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Dog Diary

The ride of life with a dog
  • Surf Dog Diaries - dog blog
  • The ride of life with a dog
  • HANG 20 - DOG BEACH, CA
  • HANG 20 - DOG RIVER, OR
  • ABOUT US
  • BarbAyers.com
  • GIVING BACK
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Dogs ride the ups and downs with us. Real life Surf Dog Diaries

Meet writer dogs. Rider dogs. Best dog friends. Surf the couch, the www, or a wave. Wave back at us!

It's all about the ride. The ride of life with a dog.

Doodle and the cone, a week after after head surgery- his eyes were back to normal. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle and the cone, a week after after head surgery- his eyes were back to normal. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Just a little nip/tuck facelift on my doxie. The elephant is gone. A true story, Part 3

Barbara Ayers February 9, 2019

In the first two episodes, I discover a fast growing tumor (the elephant) on my doxie’s head, at Christmas. After denial, we’re headed to surgery. We don’t know if it’s malignant.

Brain surgery on my baby.

It was yesterday.

But the lobotomy was really mine.

It happened in the O.R. of an OR country vet.

It might as well have been Hollywood – the end result was a Nip, Tuck on Doodle’s melon. His dog face. His brain.

Just a little face-lift. On my boy toy doxie.

He came home, shaking. Poor baby was fragile. He had hollow eyes and looked like he’d seen the devil.

Glistening eyes guy (my nickname for him, when I adopted him at the shelter) was on the edge of resignation.

OWWW!!!! Poor baby! Brain zipper healing, but hard to look at. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

OWWW!!!! Poor baby! Brain zipper healing, but hard to look at. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

One eye was sort of square shaped, not round. Not liquid lava. Not his usual sparkle face.

He didn’t want to drink water.

None of the usual swagger.

That “I own the world” attitude, shriveled.

His sweet little red carpet face was scarred, with big, black stitches taking up half of his forehead, which altogether measured maybe four inches tops, on his biggest brain day.

The square eye was only half open and the good eye, sagging. Gone was the light.

But then he saw me, square eye and all.

All nose, tiny forehead. Not a great set up for forehead surgery. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

All nose, tiny forehead. Not a great set up for forehead surgery. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

He bounded down the hall

(well, at least those last ten feet) at the vet’s…

… like a greyhound…

…. and my eyes lit up, too…

… arms wide open….

… running to each other…

… like a slow motion movie scene...

… those… last… ten… feet… before….

REUNITED – AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!!!!!

And it was…

“SO, WAY BETTER THAN WHEN YOU COME HOME FROM WORK!”

… like that Cone wasn’t there and the head zipper was no big deal and nothing had ever happened back there behind that lobby door, down the dark hallway, in the OR O.R., under anesthesia.

I picked him up, like a fragile newborn (so, not my norm.) Usually it’s….

Get yer butt up here right now, my little rug rat!

Smother mother.

But Mother Theresa, that thankfully I was instead, cradled him gently in her arms.

veterinarian (2).jpg

It was the longest eight hours… in history…

…between the time I dropped Doodle off…

… and that longest day…

… that day I worried and paced.

Finally, late afternoon the vet called…

“It went well. He’s groggy, but he’ll be ready for pick up at 5:30.”

… Another eternity…. hours and minutes and seconds… and split seconds later until…

REUNITED – AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!!!!!

It was a black hole of time and worry and nervous energy and angst and irrational thinking.

Hopefully I didn’t balance any checkbooks during that time, or write important dossiers on world peace.

And of course, not a wink last night.

Fits and starts, for the last few weeks, since I booked the surgery.

I was so afraid to hurt my little zipper head, but I needed to share our heartbeats, chest to chest, like puppies.

In a lobby full of people.

Hey, they’re dog moms and dads. They know.

But it was such an intimate moment; ideally no one’s watching.

I pressed him close (OK, maybe I crushed him to me…)

I was there for him.

He was there for me.

One big, long moment of silence.

Time stood still.

With so much to say, in so few words.

As only a dog can do.

While I paid about a thousand bucks to bust him out of that happy/sad, awful/hopeful place.

Dearly departed Elvis at the vets. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dearly departed Elvis at the vets. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

That place that could change his life, his fate, his future.

And mine.

So easily.

Nice people. I am SO THANKFUL they are there.

But it’s a dirty little secret that all vets know; that I learned working at a zoo – animals don’t like, or trust, their vet.

Avoid, hide, avoid, hide!

This is not their happy place. Or yours.

Twin bassets Elvis n Dude with double donuts. The new cone, with less shame. But it only works when you don’t have a head injury. Doodle here is working on his therapy dog skills a few years ago. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Twin bassets Elvis n Dude with double donuts. The new cone, with less shame. But it only works when you don’t have a head injury. Doodle here is working on his therapy dog skills a few years ago. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Shame and cones and please make it stop

Doodle needed pain pills four times a day. I hoped he wouldn’t become an addict - there are some holic tendencies in our genes.

Now, antibiotics were urgent, too.

He couldn’t go outside, he couldn’t get wet or dirty.

What does a dog do, without wet and dirty?

A dog that lives to surf with me, that can’t get wet?

Heck, I can’t live without getting dirty. Isn’t that the whole point? Hence my surf spinster lifestyle, surfing with dogs, well into my 50’s. When normal people know better.

In the surgery scuffle, Doodle had dental work, too.

Poor baby had a front tooth pulled. He couldn’t chew.

I had to feed him soft food, like a geezer.

Might as well add a diaper while we’re at it.

The indignity of it all.

Speaking of…. The Cone of Shame. Closing in, like a vice – squeezing down on your joy, your independence, your ego, and your happy-go-lucky-doggie-attitude.

Your ability to cope.

To surf. Anything. Everything.

Doodle’s brothers Dude and Elvis a few years back after they had tandem surgeries. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle’s brothers Dude and Elvis a few years back after they had tandem surgeries. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dudes and Cones

No dog I ever knew, not even my Dude, the Dog of Dignity Despite Dire – could handle the Cone Of Shame.

Dude took losing eyes and other body parts in stride and I have never met a braver soul.

But that Cone deeply pissed him off.

Which was how I knew he’d come back after surgery. Getting pissed off at a cone makes perfect sense.

Poor baby Doodle was barely holding on. Post anesthesia, my stud muffin doxie that normally owns the surfboard, was fragile and listless.

It hurt to look at him.

Doodle in cone, Tia stands guard_smalledited-1.jpg
My Doodle, apres brain surgery. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

My Doodle, apres brain surgery. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

I hand fed him food and pain pills.

He shook violently, even under heavy covers.

I flattened him against my body and my heat filled him up and my heartbeat ticked along with his.

Tia, the cat, flattened right in there too, purring.

Heartbeat syncing up, 3:1.

Her fuzzy fur coated one side of the doxie. I was the other half. After about an hour, my soft-oozy-white-middle-of-the-Oreo-cookie baby dog finally fell asleep.

We curled up and stayed in bed and watched bad TV - murder mysteries on desert islands, secret life of pets, sappy romances.

And we spooned up together like it was good TV and all that bad stuff in the real world couldn’t get in. Like bed was our safe place. Home.

It was nothing but that torrential Oregon rain and grey of January and that bad stuff was laughable on TV -- far, far away; outside the warm and fogged-up windows. Spooned up with this tiny dog of mine and an obese cat and this big ‘ol Cone that we all tried to ignore, like the elephant in the room.

And the laptop that lived in bed with us and our other bff was there, spooning with us too - Netflix.

Old Blue, our creaky historic farmhouse, sheltered us from the storm.

We could hear our quail friends, calling outside. Just like normal.

Vet lady’s post-op instructions said food and water in small amounts after anesthesia and fasting. Soft food only, every few hours. Feed, wait 30 minutes or more, then feed just a little more. Do not give a full meal.

We started with a handful. He wasn’t fooled. He knew I was short changing him. For once, I didn’t cave, because I am his mom and I need to care for him when he can’t care for himself.

So we snuggled up and waited an hour. Then he got just a little more baby food, and he gulped down the antibiotic in a smoky pill pocket. And we rolled back to bed and he was out for good.

I drank a lot of wine for medicinal purposes and was so glad he finally checked out and slept the night away. All three of us did.

Doxie expandable

The vet had a hard time getting Doodle under. I know that feeling, it’s his special gift. Sparkle of joy. Life force energy. Way outweighs the dinky doxie.

When he first started traveling with me, carryon bag style on airplanes, I tried every pill they had to chill him out – anti anxiety medicines, mellow yellow homeopathic drops, doggie downers - nothing worked. I didn’t want him out; just slower.

Finally, I tried a quarter of Elvis’s old Tramadol pain pill – and, bingo! In small amounts, so he didn’t become a stoner - a statistic in the US opioid epidemic.

Drop that cone and walk away…. Doodle’s Emancipation Day! From his good side. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Drop that cone and walk away…. Doodle’s Emancipation Day! From his good side. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

His inquisitive little brain and liquid eyes and proud barrel chest and curlicue tail usually weighs 16 pounds. But he was 18.8 at the vet’s today.

My baby is… Good God, he’s middle aged! 49 in dog years! How did that happen? Is he filling out in middle age, like the rest of us?

Did he get a little fatter this winter? Did the tumor make him gain weight? Was it too many Christmas snack sessions? Or was it my fault, after losing both bassets in one year, and spoiling my only remaining dog son?

Does Jenny Craig do doxies?


Life after surgery – a.k.a. three words:

BACK TO NORMAL

(whatever that is)

LIFE IS GOOD.

Brave little doxie faces his future. Walk the plank - and trust what’s at the other end. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Brave little doxie faces his future. Walk the plank - and trust what’s at the other end. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

There’s a but…

Biopsy sample to be tested for the Big C. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Biopsy sample to be tested for the Big C. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

… well, everything except that nagging feeling…

… the gut-punch that won’t go away.

That terrifying ten day wait…

… to find out…

biopsy results.

- Continued- in Part 4, the finale, next week.

Part 1: Elephant in the room - on my baby doxie
Part 2: Ground hog day - shadows lifting over doxie and me
Tags coping with pet loss, my dog is sick, Dog Diary, surf dog diaries, doxie Doodle, surf dog mom Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, veterinarian, I love dogs, Small Town Diaries, stray dog books, dogs n friends, my dog surfs
The Gorge cliffs, facing west, from the kitchen window. Looking  down river, toward  Hood River, OR.            Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

The Gorge cliffs, facing west, from the kitchen window. Looking down river, toward Hood River, OR. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Snow dog day in the Columbia River Gorge

Barbara Ayers January 18, 2019
Our front yard view - Coyote Wall syncline, over the Columbia River. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Our front yard view - Coyote Wall syncline, over the Columbia River. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

An old friend came to visit this week - snow. He came in hard and fast one night as we slept. We awoke to a magical morning in the front yard.

Snow is fun to surf on.

It’s fun to porpoise through, if you have four legs.

And it gives our old friend, yard art - Rusty, the recycled toaster dog - a whole new look.

In snow and sun, Rusty hangs with his bff, Tiki Dude, by the Surf Dog Diaries surf shack.

Here’s a day in the life of Oregonians Rusty and Tiki, on a snow dog day.

Surf shack of writer dogs, Surf Dog Diaries. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surf shack of writer dogs, Surf Dog Diaries. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Tiki and Rusty on a sunshiny day Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Tiki and Rusty on a sunshiny day Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Tiki and Rusty, our yard art friends. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Tiki and Rusty, our yard art friends. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Rusty, recycled toaster dog. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Rusty, recycled toaster dog. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

RUSTY THE RECYCLED TOASTER DOG'S BLOG - HERE
I mean, wow. We get to live here! Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

I mean, wow. We get to live here! Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Barb Doodle snow selfieSMALL.jpg

Our dinky dog town, Mosier, takes on a magical look on days like these.

Time for a snow angel! And a snow dog session!

Barb n Doodle

Surf Dog Diaries, DogDiary.org

Related posts, from our big snow year here - Snowmeggadon:

Snowmeggadon - in the front yard!
Snowmeggadon: Our hearts caved in when the roof did
Smoke on the water!
Tags dog diary, dog blog, Small Town Diaries, small town dog, surf dog diaries, dog mom Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, snow, snow day, Hood River Oregon, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon snowpocalypse, winter season, I love my dog, windsurfing capital of the world
Dog jibe (downwind turn.)  It used to be a 2-dog or 3-dog jibe on board, when we first started doing King of the Hook.                                 Photo by Stev…

Dog jibe (downwind turn.)  It used to be a 2-dog or 3-dog jibe on board, when we first started doing King of the Hook.                                 Photo by Steve Schmidt, (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Not exactly King of the Hook

Barbara Ayers August 13, 2017
There's one rule in windsurfing: don't leave wind to find wind.
So, yesterday it was hard to pack up the 7'11” Open Ocean short board and de rig the 3.7 Ezzy sail – while the wind still howled on classic 20-30mph Gorge windsurfing day. 
I left wind, pulled out a board longer than my car, and went back to the Hook, home of almost no wind. That place where beginners first learn to windsurf. Here in Hood River, Oregon, windsurf capital of the world.
Hood River's windsurfing learning pond - The Hook. Doodle and contestants at King of the Hook, August 12, 2017. This is our favorite low wind board, a Starboard that is a combo SUP/windsurf board.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Hood River's windsurfing learning pond - The Hook. Doodle and contestants at King of the Hook, August 12, 2017. This is our favorite low wind board, a Starboard that is a combo SUP/windsurf board.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

My dogs and I do this crazy old school windsurfing romp each year - King of the Hook, hosted by CGWA, Columbia Gorge Windsurfing Assn. We support our local non profit, dedicated to enhancing Gorge beach access, and bringing up the next windsurfing generation. I'm a proud board member.
King of the Hook style!    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

King of the Hook style!    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Speaking of boards, King of the Hook is not your classic Gorge hotshot windsurfing freestyle contest – big moves, big winds, short boards, adoring fans, ego beach.
It’s all about long boards and old school freestyle and costumes and attitude. There's not a serious sailor in sight – but it attracts its share of hotshot young sailors. And people like me, who don't take themselves too seriously.
That's the official King of the Hook 2017 in the water, with his adoring fans.                Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

That's the official King of the Hook 2017 in the water, with his adoring fans.                Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doxie on 1987 Mistral Superlight - a still life.                                     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org 

Doxie on 1987 Mistral Superlight - a still life.                                     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org 

I have always been a believer in just showing up.

Being the best - winning - it's so over rated!
Doodle and I’ve got 'tude - but we don't got freestyle.
That is, unless a doxie on board and cherried-out costumes count as freestyle.
Our old school 1987 Mistral Superlight on the beach, a tribute to the early days of windsurfing. 
Dog River and Dog Mountain license plates on board - literally - hanging from the boom as we compete.
But we always come home with a prize. Everyone does!
Wardrobe and decoration malfunctions. Our Dog River / Dog Mountain license plates almost fell in the drink;  the cherry sprigs on my hat and Doodle's cherry booty bag caught on the sail when we tacked or jibed. And it was a no wind day - it was…

Wardrobe and decoration malfunctions. Our Dog River / Dog Mountain license plates almost fell in the drink;  the cherry sprigs on my hat and Doodle's cherry booty bag caught on the sail when we tacked or jibed. And it was a no wind day - it was hard to look Kingly.              Photo by Steve Schmidt, (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

We love kid Kings of the Hook. This year, there were two brothers windsurfing in formal wear - top hats and ties.  
And a girl nose rider on board with her mom - who I nominate as Queen of the Hook. She's about six, just learning to windsurf. These groms are the future of our sport - it's exciting to sail with them!
Top hats and hood ornaments - the kids were the stars of King of the Hook!  My nomination for Queen of the Hook is the girl on the right and that's my King on the left.     Photo by Steve Schmidt, (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Top hats and hood ornaments - the kids were the stars of King of the Hook!  My nomination for Queen of the Hook is the girl on the right and that's my King on the left.     Photo by Steve Schmidt, (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle and I were "all cherried out" - a nod to our home town of Mosier, cherry central.      Photo (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle and I were "all cherried out" - a nod to our home town of Mosier, cherry central.      Photo (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 
It was kinda hard this year - just Doodle and I - no low rider wide-body bassets on board, solid and reliable. Big and flashy dogs of the hook. Just us two squirrels. 
I wore Elvis and Dude name tags as part of my costume.
Dude rode The King every year, even after he went blind. Elvis was the king of doggie windsurfing and SUP.
They are my twin totems, my forever Kings of the Hook. This is the first year we rode without them.
RIP, dear old dog friends.
Tags windsurfing dog, Columbia Gorge Windsurfing Assn., CGWA, Hood River OR, The Hook, Hood River, Hood River Event Site, Hood River dog, Doodle the doxie, Elvis the basset, Dude the dog, dog mom Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, Surf Dog Diaries, surf dog mom, Columbia River Gorge, cute dog story, King of the Hook, coping with pet loss, Dog diary, dog blog, Writer dog, I love dogs, dog days of summer, wise old dogs, Small Town Diaries, small town dog
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Surf Dog Diaries  |  Barb Ayers, San Diego, CA and Mosier OR.  |   All content and images (c) Barb Ayers, copyrighted, all rights reserved