I’m too sexy for my itch Too sexy for my itch
Too sexy for a bitch
Brooklyn started blowing her coat for the winter. I don’t understand why she blows her coat in the dead of a winter when it’s too cold to be naked. It started a few days ago when I noticed a clump of hair sticking out of her left thigh and plucked it out. The next day, she had a couple of clumps sticking out of her right thigh. Next thing I know, she has a little concave clearing, a couple of inches in diameter, on her left thigh, devoid of undercoat.
She started scratching all over her body, presenting her torso to me whenever she can, usually her butt directed towards me, so that I can scratch her back and hind quarters. Pretty soon she’s going to start shedding twice as much fur as she has on her body every single day for a couple of weeks, during which time each of her hair has a life of its own and insists upon accompanying me everywhere, even resorting to crawling into the cell phone and presents itself proudly under the screen to make itself be admired whenever the phone is used.
I wonder if she’ll blow her coat in the spring again this time in a couple of months. If she does, my short term dog hair intake will sharply increase and I might have to adjust my protein intake accordingly.
There has been much could’ve, should’ve and would’ve on my part for the past week or so. I should have seen it coming. I should have been more careful…
Ever since Georgia and Brooklyn were moved downstairs, I have felt that Brooklyn has been giving Georgia cold shoulders. Georgia is jumpier and more easily scared now that she can hear outside noises a lot more clearly and I thought maybe that had to do with it because Brooklyn gets a little annoyed by Georgia running around not knowing what to do with herself. Then when I started dog-sitting Houston, I started getting a weird vibe from Brooklyn whenever I brought Georgia back into the livingroom after the meal.
Before the new living arrangement, because Georgia and Brooklyn stayed in the master bedroom, Georgia used to eat inside the master bathroom and I only had to open the bathroom door after both Georgia and Brooklyn were done eating. Everybody has to be fed separately in this house because otherwise one would try to steal another’s food and fight would break out.
After Georgia and Brooklyn moved to downstairs living room, Georgia had to be fed outside the living room. Monday night, I brought Georgia back into the living room after their meal, and that was when Brooklyn attacked Georgia. Georgia doesn’t bite back and she tried to hide behind me and in my poor attempt to take Georgia back out of the room, I opened the door and that’s when Brandy charged in. Brooklyn and Brandy were going at each other for what seemed to me like forever. I was desperately trying to separate them and both of them bit anything and everything near their mouths including me.
After I finally separated them, my right hand had blood clot coming out of a hole, the right side of my shirt and pants blood-soaked, my blood smeared and splattered everywhere. I was hyperventilating and feeling extremely cold and felt like I would pass out soon. But I was somehow abnormally calm. I looked for the number to call a cab, packed a new shirt and a pair of pants, cell phone and the charger, pager, and the organizer while waiting for the cab.
Fortunately, nothing was broken, so after about 5 hours, I was released after given pain killer and antibiotic with the instruction to see a doctor next day. I came home at about 2am, and let the dogs out for a quick potty break, and took Brooklyn to the emergency vet clinic where she was hospitalized over night. Then I came home and took Brandy to the same emergency vet clinic, and she was released with an antibiotic after confirming all her wounds were superficial. I made a stop at a 24-hour Walgreen’s for a case of Ginger Ale since even drinking water was making me puke. I came home at around 4am and started to make another arrangement to separate Brooklyn from Georgia and others.
Brooklyn was pretty banged up. She had to have drains inserted in two places and got stitches as well. She’s been on antibiotic and pain killer. She looks quite pathetic and must feel that way as well because she screams and howls as if she’s getting slaughtered whenever I leave her by herself. But she’s getting better.
Some people were assuming that I’m weighing the possibility of putting Brooklyn down because of the bites or her dog aggression. No, that’s not it. I know she’s dog aggressive and I have known it ever since I got her. I know I get bitten when I try to stop a dog fight. Note to self: go get the fucking break stick and the citronella spray already!
No, that’s not why. It’s because Brooklyn gets so miserable when she has to be in a room by herself when clearly I’m in the same house. She cries her heart out whenever I take the other dogs outside. Sometimes she hears me addressing other dogs and starts crying and tries to get out of the room by destroying it – fortunately she’s wearing a cone and it’s preventing her to do any damage right now. I know her look when she’s unhappy. I lived with unhappy Brooklyn for more than a year when I first got her. I remember how miserable she was…
Brooklyn is a good dog. She’s a very very good dog. She’s the most trouble-free dog I’ve ever seen if there is no other animal around. She doesn’t steal my food. She doesn’t chew anything. She never touches anything that belongs to me. She NEVER EVER has an accident even if she has to hold for 2 days and even when she has the diarrhea. She doesn’t bark incessantly. She walks very nicely on leash. She loves people. She loves me oh so very much.
Right now, I’m just trying to get her better. I can’t handle thinking about it when I have to tend to her wounds and mine. I’ll see how she does living in the room without Georgia to keep her company when I can’t be there with her. I have to see how she handles it… and go from there…
Five years ago today, I brought Brooklyn home.
After seeing Georgia coming to life and even willing to come right next to me to get closer to another dog when I was dog-sitting, I decided I’d adopt another dog at a local rescue facility. I didn’t want a puppy, so I asked them if they had dogs over 2 years old, good with dogs and cats, and already housebroken. Somebody led me to Brooklyn’s kennel. She was sleeping with an E-collar on, and I could see all of her bones sticking out. I also noticed 3 servings of her meal untouched in her kennel. They told me they thought she was hit by a car before coming to the rescue. When the lady woke her up and took her out of the kennel, she seemed to come alive. They said she’s good with other animals and perfectly housebroken. I couldn’t take my Georgia to see Brooklyn because Georgia was deathly terrified of everything and anything including going outside. So I trusted them, signed the adoption contract saying I could return her in 3 days if she doesn’t work out with the other animals, and brought her home.
As soon as she laid her eyes on Georgia and 2 cats, I knew she was most definitely not good with other animals. But she kept having the most severe unscoopable diarrhea that would be absorbed by the earth leaving just stains. I had to treat her diarrhea first, and since the rescue has its own veterinary clinic which is free for the pets adopted within 10 days, I took Brooklyn there. They hospitalized her because she hadn’t been eating. Then discharged her saying she ate some puppy chow wet food some flavor!!! No tests run, nothing at all, and she still had diarrhea.
The adoption contract, as it should be, forbade the adopter to give the dog away or adopt her out, and I had to take her back to the rescue if I were not to keep her. I decided I would not take her back to that rescue because she was so thin, having this horrible diarrhea, and obviously not eating, but these people just kept shoving food inside her kennel! Not to mention the fact that they lied about her being good with other animals. I couldn’t return her back there! I contacted a Shiba Inu rescue and told all this, whose lawyer went over the contract to see if there is any loophole. There was none. I had to keep her or return her, OR find another home for her knowingly breaking the contract. I chose the third option.
Brooklyn managed to almost kill Grizzley and attacked Georgia a few times when I felt sorry for her cooped up in the bedroom and tried to leave her out in the livingroom with the leash attached to me. I got bitten by her 6 times in the first 5 months I had her, all 6 times were when I was in her way of getting to another animal. Now I could not find another home for her knowing that she bit. I’d rather want it to be me that she bites than having her bite another person or another animal and possible be killed in a shelter. I had to keep her.
So Brooklyn lived in my bedroom, separated from other dogs and the cat. I consulted behaviorists, trainers, vets, even a pet psychic, which I don’t believe. Nothing worked. Brooklyn loses all senses once she sees another animal. About half of those I consulted told me to put her down. The other half wished me good luck. Not only that, other dogs seem to resent her presence even before she sees them. For instance, Houston never met any dog he didn’t like, until he laid his eyes on her, who didn’t see him yet, and he started growling and trying to get to her with his hackles up and snarling.
In the mean time, I was struggling with the decision. Brooklyn seemed so unhappy. She’s the kind of dog who’d just follow you around and is just happy being in the same room with you or she’s a so-called velcro dog. But having to be separated from the others inside the bedroom, she was plain miserable. I cried almost every night trying to decide if I should put her down or not. I held her and looked into her eyes and wished her to somehow tell me either she’d want to live or die. I just couldn’t put her down. Some people might label it as selfish, but I just couldn’t.
But the help came from the most unlikely source. Georgia. She would run from one end of the livingroom to the other end and jump around with such happiness to see Brooklyn whenever I took Brooklyn out of the room on the leash to taker her outside. Brooklyn would show her aggression, and Georgia would completely freeze, not even making her breathing heard. Then Brooklyn would lose interest. This continued day after day 3 or 4 times a day, and Brooklyn’s reaction went from aggression to being upset to being annoyed to cold shoulder to acknowledgment to err…. happiness! Of course I stuffed her face with something yummy whenever Georgia sprinted towards us, but finally she seemed happy to see Georgia.
When I moved into the house, I finally let them be together, and they loved each other. Brooklyn couldn’t stand to be by herself, and I was frequently heard saying Get a room, will ya? when mutual licking sessions went on and on and on. Brooklyn was finally happy. She groomed Georgia endlessly and she played with Georgia when outside. Brooklyn tore the room apart if Georgia was in the house but not in the same room with her. Brooklyn loved Georgia. Until this last Monday night…, which I’ll blog about in a few days.
Brooklyn is a very sweet girl who just wants to be in the presence of people. Her cinnamon roll looking tail wags like crazy when I come home from work and she screams in joy while her entire butt is moving from side to side. She’s very concerned about how she looks, so she grooms herself just like a cat, and lies down with her front legs crossed. And I know she will protect me when I’m nervous about certain people while walking her at night – more than once, she kept a crackhead and drunks away from us. She loves me so dearly and I love her to death.
Happy gotchaday, Brooklyn!!!!! Love you so much.
It’s just totally wrong for a Diva Inu to be seen relaxing with her legs not crossed in public. It’s just not right, I tell you.
Edited to add Brooklyn’s pooping picture.
Brooklyn, being a Shiba Inu mix and all, is very fussy and meticulous about everything. Naturally that includes her pooping ritual.
When I first adopted Brooklyn, she had a very bad case of diarrhea, the brown liquidy kind which you can’t even pretend to scoop in fear of being the recipient of dirty looks for not picking up after a noticeably skin-and-bones thin dog. Her diarrhea continued for 3 days before she was hospitalized. Since I was worried about her having accidents while I was at work, I covered half the room with wee-wee pads, and she never used them either. Because you know, HOW COULD I EVER! EVEN THINK THAT SHE WOULD DEIGN TO USE WEE-WEE PADS INDOORS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! What was I thinking? Didn’t I know the concept is beneath her? In short, I never have to worry about Brooklyn having an accident inside even when she has a diarrhea. It’s just inconceivable.
That didn’t mean that Brooklyn would joyfully relieve herself once let outside. She used to refuse to poop anywhere near our place. So we had to walk over AT LEAST to the next block for her to even consider sniffing around for “the” spot. Usually, if she could still see our place even when she really had to go, it was safe to say that she would rather hold her poop while pulling on the leash (she usually doesn’t pull since, again, it’s beneath her) with incredible strength to go to a spot where our place is safely out of our view.
Now that we live in a neighborhood where there is no sidewalk and people let their dogs out in their front yards or walk them without leashing them, I can no longer walk Brooklyn because she’s dog aggressive and it’s also very distasteful to her to be peeing or pooping on pavement instead of somebody’s front lawn. So naturally, I had to make her poop and pee in *GASP* OUR OWN BACKYARD!!! Of course she refused to poop or pee. But she didn’t have a choice, did she? And she peed about once a day and pooped about every 4 days or so. She still does sometimes, but usually when it’s wet outside.
(I found it! I knew I had everybody’s pooping picture!)
Even on a nice and clear, and most importantly, DRY day, it’s not easy for Brooklyn to poop. Because God forbid she’s considered easy in any aspect of her life! Everything has to be “just so” for her to assume the position. Wind, noise, smell, air quality, and some other mysterious things factor into her calculation deciding the exact time and place. Usually, one of those factors change in the midst of her push – change in wind direction or its speed, change in noise level, a car driving by, a squirrel moving on the other side of the fence, a leaf falling down, a dog barking 5 blocks away, a fly landing on the neighbor’s tree, Obama losing support, McCain fumbling on war issue, a cyclone in Myanmar, a star exploding in the galaxy far far away, etc, etc. And she would have to make necessary changes accordingly by looking for the perfect spot again and again and again. And yes, that quarter of a step to the left or right matters!
When she’s done, she breaks out of her pooping stance with a couple of steps, in which her hind legs are spread as wide as possible so as not to touch any poopage that rolled and strayed away from its kind in the pile. Then she trots away as if she cannot BELIEVE I’d let a poo pile inside our own yard. And she licks herself.
Regrettably, it seems I don’t have any pictures of Brooklyn pooping, only some peeing pictures. Here is one of her licking herself instead. I will add a picture as soon as possible.
I wish I knew how old Brooklyn is. I have had her since the fall of 2003, and the rescue I got her from estimated her to be 2 years old. Because she was not an owner surrender, it meant that she was at least 2 years old, which, as any dog person would know, means she could have been 2 years old or 3 or 4 or 5 or…. You really can’t tell how old a dog is after he/she’s fully grown.
Anyway, if she really was 2 years old back then, that means she’s 6 and a half right now. But something in my gut tells me she’s older than that. These are the reasons:
- In the beginning of this year, I freaked out when she yelped and cried for good 3 minutes after running full speed to chase some birds in the morning. She was diagnosed to have something exactly like sciatica (pinched nerves) in humans.
- She had been steadily gaining weight even though I had been giving her the same amount of food. The vet ruled out any medical cause, and she told me when a dog gets older, some dog’s metabolism does a nosedive, and that might be the case with Brooklyn. So I’m giving her way less food than before.
- She increasingly has a hard time chewing. Simple turkey bones or even muscle meat gives her problem and she seems to be frustrated by it.
The last one kinda bothers me a lot tonight – something about the way she ate today. When I think about it, she has never really loved chewing as far as I know. Yes, a dog who prefers not to chew. She’s a weirdo, what else is new? But now, something’s different. It’s more of inability than unwillingness. That worries me. A lot.
Brooklyn absolutely despises getting wet. She hates it so friggin much it’s not even funny. It’s not unusual for her to pee once a day and hold her poop for 3 or 4 days if it rains continuously for several days. And when she finally can’t hold it any more but if it’s still raining, she sprints out to the yard, makes a little poop mountain, and sprints back to the deck and waits to be let inside. Once she didn’t even pee for more than 36 hours.
Brooklyn also refuses to step on the grass on very humid summer days. If it’s pouring outside, she does not move an inch from the spot on the deck right in front of the glass door until Georgia is done peeing and pooping and making splashes in the mud puddles and finally lets back in, cause we all know, although the deck is not covered, that it’s much much better to get wet on the deck holding our pee and poop instead of stepping on the wet grass and mud to relieve ourselves.
We had snow last night, which turned into rain overnight, which made slush mud puddles all over the backyard. So when I got up this morning, Brooklyn was all happy and excited as usual that she got to go outside after a long 8 hours of outdoors deprivation. But once she got outside and took in the situation standing on the edge of the deck refusing to step down to the ground, she gave me the look that said “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”, turned around, walked back to the glass door, and stood there for 30 minutes, until Georgia’s done, never sitting down of course because that might be misconstrued as she’s comfortable. Then we got back inside.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
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Yeah, I'm gonna try this time. I must be crazy... not surprisingly.
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