Rolling Dog Farm

Ellie May's Medical Exam

Alayne took a truck full of dogs over to our vets in Helena at Montana Veterinary Specialists today.  On board were Shiloh, for his repeat chemotherapy (it went well); blind Dusty, to have sutures removed from the surgery to resect a tumor on his lip (healed up fine); blind and deaf Blanca for a recheck on a skin condition (getting better but needs another lime sulfur shampoo, which leaves her and us smelling like rotten eggs); and little Ellie May, the blind and deaf Cocker I wrote about yesterday.

In the photo above, Dr. Brenda Culver is using a slit lamp biomicroscope to examine Ellie May's eyes.  The slit lamp is a specialized microscope that allows the doctor to have a three-dimensional, magnified view of the structures inside the eye.  There are very few regular vets who would have this kind of ophthalmic instrument; typically it's only veterinary ophthalmologists who have it.  Although Brenda is our primary care vet, she has a special interest in ophthalmology ... which is why she is so good at it!

As we expected, Ellie May's eyes are indeed painful.  Brenda used a Tono-Pen to check the intraocular pressure, or IOP, in each eye.  That's what she's doing in this photo.  Normal eye pressure in a dog is between 12 and 25 mm Hg (units of mercury), and Brenda found Ellie May's readings were in the 40s.  (This is what I got when I used our own Tono-Pen on Tuesday to check her eye pressure.)  That is painful.  Brenda compared it to living with a throbbing, permanent headache that just keeps pounding away.

Although I suspected Ellie May had glaucoma -- and she does -- what surprised me was Brenda's diagnosis of why she has glaucoma.  It turns out that Ellie May's longstanding (or "hypermature") cataracts are starting to break down.  Ordinarily you'd think this might be a good thing, but it's not.  As Brenda described it to me tonight, "When this process takes place, it causes a severe inflammatory response (lens induced uveitis). The inflammatory cells circulating in the anterior chamber start to clog up the filtration angle and cause a secondary glaucoma."  Because the fluid in the eye can no longer drain out through the filtration angle, pressure builds and builds inside the eye ... and that's when you get glaucoma.  So now you have three problems in the eye ... cataracts, uveitis, and glaucoma.

Because Ellie May is blind and because those eyes are painful, the best course of treatment is to surgically remove them.  We ran blood work today and everything looks good, including her kidney values.  Her heart sounded fine.  Her urinalysis also came back normal.  Ellie May's teeth were in bad shape, so she'll get a dental, too.  The best news is that Brenda thinks Ellie May is younger than we thought ... perhaps only 10, rather than 14.  All in all, Brenda believes Ellie May is a good candidate for surgery, and so we have her eye operation scheduled for tomorrow, Friday. 

Of course, we're going to be total nervous wrecks until we get the phone call saying Ellie May is out of surgery and awake ... so please keep your fingers crossed for this adorable little Cocker.

Rubbernecking

Just when you think you've got an animal figured out, they start doing something new.  Take Blanca, our blind-and-deaf Great Dane puppy, for example.  Just in the past week I noticed she was beginning to sleep in ways that left her neck and head at peculiar -- I would say uncomfortable -- angles.  She likes dropping her head over the edge, which makes her neck almost look like it's made of rubber.

What's truly odd about the photo above is that she had the entire sofa to stretch out on if she wanted to do so.  But instead, she curled up at one end and dropped her head over.  Folks, don't you think that would eventually reduce -- if not cut off? -- the circulation to your head?  I don't know, maybe that induces a deeper sleep.

Here's another shot of her, this time on a too-small bed with head parked on the floor.  Notice the strategically placed duckie-toy wrapped around her nose.  I don't know if Blanca had been playing with this before she fell asleep, or whether it was already on the floor by the bed and she pushed it out when she put her head down.  Maybe this position is to allow increased blood flow to her head, to compensate for Position A above.

And finally, there was this shot.  Again, notice the cot is too small -- there is a pattern here -- with the head dropped off the edge.  The other pattern you'll notice from these photos is that it always seems she does this on the left side of her neck.

The mysteries of life with dogs.

Meet Miss Ellie May

Here's our little old gal who arrived over the weekend ... Ellie May the blind-and-deaf Cocker Spaniel.  Ellie May's owner just died in a small town here in Montana, and Robin M., the personal representative or executor of the estate, called to ask if we could take in this sweet girl.  Given her age and disabilities, Ellie May was not a candidate for a local shelter.  The dog's vet had told Robin that she should simply euthanize Ellie May, which she did not want to do.  Robin told me over the phone, "This little dog is still full of life, how could I do such a thing?"

So Robin drove Ellie May out to the ranch.  After they got out of the car, I kneeled down to pet Ellie May ... and that's when I noticed her eyes.  Oh, my.  They looked awful.  Both were red and inflamed.  Her right eye bulged.  Her left one didn't look much better.  I realized this old girl had been living with painful eyes for years.  I asked Robin if the vet had given her any medications or said anything about the condition of Ellie May's eyes.  No, she said, the vet hadn't mentioned anything at all.  I was astounded.

I explained what I was seeing -- the vascularization, the bulging -- and what I thought it indicated.  Here's what the right eye looks like.  I told Robin that if the eyes are as painful as I think they are, our vets might end up having to do surgery and remove them ... but this poor dog needed treatment, one way or the other.  Robin, bless her heart, wrote out a check right then and there to pay for Ellie May's medical care.

We worried how Ellie May would do.  She's probably 14, her owner had just passed away, she was uprooted from the only life she knew, and suddenly she was at the ranch.  Oh yes, and she can't see or hear a thing.  She was very anxious her first day, and we cuddled her a lot.  She trembled in our arms, and Alayne and I would take turns holding her, but after a couple of hours she started gaining confidence.  By that first evening she was eager to have treats and she wolfed down her dinner.  We were relieved, because there's no better sign of coping than that! 

She was quick to find her way around the house, and then the yard.  Ellie May would follow either me or Alayne wherever we went, and she never wanted to be separated from us ... but by today she was already snoozing on her own in the living room.  She wags her little stump of a tail whenever she realizes we're close by, and this afternoon she was even rolling around on the living room sofa.

I called our small animal vet, Dr. Brenda Culver, today to discuss Ellie May and get her scheduled for an eye exam, blood panels, and the complete geriatric work-up.  We're taking her in on Thursday to see Brenda, and we will make further medical decisions based on what Brenda finds. 

Meanwhile, we're trying to keep Ellie May as comfortable as we can, and she seems to be settled into her routine.  Today she let me know when she needed to go outside to potty, which just amazed me.  Here she is, completely blind and deaf and old, and yet she's figured out already -- in just two days -- how to find the front door and communicate she has to go pee.  A short while later, I found her on the front step, waiting to come back inside.  She's one smart little girl.

(Click on photos for larger image.)

Wobble Mania The Sequel: Smokey and Charlie

Just in case anyone thought there couldn't be any more wobbliness here than there already is, may we introduce ... Smokey and Charlie!  These two young pups just arrived from a humane society in Lima, Ohio.  They are little things -- each is about 20 pounds, with small frames and long necks.  The shelter cautioned us that they are quite skinny, despite their efforts to put weight on the two brothers ... and skinny they are.  We think they may be a Whippet mix, perhaps.

They have cerebellar hypoplasia, the neurological condition that occurs when the momma gets distemper when she's pregnant.  The babies are born with underdeveloped cerebellums, which is the part of the brain that controls balance and fine motor skills.  Not every baby is affected equally ... and some, oddly, not at all.  In the litter of six puppies that was turned into the shelter, three were unaffected and one had the condition but was adopted and then, unfortunately, promptly euthanized.  The shelter contacted us to see if we could take the two remaining boys.

Like all cerebellar hypoplasias, they are at their most uncoordinated when excited ... especially with people around.  Add into the mix the natural exuberance of puppies, and it's true wobble mania with these two.  Charlie is the tan one, Smokey is the dark one.

Yesterday afternoon I sneaked around to the isolation yard and quietly videotaped them over the fence, while they were lying on their cot together.  Once they saw me, they tumbled off the cot and Smokey did two backflips.  (I did not include that part!)  Then Alayne and I carried them out to the  area around our welcome center, and after they settled down a bit, I shot some more video.  Here's about a minute of the video I put together:

Three-Legged Cody Gets Adopted -- And Will Return!

Cody, our three-legged Lab with an incredible survival story, left for his new home in Missoula today.  This has actually been in the works for a while.  Elena C., who had volunteered for us this spring and then began working here in the summer (she replaced Alicia), had fallen in love with Cody and asked if she could adopt him.  Elena already had a three-legged dog, so now she's got two!  This was Elena's last day of work at the ranch ... she is leaving to move back to Missoula so she can take a full load of classes at the University of Montana next semester.  We had worked it out so she could take a partial load of classes and work full-time at the ranch this semester, but it wasn't going to be possible going forward.  Elena is taking the courses she needs to apply to vet school.

We aren't exactly saying goodbye to either Cody or Elena.  She asked if she could continue to work here one day a week taking care of the dogs and cats, and we gladly agreed.  Part of her new job requirement is to bring Cody to work with her.  So we'll be seeing both of them again starting next Sunday!

We are looking to fill this position, and the job description is located here.  If you know of someone who might be interested, please send them the link.  However, please note the physical requirements for the job -- able to lift 50-pound grain sacks and 75-pound hay bales and work outdoors in sub-zero weather, among other fun things.  (No need to go to the gym, though.)

Skipper Gets Adopted

Little Skipper, our Schipperke with a rare auto-immune skin disorder, was adopted today by a wonderful couple who are long-time supporters of the ranch.  John and Pat O. from Plains, Montana, have had Schipperkes for years and love the breed.  So when they received our fall newsletter with Skipper in it, they contacted us and asked about adopting him. 

They drove out to the ranch today to meet Skipper and introduce two of their other dogs to him, another Schipperke named Lily and a Schipperke-Chihuahua mix named Drake, both adopted from rescues.  They're the ones facing the opposite direction in the photo!  Skipper is the one looking right at the camera (that's my boy). 

We gave John and Pat a set of Skipper's medications with the treatment plan for his skin disease.  Although he is much improved from when he first arrived, the disorder -- pemphigus foliaceus -- still leaves his skin crusty in places, and his hair remains thin and patchy.  As with all of our adoptions, Skipper carries a "lifetime 100% worry-free return guarantee" ... if for any reason it doesn't work out, or the circumstances change, we always want the animal to come back to the sanctuary.

For his part, Skipper seemed enthralled to finally be with another Schipperke -- he kept following Lily around and couldn't keep his eyes off her.  "Wow, you're just like me!" he seemed to be thinking.  Except Lily has much better hair.

Dental Party!

Today was our autumn 'herd health and dental day," where all the horses and one mule get their fall vaccinations and a dental exam.  Our equine vet, Dr. Erin Taylor of Blue Mountain Veterinary Hospital in Missoula, brought the clinic's new equine vet, Dr. Angela Langer, out to the ranch to help.  Angela just graduated from vet school this year; she did her first three years at Ross University and her fourth year at Texas A&M's College of Veterinary Medicine.  This is her first week at Blue Mountain, so we were delighted to welcome her to the ranch.

Angela had the hard work today -- all the dentals!  In fact, she floated teeth on twelve of our equines, including Roy the old mule (speaking of mules), who you see in the photo above.  "Floating" means filing down jagged edges and sharp points, to make sure the teeth align properly and comfortably.  Even though vets these days use power tools -- notice the DeWalt in Angela's hand -- it's very physically demanding.  So twelve equines in one day is a lot of work!

While Angela was doing the dentals in our medical room in Beauty's Barn, Erin and I walked through the pastures to vaccinate all the horses who weren't already waiting at the barn to get their teeth done.  In this photo Erin is with blind Bridger, who she calls 'Mr. Handsome Bridger.'  Erin had removed Bridger's right eye several weeks ago because it had become chronically painful and inflamed, and this was the first time she'd seen him since then. 

It was a beautiful fall day, blue sky and sunshine, and Erin and I had a wonderful time walking from pasture to pasture, visiting with the horses.  Meanwhile, back in the medical room ... Angela was still grinding away! 

The Blind-and-Deaf Duo

Yesterday morning I heard this commotion outside my office door and looked out to see blind-and-deaf Baron roughhousing with blind-and-deaf Spinner in the living room.  This is the first time I'd seen Baron playing with Spinner, and one of the rare times I'd ever seen Spinner playing like this with anyone.  At first I stood there watching, then I realized [insert here: sound of slap on forehead], holy cow, get this on camera!

So while Alayne held the others at bay -- you'll hear lots of doggie toenails clicking on the linoleum in the background -- I got about 90 seconds of this on video.  Two things you'll notice in it.  One, strewn across the floor behind the blind-and-deaf gladiators is a lot of fluff from shredded dog toys.  Yes, we actually do pick up the living room, but because it's a losing battle, we only do it about once a day.  Two, Bailey insists on getting in on the action, despite my efforts to call him away.  I had the camera out, and that's all the motivation he needed to enter the fray.   At first he just seems to want to get downright personal with Spinner, but then he reappears to join the mayhem.  Here's the video clip:

Born To Burrow

In general Dachshunds love to burrow ... under blankets, clothing, towels, you name it.  Anything soft and comfortable will do.  A happy Dachshund is a burrowed Dachshund.  But our little Dachshund Bailey, he of the curved back and bent rear legs, takes burrowing to new heights.  (Or is it depths?)  Even if it's too warm to burrow completely underneath something, he is compelled to get at least some part of his body covered up.  Hence this photo above.  I'm not sure what this does for him, but it satisfies an inner need that only another Dachshund would understand!

I'm Dead. Except For My Tail.

When it's time to put everyone out for the night's last potty stop, our blind Dachshund Callie is the only dog who pretends not to know what the routine is.  Not only that, she pretends she can't hear us.  (We call this phenomenon "transitional blind-and-deaf syndrome.")  She rolls over and plays dead.

When we approach her, calling her name, at first she lies absolutely motionless.  Then, almost imperceptibly, her little tail starts moving.  It's like an involuntary action triggered by the unbearable tension of the situation ... human demanding action, Dachshund refusing to budge.  A tense stand-off.  ("If I play dead long enough, eventually this annoying fellow will just go away and leave me alone.") 

But the tail gives her away, and pretty soon it moves in rhythm with the urgency of my voice.  The more I call her name, the faster her tail moves.  I stop talking to her, the tail slows down.  I had already tried twice the other night to get her to go outside, and decided to get the video camera for the third attempt.  Here's a 30-second clip of a dead Dachshund wagging her tail: