Dealing with Booker's "hairy eyeball"

This morning we're on tenterhooks. Booker, Fran's five-month-old Boston Terrier puppy is having surgery today to remove a growth (dermoid cyst) from his right eye.
Aside from being good fodder for jokes (Booker's quite literal "hairy eyeball"), there's nothing good or fun about it. From the stress of diagnosis, to finding a good specialty vet, to figuring out how to pay, to worrying about the procedure, the follow-up, and the long-term ramifications - it's all a source of stress. And it's one that every pet owner faces at some point.
So how do you find a good veterinarian? It takes some research, which is easier now than ever before. The internet makes it both simpler and more perplexing - after you've read umpteen dozen reviews of a particular veterinary hospital, what impression are you left with? Good, bad, more confused than when you started?
We've been going to the same veterinarian since before there was an internet. But I still remember how we found her - a friend whose opinion we trusted referred us - with glowing accolades. So we tried her and we liked her. And she listens to us. Which is increasingly rare and much appreciated. When we take one of our dogs in because "he's just not right" - she takes us seriously and works to find the source of the issue.
So the first resource for finding a good vet is to ask people you trust - people who take care of their pets the way you want to. People whose pets are healthy and happy.
If you have several to choose among, secondary considerations may be costs, hours, and distance. When you've made your decision, it may be a good idea to make an appointment and take your pet for a "wellness check." It's an opportunity to assess the facility, personnel, and the vet - before you and your pet are in urgent need.

Worth every penny

We just couldn't let it rest. Okay - Roc's fan club nagged until we went and got a third opinion on what was going on with him.
Thank goodness for friends! Our regular vet was right - Roc does have something growing at the base of his heart. A pad of fat. Perfectly benign. Yippeee!
And there is something going on with his lungs - chronic bronchitis.
We're absolutely thrilled! Roc's not so happy about it, though. When we feared the worst he was getting scrambled eggs every night with his dinner. Now he's back to beans. After all, a healthy guy's got to stay in fighting trim!

All clear - maybe

I really, really loathe talking to veterinary specialists. It's like trying to nail Jell-o to a wall. The upshot is: they "appreciate no abnormalities" in Roc's x-ray, see no reason for further testing and generally looked at me as if I were insane when I asked if we shouldn't do the ultrasound our regular vet sent me up there for.
So - what do I do now? The vet who's been taking care of our dogs for a couple of decades, has fantastic diagnostic skills and who's never been wrong thinks something's going on with Roc. And the specialist tells me nothing's going on, since he has no acute symptoms and no obvious abnormalities.
That sound you hear is my head hitting the desk. Repeatedly.

Scratching our heads...

I got the results of Dax's blood tests back yesterday. She's perfect. Not fine, not okay, not even iffy. She's absolutely perfect.
So why is her fur falling out? Why is she always freezing? Why did she get snarky with her dog friends at class?
I'm planning to talk to a vet here who's into canine nutrition, holistic stuff, etc. She also does acupuncture, rehab, etc. I took Roc to play on her underwater treadmill when he had an issue this year.
If she doesn't have any suggestions for us, I'm planning to blame it all on Tessa.

She's fallen off the veggie wagon!

I took Ceilidh and Dax to the vet for their annual visit last Friday. Ceilidh is a solid mass of muscle and pretty perfect in every way. (Okay, her teeth need some additional attention, brushing-wise. But I dare you to come and stick your finger in an unhappily-squirming, really-don't-want-this Boston Terrier mouth. With all those lovely Boston Terrier teeth in that so-strong-you-can-swing-me-around-by-my-toy Boston Terrier jaw.)

Dax, on the other hand, has gained a couple of pounds. She's a bit round at the moment and needs to lose it. French Bulldogs, I'm told, gain weight very easily, and the three months we've missed agility haven't helped.

But the poor girl doesn't seem to have her nutrition facts straight! For the last week, Dax has rejected, refused to eat, even spits out! her vegetables. This is the girl who would forego hotdogs for lettuce! Her favorite munch was carrots! We used celery as her focus/tug toy in agility class! And now she won't touch the stuff.

Last night we had her absolute favorite - Romaine Lettuce. She took a piece, crunched and spat. I don't know who told her that veggies were on the "don't" list, but I hope she stops listening to this evil propaganda. I need my Daxie to eat her veggies!

Winter weight

Our dogs are fat. I got the official word yesterday, when I took Golly and Roc in for their annual shots. Golly's managed to gain half a pound in just four months. Which for me, would be no great feat. But for a 12-pound dog, it's too much. Roc's not in much better shape, he gained a few ounces, too.

I blame winter. When it's sub-zero out (with the wind chill), who wants to go trotting around in the great outdoors? Not me. And not my dogs. They're not stupid. Cuddling in the nice, warm house is a wonderful winter pastime. Just not very good for your figure.

So, the spring/summer/fall regime will start - more moving accompanied by less eating. We've been put under orders by our vet, the wonderful Dr. Janice.

Who, as we were leaving her office, asked me if Golly and Roc could have a cookie. Hard to resist, aren't they?

You Think You Know Guilt?

Golly's a champion at guilt. The vet wanted to do a full blood work-up on her today, so we couldn't give the princess anything to eat after midnight last night (this morning). Now, that doesn't sound so awful - it is less than a day, and we would be sending along her breakfast so it's not even a few hours that Golly would be without food. No matter. This has disrupted her whole routine. We've cut her throat (figuratively speaking, of course). We are horrible people. Her siblings were eating breakfast, and then treats and Golly got nothing. Oh, that's not right adding insult to injury we gave Golly her blood pressure medicine.

When Golly turns those big brown eyes on you, you want to give her anything she wants. It doesn't work trying to explain that it's for her own good - we just want her to be healthy. That doesn't matter. Golly has gone without food. As I was eating breakfast this morning - that's right, and not giving any to Golly - the little manipulator was lying on a pad on the floor and just breathing. Not the little normal, almost inaudible, breaths. No - the long-suffering sighing breaths of the neglected. And this evening when I come home I fully expect to get the cold shoulder from Golly. Oh yes, she knows guilt.

What a good girl!

Golly is Fran's dog. Completely. Brussels Griffons are a "velcro" breed - you never have to look for your Griff, because she's always at your side. I never have to look for Roc, Fran never has to look for Golly. It's just the way it is.

On a rather routine exam, the vet discovered that Golly, now 11 years old, had significantly high blood pressure. Which was contributing to a host of other issues. It was imperative that we get it under control - quickly. So we started her on some meds and committed to taking her in once a week for re-checks.

Week after week, no joy in Mudville. Her blood pressure stayed dangerously high and even getting a decent reading was becoming difficult - Golly didn't understand what was going on and didn't like it one little bit. So, we began practicing at home - I would play doctor and fake the bp cuff with a bit of cloth while Fran steadied her and offered treats.

The good news is - it worked! Golly's bp, with an accurate reading, is under control and she was a model patient at the vet's office.

When Fran told me the good news, I was rather surprised by my own reaction. I can't stop smiling about it. Every time I look at Golly, I'm just delighted and all over smiles. I didn't really realize how much I cared about her. But if I want to find her - I still just have to look for Fran.