Fall at the Farm (and Nashville!)

IT’S ALL MEANWHILE, back on the farm this week. I’m working on a fun topic for next time that requires more research than I have energy for (see below). But hopefully fun at the farm (and beyond) will be enough to amuse you and distract you from, well, you know, stuff.

Here are some shots from the best dog photographer ever, Steve Dahlgren of Dog Grin Photography. He is the one who took my author shot; you can tell it’s the same session because my hair is washed, I have on a little make up, not to mention a clean shirt. (Just ask Jim how rare that all is.)

I asked Steve to get some shots of me and Skip. Watch our faces for the progression of how much fun we each were having:

(Did you note my hair in poor Skip’s eye? I, of course, didn’t until I looked at the photos. Lordy what our dogs put up with.)

But here’s my favorite of them all, just me and my sheepdog, and him and his human:

It’s been a week. It started GREAT! I got to spend the weekend in Nashville with one of my nieces, the gorgeous and talented Wendy Piatt, who sings under the name of Sweetlove. I took her out for a pedi–I think this photo pretty much shows how I feel about her.

Wendy works part time at the famous Bluebird Cafe. If you know Nashville and singer/song writers, you know what a treat it was for me to get a seat the night that Jeff Trott (famous for writing many of Sheryl Crows hits) and Phil Barton (“A Woman Like You”) along with Alan Argyle who was also so so good.

The Bluebird is a music venue famous for giving some pretty good musicians their start, like, oh, I don’t know,  Kathy Mattea, Taylor Swift, and Garth Books. It felt crazy special to be there Saturday night, thanks to Wendy getting me a seat. Lucky lucky me. I even made it to the end at 10:45 (about 2 hours after Maggie and Skip look at us with the “it’s time to go to be bed, right?” look). Truth be told, even with my cane I got The Wobbles (scientific term for Tired + CFS + POTS + COPD + Old), and if you were there, I am the one who almost fell into the large trash bin on the way out, wishing I had a sign on my back that said “I am NOT drunk!). But it was magical!

Here are Jeff, Phil, and Alan warming up:

Ah, but magic never lasts. The trip home through O’Hare was, uh, not great. Airport insanely crowded, home 4 hours later than expected because after we settled on the plane, ready to take off, the hated announcement came. Waited an hour, deplaned, walked almost a mile to next plane, yadda yadda.

And so, Maggie and I decided to get sick. Tuesday I was under 2 blankets, my teeth rattling so hard you could hear them. Wednesday night Maggie got a UTI and had to go outside to pee every 20 minutes. I managed to get her to stretch it out another 5 or 10, but spent the night on the couch on high alert, up off the couch every 30 minutes. Luckily our vet clinic got us in on the next morning and we got her on antibiotics right away. They kicked in fast, the next night she made it from 11 to 4, so I got some real sleep. Saturday we left the house for a few hours, and came back to find what I wish I’d had the presence of mind to photograph. No, wait, you’re welcome. I’m glad to have spared you the massive quantities of dog vomit all over the rug we just had professionally cleaned. (That she’d peed on pooped on 3 days before, see UTI above.)

Maggie ate a massive amount of ZiZi plant leaves and stems, a plant I had recently purchased knowing that it was not poisonous, but might cause digestive discomfort if dogs or cats eat it. No problem, Maggie doesn’t eat plants, although, now that I reflect on it, she has on rare occasion nibbled on a plant when she has an acid stomach.

    You can tell how big this plant used to be by the size of the container.

This was not nibbling. She ate a good third of a large plant. There must have been 2-3 cups of leaves and stems on the rug. I contact Dr. Google first, who informed me that it contains calcium oxalates, that it is not a systemic poison, but causes irritation and burning in the mouth and digestive tract. I called a local veterinary ER, and spoke to someone who clearly knew nothing about the plant and gave me the usual “withhold food, gradually introduce white rice and chicken….”. I’m someone whose freezer has containers labeled “cooked rice for dogs,” “skinless cooked chicken for dogs,” and “cooked rice and chicken broth for dogs,” (with no fat/no salt), but not the sense to avoid bringing this plant into my home. (Please talk amongst yourselves about what an idiot I am. I’ve got that covered, especially while lying on the couch, stroking Maggie’s head, while she lay on the couch in pain.) But I did feel the need to talk to someone in vet medicine who knew what I was talking about, especially since Maggie refused food and water all afternoon.

Maggie’s discomfort morphed into real pain throughout the afternoon and evening. I talked several times to a different ER clinic’s vet assistant (who was informed, professional and truly helpful) about whether I should bring her in. Given that there was little to be done but pain control, he agreed it was a good idea to give her the Gabapentin I already had that a vet had prescribed for her for something else. (This after almost an hour on hold with the ASPCA’s poison control hotline, a call that then dropped–“Call Failed.”)

Maggie finally drifted off, we got a little (restless) sleep, and Maggie woke up Sunday morning a little hungry, a little wobbly, but so so much better. Now it was time for a tiny bit of rice, some water, then tiny meals throughout the day. This morning (Monday), I’ve talked to our vet about my concerns about her kidneys (recovering from UTI, no water, Stage 2 kidney disease). We go in Friday to have her checked out. She says she’s fine, and could we please go out and play some more? And about that chicken . . .

Skip, who has padded between me and Maggie with his “are you alright?” look on his face for days, finally got to work sheep at friend Donna’s yesterday. He first had to confront a goat, famous for going after dogs. He stared her down at the fence and got her to turn away, but she came back later with an invisible sign saying Goats Are Smart, and rather than confront him nose to nose, stood on the fence to loom over him.

Skip, Donna, Wisp, and I couldn’t find her sheep at first. Here’s Skip looking at me with a clear question: “I don’t see ’em. You?”

Turns out they were at the back of the field, hidden in the shadow of the woods. Skip and I had a good time working, and when he was done, he ran to the water tank in the barn to cool off. Where he encountered yet other confusing “not sheep” creatures, the chickens. Please imagine a speech bubble over his head and tell me what he is thinking.

It’s time for me to catch up on other things now that Maggie and I are both on the road to recovery. Here’s hoping that your beloved pet never eats a ZiZi plant (super popular house plant because it needs so little light), that you and your loved ones are healthy enough to find joy and pleasure in the little things, and that we all avoid falling into trash cans in our future.