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…in his mouth. Yes, as many Scottie Mom readers have noticed, Mr. K’s world revolves around one toy: a squeaky tennis ball. He is seldom seen without one. Even at the shelter I found him, Mr. K had one with him and the volunteers said he only perked up when the squeaky tennis ball was around. It doesn’t matter the size or color, Mr. K is all too happy to greet his best friend the squeaky tennis ball time and time again. He loves to chase it up and down the halls at first but soon, that game gets old and he moves on to total destruction, the next level of Scottie fun.

Mr. K has the art of squeaky tennis ball destruction mastered. If he is left to his own devices, he can break open a tennis ball (even the bigger ones he can’t fit in his mouth that are meant for much larger dogs), silence the squeaker and remove the fuzzy exterior in about 15 minutes or less. At about $5-7 a pop, this is a rather expensive hobby. I gave up at one point and only bought sqeaky tennis balls for special occasions but then I would see that happy Scottie face when he was treated to one and decided I couldn’t deprive him of this most-treasured experience.

Now, we always keep a squeaky tennis ball around but Mr. K is limited to chasing it up and down the halls. Occasionally, he tries to sneak it out of the condo and take it with him for a walk. We keep a close eye on him to insure the level of fun doesn’t get upgraded to total destruction. And, when he’s done playing chase, we take the ball back up and put it away where a Scottie can’t reach. So far, this new arrangement has been working out just fine. I’m determined to make this squeaky tennis ball last but, by a Scottie’s standard, “last” could mean a matter of weeks as opposed to mere minutes.

From one Scottie Mom to another, I’m curious to know: what’s the longest a toy has ever survived the playfulness of your pup? Has anyone found an indestructible toy yet?

Scottie Mom Down

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BlogPaws Day 2: Epic fail. Heather and Mr. K never made it to the second day of the BlogPaws Conference. In fact, they didn’t even get out of the hotel much that day due to yet another unexpected turn of events. Saturday was like any other day. Mr. K signaled when it was time to wake up and go for a walk and, after taking care of business outside, he and Heather came back to the room for breakfast. For whatever reason, Mr. K wasn’t interested in eating. Instead, he asked to come up on the hooman bed and cuddle with Scottie Mom. And who could refuse such a request (especially since Scottie Dad was sleeping and wouldn’t even notice!)?

About a half hour later, it was time to get ready for the conference. Mr. K was playing shadow, following me everywhere from the bed to the sink to the kitchen and back to the bathroom vanity. I encouraged him out of the bathroom so I could shower in peace but moments later, I noticed the little guy coming back. Something was going on for sure and I wasn’t about to tell him to go away. I continued getting ready and started the shower. Mr. K was stationed at the entrance of the bathroom, lying solemnly on the floor. I placed one foot in the tub and before the second could touch ground, I realized the only thing that would be touching the ground was my back.

I felt the impact first on the right side of my back, which hit (and broke) the toilet seat before hitting the tile where Mr. K – who had fled the room by now – was stationed. Once I hit the floor, it was like my body went into shock and this intense pain spasmed throughout. I screamed. Scottie Dad shot out of bed to see what happened. The puppies went into hiding under the bed. They only resurfaced after much encouragement from Scottie Dad and were rewarded with an extra walk and some treats. I got ready as fast as I could (which wasn’t very fast at all, considering the pain I was in) and about an hour later, I was sitting in the ER of Inova Fairfax Hospital.

It hurt to walk. It hurt to sit. It hurt to turn left or right, sniffle and even breathe deep. I was completely miserable and I expected a trip to the ER to only add to the agony but it really wasn’t the case.  A dozen X-rays and an IV of pain medication later, I was officially diagnosed with a rib contusion just a few hours into my visit. We were out of there by mid-afternoon and while I didn’t get to do any of the touristic things I had lined up for the Scottie kids, I was more than happy to hang out with Heather and Mr. K in bed for an afternoon of movie watching. Just being in the company of a Scottie (or two!) has a healing effect when we’re feeling down, doesn’t it?

Alas, such was the ending to our weekend in Washington, D.C. Heather and Mr. K didn’t get their chance to pose with Fala, visit any of the doggie boutiques or local Scottie friends nor did I get an opportunity to show off just how cute pajama-clad Scotties look when they take over the hotel. All these things will have to be achieved if we ever get the chance to revisit. In the meantime, the three of us are going to take it easy after a very long weekend of travel and (mis)adventures. Scottie Dad is officially on dog-walking duty until my back heals so I’m sure there will be more than one incident to report by the time I am able to resume normal Scottie Mom duties. Wish him luck!

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BlogPaws Day 1: Success? Not so much. But it was worth a try. We called it quits about halfway through the day. Heather, Mr. K and I attended two classes together and, for the most part, made it through without any major damage done. I should’ve known it was all downhill when Mr. K’s arch nemesis decided to take a seat – you guessed it! – right in front of him in the very first class. At first, it was as if Mr. K himself didn’t believe what was going on and struggled to believe it was real. But as the class went on and that M-E-O-W got more defined, Mr. K could not contain himself. He squirmed, whined and even worked himself up to a heavy pant. And for those who know what a Scottie can get like when there is an evil C-A-T around, you know just how embarrassed this Scottie Mom was.

Fast forward through the second class (which Heather and Mr. K acted beautifully for and even scored a few treats) and Mr. K decided to rumble with a fellow pup for about 0.25 seconds before Scottie Mom snatched him up and took him outside to cool off. We walked around the hotel so Mr. K could mark some territory and came back to go through the exhibits – hands down, Heather and Mr. K’s favorite part of the day. Everywhere they turned, they were handed treats and asked to pose for pictures (which, as loyal Scottie Mom followers know, Heather and Mr. K are always happy to do). Then, Mr. K decided to start his shenanigans again and lifted his leg on one of the vendor’s boxes. As any horrified Scottie Mom would do, I apologized profusely. Just a few minutes later, we settled in to relax in the lobby waiting for our next class to start. That’s when Mr. K decided to squat.

You can only guess just how humiliated I was. And that was just minutes before I marched the doo-doo bag outside, took the pups out for their second walk within mere minutes and came back in the lobby to flip - yes, FLIP – over a bench I neglected to see. (Wearing a dress, I might add…) So, here I was, two Scottie dogs and two bags in hand, landing face first on the floor. Luckily for me, my extended humiliation didn’t appear to have been witnessed by others and I hoped it would end there. I picked myself up, sat down with the pups to take some pictures documenting the memorable morning and called Scottie Dad to come pick me up. I had enough adventure for one day and was ready to retire. Tomorrow, I’ll likely give another go at the BlogPaws conference but I can’t decide: go solo or just with Miss Heather Beather? It was a bit much carrying the two around from class to class and Heather sure does know how to network the best out of the three of us! In the meantime, we’re set out to find some new adventures of a more touristic nature!

DSC04458Whether it is a missing shoe, a yellow puddle on the floor or a mess of torn papers across the room, Mr. K reminds his Scottie friends (and other fellow misbehaving pups) to play it cool when your Scottie Mom suspects you are guilty of a Scottie crime. The trick to getting away with something, he says, lies in your ability to look cute as can be, act as if nothing actually happened and you have no idea how whatever it is got there. He cautions against Scottie cams if your Scottie Mom has one and recommends you “take care” of those first before you carry out any plan you may have had. Without that crucial step, you might just get busted…and if that happens, remember: you are innocent until proven guilty (and you can always blame that dark shadow on the cam destroying everything on that Ninja Scottie that’s been ransacking houses lately).

Detour to the Vet

DSC04446Sometimes, there’s just no rhyme or reason why these things happen and there’s no telling what our pups get into while we’re gone. As a somewhat seasoned Scottie Mom, I’d like to think my condo is pretty much Scottie-proof. You’ll find nothing on the floor (except food and water bowls, of course), no sharp cornered furniture, and nowhere for Miss Heather Beather to hide underneath (except the hooman bed, when Scottie Dad isn’t around!). So why, nearly three months to the date, does she get a nearly identical injury on the back of her head? That’s a question neither myself or the the vet can seem to answer.

Let me set up the scenario, as I know it. Once again, only Scottie Dad was home. He had just returned from a trip to Chicago. You might remember from the first incident that Heather last banged her head on one of favorite (and now nonexistent) hiding places in the corner near Scottie Dad’s guitars. Immediately after the last incident, those guitars were moved as they seemed to be the only thing Heather could have bumped into. Today, Scottie Dad said there was no bumping into anything of any kind and yet, when he went to take the leash off after an afternoon walk, he noticed the back of her head was once again red. Upon closer examination and much to his disbelief, he saw that Heather had somehow reopened the wound from nearly three months ago.

It was at this point I get a few frantic calls at work, although I cannot answer them. Scottie Dad texts me that there has been an emergency. The situation as he explains it makes no sense. How did this happen? Why only when I’m not home? What did he do? This time, we had a problem: I had borrowed his car for work while he was in Chicago (the Scottie Mobile decided to overheat and stop running just two days earlier) and so he couldn’t take Miss Heather to the vet until I got home. As soon as I could, I hopped in the car and went to pick up Heather, who took another trip in Scottie Dad’s forbidden, sweet ride.

The vet is as confused as I am. They take her back and discover scar tissue that makes it appear as if the old wound may have not healed properly and something caused it to reopen. The vet is confident that this was not caused by a bite (not that Mr. K would ever do that to his sister!) but also feels confident she had to hit her head on something. The scar tissue is indicative that the wound is older but then the cut itself is fresh. The vet tells me there could be a number of explanations: 1) it was some sort of head bump, plain and simple, or 2) there is an underlying cause (i.e., cancer, Cushings, etc.) that keeps her immune system low and hence, why the first wound may have never healed properly.

Scottie Dad has since added a third theory: he has never agreed with the fact they only put in one staple the first time this happened. The rationale – as we were told – was so that the liquid could drain from the wound. Tonight, they put in FOUR staples for a wound the same size (and in the same exact location). He thinks the vets simply didn’t do it the way they should have the first time, making it harder for the wound to heal in general and thus, making the skin in this area more susceptible. My only problem with that theory is that the staples really and truly were effective in closing her up when she had major surgery to remove the cancer – EIGHT staples held her side together, in fact.

And, much like last time, the right eye is again acting up. It closes while the other one remains wide open. Luckily, the vet explained to me last time that this is usually just a result of stress and it will go away. In the meantime, we’re back to the one eye drop three times a day to make her feel comfortable. She’ll also be taking one antibiotic every 24 hours to reduce the chance of infection around the wound. Not to worry, though, Heather Beather is in the highest of sprits – it is as if nothing happened today.

Here’s where I need your help, fellow Scottie Moms and Dads: has anyone ever experienced the vet’s second theory of how an underlying health issue caused a wound like this to not heal properly? Of course, hearing the evil “C” word will scare any Scottie Mom into action. The vet offered a second option which I believe to be a bit extensive given the circumstances, where they would biopsy some of the tissue from inside the wound, take cultures and a few other things that would help them determine if there is indeed another cause like the evil “C.” This would require she be under anesthesia and I’m all about avoiding that whenever possible. Plus, there’s always the possibility that it would come back clean and we’d be just as confused as we are right now. However, I do not want to be the negligent Scottie Mom and miss an opportunity to catch something early. We’ve already battled the evil “C” once and we can do it again, although I sincerely hope we do not have to.

I have two weeks until Heather and Mr. K go in for the annual physicals and we’ll get to discuss today’s events with Heather’s main veterinarian, the one who helped her beat the evil “C.” However, I’d love to get other Scottie Moms’ and Dads’ thoughts. We’ll be doing another round of blood work on Heather to make sure her liver values are continuing to normalize and I’m even considering having her tested for Cushings so we can rule that “C” out along with the even more evil “C.” All I know is that after everything we’ve been through, I don’t want anymore medical mysteries and I’m hopeful we can look forward to a healthy and vet-free year sometime soon!

Siete de Mayo

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Scottie Mom’s quesadillas are lip-smacking good!

Mr. K missed the Cinco de Mayo memo. In fact, he waited two whole days to “properly” celebrate. Tonight, it was Scottie Mom’s turn to host book club and so the fur kids broke out their Scottie charm and entertained the guests while dinner preparations were being finished. Chicken quesadillas were being served – complete with a little cayenne and some pepper jack and cheddar cheeses. Mr. K was more than proud to walk beside Scottie Mom to present this perfectly laid out dish of triangle-cut quesadillas with crackers and dip in the middle to the guests.

Much to his dismay, no quesadilla bits were accidentally dropped on the floor for him to enjoy. The food made it safely to the middle of the room and was placed on the ottoman that doubles as a coffee table. Scottie Mom laid out a number of dishes and gathered drinks for everyone. This is when Mr. K forgot his manners and decided he had missed out on the Cinco de Mayo celebrations for too long. He circled round the table, away from the guests so his head could blend in with the black ottoman as he raised it above the table and went in for the kill. First, he maneuvered his head to make it look like he was simply resting his chin on the edge and when no one caught on to his advancement, put his front paws up on the ottoman and snatched a quesadilla.

All this in a matter of seconds. By the time Scottie Mom turned around with the last drink, Mr. K had chowed down on nearly half a quesadilla wedge. Scottie Mom was not pleased. Her near perfect presentation had offically been ruined and before any of the guests had been able to partake. Mr. K’s eyes met Scottie Moms as she discovered his wrongdoing and he stopped chewing in his tracks. She moved closer and started addressing Mr. K directly instead of chatting with guests. Mr. K, not wanting his Siete de Mayo fun to end just yet, snatched up what was left of the quesadilla wedge and attempted to run away with it.

Unfortunately for Mr. K, the condo isn’t very big and he wasn’t able to stash the quesadilla or eat the remains before Scottie Mom got to him. The coveted quesadilla was confiscated and while he remained in the living room to play his part as life of the party, Mr. K had to rely on his charm and good looks to win over the crowd since Scottie Mom made it clear that the Siete de Mayo quesadilla snatching was his last comedic act of the night.

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Meet Heather’s Foster Scottie Dad John. I’ve only met him twice personally, but this man (and his whole family) has more of my respect than some of the people I’ve known for years. Not only did he rescue my sweet Heather Beather and give her a chance to find happiness in our home, he and his family also go above and beyond the call of Scottie duty for countless others. His home is a temporary haven for those in between homes and permanent living quarters for a special few.

This weekend, I learned more details of just how Heather came to be the girl we love today. It broke my heart to hear of the mistreatment my baby girl endured and yet, it made me all the more grateful for John and his family for taking her in. There really aren’t enough words to describe the impact a foster Scottie family can have on a pup’s life. Two months ago, I gave loyal Scottie Mom readers my Top 5 reasons to foster a Scottie. Allow me to add one more to that list:

To foster a Scottie is to embrace the chance to give back to the very breed that has and will continue to bring you joy. It is an easy way to put a little good back in the world in a seemingly small way while maximizing the impact on dogs in need everywhere. To foster is to save a life – or two – and to live up to our Scotties’ expectations and be the Scottie Mom (or Dad!) our fur kids think we should be.

One day, when this Scottie Mom is “all grown up,” I hope to be half the person John and his family are for Scotties everywhere. My dream is to be part Scottie Mom, part foster Scottie Mom and to open my home to Scotties in need while preparing potential Scottie Moms (and Dads) to be responsible pet owners. My vision is a world without homeless, abandoned, mistreated, neglected and puppy mill Scotties. John, who has had as many as a dozen Scotties sharing his home at one time, is trailblaizing his way to Scottie sainthood (if he hasn’t already achieved that!) and is certainly one we should all be inspired by. ArRRrOo to you!

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