Angela and Conjunctivitis

Being the dog-ma (Get it?! LAWL! Play on words! I'm an English Major so this makes me witty and creative!....Right? ;___;) of a pup of depressingly low intellect, one would expect that Angela would get herself injured or in trouble quite often.

You bet your ass she does.

Angela has a penchant for doing one or more of the following things:

1. Eating Mommy and Daddy's shoes/shirts
2. Eating Daddy's jeans and leaving holes in inappropriate places
3. Eating Mommy's make up
4. Eating in the garbage can
5. Eating kitty litter out of Kitkat's litter box
6. Drinking out of the toilet
7. Digging giant trenches in the backyard
8. Pooping in the den/dining room/kitchen
9. Harassing Kitkat to the point where blood is drawn by the cat

Numbers 1,3,4,5,6,7 and 9 all happened this week. Let's focus on #9.

Besides Angela, I have the meanest little tortoiseshell cat in existence.

See? She doesn't even want me to take a simple photo of her.


Her name is Kitkat and my God in Heaven does she hate the dog. Whenever Angela goes near her, Kitkat lets out this strange high/low pitched growling that sounds like a cross between a guinea pig's squeak and a car motor.

Angela, being not much smarter than the average bear (or in this case, dog), does not take the hint and continues to pester the cat to play. Kitkat does not respond well to this and usually ends with Angela getting clawed in the face and turning tail to hide under the safety of the queen sized bed in the master bedroom.

Four days ago, Angela got more than a scratch at her face.

The day after Angela got scratched, I noticed her right eye looked very red and swollen. I asked Jonathan if it was possible for dogs to get pink eye and he said he didn't know. We chalked it up to Angela being ignorant of the cat's warnings and got popped in the eye.

The second day Angela had a streak of puppy tears down her right eye and I noticed she couldn't completely open it. She looked so sad it nearly broke my poor little heart, By the end of the night, she started rubbing her eye against her paws as if she were extremely irritated. Jonathan and I decided that if this wouldn't go away by the weekend, we would take Angela to the vet.

Unfortunately Saturday was too far away. By Wednesday, Angela was scratching at her eye and tearing up like a crazy pup! I couldn't just sit by and do homework while my puppy was looking at me with pain literally in her eyes. I decided to call the vet for a last minute walk-in. No way was I going to make my pup-magup wait around until Saturday to be taken care of. She was in too much pain to put off a vet visit.

Here's a photo of my poor little pup-magup's scratched up eye. The entire white of her eye was a pinky red-color. If you'll look closely at the inner corner of her eye, you can see it better.



Taking Angela to the vet is one of the suckiest things in the history of suck. She doesn't heel and cower in a curled up ball of fur.

No, no.

She LOVES going to the vet. She hops all over the receptionists and nurses. Fortunately, they love Angela's energy and don't mind when she gets hoppy. Angela is probably the most social dog I will ever have. She adores people. Whenever I take her out, she's sniffing and barking and jumping at people that walk by. The vet is no exception. Even if they stick a thermometer up her butt, she'll still look at the doctor with adoring eyes.

When I entered the vet's office, Angela went full blast into hyper-puppy mode. She jumped all over the waiting room chairs, sniffed at other patients' owners' butts, and dragging me along on the leash. I will love that dog forever but GOD she is infuriating at the vet.

It only gets worse. I had thought Angela outgrew this, but she did it anyway when she laid eyes on our veterinarian, Dr. McKehee.

She had excited pee.

Twice.

I'm starting to suspect she has a crush on the Vet.

Dr. McKehee confirmed my suspicions, though. The cat it turns out DID get Angela in the eye. Apparently, when the cat swiped at Angela, her claw swiped right under the lid which irritated it and gave Angela conjuntivitis. Normally, it can just go away on it's own given a couple days with some basic eye drops. But apparently if the syptoms worsen and are ignored it can turn out to be something alot worse like glucoma, which can have serious consequences such as loss of sight if not treated. I'm much happier taking Angela to the vet and finding out it's nothing; unlike what happened when Jonathan and I first brought Angela home.

All I have to do is squirt some medicated eye drops in her eye for a week and it should clear up nicely. I just have to make sure she doesn't rub her eye and irritate it more.

So let me get this straight. I have to stop Angela from being irritating for a whole week?

Wish me luck.

The Kennel

Every time Jonathan and I need to leave the house, we put Angela up in her roomy kennel for her own safety and our sanity. At first, I didn't like leaving Angela in the kennel. I thought it was cruel and inhumane considering we adopted Angela to keep her out of a cage. Eventually, I came around to the kennel.

Why?

Last time I let Angela have roaming-the-house-while-Mommy- and-Daddy-are-out privileges, I came home to find Angela sitting on the kitchen table with:

 1. My leopard print kitten heels torn to shreds
2. A shredded pouch of Chips Ahoy cookies
3. Five bottles of vitamins chewed open and completely eaten
4. Trash scattered all over the floor
5. Chewed up plastic cups from the food pantry
6. Chewed up pencils from the pencil/pen cup
7. Cabinets opened
8. Shredded chew toys with stuffing everywhere

And of course, there's my little Angela, wagging her tail and smiling all the while as if to say: "Welcome home, Mom! Hope you don't mind the mess!"

So yeah, I can live with Angela being in the kennel now.

Honestly, Angela seems to like it in there now that she's used to it. It's become her little home while Mommy and Daddy aren't home. At first, Jonathan and I had to literally drag her in there by the scruff of her neck to get her in there. Now, it's even gotten to the point where we just point in the right direction and Angela goes into her kennel on command without me or Jonathan having to push her in there.

In her kennel, she gets a full bowl of food, a full bowl of water, a soft fluffy towel (hot from the dryer!) to sleep on, some toys, and a knuckle bone to chew on during the day. Seems like she can't cause any trouble in there, right?

WRONG!

She can make just as much trouble.

Whenever I come home from classes or work, I usually find Angela's food scattered all over the kitchen floor surrounding her kennel with her food bowl tipped over. Her water bowl is also tipped over, leaving her not-so-fresh-and-clean towel in the kennel soaking wet and smelling of puppy food. And of course, there's my little Angela, wagging her tail to greet me home and smiling all the while as if to say "Welcome home, Mom! Hope you don't mind the mess!"

I don't. As long as it's compactly contained.

Angela Vs. Snow-pocalypse 2011

Snow-pocalypse has hit Memphis, Tn yesterday at 12:30 pm yesterday afternoon. Just about everything within a 5 mile radius of my house was shut down around 3 and it took my poor Jonathan 2.5 hours to get home from work yesterday thanks to the fact that the people of Memphis freak out over snow.

I was one of the people trapped at home. What did I do all day while awaiting the love of my life to come home?

I got to watch my dog run all over the backyard deck and shove snow up her nose like she was Tony Montana.

Angela LOVES snow. Seriously. She goes absolutely crazy when she sees it. This is how Angela's processing that there is snow falling occurs:

1. Angela looks outside the window and makes a deep growling sound and hunches into what I can only assume is a puppy battle stance as if the snow were a serial killer disguised as snow ready to chop me into itty bitty pieces

2. As soon as Angela realizes that the snow is not a serial killer but actually snow, she decides "Oh, wait! That's fun stuff! OMG! Mama, can I PLEASE go out in the snow?!" and starts hopping around on her hind legs.

3. Once she's started doing her little snow dance, she lets out this whining sound that is both heart breaking and infuriating at the same time. It sounds like a cross between nails on a chalkboard and Gopher's lisp from Winnie the Pooh and it goes on FOREVER. Maybe that's retarded puppy speak for "PLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSEEE
EE?"

Then I cave cuz I can't take the sound of her crying and let her outside.

Despite Angela's (many) mental short-comings, she looks like she's genuinely happy when she sees snow. We have a sloped backyard with a hill at the back of the yard, so there are lots of deep piles of snow for Angela to dive in like it was instead deep piles of Bacon Bits. Unfortunately, it looks like the snow is starting to melt. Right now Angela is playing "Watch Dog". The game consists of Angela acting like a regular, obedient dog, just sitting and protectively watching the neighbors' yards with a proud, almost Lassie-like demeanor.This usually lasts for about 20 seconds. Then Angela catches our next door neighbor committing the heinous, unforgivable crime of checking on the pipes in his backyard and feels the need to alert me by barking with excruciating passion.

Once Angela recognizes our neighbor and decides to let him off with a warning, she runs back to the deck and starts to sniff at and eat the melting snow and ice. She seems almost entranced by it.

Angela's thought process as she gazes at the snow: "For some strange reason, all that cold white stuff is getting smaller and wetter and making ME all wet! My God, outside is so much weirder than inside!"

**icicles drop from the roof rim of the house**

Angela: "YIPE! YIPE! YIPE! ARF ARF ARF!!! Mr. Man in the next yard!!! ARF ARF ARF!!! Help!! The house is breaking!! MAMA!! ARF ARF ARF ARF!!!!"

Mama (that's me): "ANGIE! Knock it off and get in the house!"

**Angela dashes into the house shivering and soaking wet with paws covered with snow and mud that I have to clean up while she runs upstairs to jump in my nice clean laundry basket I brought up**


Snow-pocalypse: 1

Angela: 0

Me: 0


Epic Fail.

One Sick Puppy

So Jonathan I discovered our new puppy had a life threatening virus, Parvo, that usually kills puppies if they get it. As you can imagine, I burst into tears instantly. For those of you who don't know what Parvo is, it's a virus that just eats the puppy from inside out. It's very contagious to puppies that are under a year old and is especially contagious through feces. It's agonizingly painful and fatal.

Jonathan and I took Angela to our regular vet, McGehee Animal Clinic, the very next day to begin treatment. It was very hard for me to leave that puppy in the vet clinic. Jonathan tried to cal me down by taking me to Young Ave. Deli for some sweet potato fries and we had a horrible conversation.

"Baby, you know there's a chance she might not make it".

I start crying instantly.

"It might get too expensive..."

I just keep crying.

"I feel bad, too, baby, but we've done what we can. We have to accept that it might get too expensive or she just won't make it."

"But it's not fair! She's just a little puppy, baby."

"I know, baby. I hate this too. I was real excited to get this dog, too. But shit happens. Once enough time goes by...we can get another puppy."

"I don't even want to think about that."

"I know, baby. It'll all be ok."

"Can we pray for her?"

"Sure, baby."

"Right now?"

"Sure, baby."

We held hangs in the booth and closed our eyes to pray. I had a hard time even concentrating on praying for the puppy. All I could do was picture our sweet little puppy lying in a cage, scared and shaking with tubes all stuck in her, wondering where her new parents were and why they weren't with her. I couldn't concentrate in class at all. That idea of her being alone and scared stuck with me the entire week Angela was under care at the vet.

I felt helpless, I didn't lose hope. Even though there was a sinking feeling of despair in my chest, every day after classes I would go straight to Mc Gehee and visit my puppy. She couldn't do much thanks to her lack of strength, but I wanted to see Angela nonetheless. Angela would just lie there and look at me, looking like she was on death's door. I cried each and every time I had to leave her. To give her a little drive to get better, I left a glove of mine in her kennel with her so she could smell her mommy even though I wasn't there with her.

The bill was getting very expensive and it was about to be a week. I had just left my English Lit. class and drove to McGehee to check on Angela. Jonathan and I had "the talk" one more time before I went to the vet. I was honestly starting to expect the worst  when the nurses let me in the back to behold one of the most wonderful sights. In Angela's kennel wasn't a sickly looking pup, but a healthy Angela standing and wagging her tail!

Angela started responded to the treatment the previous night and showed huge signs of improvement. She was eating and holding down food. She could go home with us in two days! The nurses recommended that we take that time to clean the house and get rid of anything she might have come in contact with at the house. Even though she was improving, there was a chance of relapse if the house wasn't cleaned.

The next 48 hours were going by far too slowly for me. All I could think about was bringing Angela home and bundling her in a big fluffy blanket and giving her all the love I had to give her. Jonathan and I took those next two days to get rid of anything she was near that might have had Parvo bacteria on it. We even had to get rid of some of our clothes and towels! Personally, I had no problem getting rid of the jeans she threw up on when we got her from Oxford. It's very hard to wear jeans again that have been puked on.

The kitchen and bedroom were the worst parts of the house to clean. The kitchen was difficult because we had let her lie on a pile of towels, but she just kept having accidents on the floor. So Jonathan and I had to really scrub down the floors. The bedroom was a bit more difficult thanks to the fact we let Angela sleep up there with us and we weren't sure where all she might have lied down. We got rid of a lot of things in our bedroom.

Once the 48 hours finally passed, Jonathan and I brought Angela back home where she belonged. She still had to take some medicine for the next month 3 times a day, but that was worth her being home. We bought Angela a brand new puppy bed, toys, and wet puppy food (which was much easier on her poor little sick tummy than dry food) that smelled awful. But she was home, and that was what mattered.

It's been exactly one year since we brought Angela home from her Parvo treatment. Since then, we've gotten into crazy adventures such as paw-punches in the eye at 7 a.m., peeing on friends and family and co-workers, eating bottles of Flintstones' vitamins, eating countless pieces of clothing and shoes and training her to do the most basic of tricks (which she can't really do that well, YET). But you know what? Despite the agonizing worry about whether or not she would make it and the expensive bills,I wouldn't trade her for any other dog in the world.

I love my dog. And I want to share her life with you.

Puppy Love

When my boyfriend, Jonathan and I had celebrated our 1 year anniversary on January 23rd 2010, we decided it was time for us to get a dog. Of course, we had talked about a dog within 6 months of us dating because we were already living together for three months. Yes, it's a early time to move in together, but we were in love and moved at a pace that was comfortable for our relationship.

We were living in a small townhouse in Memphis, Tn. Jonathan had finished studying for the Bar Exam and became a lawyer and I was a junior in college. Within the time we moved in together, Jonathan and I got a little Tortie kitten named KitKat to keep me company while he was at work and I took care of the apartment when I wasn't working during the summer. We talked about a dog, but decided to wait until we had more space for a puppy.

Around January 2010, Jonathan and I moved into a house and were puppy shopping online at Petfinder.com (a really good place to find furry friends that needs homes, by the way!). After our 1 year anniversary on January 27th, 2010, Jonathan and I found ourselves driving to another state to pick up the beautiful little golden retriever pup we found on Petfinder.com.


She was the perfect puppy. A 3 month old golden retriever puppy with a cute little pot belly, big brown eyes and the sweetest face ever. She was in the Oxford, Mississippi animal shelter waiting for her forever home. It was a 3 hour drive. Jonathan and I talked about what we would do with the puppy, what we would name her, wondered if she would get along with the cat, etc. We were so pumped to meet our new puppy that the long drive just flew by.

According to the puppy page on Petfinder, Oxford Animal Shelter was a nice, clean looking facility. There was an illustration of a building that looked like a good place to adopt a puppy. However, when we arrived at the address, we found a dumpy looking trailer with poorly structured chain link fences and shivering dogs outside in the dead of winter. Jonathan looked positively shocked and I thought I was going to be sick.

 It looked TERRIBLE.

Things weren't much better when we got inside.

When we entered the tiny trailer, Jonathan inquired the receptionist if we had the right place and asked about the picture of the facility on Petfinder.com. as it turns out, that was just an illustration of what the reconstruction of the animal would look like once they had enough funding.  I'm pretty sure Jonathan and mine's mouths were hanging open.


But we had driven that far, we wanted to see the puppy. The volunteer at the front desk went out to go retrieve our puppy. When she returned, she brought in a skinny, scruffy little thing of a puppy that looked scared and hungry. I felt my heart sink into my stomach like a stone at the sight of her. I immediately went to the volunteer and asked if I could hold the puppy. She handed the puppy to me and I felt instant love. Even though the puppy looked too tired and weak to try and lick me, I could tell she wanted to more than anything.


Jonathan filled out the adoption papers and we walked out to the car to go home. As we drove back to Memphis, we talked to our new puppy and told her we loved her and that her name was Angela. Her only reply was curling into a ball and throwing up on my lap.

After cleaning up my lap in a gas station bathroom, Jonathan chalked up Angela's upset tummy to car sickness. We thought getting that out of her system, she would perk up a little. Angela still wouldn't show any signs of happy puppy-ness. Unfortunately, we found out 3 days later it was much more than car sickness. Much, much worse.


The first two days we had Angela, she showed no interest or ability to hold down food and water and she appeared too sick to walk. She wouldn't even chase after the many toys we got her. On the second day, I discovered her in our bedroom pooping blood. Jonathan and I immediately took Angela to the emergency vet clinic on Summer Ave.


Angela had Parvo.

All About Angie

My name is Alex and my dog Angela is from Hell.

Don't let that sweet puppy face in the photo fool you (besides, that was taken one year ago. She's MUCH bigger now).

Yes, she has the face of an angel (hence her name), but she is trouble with a capital T. She still isn't potty-trained despite being over a year old and all attempts to train her, she digs around in the cat's litter box for snacks and tries to lick me not 20 minutes after wards, she enjoys paw-punching me in the face in the morning, and counts shredding up fresh rolls of paper towels as one of her favorite past times. Yet I wouldn't trade her for any other dog in the world.

This is her story.