The Ruffles Report

This was a good haircut. Pretty sure it was professional and not my two-legs butcher job.

Greetings all. I meant to post this earlier but it has been really hard to pull it together, eventually I just got down what I could, and hopefully more will come. Ruffles will no longer be posting. He had been recovering fine since his last post and we thought he was going to make a full recovery. Then suddenly last Thursday night (August 27, 2010) he began having trouble breathing and was unable to move coherently. We rushed him to the emergency vet but unfortunately he passed away in Andi’s arms a few blocks from the hospital. He died quickly and calmly and as he went he had Andi and I telling him what a good dog he was. He will be deeply missed.

Me and big-little-bro. Chillin'

Ruffles’ Journey

My dad and Max got Ruffles while I was in college back in 2002 (or so, dates are foggy). He was just a pup at that point. Freshly weened of his mother, ears and tail cropped, and could fit in your hands. I didn’t get to meet him for a few months until my next visit up to see them. Ruffles greeted me by parading around with a toy in his mouth and then proceeding to hump my leg. I think he liked me.

Big yawns. I think the skirted one took this picture during morning light in Seattle. I was not really awake yet.

As I finished up school and was getting ready to finally move out of a place that didn’t accept pets (the land lady was a cat person and freaked when I brought Ruffles down for a weekend), I started to think that maybe I would benefit from having a little furry companion for my new adventure. I moved up to Seattle and was there for a few months when I asked to take Ruffles off my dad and Max’s hands (by now they had a little brood of 4 schnauzers, so what’s one?) They agreed and Ruffles was officially mine. He was a fat, lazy little grump when I got him. Years of living a cushy life, eating whatever and whenever, barking at birds and people alike, and generally being king of the castle. There was a new king in town now.

How can you resist a face like this... you can't!

We went on a pretty strict schedule of walks, feeding at regular times, and going to the dog park to attempt to socialize him. It was going well, but it was a slow process. He still really wouldn’t play with the other dogs and instead saw himself as the enforcer, making sure other dogs weren’t fighting or having any fun. He got in a great deal of trouble doing that. He wouldn’t sit, or stay, or really do anything you told him. Most days he lounged in a big comfy chair in my studio apartment, waiting for me to come home (I know this thanks to the power of the webcam I installed to watch him) where he would then run over to the door when he heard the jangling of my keys. That was so great to come home to.

Not sure what I just got in too... but I am sure it was delicious

Then we met two individuals who changed both our lives. She, a beautiful, outgoing bartender and he, a crazy, energetic pup with ears four sizes too big for his head. We saw them around the building, going for walks at odd hours. (bartenders keep odd hours, especially ones who are insomniacs). Love blossomed, and not just between Andi and I. Ruffles and Luke became the best of buds. Luke taught Ruff how to play tug of war with toys (Luke usually won) and Ruffles taught Luke how to nap quietly and not disturb their masters (sort of). Andi even managed to Ruff to learn to to sit, stay, and eventually lie down (she had just put Luke through obedience school so it was all fresh to her). I got Ruffles to dance around on his hind legs for a treat (wish I had video of that…)

Again, more playing with the flash. I look very ominous.

We moved into a new apartment in Seattle and us 4 became inseparable. Life was good. Walks, dog parks, other 4-legged friends (Hi Dublin! Hi Lucy!). And this was the time Ruffles did most of his posting to therufflesreport.com.
There are some massive dog parks up there in the Seattle area, we went mostly for Luke, who loved to run and swim. Ruffles really liked the smells. He did not like it when we threw him in the water. It was hilarious to watch him frantically doggy paddle back to the shore. He was so upset we did that to him… but a few minutes to dry off and he was back running through the woods looking for new odors.

Look at my luxurious beard and my regal pose. I am a rockstar.

I would recommend going back through the old posts if you want to read more about Ruffles’ life in Seattle, it’s only like 30 posts so it makes for a good read when you should be doing real work. Anyway, Andi eventually got tired of the city she was in and we all decided to move on down to Santa Monica, CA. Ruffles started in CA and he would ultimately finish in CA. I also like to think that Santa Monica was the best place for him to live (other than the drug villa he grew up in for the first few years), mostly because it had a dog door and dog run so they were no longer limited by our schedules and they were free to pee and poop with impunity. On a more pleasant note it also meant bike riding. Ruffles liked it as he didn’t have to work and just got to come along for the ride.

Sittin' pretty in Andi's cruiser's basket. Oh yeah!

Ruffles was like me when it came to the beach here. Pretty to look at but the sand gets everywhere. (that and the whole ban on dogs at the beach meant no puppy beach time) The weather definitely suited him better. None of that Seattle drizzle and damp, just unadulterated sunshine. He also got to spend more time at the most awesome place in the world. Andi’s parent’s house in Phoenix. Here they got fed extra food (good stuff too, wet dog food that was often heated up) and there was a giant water bowl (pool) that they could drink from and dip their feet in. And what could be better than sitting in the 110° heat on baking flagstaff… apparently nothing as that is what they loved to do. Ruffles would always start whining in anticipation whenever we drove up to their place. His last weekend was spent there, which makes me happy.

My 2-legs was playing with his new flash. Ooo, shadows.

There are of course so many more things I would love to have done with my little guy. And so much more that I would like to write about him. Family and friends have been sending me condolences, stories, and pictures of him. I plan to post those here.

A pretty standard shot. This was back in Seattle

Thanks to all of Ruffles’ friends and family for the love and support over the years. Ruffles was a good dog.

I found an old post I thought I had published shortly after my first vet visit. Read it here (some of may be outdated medical info so be sure to read “Mo’ Meds, Mo’ Problems“… though that is also outdated because…)

I feel great!

Kinda.

I finish up my antibiotic regiment today. Yay! But my steroid regiment continues for another week or so. Boo! And I know my two-legs is going to take me back to the white coats in the near future. Super boo!

I am proud to say that I am no longer wheezing like a fat kid during gym class and I only hack a few times a day. I feel like it is just the residual ick that this being worked out of my lungs, not unlike a smoker’s cough in the morning (no, I do not have lung problems due to smoking). My energy level has returned and I am back to playing with frog and my other plushies. I can once again reach a tug-of-war standoff with big-little-bro. And I have returned to my vigil of staring out the screen door and scaring the bejesus out of little-two-legs who bang on the door and scream “puppy!”. (I am not a puppy anymore, I am a grumpy old man)

What a better time to start feeling better than the middle of August? It is starting to get cooler outside again (you try wearing a 2 inch thick hair suit all the time) which means the bike paths are starting to open back up again. How does this affect me, a non-cyclist? Well it just so happens that my two-legs is a cyclist. What’s more, he has a penchant for strapping things to his bike so he does not have to use a car (he is a dirty hippie).

I am the big gray lump in his side car there. Dignified eh?

While I do not look terribly pleased in this picture, I assure you that this is one of activities I enjoy doing with my two-legs. The four of us often go for rides around the beach. Poor big-little-bro is forced to run alongside the skirted-one. I, on the other paw, just get to sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. The wind whipping through my hair. The ever changing smells. The falling out of the pannier when my two-legs forgets that this center of gravity is now 20 lbs. heavier in the rear and misjudges a turn. Good times.

I hope now that I am feeling better and the bike paths become less choked with tourists on unwieldy cruisers my two-legs and I will be able to hit the open road again. (hint, hint two-legs)

It is good to have my health back and I hope it remains. Thanks to all for the kind words and support!

I blocked out most of last week. My two-legs abandoned me with other two-legs I do not know. They had two mini-two-legs. One of whom screamed all the time, and other just ran around and played with our toys (and our toys became hers). I suppose in retrospect it was not too bad… except that I am still sick.

My two-legs decided I needed a haircut. He did not do a good job. I am displeased for multiple reasons.

On Monday night he took me back to the V-E-T. Supposedly I lost a pound in two weeks (sickness diets work!) and was running a bit of temperature. They also had to retake all my x-rays. I do not like sitting still, splayed out for any period of time (unless it is of my own accord). For your viewing pleasure are my X-rays. I have included both the ones from July 17th and from August 2nd. To the trained eye they look pretty similar, but you need to look closer (which is tough as they are not very high resolution here). I will explain after the photos.

Look at how huge my heart is!

So, look at the lungs (the dark gray), it should not have all those white spots.

This was on Monday, my lungs are more white than black... not good.

I do love how cool my insides look. I wish I could see it in action (breathing and eating and pooping).

My  lungs are what is in question in all this. Two weeks ago they had a few little white speckles. The speckles are an anomoly and have a higher density than the surrounding tissue. Two weeks later I have more little white speckles. Which essentially means something is growing in my lungs. Things should not be growing in my lungs.

We opted to try some new medication. I am on a different family of antibiotic from the one I took before. I am also on a light dose of steriods. The steroids are mainly to help open up my lungs and make breathing easier. If I take too much, it may speed the growth of the whatever it is in my lungs.

Sigh. This regiment should take another two weeks or so to finish up. At which time I will more than likely be subjected to the same horrors of the V-E-T as I have before… probing, prodding, x-rays, pills. Good times.

So wish me luck. I will post later in the week with an update.

Test results came back yesterday. I have zero parasites and the labs look OK. So basically we are back to square one:  what is wrong with me.

Apparently the fungal tests that I thought they were going to do are a great deal more involved then just running my blood through some sort of fungus detecting machine. It would involve another vet visit (boo!), sedation (yay!), and ultimately having my trachea/lungs flushed. Since I am neither a) an automobile radiator nor b) do I have $700 to blow on such a procedure, my two-legs and I have decided to trust in father time and give some more of said time to the pills I ingest every day when he gets home.

Once I finish my tasty treat-flavored regimen of antibiotics we will re-evaluate and see if stronger drugs are necessary. I even heard that steroids are on the table so maybe I will finally be able to wrench a toy out of big-little-bro’s clutches. Unfortunately, the “big C” is still hovering out there; however, I do not lend much credence to that as I retain both my Hungry Hungry Hippo-esque appetite and my penchant for carrying frog around the apartment when my two-legs gets home.

There is however one disturbing development…

He is so mean to me, even when I am sick.

The two-legs in the white coat told him and the skirted-one that it would be a good idea to take me in the bathroom with them as they shower. The humid air is evidently good for my lungs (but murder on my hair). The skirted-one takes me in for her morning shower and my two-legs for his evening one. For the bulk of these steamy shenanigans I am resigned to lay on  the bathmat and contemplate what I did to deserve such treatment. The real humiliation comes at the end, when the two-legs are done showering and proceed to perch me atop the highest shelf in the bathroom (as pictured above). I overheard the skirted-one telling my two-legs that this is better than leaving me on the floor since all of the nice hot, humid air has floated to the ceiling. Since I am a fairly short four-legs who spends most of his time breathing the cool, crisp air usually found 8 inches off the floor, I do not appreciate being made to breathe the torrid, muggy air found 6 feet + 8 inches off the floor.

C’est la guerre.

This may be my last post for the month of July. My two-legs and the skirted-one are abandoning me and big-little-bro in favor of a dog-free vacation in the slightly sunnier city named by Spanish conquerors explorers after their beloved Saint Didacus (whose name they also gave to the ship they sailed in). Incidentally, Saint Didacus managed to heal not one, but two kings even after he had been laid to rest. (this information was directly pilfered from infallible wiki entries, here & here ) Maybe some of that healing power will rub off and the triumphant return of my two-legs will lead to my miraculous return to good health.

Excuses, excuses, I am full of excuses. But this time it is a good one.

For the past 3 weeks or so I have found it difficult to breath. Not just after a good run chasing birds but even when I am just lounging (which we all know I love to do). I do not believe I am that out of shape that I should get winded walking from my food bowl to the couch but there you have it. I wheeze and whistle when I breathe. My two-legs thought it was funny at first. Chalked it up to my getting older and being out of shape. Then I started hacking when I got excited. I never coughed up anything, just clearing my throat I suppose; however, it started to get less funny for my two-legs. Then, on Saturday, it got even less funny, I began to cough little specks of blood.

I am very upset. I am going to jump.

My two-legs and the skirted-one took me over the Animal Wellness Center on Main. They recommended I go to the Pet Medical Center to get some X-Rays. Little-big-bro was left at home for all this. He missed out on the fun.

I did not like it there. First off, there was a non-dog 4-legs just hanging out in the lobby. My two-legs went over and had the nerve to pet her! I got so upset that I promptly hacked and coughed blood on their floor. They then proceeded to whisk me into a little room. I guess they do not like it when you get your fluids on the middle of their lobby floor.

In the tiny room my two-legs proceeded to perch me on top of the little metal table suspended a good 4 or so feet off the floor. I did my best to claw my way back on to my two-legs but neither he nor the skirted one would let me down.

I went through the normal exam. Weight. Thermometer (not in my mouth). And then prodding by the V-E-T. She said my breathing was not normal. (She also said I seemed a bit skinny, suck on that two-legs and feed me more dinner!) Next on the agenda was X-rays. My two-legs was not invited to join us. Frankly I blacked out once I left the room. When I awoke I was in a cage, yelling. I do not like cages. I especially do not like them when I can see my two-legs standing 6 feet away looking at pictures of my innards. I was not a good dog.

They drew some blood (again I had blacked out at this point as my two-legs and the skirted one had left me alone in a cage) and soon I was back in the arms of my master.

Tests are currently being run. Word on the street is I have largish specks in my lungs. It could either be fungus or cancer. I am rooting for fungus as I do not think I will look good bald.

I should know more this week and will keep you posted. And in case you missed it, I posted another one of my back dated posts. I can’t believe in another 3 months I will have been here a year!