What's a mom to do?

I'm worried about Buddy. As you probably know, if you ever read this badly-neglected blog, Buddy was attacked by some neighbor dogs on Valentine's Day. Three weeks later, still recovering from his wounds, I had to board him with the vet so I could go on a business trip. When Rob and I picked him up, his front leg was bothering him. He was limping on it, and the vet could not determine why. A week later, as the symptoms grew and changed, we finally learned that the problem was an abscess caused by an undetected bite wound (from the Valentine's Day attack). Before he knew it, Buddy was back in surgery, back in the protective collar and on lots of heavy medication again.

Last weekend, we were finally able to take the collar of shame off of him, and Buddy is 95% healed from the trauma. But now he is acting like a different dog. He still enjoys a walk, but doesn't frolic as much as he used to. He is barely interested in his food. He is drinking plenty of water, which is good. But he seems content to sleep all of the time and I have to beg him to come up on the bed. This is just not the Buddy I know.

I really think that this may be a case of depression following the big event. But I'm not sure what to do for him. Do I just let him sleep and wait for him to start feeling better? Do I get the vet involved? I hesitate going back to the vet. I just don't know what they could do for him, and I don't want to traumatize Buddy any more.

I don't how people with human children do it. My hats are off to you. I would be a basket case if this were my actual child. Still, I am kind of basket case.

To the birds

About six months after Rob and I met and started dating, he had his 33rd birthday. I decided I wanted to get him something really special, something that would symbolize the intense love that I felt for him. I was also starting to volunteer at PAWS Wildlife Center in Lynnwood, feeding baby birds, so I was a little obsessed with birds. I saw an ad in the paper for a pair of baby lovebirds and paid a visit to the seller. Despite Rob telling me that he didn't want a pet for a gift, I brought those two babies home and offered them up as his birthday gift.

From the very beginning, we knew these birds were a handful. Rob named the green one Spanky, because he thought she looked like she deserved to be spanked a lot for her naughty behavior. For the next few years, Spanky was the most productive little egg-layer I've ever seen. I tried everything to dissuade her from laying. One trick I read about was to give her a nest box, let her lay eggs, then take the box out after a week or so. I tried this, but failed to take the nest box out in time and that is how we ended up with Ickybird.

Sadly, Spanky's mate (Feebs) died about a year after the chicks hatched. But Spanky and Icky (mother and daughter) had each other for company and kept the walls of our house vibrating with their constant chatter. Yesterday, we said goodbye to Spanky. She was 12 years old, and had grown to be the "sweet one" of the pair (i.e., the one less likely to bite). She was an expert paper shredder, could be heard from across the street with all of the doors closed, and was our dear little friend. We'll miss you Spanky. You may not have symbolized love in the way that I meant all of those years ago, but you came to be a cherished member of our little animal kingdom. We hope that you and Feebs are flying around, enjoying the afterlife together.

To the dogs

As those of you know who are friends on Facebook, two weeks ago my dog Buddy got attacked. Specifically, we had just taken our daily walk in the nearby forest preserve and were heading home. It was raining hard and cold, and Buddy was practically dragging me down the street to get home. I was wearing my hiking boots, and just couldn't walk as fast as normal.

Not two blocks from home and I heard a man's voice shouting. In less than a second, I knew he was shouting at his dogs, and I knew it was bad. He used that tone that included both anger and fear. I turned my head to see three large black dogs running across the street towards us. Before I could even react, they were on Buddy and I was being pulled in circles, in the middle of growling, barking and Buddy's cries.

The guy ran over and pulled one of his dogs back. Buddy was in the dog's mouth and he rose up from the ground as the man pulled his dog's collar hard. I'm pretty sure I was screaming. The dog let go and Buddy fell to the ground, bleeding and crying, and he started running towards our house. I ran for him and threw myself on top of him, as I looked up to see another of the dogs heading towards me. I kept screaming over and over again to this guy to come up and get his f&*#ing dogs. Finally, all dogs were gone and I was standing there with Buddy in my arms, not knowing how bad his injuries were, and frankly, in shock.

The story ends with Buddy getting stitched up at the animal hospital and me nursing him back to health. It has been almost two weeks since the incident, and he still has stitches, but he is otherwise okay. I, on the other hand, feel like something really important has been taken away from me: my sense of safety in my own neighborhood.

It has been a long time since I worked with victims of crime, and since anything really scary happened to me. It is amazing how easily we are lulled into a feeling of safety in our environment. I've had so many thoughts in the past two weeks, including, of course, realizing how I might feel had the violence occurred to my person. It was bad enough seeing my dog injured, but what if it had been me (bruises and scrapes from the dog attack not-withstanding). It brings fresh to my mind how difficult this world is for victims of violence. And I can't help but feel a little guilty for being so tuned-out all of this time.

So now Buddy and I both need to heal. I'm not completely sure how to proceed. Rob will be home soon and we'll all walk together and he'll be our alpha-male protecting us from the bad, scary dogs. And while I am comforted by this thought, I mourn the feeling of independence that I've always had, walking Buddy every day after work, alone and relaxed. I don't think I'll ever be relaxed again. And what is really sad to me is realizing that maybe I was naive to have been so relaxed in the first place.

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