REFLECTIONS ON A SECOND-HAND DOG.
Grief.  Everybody experiences grief of some kind at some time in their lives.  When we lost Barkley, when he passed away, it felt so devastatingly awful.  We decided that we didn't ever want another dog.  That we could never go through the grief of losing it.  It wasn't worth it.    We decided, right!
 About four weeks after living in a house that seemed deathly quiet and being free to come and go as we chose;  to walk in the mall; to go out for dinner, guiltlessly; to have a whole bed to ourselves; nobody to clean up after;  we decided to have a quick peak at the new SPCA  and see if they had any jack russells.  This was on March 4th, 2011.
The girl at the front desk told us they had two little jack-russell-type dogs.  She stressed jack-russell type, because one of them,   who we were assured was  a jack-russell, was thin and had scraggy hair and looked more like a cross between a shitzu and a mexican hairless.  The other dog was a dreadfully shy little female who was a typical pudding jack.
We first interviewed the little female.  She had been owned by an elderly lady who had either died or had moved to a home, we weren't sure about this, but she was terrified of us, and no matter how gentle we were, and how much we tried to befriend her, she pushed her body against the wall and defecated as she walked.  This was so stressful for her and for us, that we reluctantly asked the girl to put her back in her cage and let us see the little guy with the thin scruffy hair.  He was aloof but quite friendly.  We took him for a little walk on the grounds and he ran happily along.  He seemed a strange little creature who seemed to accept us in his own way.  He wasn't a lovey dovey.  He didn't lick us or act excited, he just accepted us.   Somehow, we knew he was the one we wanted.
 The little scraggy, thin dog, with sparse scruffy hair was named Milo, the girl at the front desk  told us.  She also assured us he was only five years old.  I  kind of felt a pang and told Barry, my husband, that I wanted to adopt him, but we were told that we had to come back the next day, to pick him up.  They wanted to make sure that we really wanted to do this and it wasn't just a spur of the moment decision.
The next day, dutifully, we arrived at the SPCA, nice and early, anxious and excited to get our new little boy.  The first thing we did was change his name, Barry picked the name, "Scruffy",  for two reasons.  First of all, my little great nephew is named Milo, and secondly, Barry thought Scruffy was the most suitable name for this little scruffy muffin.
 We picked out a soft kennel  for him to sleep in, and he was given to us with an old blanket  that was full of holes.  The old blanket and the worn blue collar were the only things that he owned when he came to us.  His story was,  that he was picked up nineteen kilometres north of Ponoka, running along the highway, without any markings or identification.  He was kept in the Ponoka SPCA  from July until Christmas of 2010.  Nobody wanted him.  He was brought to the Red Deer SPCA in January of 2011, and was there until we found him in March.  I have no idea what he looked like when he was first found, because by the time we got him, he was still no handsome boy, that's for sure.  He had been neutered in February and had been given most of his needles - and he was now ours!!!
That night, I put him in his new kennel in the bedroom.  Before the night was over, he was sleeping in bed with us, and has slept, every night curled up against Barry's legs, ever since.  The next day we took him to the vet for a check up.  The vet examined him and told us that he had lost several teeth and that some of the remaining teeth were broken.  He also told us that he had a bit of arthritis and cataracts were starting to form.   He also said that he was closer to ten years old than five.  We have since found out that he has an enlarged heart and is quite deaf, indeed. 
 What a bargain - our little second-hand dog!   But I'm telling you, I wouldn't trade him for the world now.  He's gained too much weight and is on a bit of a diet.  He has also grown so much hair (rough not silky) that he looks like a muppet with his bushy hair and dark eyes, he has become my little ghost and follows me everywhere.  He's has some health problems and we have no pretenses that he is going to live for years and years, but the joy he gives is worth the little time we may have with him, and we are glad that we have rescued him and given him some peace in his last years.  I have only one wish, and that is, I wish he could tell us where he came from and what he has been through before he came to us.  I would love to write his story, and may be one day, I will, at least, I'll make it up. 
 

On Losing 40 Pounds

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I am a member of TOPS. Everybody rolls their eyes when they hear this - but it's not just another weight-loss fad, this is an organization that helps you change your lifestyle, if you are seriously looking into becoming healthier.

Taking Off Pounds Sensibly Club, Inc. or TOPS is the original, non-profit, weight-loss support and wellness education organization. It was established in 1948 in Milwaukee to champion weight-loss support and success. TOPS promotes successful, affordable weight management with a philosophy that encourages healthy eating, regular exercise, wellness information, awards and recognition and support from others at weekly meetings. It costs $30.00 a year to belong to the national organization and you receive, free, in the mail, a monthly magazine (TOPS News), plus, it cost a nominal fee of about $7.00 a month for local meeting expenses. There is a private weigh-in at the beginning of each meeting followed by an interactive program focussed on various aspects of a healthy lifestyle.

Since 1966, TOPS has provided more than $6,000,000.00 to establish and support a medically-oriented obesity and metabolic research program at the Medical College of Wisconsin. Findings from these studies have been published in more than 140 papers and medical journals. TOPS members are currently part of a landmark research project overseen by Dr. Ahmed Kissebah, medical advisor to TOPS. The TOPS mission is to support our members as they take off and keep off pounds sensibly.

I joined a local TOPS Club on February 16th, 2010. It has been a great journey for me. I have made numerous new friends and on October 5th, 2010, I became a KOPS (Keeping Off Pounds Sensibly) by reaching my goal of losing forty pounds. Every week, I meet the others at the church. We have a greeter (a hugger) who meets us at the door, we weigh in, then enjoy a program that one of the volunteers gives or has arranged. Once a month, we have awards day and every month, so far, I have won at least one award (a pin of our choice) to add to our collection of pins on the collars that we wear. Some people have been going for years, one lady received a special 11-year KOPS pin today, and next week, another lady will be receiving her 35th year KOPS pin. This is a real honour, to have reached your goal weight and to continue to come to the meetings, year in and year out, supporting others in their efforts, as well as keeping yourself in check. These KOPS members are the people who have inspired me and I hope that I can do the same for others.

I joined TOPS in 1994, and once I had lost the weight I needed to lose, I quit. Within a very few years, I had gained more than ever before. I feel I need the support and regimen of a program such as TOPS. Obviously, I don't have the will-power to keep it up on my own. It is probably a life-time commitment, and as long as I am able, I will be a member.

Having reached my goal of weight loss, I now have taken up an exercise regimen. I make it a point to walk rather than drive, if possible. I have taken up mall-walking when it's cold, but when the weather permits, I love to walk outside. I am 68 years old, going on 69 and want to live a healthy elderly life. I am a director and a sometime-actor and learning lines, although harder than when I was young, is probably good exercise for my brain. Now if I could find some easy way to keep my skin from stretching and falling back into wrinkles on my face, I would be very happy indeed. Haha!

Carole Forhan.

The Dog With the Remarkable Bottom

GoogleTHE DOG WITH THE REMARKABLE BOTTOM by Carole Forhan

Barkley is no perfect, prize-winning Jack Russell. He is overweight and shaped square, like a brick. When an acquaintance met him once, she remarked that they'd never seen a "square" dog before. Thinking about him, I suppose that's what he looks like.. He has thick ears which both stand upright when he is happy, and one flops down when he is relaxed. They go back and against his head when he is thinking. He smiles a lot and wags his little stump of a tail when he meets anyone. He is a wonderful boy, overeats unfortunately, but is well over-loved. Barkley is a very special dog.

He was supposed to be a Mother’s Day present, l996, but instead my husband Barry and I got him a few days earlier because the farm where he came from, could no longer keep him in the manger where he was born. His being born in a manger should have been a tip-off, of what a good boy we were getting. One afternoon about a week earlier than planned, this little squirming Jack Russell pudding pup was given to us by our children.

He never, ever gave us a day of concern. He only had one accident in the house as a pup, never chewed on anything that wasn't allowed, was easily trained to come and stay by my side, and generally lived to please us.

Over the course of the next year, we adopted a sister for him and called her Rosie. After a tragic day of fitting in (Barkley bit Rosie on the ear), they became each other's half and there wasn't a day that he didn't adore her or she him. They ran, walked, ate and slept together. Rosie was a little bossy at times, and Barkley allowed her to think that, but Barkley was always really the Boss Man. The only problems we had were when Rosie would get into trouble trying to boss strange dogs, and Barkley would have to go in and defend her honour, despite her always being in the wrong. But that was Barkley, being a dog, he never judged anyone or anything.

Rosie was a very special dog, but in a different way to Barkley. Rosie was Parson Russell pup and she came with papers. She was beautiful, slim and taller than Barkley. She was the love of his life. She was also my little white ghost. She followed me incessantly, wherever I was, Rosie was always there behind me. She looked up to me and thought I was very smart, in fact, she had never met anyone as wonderful as I was. It can be quite distracting at times to be adored so unequivocally and so utterly.

One Christmas, Barry had been having terrible heart burn and I forced him to go to the doctor and ask for some medication to help him. The heart burn turned out to be more than we both expected, and he was immediately hospitalized for heart problems. A couple of days later he was transferred to Calgary's Foothill's for an angiogram. He almost didn't survive this procedure and went into congestive heart failure. Immediate quadruple bypass saved his life, but took a lot out of him, he was very ill for several months and was eventually forced to retire from his work at Bowden Prison as Warden of Administration. Barkley never left Barry's side from then on. It became Barkley's job to lick Barry all over. Every single night since then, before he goes to sleep, Barkley has given Barry his "wash". He actually nursed Barry through his illness. He licked his wounds when they had healed, and the scars up the length of his legs from the transplant, and the terrible scar on his chest.. There's hardly a trace of any scars from that dramatic surgery. We decided that if Barkley was human he would have been a doctor. He always tries to "fix" people if they have cuts or bruises. Most, including myself, don't particularly like to be licked and licked by a dog with the intensity that he puts into it. Barry loves it, so Barkley does have at least one patient, patient!

We had years of joy, walking miles across town on the trails to the river, "birthday parties" when I would dress them both up and give them presents, usually fifty-cent stuffed animals from the Sally Ann. Rosie would gut them within hours, I often used to wonder what kind of a mother she would have been if we hadn't had her spayed. Would she have eaten her young with the same ferocity that she would tear into a teddy bear? Barkley was more of a "ball" man and loved a game of chasing a ball around a field.

Michael comes in about once a month and we'd go walking on the trails or the fields, and Michael would always be following with his wonderful camera snapping away at the antics of Rosie and Barkley. As a result of these photographic walks, we have thousands of photos of our happy days running with our two little jacks.

Then one day early Spring of 2010, Rosie stopped running. She came down with something that took all the life out of her. The vet never found out what it was, it was never diagnosed. After several hospital stays, x-rays, tests, and medications,

she faded despite all our efforts. One Saturday night, she couldn't even lift her head and I fed her water from an eye-dropper. We decided this was enough, we picked up her basket with her in it, and drove to the Emergency Animal Clinic in Red Deer and held her in our arms while they gave her a needle and she just drifted off to sleep, peacefully.

Barkley was distressed for weeks after. He would stand on the bed and look at the place where she used to sleep. Eventually, her memory faded from his mind, but other things started to happen. For years, Barkley had had a fat bottom. In fact, my sister, laughingly pointed out that she'd never met a dog with such a remarkable bottom. She said, laughlingly, "he has bum cheeks" . That large bottom turned out to be an enormous tumor, hard and heavy and growing, pushing into his body and pushing against his back leg, pushing into his lungs, causing him to have trouble breathing. We are nursing Barkley and keeping him sedated as much as possible. He still insists on giving Barry his nightly bath, even though it's more like a cat's lick now. Once again, there is nothing that the vet can do for him. We've had x-rays and tests and he's on several types of medications, but nothing is slowing this relentless growth. For a while he had difficulty getting up stairs, then it became impossible, so we'd have to carry him up. Now he cannot go down the stairs, and we have to carry him down. We watch and we wait. We'll know when the time is right. When he stops wagging his stump every time he sees one of us and when he stops wanting his dinner. We'll know when the time is right.

Why do they protect murdered children?

I notice that when a minor has been slaughtered by a parent, a babysitter or a caregiver such as a foster parent, the newspaper always reports that they do not announce the names of the child, the parents or the accused according to provincial laws. I wonder who they are protecting? Not the child - and why protect the murderers?

Also, I'm curious about the fact that murderers are mostly "kind, generous and gentle folk" to their family and neighbours. You hardly ever hear a neighbour saying something like, "that guy was a freak and scared all of us to death", or "she was a horrible woman, who used to beat puppies". It seems to be a surprise and shock to those who knew them before.