene pool.  No one ever

has loved a pillow or a hotel bed like Blue does.  Wouldn’t a tiny Blue or two curled up on a bed pillow melt any adoption activist’s heart?

I also think about my Girly Girl of course.  What I wouldn’t give to have one of her daughters with me now.  To have her live on in a reserved brindle girl who takes after her mom.  Girly Girl had been slated to be a brood mom.  If that actually had happened, I would never have met her.  She would have been diagnosed with cancer before she ever reached the age of brood mom retirement.  Still I know she would have been such a great mom.  The way she hoarded and brooded all her stuffies gave me just a little glimpse into the part of her life that never was.

Baby Bettina
(thanks to Drew H. for the photoshop assist)

And then there is Bettina.  Yes, I even wonder what her crazy spirit would look like if it could have been crossed with other hounds we know.  The world is going to be a much poorer place when she isn’t stampeding around in it anymore.  I picture a little herd of black greyhounds running rampant through the house. They’d all be barking and shrieking while chewing on the electrical cords, over-turning the garbage can, learning to counter surf and leaving me a tiny corner at the foot of my own bed to sleep on while they gleefully shred the pillows and comforter. 

More magical thinking for sure.  But haven’t you all thought about what it would have been like to have a puppy or two from one or all of your beloved hounds?  I know at least three people who actually do have that situation but they arrived at it in a much different way from the way I am fantasizing.  If you adopt an older retired brood mom then you can have years of fun tracking down and adopting the puppies once they retire off the track!  And seriously, how cute would Blue and Bettina puppies have been!

Celebration of Spring - Grand Finale

Let it rip and go CRAZY!

Celebration of Spring - Third Movement

Catch up with all your friends

Celebration of Spring - Second Movement

Let it all hang out.

Celebration of Spring - First Movement

It's time to get outside and blow the dust off (and half your hair coat...)

Corn Dogs

I’ve mentioned before that Blue is a half-brother to Fox.  Fox is the elder statesman of Grammy’s two hairy children.  Fox and Blue share the same mother (dam), Royal Dream. 

As an aside we’ve searched all Blue’s life with us for a photo of Royal Dream.  She is (maybe was at this point) owned by Janice George.  We’ve tried contacting Janice a few times but she’s never responded.  We’ve searched for hours on the internet on the chance that maybe there was a photo of her posted somewhere, for some reason.  So far with no luck.  If anyone out there has a photo, or knows Janice, we throw ourselves on your mercy since living with this insatiable curiosity is killing us!  We hear that Royal Dream is/was a favorite of Janice.

A Fox Corn

But back to Blue and Fox.  Fox has suffered from corns for a number of years.  He gets them frequently and on just about all his feet.  We typically Dremel them down or pad them.  Various home remedies for corn removal have been tried but essentially without success.  Since they only seem to bother him from time to time, Grammy has taken a live and let live attitude with respect to the corns. 

Taking my cue from Fox, I watch Blue like a hawk for any of the maladies that have afflicted poor Fox (and the number of said maladies is not insubstantial).  Since they share so many of the same genes, and they’re so alike in personality, I’m very afraid they will also be alike with respect to their health.  One of the things I have always done is check Blue’s feet for corns.  So far we have been all clear but I always expect to see one someday since Blue is one of the lumpiest and bumpiest dogs I know. 

So it was with a mixture of surprise and a sense of “I knew it!” that I picked up Blue’s foot the other day and saw on one of the pads of his left front foot a fairly well developed corn.  I pressed on it and fiddled with it a bit.  It didn’t seem to be causing him any discomfort.  I hadn’t noticed a change in his gait. 

And so I had to face it.  The moment I had been expecting had arrived.  I have always harbored an absolute belief that Fox is the model for Blue’s aging patterns.  Blue is a year behind Fox in age but so far in much better shape than poor Fox at each stage.  Yet I still harbor the belief and fear that Blue will follow his genetic heritage and suffer all the things that have challenged our poor Fox.  I don’t let the fact that Blue has exhibited almost none of the issues that Fox has suffered so far get in my way.  I just know in my gut Blue is going to fall apart in the same way Fox has.

Blue's feet, corn and blueberry muffin free

And here was this corn.  The very first sign that the downslide has begun.  It’s a short hop, skip and jump from there to wasting away to nothing, a victim of Alabama Rot as Fox currently is.  I had been dreading it.  I had been expecting it.  I had been looking for it.  If you seek, so shall you find.  The implications of this turn of events were weighing on me.  I spent the afternoon pondering what was going to happen to Blue and how we would deal with it.  I was planning all sorts of medical and hospice type scenarios. 

With sad resignation I decided to carefully note the location of this very first corn.  This harbinger of doom.  This horseman of the apocalypse.  I got Blue in an area with good lighting and lifted his foot up.  I got right down in there and took a good look at that corn.  Only it didn’t look like a normal corn.  I fiddled with it some more.  It felt like a corn.  I looked even more closely.  It definitely did not look like any corn I had seen. 

I reached out again and began to scratch at it.  At first nothing happened but the more I scratched at the edges of it, the more it began to crumble away.  I finally loosened it to the point where it popped off in my hand.  What the…? 

The harbinger of doom apocalyptic corn turned out to be a dome of some unknown substance (my money is on blueberry muffin) that stuck to the bottom of his foot and hardened there.  Because of Blue’s newly developed concern about walking on our linoleum floors, I had begun spraying his pads with a product made for show dogs.  It makes their feet tacky so that they have a grip on the flooring of typically slippery show arenas. 

It has helped him with the floors and apparently also helped in cementing a blueberry muffin crumb to his pad.  So it looks like Blue is not dying.  He is not currently exhibiting signs of the creeping crud.  He has not started the same sort of slide that Fox has undergone.  Yet.