Dog Days and Dermatologists
My dog Powder moved in to our apartment on Sunday, and she's not really adjusting well. I mean, I suppose she's doing pretty well for being a 12-year-old dog leaving the only home she's ever known, but I have a feeling that the adjustment is going to take a lot of time and a lot of patience. I'm not very good with patience, so I'm gonna have to work extra hard on staying calm (I'm going to be a worrywort mother, I can tell.) and just letting things run their course.
She got sick in the car on the way to the apartment, so poor Sam had to change his shorts when we got there. :P Powder was very uneasy and anxious, roaming around the apartment in weaving circles. I tried walking her, but she didn't even sniff the ground. She just kept trying to dart in every which direction, trotting persistently toward one direction before turning right around and trotting in the other direction, pulling her leash. She didn't even pee or anything.
After I left her some food for dinner and she didn't eat, I got so worried because she always scarfs down her food right away. So I called my brother Mark and picked him up so he could spend the night with us. I was hoping that having the two of us around would help her calm down. It did, but now I'm wondering if that was the right thing to do. I took Mark back to his friends' apartment (where he's staying for now), and now Powder seems to be missing him. A lot. They used to spend massive amounts of time together up until just recently (which is why she likes him so much), and she really missed him. So maybe that was just making the adjustment more difficult? I'm not sure... Anyway, I know she was looking for him earlier because, this morning, she kept sniffing at the couch where Mark had slept the other night. In fact, she got up in the middle of the night last night, and I think she had gone to look for him. She whined, and Sam and I woke up as she started howling. I took her back up to the bed with me and we all fell back asleep.
I've been reading up on separation anxiety in dogs. It says you should use a safety word or phrase to let your dog know you'll come back. So if you say "I'll be back" every time you leave for work (not ala Arnold S., but you could if you wanted to), and you obviously do come back, they'll know that when you say it, you're not abandoning them. Of course, I guess you really have to make a habit of saying it every time you leave. So maybe you shouldn't have a strange safety phrase like "Pancakes are for monkeys!", just cuz you'd have a hard time remembering to say it every time you leave. Anyway, I plan on trying out this and some other techniques over the next few weeks.
In other news, I finally saw a dermatologist yesterday. Oh my Lord, he was so old! That in no way correlates with his abilities as a doctor, but gosh, was he ever old. And for the largest medical group in Ventura County, that place sure has some pretty ghetto stuff. Like, I know it's probably more sanitary, but paper hospital gowns?? And it wasn't even a gown. It was a paper vest that opened in the back and a large paper sheet that I draped across my lower body. It was like it was made with paper towel. So there I am, in a clinic exam room, with a nurse and a very old doctor, dressed only in paper garments and my underwear. Fun fun!
And they shot me in the butt! Okay, obviously not with a gun, but it's more fun to say it that way, so that's what I've been telling people. They gave me a steroid injection (does this mean I'll get big muscles?). Here's how it went down:
Doctor - "We'll give you an injection, and it should clear up significantly in about 2 days."
Me - "Okay, sounds good to me." *I offer him my arm*
Doctor - "Er, actually, you'll have to stand up. It's administered in the rear."
Me - "Uh... oh. Okay."
So there I am, in a clinic exam room, with a nurse and a very old doctor, dressed only in a paper vest (the sheet now useless) and my underwear. And a corner of said underwear being pulled down to reveal my pastey white butt. And once they've injected my butt with steroids (does this mean I'll get a strong ass?), they poke around back there to find the injection spot and put a teensy bandaid over it. After getting my prescription, I drive home in a highly uncomfortable fashion, as the injection has now made it difficult to sit. Why me?
They gave me an ointment for my scalp and a strong cream (which I believe is another steroid) for the various rashes elsewhere on my body. I think it's helping! And the doctor said I should notice a sizeable improvement by tomorrow or Thursday from the injection. Yay! I might even be able to use commercial soaps soon. Maybe I could switch over to lotion from oils in a couple weeks too. I'm very optimistic about these treatments.
She got sick in the car on the way to the apartment, so poor Sam had to change his shorts when we got there. :P Powder was very uneasy and anxious, roaming around the apartment in weaving circles. I tried walking her, but she didn't even sniff the ground. She just kept trying to dart in every which direction, trotting persistently toward one direction before turning right around and trotting in the other direction, pulling her leash. She didn't even pee or anything.
After I left her some food for dinner and she didn't eat, I got so worried because she always scarfs down her food right away. So I called my brother Mark and picked him up so he could spend the night with us. I was hoping that having the two of us around would help her calm down. It did, but now I'm wondering if that was the right thing to do. I took Mark back to his friends' apartment (where he's staying for now), and now Powder seems to be missing him. A lot. They used to spend massive amounts of time together up until just recently (which is why she likes him so much), and she really missed him. So maybe that was just making the adjustment more difficult? I'm not sure... Anyway, I know she was looking for him earlier because, this morning, she kept sniffing at the couch where Mark had slept the other night. In fact, she got up in the middle of the night last night, and I think she had gone to look for him. She whined, and Sam and I woke up as she started howling. I took her back up to the bed with me and we all fell back asleep.
I've been reading up on separation anxiety in dogs. It says you should use a safety word or phrase to let your dog know you'll come back. So if you say "I'll be back" every time you leave for work (not ala Arnold S., but you could if you wanted to), and you obviously do come back, they'll know that when you say it, you're not abandoning them. Of course, I guess you really have to make a habit of saying it every time you leave. So maybe you shouldn't have a strange safety phrase like "Pancakes are for monkeys!", just cuz you'd have a hard time remembering to say it every time you leave. Anyway, I plan on trying out this and some other techniques over the next few weeks.
In other news, I finally saw a dermatologist yesterday. Oh my Lord, he was so old! That in no way correlates with his abilities as a doctor, but gosh, was he ever old. And for the largest medical group in Ventura County, that place sure has some pretty ghetto stuff. Like, I know it's probably more sanitary, but paper hospital gowns?? And it wasn't even a gown. It was a paper vest that opened in the back and a large paper sheet that I draped across my lower body. It was like it was made with paper towel. So there I am, in a clinic exam room, with a nurse and a very old doctor, dressed only in paper garments and my underwear. Fun fun!
And they shot me in the butt! Okay, obviously not with a gun, but it's more fun to say it that way, so that's what I've been telling people. They gave me a steroid injection (does this mean I'll get big muscles?). Here's how it went down:
Doctor - "We'll give you an injection, and it should clear up significantly in about 2 days."
Me - "Okay, sounds good to me." *I offer him my arm*
Doctor - "Er, actually, you'll have to stand up. It's administered in the rear."
Me - "Uh... oh. Okay."
So there I am, in a clinic exam room, with a nurse and a very old doctor, dressed only in a paper vest (the sheet now useless) and my underwear. And a corner of said underwear being pulled down to reveal my pastey white butt. And once they've injected my butt with steroids (does this mean I'll get a strong ass?), they poke around back there to find the injection spot and put a teensy bandaid over it. After getting my prescription, I drive home in a highly uncomfortable fashion, as the injection has now made it difficult to sit. Why me?
They gave me an ointment for my scalp and a strong cream (which I believe is another steroid) for the various rashes elsewhere on my body. I think it's helping! And the doctor said I should notice a sizeable improvement by tomorrow or Thursday from the injection. Yay! I might even be able to use commercial soaps soon. Maybe I could switch over to lotion from oils in a couple weeks too. I'm very optimistic about these treatments.