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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.

Grandpa Ayers and Doodle Ayers on a recent visit.           Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Grandpa Ayers and Doodle Ayers on a recent visit.           Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dear Grandpa, I love you - from your grand dog.

Barbara Ayers March 13, 2022

We're Family. I'm yours. You're mine.

My mom and you and me and Grandma and the kids and creatures roaming our backyards.

I look up to you, Grandpa. We all do.

You taught us how to live - you gave us our last name - Ayers.

You showed us all how to rock and roll and ride through life.

Even now, that you don't feel so well.

no one has patience dad does ball chaser_edited-1.jpg

It's Grandpa Grrrrrrrr time!!!!

Whether you're having a good day or bad - nothing perks us all up, like a good grrrrrr.

Grandpa, you understand, without words, just what I need.

You get my priorities! First project upon visiting: creating total mayhem.

When it comes to play time - you can really last all day! No one is as patient as you, grandpa.

And you get my 2nd priority after play time: toy box inventory.

You're a rad dad.

You taught your girl to be a rad mom. My mom.

Thank you.

Here you and my mom are, camping and riding bikes in the desert. I love camping! 

You taught us all, the whole family, the love of play time, love of nature, love of life.

And you've had the same grrrr friend for 67 years. Grandma Ayers. That's awesome. She's a lucky gal.

Here you are, horsing around on an anniversary, acting like kids. Yeah! That's the stuff!

grand dog, dad passing on good mechanic tips to Doodle_edited-1.jpg

I try to give back, Grandpa.

Here, I'm helping you with a brake job.  On thanksgiving day. When I'd REALLY rather eat turkey.

What I wouldn't give for a good brake job right now. With turkey and mashers. I miss you. We live too far away...

For you, I jump into a carry-on bag, Grandpa.

Put up with all that airplane travel...  just for you.

And do my carry-on bag dog thing.

You're totally worth it, Grandpa.

Because at the end of the bag - is your lap.

I can't imagine a day without you in it, Grandpa.

I love you, big guy. We all do.

Cutest couple ever. Of all time. Love you, Grandpa/dad, Grandma/mom.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org                                 

Cutest couple ever. Of all time. Love you, Grandpa/dad, Grandma/mom.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org                                 

 

Here was our family 16 years ago, on your 50th wedding anniversary.

I wasn't even born yet, but my fellow grandkids made the picture. And mom's on the left, the one that writes Surf Dog Diaries with me.

 

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 

 

 

And then, life changed.

We came back.  I did the carry on bag thing. But it wasn't a happy visit - we came to see you in the hospital.

I did my best Therapy Dog thing. So did the rest of the family.

 

We tried to help you get your memory back after the stroke. By looking at old photos.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Good times.

Bad times.

The ride.

The ups and downs of life.

 

 

 

Whatever life brings, we're in it together.

When you were sick, we were trying to act normal. So, we went out on the deck and had a little fun.

We were cheating at cards. You know, like the famous painting?

Last month, here we are on the deck at the care place - playing cards. Or should I say, cheating?  My mom is shooting pictures - she's not that great at cards anyway.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Here we are on the deck at the care place - playing cards. Or should I say, cheating?  My mom is shooting pictures - she's not that great at cards anyway.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

My advice to grandma: don't over think it.

 Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Just deal with the cards you're dealt.

We're all working on that. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 

Yeah!! That's it, grandma!!  GO girl!       

 

 

 

 

Now it's my turn.... 

Here's my best card shark look:

My best Card Shark look.                                           Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org          &n…

My best Card Shark look.                                           Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org           

Doodle, top dog, of the Ayers family card game.            Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle, top dog, of the Ayers family card game.            Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Super Jack - the hand. How fitting!       Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Super Jack - the hand. How fitting!       Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Woo hoooo! I'm top dog in the Ayers family card game!

Here's my winning hand, grandpa. Can you believe it?

I call it "Super Jack."

Cuz that's your name.

 

 Grandpa Jack Ayers!

Who knows what lies ahead?

All that matters is today.

And love.

Any good dog could tell you that....

SuperJack!!!

 

 

With love from your grand dog - your dinky doxie BFF - your Pen Pal.....

Doodle Ayers

Surf Dog Diaries

Tags grand dog, Father's Day, Doodle, Surf Dog Diaries, DogDiary.org, dog diary, Barb Ayers, dog blog, life with dogs, grand dog diaries, must love dogs, dogs are family, dog kid, dog friend, fur kid, grandpa, grandma, boomer, granddog, I luv dogs, I love my dog, Surf Dog Blog, dog friends, diaries by dogs, dogdiary.org, day in life of, dogs n friends, small town dog, small town diary, my best friend, my secret diary, writer dog, stray dog books, rescue dog, coping with loss, the ups and downs of life, dad had a stroke, surf dog diaries, Dogdiary.org, Barbara Ayers, doxie Doodle
Welcome home! Bernese Mountain Dogs trick or treat. Sweet grand dogs of our Oregonian friend Chris Fitzsimmons. Puppy is Demi at four and a half months and full grown brother Zeus. Photo by dog mom Marnie Fitzsimmons.

Welcome home! Bernese Mountain Dogs trick or treat. Sweet grand dogs of our Oregonian friend Chris Fitzsimmons. Puppy is Demi at four and a half months and full grown brother Zeus. Photo by dog mom Marnie Fitzsimmons.

Fall - one of our favorite seasons of all

Barbara Ayers October 24, 2020

Life is changing - and so are we. Celebrating the journey together - with you, at Surf Dog Diaries.

We’re changing what we wear! All those bright colors - the stuff of fall. In Vancouver, WA. The American Vancouver. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

We’re changing what we wear! All those bright colors - the stuff of fall. In Vancouver, WA. The American Vancouver. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Three little piggies…. possibly the cutest family ever… trick or treating with the Whitlocks - and their own little puppy, Alden, In Hood River, OR. Actual puppy not pictured (a full grown Husky.) Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Three little piggies…. possibly the cutest family ever… trick or treating with the Whitlocks - and their own little puppy, Alden, In Hood River, OR. Actual puppy not pictured (a full grown Husky.) Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dogs n friends….. memories of Halloween’s gone by- when my own dog sons Elvis n Dude were still hanging in the surf dog cart - and Motts Erickson was just a little blonde puppy. In Hood River, OR. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dogs n friends….. memories of Halloween’s gone by- when my own dog sons Elvis n Dude were still hanging in the surf dog cart - and Motts Erickson was just a little blonde puppy. In Hood River, OR. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Fall bounty - the surrender of leaves and the farmers harvest. So much to be thankful for. The orchards around the bend of our road- the Historic Columbia River Highway, near Mosier, OR. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Fall bounty - the surrender of leaves and the farmers harvest. So much to be thankful for. The orchards around the bend of our road- the Historic Columbia River Highway, near Mosier, OR. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Tags fall leaves, changing seasons, Dog diary, Hood River OR, Bernese mountain dog, dogs n friends, dogs and kids, Happy Halloween, dog lover, small town diary
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
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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