Spike-alicious.

Spike had another vet visit. Our time with him has been shortened considerably. We were looking at 3 - 5 more months, and now we are at 2.

Two months. The cancer is spreading quickly, despite the meds.

I handled this by buying more squeaky toys and dog treats.*

Jeremiah handled this by driving us through McDonald's and getting Spike a burger and fries.

The vet handled this by giving Spike treat after treat. Seriously, I've never seen anything like it.

When your dying dog's favorite thing to do is to eat - you let him eat. In the last three weeks, he has gained a pound. That's a lot when you only weigh 17 pounds. The vet says he fully supports us having a fat dog at this point.

It's weird to think about him NOT being here. He's so stubborn and tough that I imagined him going on forever. But we are prepping ourselves for the upcoming months and doing everything we can to give Spikers a quality life.



*If you have dogs and have not tried the Neuman's dog treats (available at Target or Sprouts), you are missing out. They are little heart-shaped treats with a line down the middle so they can crack in half, which is great for us, because each dog gets a piece of the treat (At this point, Atticus has gained a bit of weight, too. But we will worry about that later.). The ingredients are SIMPLE and I can read them all - not a lot of fake-y chemical stuff. My dogs LOVE them. They adored the sweet potato treats and now we are on the peanut butter treats. We went out yesterday and bought more.

Days of Spike

Last Saturday we were all playing in the pool. I noticed that Spike's backside looked a little odd. I laughed about it, not really taking it serious. After all, this dog of ours is indestructible. He's practically a super species.

Regardless, I called the vet and Jeremiah took him in the next day.

Tuesday we got test results back.

Cancer.

Friday we had a follow-up. X-rays to see if it had spread to lungs or lymph nodes.

Has not spread to lungs, but the lymph nodes have been effected.

At this point, surgery to remove the tumor is basically pointless. Recovery time is extensive. With surgery, we'd have maybe a year. And that's if there are no complications and no infection.

Without, we have maybe four months.

Four months. For Super Spike. My heart breaks.

You would never guess he was sick. He's so happy and bouncy. And loud. His barker has not been touched.

We have opted to celebrate all of these days that we have with Spike, however many that may be. A trip to Cost-co and Petsmart had us dropping over a hundred on anything that squeaks and every treat we could find.

We will celebrate with him, and when he can't celebrate anymore, we will celebrate for him.

We are using #daysofspike on instagram and facebook if you'd like to find us. If not, please just send happy and positive thoughts our way.

Dogs & Rugs

After getting the mega-deal on tile Saturday, we stopped at Lowe's. Before we go in, we review what we need so as to not be distracted by the other pretty things. On our list for Saturday was spray paint (and stay tuned for that barrel of fun), paint brushes, and a review of what would be needed to tile. And that was it.

But to get to the tile section we had to pass the rug section. What a stink.

They had a rug. 8 x 10. Just what we wanted. In fact, we had looked at it before. We've been moving our gorgeous green jute rug around and have been desperately needing an additional rug. The difference was that the shaggy cream and beige rug was on sale. Regularly $168. Clearance at $118. Jeremiah thinks he can get them to go lower. Asks for a manager. Gets the price knocked down to $85. Dollars. For an 8x10 rug. It would have been stupid to not get the rug. We would never find it cheaper.

So we got it.


Where do the dogs come in? They love the rug.

 Here's the Kisser, ready to start a fine game of Kong ball.

 He's really just a blur once he gets moving.

 And slightly cat-like. Notice that his back leg is jammed up under his front one. Doggy yoga.

 Good times until...

 Wait. Let's double check.

 Yup. The ball rolled under the entertainment center.

 Again.

 This is Atticus's "Please get my ball. Someone. Anyone. Please get my ball."

And there you go. A post about a bargain rug and the dogs.

P.S. I don't know what point Atters switched from his Kong to the tennis ball. He's a quick little bugger, I tell ya.

Incognito

Spike came to the door with this feather stuck to his honker. Apparently he was disguised with a mustache as a...grumpy old guy.



Oh, wait. He is a grumpy old guy.


Or, sort of like a wolf in disguise.

Or, sort of like a sleazy European (I love Europe, for sure, but there is sleaze to be found on every continent.)


p.s. I reached a point where I was laughing and couldn't hold the camera still and he got to the point where he was all, "hey asshole, let me in". This shot is from before either of those things happened.

p.p.s. I've now included a handy little envelope thing in the bottom of every post. That way if you think, wow this girl is an idiot fun, you can email it to your friends. Or family. Share the love. 

Dog Days

For Christmas, early Christmas, Michigan Santa(s) sent me a digital STD camera. It's really called something else, but STD gets the eye-roll from Jeremiah. It's an SLR, I think. Anyway, I've been trying it out on a lot of plants (so fun) and I thought that the dogs might be good subjects, too. 'Cause they're cute. You know they are. Anyway, here are my favorite shots from this weekend.
I love both the shot above and below. I love the shadows on Spike.
The Kisser. Hiding/burrowing in the blankets.
Lean on me.
Below- He just looks so flippin' confused.
So I've noticed in the two days that I've used the camera that even when using the flash, it doesn't create red-eye like a point and shoot. In addition, I get a lot less shots that end up blurry. Thanks for checking out my pictures...and my pooches.

Nail Cuttin' Time

Every couple of months Spike and Jeremiah do a delicate dance called "Trimming of the Raptor Claws".

It doesn't go well.

Spike is a huge baby and whines, wiggles, and licks. The whole time.

While Atticus watches.

He usually gets his done at a grooming place because he bites when I try to do his. Naughtiness abounds!

So here's the first shot:
Atticus is simply enjoying the sun, perhaps teasing Spike.
Oh, yeah. The good life. But then wait...things are getting awkward.
Look at the Kisser's face now! He's worrying that he might be next. He's totally thinking, "Do not make eye-contact with the dude. Do not make eye-contact with the dude."

Final shot:
Dead wiener.

Hey La-dies!

I love (LOVE) this picture. We were waiting in line (a couple fall seasons ago) for parking at a hiking place in Sedona. I love that boyfriend and dog match. Green shirt, green paisley collar.

Mirror Mirror

An old picture, not to bum people out about Scout, but just because I really like the picture. Notice that they both have one straight paw and one curled up.

Sandbar

Yes, I have returned from Michigan. I'm still a bit traumatized over the fact that my parents are moving from my childhood home, where I lived from about five to twenty-six, to a new place.

Bah.

Yes, the new place is very nice.

So the trip will be briefly reviewed in another post, but NOT RIGHT NOW.

Right now it is time to tell you that boyfriend and I were swim swimming in the pool, like fishies yesterday. And we threw the tennis ball back and forth. I seriously love playing catch. Seriously. I'm probably part golden retriever. Anyway, Spike would get the ball for us when it went out of the pool. And he'd bring it back and drop it in the water. Set it down. Push it in with his nose. Way cool trick he's got going on.

But then, on a run to get the ball, our dear wiener did what most of us would do to get somewhere quickly - a direct line is shorter than a curved one, you take the direct line- he ran that direct line INTO the pool. Belly-flop into the deep end. He went under and popped back up (he's built like a little barrel), swam with some redirection from Jer to the steps, and hopped out. I think we were all in shock, even Atticus, who was witness to the event. "Holy shit. You went swimming." he said with his little Mexican accent.

When it was time to call it quits, I let Jeremiah pull me to the stairs. He even made boat noises "Vroom vroom..." and then he made a boat grinding into rocks sound and stopped quite suddenly. Apparently he couldn't stop in time and "we hit shore" he told me sadly.

We ran into the steps.

Cecum or Spleen?

Last week as Spike hopped down the stairs (typical, as his legs are an inch long. How else would he get down them?) he farted. On every. single. step. So funny. But combine that with the lethal gases he emitted the previous evening and we've got a problem. Some concerns.

Then, to add to our worries - Spike did not eat breakfast.

Spike eats everything. His diet often consists of transmission fluid as an appetizer followed by paint primer with a side of blanket, and a dessert of poop. Poop. And some pool water, because you know, it cleanses the system better than regular water.

Anyway. He wouldn't eat. Boyfriend was worried, I was worried. He left work to check on him and decided to take him to the vet. We heart our vet. I would drive lots of miles to get to them. They were wonderful with Atticus and Scout (I took Scout when she was going potty outside her boxes and they had to draw out her urine with a needle and she no-likey and I could hear her scream and yowl from another room. The vet came in, grabbed her kitty case, and said, "I'm just gonna grab this and put her in it. She's a little pissed off right now." So funny. It was at this point that Scout ended up on Prozac. The vet made me choose beef, chicken, or fish flavored Prozac. Seeing as how I don't care for fish, we don't eat red meat, I ended up choosing chicken. I hate speaking for Scoutie, but she seemed okay with it.).

Plus, they were wonderful when Scout died so suddenly in February. They even did her paw print in clay so I can keep it forever. So nice.

Anyway. Back to the emergency. They do x-rays. They don't see anything but an enlarged spot in his belly. Jeremiah calls (I can hear Spike barking from the x-ray room) and tells me it's his spleen. I ask tons of questions, get very few answers. I decide that Jer is NOT going to be helpful enough for my liking and I decide to call the vet later myself.

The vet is available to talk (so nice. heart my vet.) and he laughingly informs me that it wasn't his spleen but his cecum, which is an intestinal type thing. He ate something that caused an infection, which caused the endless gas and bloating.

The only other information Jeremiah gave me? That was wrong, too. Mr. Vet told me that he gets A LOT of women calling to check on things after their significant others have brought in a pet. We had a nice laugh about that.

Jeremiah is now required to cook Spikey Spikersons a meal (twice a day) of rice and scrambled egg. Can I just say? Do you know what I had for breakfast? Burned toast that was flourless and nature-y. Tasted like tree bark. I'm tempted daily to eat the breakfast so lovingly created for the wiener.

Animal House

I felt as though Scout needed some more time in the spotlight. She is, after all, my precious.
Adorable Atticus.
Now this is more of a dog search/count/connect the dogs. That's right. FOUR dogs in our house while Jeremiah's parents were here. Coco is in the chair and Pancho is on the floor.
Santicus and Pancho.
I guess chihuahuas gotta stick together.