Doing his best to look pathetic...........

"Each night I ask the stars without fail..why must I be a good beagle in jail" With apologies to Dion and the Belmonts, this must be going through Ripley's beagle brain, as he is following his doctors orders to stay calm and heal from his recent back surgery. That doesn't mean he likes this, but it is going to be his fate for the next two weeks until he goes back to Critical Care & Veterinary Specialists of Sarasota, where his doctor Anne Elizabeth Chauvet has given him the absolutely best care and love. We can't say enough about this practice, but what we can say is "it's the absolute top place to take a pet for critical care".

Ripley, however, being the object of Dr. Anne's neurosurgery is less enthusiastic about his current predicament, where he is very restricted in his usual ability to run, jump and climb things. For the next fortnight, he only gets to come out to go out, and for several applications of cold compresses on his back, with plenty of tactile attention. When he came home, they sent not only great instructions on his recovery care, but a great CD explaining in civilian terms all about his issues, which unscientifically might be called a crushed disc.

In med speak, he had a Hemilaminectomy level 1 L1-2 left, and Fenestration T12-13 to L3-4., following an MRI. Now, I'm sort of a car guy, and I know what a Hemi is, and I also learned long ago that the word "defenestration" was from the Latin 'fenestra' or window, and is defined by Webster as "An act of throwing something or someone out of a window". The stock market crash of the late 1920's featured a lot of defenestrations, but recent markets not so much - the windows on Wall Street don't open anymore.

I know Ripley was not thrown out of a window, because the care he got was very special, so maybe I need to ask Dr. Anne when we take him back in two weeks for a check up. Until then, we'll have to explain it with that wonderful phrase ' je ne sais quoi'.

Stay tuned to these blog pages for Ripley updates.

Ripley and his love for veternarians

My wife and I just returned from visiting Ripley Wild at the Critical Care and Veterinary Specialists of Sarasota LLC. This was his second surgery in under a month - you'll recall the "peach pit" incident from prior blog entries.

This time, Ripley had what I think was identified as a crushed disc in his back, which we believe happened a week ago when he was with his girlfriend Bonnie, the young West Highland Terrier. We've warned Ripley about younger women, and how you don't want to rough-house too much, but he didn't listen apparently. We humans were in the other room, while Rip and Bon-bon were chasing each other. We heard a loud YELP from Ripley, but have no idea what he ran into, but clearly he hit something. We took him to our vet, who recommended Dr. Anne Elizabeth Chauvet, DVM/DACVIM - Neurology. She's not only a specialist, but like most animal doctors, she's very special to her patients. She and her partner Dr. Schneider, took good care of our boy, and from the report following surgery, Ripley will have a full recovery and no more pain. We can go pick him up tomorrow she thought.

When he walked into the room under his own power (just a few hours following the procedure) he came straight into my arms. There is no better feeling for this "doggy daddy" to hold his baby beagle boy close, after too many nights without him, and before that almost a week of hope that this could be resolved with muscle relaxants and rest. The surgery wasn't inexpensive, but at my age I'd rather have a happy dog than a 40th anniversary cruise. The dog is never mad at me, while I give my wife plenty of excuses to shove me overboard. I don't have to lock my wife AND my dog in the trunk for an hour, come back, and see which one is mad at me - I know the dog would still be happy to see me.

So, tomorrow we'll go fish out the Royal Caribbean VISA card, and add several thousand worth of future cruise points, and hope September is a slow month in the life of our fast little beagle. I suspect his instruction for plenty of bed rest and only trips outside to do his business will keep him out of trouble. I've told him, no more unsupervised play with Bonnie, and perhaps he should trade her in for an older, more refined French Poodle. His doctor is French, and he seems very taken with her. An international love story - American boy meets Scottish lassie, ends up in the hospital and is nursed back to health by a lovely French woman - let's make a short story out of this and sell it to The New Barker magazine. Who knows, maybe Animal Planet will pick up the option.

Will report again after we pick him up at the hospital, with the certainty that there'll be lots more pain killers in the medicine cabinet. Wonder how "Doggie Darvon" works on 200 pound males? I'm in pain without my boy around to love.

(FRIDAY UPDATE) Rip came home today, and is resting comfortably in his crate. We have a very complete set of instructions to follow, and will be keeping him calm for a fortnight.

No Show here, only Tell

This post is about shampoo - Synergy Lab "Ultra Oatmeal Moisturizing Shampoo". It contains Silk Protein, DL-Panthenol, Glycerin & Pomegranate. Pretty fancy huh? It also has as an ingredient Natural Colloidal Oatmeal, and Fragrance. On the front of the plastic bottle is the picture of a butterfly (in French). Where did I get this wonderful shampoo? Not Victoria's secret, nor a high end cosmetics counter. I got it at the Pet Store, and the "butterfly" was a Papillon dog.

Yes, after weeks of going without a bath (having stitches which came out Friday), Ripley needed a bath. He was rank, and I'm talking smell beyond normal dog. Ripley does not like baths (what little boy does?) but he's very stoic about showering with his dad. So, before it was time to Frontline him again, he needed more than a rinse with the hose.

I've learned that Ripley will tolerate the shower, and it does contain him very well. Our showers all have seating, so we park him on the granite bench and re-direct the flow of water to fall upon his back. He allows you to lather him up, and then rinse him off, without complaint. He is, after all, a very good boy. Afterward, he is towel dried amidst the usual animated shake that dogs do when wet. Then, opening the door, he runs to his favorite rug on the floor and pushes himself sideways across it to dry further.

Oh yes, in a pinch, that dog shampoo works well with humans too. The only side effect was that desire to roll around on the floor afterward. What, you expected pictures of us in the shower? Hey! This is a family blog after all. Ripley gets enough exposure anyway, and he always has a fur coat on. I may be a politician, but I'm no Anthony Weiner. Some pictures you just don't post online, let alone let them be taken. But, damn - I smell like pomegranate and that's not all bad.

The Thousand Dollar Peach Pit

Another story featuring Ripley and his recent adventure swallowing a peach pit. As you can see, this was not a small item, but when it slipped out of my fingers while eating a very expensive peach, Ripley was there in a heartbeat, literally, and had swallowed it whole before I could stop him. That was a week ago Tuesday, and immediately I called the vet to ask "what can I do". The staff said "well, watch him closely and if he shows any distress, call us". They made a logical assumption that what went down would ultimately pass through his system.

Well, it didn't pass through, and by the following Saturday, an X-ray was in order. The pit was there, in the stomach, just sitting there going nowhere - but at great risk of causing trouble later. Our vet had a specialist coming through the following Tuesday, who had surgical expertise, but also a endoscope which was basically a camera with pincers that could go down the throat into the stomach and hopefully grasp and remove the pit. He also had ultrasound gear that confirmed the location. Endoscopy was the preferred method, and the least invasive. Tuesday we took Ripley back and awaited the phone call.

The endoscopy method did not work, after three tries there was a concern that the pit might fracture and cause more problems, so Trapper John and Hawkeye (well, they were also both vets, right?) went to Plan B, an incision and extraction through the stomach wall. Three sets of stitches later, and two days of IV drip of fluids, we were told Ripley could come home to recover.

He came home, complete with a plastic "Elizabethan collar" as the vet called it. The collar is to keep Ripley from chewing on his stitches. The little guy is a trooper and hasn't objected too strenuously about wearing it. We take it off when time to go outside - if he stops to agitate his stitches, we can always bring his head back up with the short leash. However, no more 20 foot leash and swimming in the lake, and no more climbing trees for at least a month. He has dissolving stitches in the interior parts, but the stitches on his belly will have to be removed by the vet in two weeks.

His doctor is a fine man, and we have a good prognosis for a complete recovery. We have banned peaches (other than the variety that comes in cans already cut up) from the cupboards, for good measure. And judging from the picture of the pit alongside the ruler, you can see that this obstacle was no small item. Ripley fought the peach and the peach won. So, we have just added to our investment in our priceless beagle buddy. Maybe that means one less cruise this year, but he's worth it. And with a beagle around, who needs a goat to clean up.

Bark in the Park

Today was a day for Ripley, and friends. The Southeast Beagle Rescue held a get together in Seffner, Florida, at the Mango/Seffner Dog Park. The dog park is about an hour north, off the colorfully named Clay Pit Road, and has a wonderful facility for dogs - two in fact. Plenty of seating on benches, a pool to cool off in, and lots of friends to play alongside. That's Rip in the pool, but he does most of his swimming in the lakes alongside the golf course during his daily walks.

Ripley is often the center of attraction, and this was no different - there was one beagle who had a gender confusion issue, and Ripley kept having to tell him "not interested", and "get off my back, I'm working here". Beyond that irritation, he had a great run with beagles awaiting adoption, and those who like him had found their "fur-ever homes" through the work of Jack and his loyal band of beagle saviors. Ripley had gone straight from the Humane Society to his foster mother, so this was his first chance to meet Jack, a man of many talents and pilot of The Beagle Bus. The bus had six dogs aboard, including three males who were rescued from a kill shelter up north. Jack drives the bus, and if distances require, he pilots his own Cessna 182. Great guy, and somebody who truly cares about dogs.

Today, there were two individuals who may adopt a dog and Ripley hopes those dogs do indeed find a loving home. Ripley found his fur-ever home with us, and we're forever grateful to have him. We'll do this again - it's so neat to watch him run with the pack, and to hear his beautiful beagle bay. Three hours of beagle bliss - a great way to start the day.

Ripley's nemesis

Go get those squirrels, Ripley! Don't let them sit there and mock you, chattering away with those tiny squirrel insults. Tell them "Beagles Rule!"

Act II - Reality sets in. Beagles can climb trees, but not as well as some squirrels. This is a sad lesson to learn, especially when taking a walk on the 20 foot lead and ripping Daddy's arm out of its socket when you spot Mr. Gray Squirrel running across your path. This is the life I lead with Ripley, believe it or not. We go on many walks each day, in a neighborhood full of squirrels.

Act III - A dog has got to know his limitations, and ultimately Ripley WILL learn, but I'm not sure how soon that will be. Much like his experience in chasing the ducks into the pond, then jumping in and swimming toward them until they take to the skies, Ripley learned (or at least admitted) that he cannot fly. This is the season for baby squirrels - some are pictured here - and they may not be as fast as mama squirrel, so for the next month Ripley will be on a shorter lead, and I will be on higher alert for temptations that our beagle will have, but will not yield to as long as we're on the other end of that leash.

Ripley has a girlfriend

Ripley is in love...........puppy love. He's been seeing a young (one year old) West Highland Terrier named Bonnie, and they've been having play dates at our house and at hers too. Bonnie lives at the other end of our street and, like Ripley, is a full time Florida resident. So many of his canine friends are snow bird dogs, and have to go north to another home when the "season" is over on our island.

Bonnie is very active, and I took perhaps two dozen shots in order to catch this fine portrait. She had been to her groomer today, and was looking very attractive. Ripley today had his walk on the golf course, went swimming in the lake, and his own groomer (yours truly) is now drying off as is Ripley. He got a bath in the laundry room wash tub. Boy beagles don't go to the groomer, they go to the tub. Ripley is a very patient dog, however, and does not object to being bathed by a non-professional.

Ripley is shown sharing his newest toy, a black ferret-like fabric toy complete with two squeakers. I've captured a rare moment of detente between Rip and Bon-bon, where the toy is between them, and the question is "who will grab it and run first"? The toy had two squeakers, but by day two Ripley had managed to tear one end sufficiently loose that we had to remove one (he'd already bitten through and "killed" the squeaker anyway). Ripley is hard on his toys, but treats Bonnie with a bit more respect. He's a true beagle gentleman.

Both dogs will chase after each other, alternately giving up the toy to the other. It's quite funny to watch them on the hardwood floor - sort of like watching quarter-midget race cars "drifting" through turns and much skittering on the straightaways as they grab occasional traction on several rugs at both ends of the living area. On the screened lanai, they're also quite active, but with much more traction and the horseplay gets a bit more active.

One dog just "being a dog" is fun to watch - two of them having fun is a joy to behold.

Ripley the water dog

Who knew? Ripley is a swimmer, as well as a walker, sniffer, and wet kisser.

Today, I witnessed something he did for the first time yesterday, while I was gone. And, that first time swimming was more by accident than intent, as he was wading in the grass alongside our pond, and stepped off the "ledge" into the original pond. We've had so much rain lately in Florida that the pond has increased in circumference. My wife told me about his short swim, where he all of a sudden found the ground had dropped out from under him, and he did what comes naturally.

Fast forward 24 hours and we're both walking Ripley, this time around the golf course. We're walking the fairways over on the lake side, and Ripley decides "hey, I think I'll jump in and cool off", and he did. Elizabeth captured this on her phone's camera. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I probably wouldn't have believed it since almost every beagle I'd owned and loved in the past were not fond of water. Heck, some of them would even resist taking a bath, but not this boy. Maybe that's it - five female beagles, all more concerned with their hair and makeup. But Ripley is all boy, and it's like when he discovered his "inner beagle" at the dog park, where before he hardly ever barked and howled like breed standard. But even when dog paddling, he held his white tail straight up, like a flag.

This dog is full of surprises, and willing to try anything it would appear. You'll note the leash in each picture - that's because he probably would try everything, and having run from his original home, we're not taking chances.

No, Caitlin - he won't fit in your suitcase

My daughter came to visit last week, along with our son-in-law. They both flew down from Missouri, and Matt would drive home with a high school friend who was moving back to St. Louis from Venice, Florida. Now, one has to only look at the weather channel to realize that is probably a dumb move, but then Caitlin isn't ready to leave her many friends up north. If I want to get them down here, I guess I have to find her husband a job at the golf course. And that might just work. Caitlin will be easy, she's a great little banker, and speaks Spanish as well - Florida can use a bi-lingual "chica".

Caitlin had never seen the new house, nor the new dog. She liked the house, but she loved Ripley. Ripper, as usual, is quick to bond with anybody who will rub his belly or pet his head and he did his usual trick of jumping into their laps, and giving them the full "what a good boy am I" routine.

He really is a great dog, and gets along with all people and most dogs - except that bearded Collie around the corner, and those two yappy little Pit Yorkies across the street in the more upscale neighborhood. Ripley even has a girlfriend, Bonnie, a West Highland Terrier, and he enjoys going on walks with her all the time.

As much as Ripley loves all people, especially those who love dogs, he is MY dog, and nobody will sneak him off in either a rental truck headed north, or a suitcase carried aboard an airplane. My kids understand the pecking order around here, and Beagles always come first, wife second, children last. I was a beagle dog in my last life, and I hope to come back again as a beagle dog. No equivocation, no debate. Beagle dogs rule!

But, nice try Caitlin - if you move down here where your brother already lives, you can have unlimited hugs and kisses from Ripley, my wonderful buddy. Till then, you'll just have to make do with your own dogs, JoJo and Toby. They're OK terriers, but at the risk of repeating myself (and after having five before Ripley), Beagles Rule! If you want a beagle of your own, may I recommend Southeast Beagle Rescue or Tampa Bay Beagle Rescue. Lots of great dogs looking for "fur-ever homes". Google those names, or a beagle rescue near you - great dogs await adoption, and while I've got mine, it might be time for you to get yours too.

Sassy comes to visit

Ripley loves Sassy, who lives with our son in an apartment in Bradenton. His apartment is small, and does not include a washer or dryer. Our house is large, and does include a washer and dryer, so we can count on seeing our son on his day off. Sassy is always invited, because she's a really great dog. She's not the brightest lab/chow mix in the world, and she sheds enough hair to knit a new dog after each visit, but she likes us, and we like her, and Ripley is the most sociable of us all - he loves everybody, man or beast.

I like to take pictures of Ripley (you'd never guess, huh?) but I've also featured Sassy in past blogs. I remember when she was discovering her "inner Lab" and running on the tidal flats of Sarasota Bay behind our former condo. This past week, most visits for Ripley have been short sniffs on the street, where he might greet another neighborhood dog. It's been doggone cold this past week, although Florida was the only state in the lower 48 without snow on the ground. So when Sassy came to visit for several hours, they managed to have their fun running and chasing in the house. On wood floors, its like a kid's "slip & slide" and hilarious to watch. Then, after tiring out, they settled down for their pictures to be taken.

In my other post tonight, I wrote about our new island church. I'll close this with "all dogs go to heaven" and Ripley who came into my life to ease the pain of losing my beloved Millie, is certainly heaven sent. Dogs are not only a man's best friend, they're a gift from God too.

Ripley, for his fans everywhere

Ripley the beagle boy, has taken over "the office" and made it his room. No longer need his daddy to be sitting in the Bark-o-Lounger for him to jump up there, he now stakes out this chair as HIS own. Ripley however has bonded so well that he cries whenever I leave the house, and turns himself inside out when I return. Dog's apparently have no real sense of time, so being gone for five minutes or five hours, the risk is the same that my boy Ripley will voice his joy when I return. Otherwise, he's a fairly quiet beagle, which after five female beagles appears to be the exception to the rule. Every one of my beagles over the past forty years has maintained a distinct personality, and I've loved them all - this guy is special however, and I'm so glad he's always happy to see me. He still sleeps in his crate at night, but certainly enjoys a snuggle in bed with us when we let him out, before the day begins with a walk on the leash while the coffee brews.

Ripley meets Beasley Crenshaw

Ripley and I were coming back from the post office today, and we saw a nice couple walking another Beagle, so Ripley said "Dad, let's meet that other beagle", and naturally I was disposed to follow his instructions. As it turns out, Beasley was another rescue, but from mid Virginia, where he lives with Linda and Carlton Crenshaw. They visit our island for several weeks every year, so Ripley wanted to spend some time with his new buddy. I walked down to meet this couple, then asked them to take a picture of Ripley with his daddy, and Beasley with his.

Beasley is a "forever" name, as Linda said his rescue name was not their choice. I said that Ripley prefers his forever name over his TBBR assigned name. Both boys were pleased to meet each other, did all the requisite sniffing and checking out ID (remember, dogs carry their identification in their back pockets). I wish we could have turned them loose to play, however they ARE beagles, and beagles need to be kept on a leash, lest they capture a scent of a squirrel and be gone.

Ripley hopes he can see Beasley again at least once or twice - Beasley is very handsome as well, and the Crenshaw's who have also had multiple beagles told me one in ten beagles born comes in the color scheme of only two colors - Ripley, being a tricolor beagle is more common. Ripley says "I'm not common, I'm exceptional!", and his daddy is inclined to agree.

Christmas at Beagle Manor

This is a picture taken of Ripley by our son (other son, the two legged variety) John B, of his little brother Ripley. J.B. got a new camera for Christmas, and a tri-pod and a camera case. He also got a new "hoodie" sweatshirt so he'll keep warm in this unusually cool season in Florida. He also got a book about "Weird Florida" stories. The camera was something he had expressed wanting to have, as his older camera had only about half the mega-pixels and capabilities of this newer one. J.B. had accompanied me to Orlando a few weeks ago, and was impressed by the Sony camera I had, so now we're an all Sony camera family. I'd offer that old pun, "Sony of my owny" but I'm considering giving up cheap puns for New Year's.

Ripley is pictured on his favorite rug in the living room. This is the rug that came from Badcock & More (yes, that's the name - insert your own crude humor here). We purchased a new living room furnishing with two chairs, a three person sofa, that rug and two vases in blue & brown. The rest of the living room came down from Missouri, except for the Tommy Bahama style entertainment center from the former island condo. Ripley is Sir Skids A Lot when it comes to chasing the tennis ball on the wood floors, ergo this rug is his island of tranquility.

Christmas in Florida is different, to say the least. I suppose native Floridians don't miss the snow, but instead of a white Christmas, we had to settle for a Windy Christmas. As I write this on a Sunday morning, the wind is whipping the palm fronds, and the live oaks trees are casting their acorns onto car roofs, driveways and streets. Ripley has been out with me to take his walk, and experience his first encounter (to our knowledge) with a giant Blue Heron. The bird was standing tall (he was at least 48" tall) next to some reeds near the pond, and watching Ripley as he made a half-hearted stalk. Ripley, who apparently is no fool when it comes to birds bigger than beagles, stopped a good 15 feet away and barked the bird into flight. You had to wonder what the dog was thinking, but then you realized he wasn't thinking......he's a beagle.

The Bark-O-Lounger King

It's been just over a week, but Ripley the Beagle has taken over. He's at least taken over my one room in the house where I've condensed as much of my prior "offices" into a space engineered to hold memories and current files. One of the few pieces I was able to keep from my much larger "man cave" in Missouri was this recliner, which back in the day was known by many as a Barcalounger (a brand name which, like Xerox, became synonymous with the product). There's a small inset picture of that original product in this blog entry.

Ripley has taken over my office. When I moved full time to Florida, I brought with me a desk, a credenza, and a matching bookcase. I also brought a corduroy couch which was a full sized hide-a-bed, and various other pieces of furniture. It became very clear, even before the truck came to pick up stuff in Missouri, that in the new space there would not be room for all of this stuff. That desk had been with me for years, and was a really nice (heavy) piece of furniture. In the planning of the new "office" which began life as a breakfast room, but was redesigned by my wife and our contractor, I showed Jason (the contractor) a picture of the desk - which he said he might be able to use in his expanding business. So, while I now have only the original credenza and matching bookcase, at least the desk found a good home in nearby Sarasota. I gave Jason first right of refusal to re-assemble the suite once they carted my old bones off to the retirement center.

So now I have the credenza, bookcase, television stand (and TV), computer, printer, recliner, and couch/hide-a-bed. Ripley has been exploring every nook and cranny of his new home, and looking for places to hide his chew toys. So far, he's managed to find at least three places in my office, one in the cushions of the couch. I cannot sit down without Ripley jumping into my lap, and wanting a belly rub. He is very spoiled, and wants to help me do everything, including write this blog.

It was a small office to start with, and now this small dog has decided it's his to share with me. Funny how, no matter how small a space may be, there is always room to fill it up with love. And Ripley has moved in, and been crowned King of the Bark-O-Lounger.