Ozzy Report

Ozzy got his nasty tubes removed today, hooray hooray. The vet said that all cancer had been successfully removed, and there was no sign that anything had metastasized. Yay! And now he gets to rock the uber hip shaved patch until his fur grows back in. It's like temporary tattoos for doggies.

In other doctor news, Samson's 4 month checkup was today. 15 1/2 pounds and 26 inches! That's a big meataball!

Son of Frankendog

So I'm sitting here on the kitchen floor next to Ozzy who looks like he's been hit by a train. Two massive rows of stitches--both with these horrible plastic drain tubes sticking out--one of those awful clown collars, and most pitiful whimper you've EVER heard in your in your life. This is one unhappy dog--unhappy, but alive. I had a real bad feeling about this surgery, so I'm very glad that he made it through. Now I get to spend the next 12 hours sitting next to him on the floor and petting his paw which seems to be the only thing that lessens the whimpering. THANK GOD the baby is down for a nap. And Max is on his way home so that we can take turns caring for the baby and comforting the dog.

Really, this is god awful. Anyone who's met Ozzy knows that he has a very special set of vocal cords, and the whimpering is just heart breaking. I know it was a really small tumor, easily removed and he should make a full recovery, he'll even be a lot better by tomorrow morning, but right now it just seems so wrong to put him through this.

They're delicious with fava beans and a nice chianti

Cooking dinner last night, Max wearing Samson in the Bjorn, getting the baked potato out of the oven.

Me: Careful, you don't want roasted baby feet.
Max: Mmmmm, roasted baby feet.
Me: A delicacy in some countries, they're generally frowned upon here.

But how about some fresh baby noggin marinated in olive oil? A new friend from boot camp says that olive oil applied one hour before bed time will get rid of the mysterious flakes that mysteriously appeared on Samson's mysterious head this morning. Baby dandruff, gross.

Just spoke with the vet, Ozzy did great during surgery, and all the lumps and tumors and such were removed and he's starting to wake up. I'm so thrilled! Ask me how thrilled I am in a few hours after I've picked him up and they've shown me how to empty and clean his drainage tubes. Doggie juices, gross.

The steak comes with extra love

Just gave Ozzy his last meal before surgery. I don't think he noticed the extra pieces of left-over steak on top; he eats every meals as if it's about grow legs and sprint away. He'll be eating at home again tomorrow night, but something inside makes me want to treat him extra special tonight. Which means I'll just be feeling a little less sorry for Max tonight when I wake up and see that Ozzy has expanded his corner of the bed to include 45-60% of Max's side. Never trust a 75 pound dog who can make himself the size of a cat.

I even had a salad for lunch

Back to Baby Boot Camp today. Paul's visit last week provided me with a good excuse to skip class, and to eat lots of tasty things that probably definitely had more points than I should be eating. But today's sunshine and Samson's good mood made it a really nice way to spend the morning--enough so that I'm even looking forward to going back on Wednesday. It will be a good way to keep my mind off the poor Oz's lumpectomy. Maybe one day, some day, I'll actually achieve my dream of not loathing exercise more than anything else in the world ever. Certainly more than superlatives.

ps. It's not entirely surprising that I hate exercise so much. See what I had to deal with as a child? Do you see any bespectacled chubby girls in those commercials?

pps. Found this while writing the last post (re. the dead pheasant). Have been messing with dog ever since.

Crap

Can I just have one dog without cancer? Just one? Please? Stupid Ozzy's stupid lump is a stupid malignant tumor. So now he gets to eat whatever he wants, sleep wherever he wants and fart as often as he wants until he makes a full recovery.

Stupid tumor. I'm so sick of this crap. CRAP.

You Vet Your Life

Have I mentioned lately how much I like difficult things? I'm a huge fan of impossible tasks, or at least doing stuff that involves military-style planning and a small army to get them done. And I like to do these things alone. And when they don't go smoothly, I get pissy and blame other people. Yeah, I'm a real doll.

So my day today appeared to be calm, not too much running around or getting dressed, just a leisurely lunch with my mom and my brother Paul who's visiting from Brooklyn.

Well screw that.

I decided that today would be a great day to bring the cats to the vet for their annual check ups and their vaccines in preparation for their teeth cleaning appointments next week. Not so horrible on the surface, except for catching, caging and transporting two furious 14-ish pound cats. And let's not forget about the baby.

Since I was already going to the vet, I might as well bring the dogs just to get their intranasal bordatella vaccines so that they can go to doggie day care tomorrow while we're all having lunch at Greene's in the city. They were just in last month for their respective lumps, so we know that nothing's wrong with them.

Ha!

The vet noticed Ozzy's new red eye spot--it's been there about 2 days and I've applied my new "watch and see for one month before freaking out and going to the vet" philospophy to it. After looking at his eye, the vet announced that Ozzy probably has a tumor on his third eyelid, a common condition in dogs with unpigmented eyelids. Since we were there, the vet might as well check out the new lump on his rear end--another "wait and see" test for me--and that one had to be sent out to the lab for further diagnostics.

Sigh.

Let me just add that my mom rocks for not letting me take on such tasks solo. Even if she did lock herself in the backseat of the car with Samson, ha ha.

Lumpdate

Nanna is out of surgery and slowly recovering. Miru's heart may or may not be safe for another year. Ozzy most likely has nothing more than a lump on his tummy. Oh, and gingivitis.

We won't know 100% for sure whether or not the cancer in Nanna's lump has spread beyond the bits reoved in her surgery until next week, but the doctor felt pretty confident that she got everything. Even then, there's nothing that says the same cancerous cells won't show up in some other tumors a few months down the road. But for now, she's lying on the living room floor, more zonked out than I've ever seen her before, with another one of those frankendog looking row of stitches running up from her belly to her side. The doc says that this recover will take longer than her previous ones because they had to take a good chunk of muscle out off of her rib (again), plus she's a bit older this time around (11 years old at the end of this month!). Poor, poor dear.

Miru's heart murmur is a clue that he will eventually develop this cat condition that has a crappy symptom: sudden death. But because it was caught before his heart exploded, we can monitor it as time goes by and get him on medication before there's any manifestation of physical symptoms (like suddenly dropping dead). The question is just when he goes on the medication, and the today's cardiogram should give us the answer to that question by next week. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if the side effects of said medication are hair loss, incontinence and kitty dementia. He's fine tonight, except for the fact that he's being tortured by his cruel captors who keep him locked in a townhouse when by all rights he should be roaming the streets of Foster City till the wee hours.

Ozzy basically got jealous of all of the attention Nanna was getting regarding her lump, so he said "Look, look! I gots a lump too! Can I have some turkey now?" If any dog could will himself to have a small, non-cancerous, turkey-getting lump, it's the Oz. But We're glad he's OK (comparatively).

Human health: Samson and I had our 32 week check-up today (what, only the pets get to go to the doctor today?), and we are practically perfect in every way. Seriously. I love this doctor because he says things like that. Our fundus is the right hight (31 centimeters), our blood pressure is just right (some bigger number over some other smaller number), and our weight is just right (yeah, as if I'm going to post that here). Hearts beat as they should, movement is present and regular, everything is normal and A-OK. I love it! Now if only they doctor could do something about this heat wave so I could get some sleep...

Another Lump for Nanna

And this one's another cancerous tumor. But thanks to constant belly rubs and our daily post-breakfast love fest, I found it really early and the vet thinks it will be no problem to remove the whole thing and get good margins on Thursday. The same day Miru goes in for his echo-cardio-thingy to check the status of his heart murmur. We'll probably have to go in even earlier in the week because we found another lump last night, this one on Ozzy's belly. His first lump. My first 3-animal medical crisis week. Plus, when Miru got out last week, he brought home some fleas. Yay.

But not all news is sick animal news. Some of it is expecting friend news! LDB up in Portland is growing a little friend in her belly for Samson to play with! How cool is that! Four hundred cool.

The portrait shots from the wedding are up on Picasa Web. There are still some digital photos and a few quick cams to handle, but I think we're mostly set on picture posting.

Just dog

No more Frankendog! Nanna's staples came out today:



The good Dr. Roosein was very impressed with Nanna's cowering abilities. We all were.

Going to the vet reminds me of the "Fortunately/Unfortunately" books we used to read in grade school. "Unfortunately, Nanna had to go to the vet. Fortunately, the vet is across the street from the best sandwiches in the world and Miriam's office." Hugs were exchanged. Turkey sandwiches were consumed.



That is one happy dog in the sun!

Frankendog

Poor thing. Poor, poor girl. Who would have thought a little fatty tumor attached to her rib would cause this:
















Yeah, I know, that wasn't gross enough. Try this:




















That's a six-inch incision held together with more than 2 dozen staples. She is such a trooper. She's had something like 7 surgeries, including getting various gashes stitched up, and she always heals up 100%.

Ozzy has been very concerned since we picked Nanna up from the vet. Since Nanna can't play, Ozzy seems to be taking his frustration out on Milhouse (he wouldn't dare try that crap with Miru.). There was a lot of high-pitched whining and angry-kitty yowling going in my house last night.

Can I get a "whoop whoop"

My precious, precious hound dog Nanna is going to be fine. Her lumpy leg has turned out to be a pretty bad gracillis (thigh) muscle injury, from which she will soon make a full recovery. She gets to keep all of her legs, and she gets to start fetching that tennis ball again real soon. So let's give a collective "whoop whoop" for my girl, and throw in a couple of those Arsineo Hall arm-cranking maneuvers for good measure.

Loopy Loo and the Lurid Lump

Nanna had biopsy number 2 yesterday. There's this imposing lump in her left thigh and we're trying to figure out whether it's an old muscle injury, or... well, something scarier than an old muscle injury. It's a long and involved process, full of specialists and words I can't readily pronounce (it's "gracillis" muscle, not "grazelda" muscle). But an entertaining side effect is watching poor Nanna when she's all hopped up on anesthetic. Just look at those eyes.



When she's in this state, it becomes imperative that we call her "Loopy Loo."

If your dog or cat ever needs a specialist, the good folks at San Francisco Veterinary Specialists are terrific. Warm staff, extremely knowledgeable and skilled in the ways of all things animal.

(Yes, I'm terribly concerned. No, I'm not going to panic until the pathology report comes back.)