06/08/2008: "Dogs"

Hi All,

So, my folks are getting a new dog this week, or next, I'm not entirely certain. West Highland Terrier, those little white terriers the opposite of Scotties. They've become fairly popular dogs over the years; I see them alot more in commercials and so forth. We've had 3: Sherlock, Paddington, and Keltie. We got Sherlock 20-odd years ago, so dogs, Westies, have been part of the Davidson household for a long time. They're great little dogs, mostly; they have what our first breeder euphemistically called 'Terrier Spirit,' which means they growl and can be occassionally cranky. Of course, when me and my brother were kids we'd pick poor Sherlock up and shake him around a little to incite his 'Terrier Spirit'---of course, any dog you pick up and sort of shake around is going to exhibit 'spirit,' or bite your nose, or what-have-you. Poor Sherlock. He really was a good little dog, but me and my brother were 11 or so when he came into our lives; he was sort of like the family car when you've got two 16-year-old drivers in the house---that poor car gets ridden pretty hard.

Anyway, Keltie's the dog my folks have now. She's a great little pooch. She was bought from a breeder of dubious credentials and there's a little poodle in her. When she was young, maybe a year, I was down in our basement back in St. Catharines, writing or just dicking around, and Keltie came down. She never came down the basement. But I could tell, really quick, something was the matter: she was walking around in wonky circles. She came over to me, I fussed over her, then she walked away on this real wacky trajectory and ran into the drywall. That freaked me out. I picked her up and there was this white foam emitting from her mouth. She was totally disoriented. I was the only one home. Mom, who's always been the main caretaker, was off at a baby shower. I raced around until I found the phone number for where she was at and rang her up. I must've sounded completely freaked---looking back, it was one of the more helpless hours of my life---because she trucked home and took Keltie to the vet.

Turned out she had a very serious liver ailment. It was touch and go for a few months there. The vet basically said to enjoy Keltie's company for as long as it lasted. We were all wrecks. Mom maybe the worst, which was weird because my Mom---a palliative care nurse---is a very strong person. But it's this little dog, a tough little dog, but she could go at any time.

Well, Keltie's tough. I don't know how it is with animals. Different than people. People find out they're sick, really sick, we're aware enough to almost make the choice how hard we want to fight or if we really want to fight at all. Dogs, animals, they just persist. Keltie persisted. She's on special liver pills, of course, and there's always that worry, but she's 11 now so she's beaten the odds.

Anyway, Keltie's got this special diet. No proteins as her liver has a tough time assimilating those. And now that my Dad's retired he's gotten more involved with Keltie's feeding. I always said I'll put this in a story someday, because it's so funny---Mom and Dad get in big arguments over how to feed the bloody dog. I mean, Keltie's a princess---if she could speak, she'd admit it herself---and my folks treat her like one. Every so often I'm over at feeding time and they get into it:

DAD: Put some tomato soup in her kibble, Jill. Mix it in. She loves that.

MOM: Tomato soup? That's ridiculous, Don. I put in Cheez Whiz the other day. She likes it better.

DAD: Are you daft? I put in tomato soup and she inhaled it. She ate it! She ate it all up!

MOM: Did you read the label, Donald? Did you see the protein values in soup? [to me]: Your father never reads the labels. They might as well be written in sanscrit for all he cares.

DAD: Yes, JILLIAN, I did! It's got very low protein. Cheez Whiz? Who puts Cheez Whiz in a dog dish?

Etcetera and so on. Every feeding time they're getting into it about what to feed the dog. But they've been married 35+ years so I guess it works for them.

MOM: Did you give Keltie her liver pill, Don?

DAD: Yes, Jill, I did.

MOM: Did you wrap it in a little shred of cheese, so she'll swallow it all and not spit it out?

DAD: Yes, Jill. Yes, yes, yes.

MOM: Then what's this pill doing under the kitchen table?

Of course, Mom let Dad walk into that particular trap. Dug the hole, laid the branches and leaves over top and Dad, the poor fellow, bumbled right into it.

Anyway, the new dog's been pre-named: Briar. Saw some pics the other day. Just a little white blob of fur. If I had a nicer house with something more than a postage-stamp for a backyard, I'd get me a dog.

All best, Craig.