Smokey Mountain Breakdown

After fourteen years of snack stealing, unrepentant repetitive barking, trash scrounging, undeserved entitlement and all around outrageous behavior--Fat Buddy has left the building.

He taught me a lot about loving life, despite health challenges--of which he had many. I liked to say that FB was the canine version of me--autoimmune disorders a-go-go and poor impulse control when it comes to all things food. I've nursed him through so many health scares that I should have been ready for this day--but I'm not. He's been my happy jester and my heart hurts.

I don't really have any words--so I thought I'd share my favorite Kipling poem--which pretty much sums up this particular moment those of us who give our hearts away know too well. And some images of what made Fat Buddy--well, Fat Buddy.

I spent today at the vet with Fat Buddy, my hospice case/alterego. He woke up with a really bad tummy yesterday morning--animals never get sick on a weekday. Heck--I don't get sick on weekdays. He sort of went downhill from there and was running a temp of 103.5 by the afternoon. He wasn't eating or drinking. He wasn't even interested in food, which terrifies me. He doesn't have that name for nothing. I started him on his clindamycin.

So, this morning he drinks and the water is red with blood. We got in to see the vet this afternoon and he's got this growth in his mouth. It's really big, but only attached by a tiny bit of skin and it's got to come out. They are talking doing more dental work while they are in there. It's going to be in the 500 dollar range--after I declined other stuff that drove the estimate between 650 and 800.

So. I need to mount a fundraiser for F.B. again. You might remember the Doggie Dental Begathon from last October. You can see hilarious Fat Buddy piccies and read his story there. One rescue picked up his entire dental last year, which was a godsend. I need to raise some funds--at least half--to get this done for him. The idea is to make his life as comfortable as possible and I don't know how to do that without removing this growth. I'm syringing water and pureed food into him for the time being. He had a ground beef and cottage cheese smoothie this evening. What I could get into him anyway. I'm just so exhausted from everything that's been going on with my own health, it's sort of overwhelming. I really love this dog. Sorry. I'm sort of a mess right now.

I'm conferencing with my vet this Wednesday--we saw her new associate who I didn't know today. I'm wondering if we just need to let Fat Buddy go. I went ahead and set the appointment for next Tuesday, because I have to get that thing removed for him.

So, any donations coming through the blog will be going directly to Fat Buddy. If you'd prefer to donate directly to my vet, here are her particulars:

Dr. Sandra O'Connor, DVM
Cedarwood Veterinary Hospital
101 Hedrick Dr., Newport, TN 37821
423-623-4362

Just reference "Rosie Griffeth's Fat Buddy".

And remember, I'm also the artist behind Angel Dogs. So any commissions I accept will be going toward Fat Buddy's treatment. Or I can write something for you!

At the vet's yesterday with the Fat Buddy, I'd worked myself up to quite a state.

"It's really going to hurt me to lose this one." I tell her, with a quiver in my voice, eyes flooding.

I realize that part of the reason Fat Buddy is so precious to me, is that he's been the good-natured butt of so many jokes--most of his own making--while he's been with me. I also fought so hard to bring him back to a relatively stable condition with all his health problems. I made him shoes. How many dogs can you say you had to make shoes for?

So many people look at Fat Buddy and say, "Awww--He's not fat!"

Actually, forty plus pounds on a cocker spaniel is fat. He's the only dog I've ever seen with a saggy bottom. He likes to shimmy it when you pet him just so--sort of like that dance move the hip-hop girls do. When someone says he's not fat, I suspect that the issue of fatness may be a problem on their part. People get sort of weird about fatness. I'm fat. Fat Buddy is fat. We don't have a problem being fat--we just are. It would be better if we weren't, but there it is.

Part of Fat Buddy's fatness is the presence of many lipomas--dog cellulite. I've been really concerned that he might have cancer since he has so many of them. I bring this up to the vet, and she tells me that the places where he has them aren't usually where a dog gets lymphoma tumors. There is evidently a pattern to those and while Fat Buddy is indeed a lipoma a-go-go--they aren't in lymphoma spots.

As she is telling me this, I point out the ping-pong ball sized one dangling midway down the rear of his right hip.

"So, this isn't like--ass cancer?"

The tech deadpans, "Ass-o-blastoma?"

We all have a good laugh at Fat Buddy's expense. While Fat Buddy and I suffer from ass-opathy, the lipoma is not high enough on his butt to cause concern.

So, basically, the infection in his jaw bone from the nasty teeth never resolved completely. His hips are starting to go--from age and perhaps from shaking his ass too vigorously(honestly, I think he might have thrown his back out doing that!) I will finish off his current course of doxycycline which should keep him stable, then switch to a two month course of clindamycin. In the meantime, I just try to keep him comfortable. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep him around a bit longer. I sure hope so.

I've been nursing Fat Buddy over the past few days. We go see the vet tomorrow. I'm a little afraid he has cancer, since his lumpy bits seem to be a bit out of control. He's been in a lot of pain, mostly in his mouth and I've had him on antibiotics, then pain killers for the past few days. After getting his teeth done, he was on the antibiotics for a month. But then he got sore again so I put him back on them. The infection cleared again, but now it's back. And he's really uncomfortable this time.

Anyway, I'm not quite sure what to do. If it is cancer, I will just keep him on painkillers until he stops being excited about the things he loves most. Mainly snacks. He's still quite keen on his snacks. Unfortunately, the infection means we can't put him on prednisone. That was what made the lumps go away when I first got him.

I'm hoping if we put him back on the clindamycin that, maybe, I can keep him going a bit longer. Fat Buddy owns such a big piece of real estate in the vicinity of my heart, that I know its going to just about kill me if he dies.

I don't have no stinkin' food article for tomorrow--actually for the next few weeks. I'm willing to open up the blog for guest food bloggers for the next few weeks. Email me if anyone is interested. Of course, you get reciprocal linkage and that's good for your blog.

...every fall. When I look at the trees and I realize, this is it. This is the day when the color has peaked. From here on out is will be the slow falling death of brightness onto the ground. The color will fade like blood drying after a very long while. And it won't come back no matter how much water you add. Today was that day.

I drove into town with the Fat Buddy for his follow-up. Perhaps it was that it was overcast, but the saturation was such on the leaves that I was reminded why so many people come here to see them. We are one of the southernmost places where you can go to see a real autumn.

Fat Buddy is doing well. The vet was pleased with his progress. We'll keep him on another week of antibiotics to be on the safe side.

I mention to her that I was pretty sure that Old Man had a heart attack. Old Man tries to bite her every time he comes in. So he has to wear a muzzle.

She stops suddenly and asks me, "Did he die?!"

"Oh, no...I was sort of sure he was going to, but he seems fine now. He climbed the stairs last night so he could sleep in the bedroom."

Old Man is the Fred Sanford of cocker spaniels. He threatens to die with such frequency that its gotten to be a joke.

"But, you know," she says, "you are going to call me boo-hooing about it when he does die and you are going to miss him just like the rest."

"I know," I say, "But even the flies think he's dead. They keep blowing him."

But, at least Fat Buddy has nice sweet breath now. Which is a good thing since he loves getting all kissy with you. He was starting to think I was seeing another dog.

Sure...he looks like he's politely begging here and asking very nicely if he can have one of those cucumber rolls...but mere moments ago he nonchalantly took one off the plate.

"Hmmm...Hors d'oeuvres? Don't mind if I do!"

Since his mouth is feeling so much better, he's felt capable of trying to raid the kitchen counter a few times. So, The Fat Buddy is officially back in the house!

Someone asked me the other day on one of the Cocker lists how old he was.

"Well, he's only 11," I said, "But a lifetime of chronic illness, poor exercise habits, sedentary lifestyle, too much sugar, obesity and a history of drug use make him seem much older."

Wait a minute...exactly who am I describing here?

Anyway, I'm attending a goat roast tonight. Yes, you heard me right...a goat roast. Open pit barbecued goat, sweet potatoes, collard greens and lots o' beer. I'm not acquainted with the goat in question so I'm sure he'll be delicious.

Today was Fat Buddy's dental procedure. I was in town all day long and spent most of it in the library going over the microfilms from the big flood.

Anyway, he's okay. He's still sort of stupid from the anaesthesia and I think his throat is sore from the esophageal EKG monitors they put in him. The vet removed four molars. I have them in a little pill jar...wanna see?

I made him a bowl of ramen noodles in home made chicken broth. He turned his nose up at it until I added the oriental seasoning mix to it.

The vet says he should be an entirely new dog in about three days...which I take to mean he'll be back to his fighting form as a sneak thief extraordinaire.

A Great Big Thank You Goes Out to Everyone!!!!

Most particularly to MerryLea Rescue in Frederick, Maryland who picked up the entire bill for the Fat Buddy's treatment!

If you were planning to help the Fat Buddy out, please instead consider donating to MerryLea since they have made it possible for us to go ahead with F.B's treatment. Donating to them will make it possible for them to help another needy dog...so, pay it forward!

Fat Buddy would give you all a great sloppy kiss of thanks but, believe me when I tell you, this would not be a pleasant experience.

I'm interrupting this Happy Sunday to let everyone know that the famous Fat Buddy is very ill. My blog readers won't be as familiar with Fat Buddy's fame, but he is quite well known in Cocker Spaniel Rescue circles.

I was fostering Fat Buddy for the Hilton Head Humane Association in South Carolina as a special needs dog. He has pemphigus and had an appointment with a vet to be put to sleep when he came into my care. That was in 2001. Since I'd done such a good job of rehabilitating him, he came with me to Tennessee as a permanent resident of Rosie's Cocker Rescue Referral.

If you enjoy the Breakdown and my writing, you owe a debt to Mr. F.B. My first forays into story writing started with the Fat Buddy Stories that were told on the Cocker Spaniel Rescue lists. These were short little Factlets detailing Fat Buddy's prodigious badness. Let's see...there was the famous battle for the steak sandwich...which I lost. There was his Garfield-esque love of pasta. There was Fat Buddy, Egg Burglar, and the Dreadful Retribution of the Ganders. Stories about the extensive efforts to Fat Buddy-proof my home...and Fat Buddy's uncanny ability to thwart those efforts. The dog has stolen and eaten 5 pound bags of sugar and flour, countless packages of meat, entire jars of peanut butter and once, an entire watermelon...really, too many items to list. He's constantly getting food packaging stuck on his head. He's dastardly clever. When the rest of the gang are begging at the dinner table, Fat Buddy first scopes out the kitchen to see if I've perhaps left a rib roast within easy reach. He's dug up rows of seed potatoes and eaten every cucumber and radish in my garden. Actually, not every radish...he has a strong preference for French Breakfast radishes. I have fought an ongoing losing battle for years to keep him out of the groceries.

Given his appetites and legendary sweet tooth...it's not surprising that he now has a dreadful anaerobic infection in his mouth. I've had him on ampicillin and it looks like that has failed. I'm starting him on doxycycline as soon as the shipment of that drug arrives. If that fails we will have to move on to the much more expensive clindamycin. Essentially, I've been working night and day for the past week rinsing his mouth with chlorhexidine mouthwash, applying warm compresses to make him more comfortable and administering antibiotics in an attempt to get the infection under control. He's pretty miserable. Still eating...just not chewing.

What he really needs is a dental. My vet has given me a procedure estimate of between 347.26 and 460.46 to have the little scoundrel's teeth fixed. He's probably going to have to have all of his molars removed. I need to raise at least a third of that amount to have the procedure done.

If you'd like to contribute toward's Fat Buddy's procedure, you may donate through paypal either through the blog or to my email address: rosiewlf@gmail.com. Alternately, you may donate directly to my veterinary clinic:

Dr. Sandra O'Connor, DVM
Cedarwood Veterinary Hospital
101 Hedrick Dr., Newport, TN 37821
423-623-4362

Just reference "Rosie Griffeth's Fat Buddy".

If you have a fax number and would like a copy of his estimate, I'll be happy to fax it to you.

Happy Sunday!

Da Fat Buddy

Poor ole Fat Buddy!

He loves to steal food. My food, mostly. It's necessitated all sorts of security measures concerning food stuffs around the house. Past disasters have included 5 pound bags of sugar, flour, eggs, many many sticks of butter, and I don't know how many loaves of white bread. White bread is his favorite.

But every once in a while, depending on availability, he likes to eat healthy. Fresh cucumbers are his favorite and there have been many years that I got zero cukes from my vines. Fat Buddy would guard the cucumber vines like they were steak and growl menacingly at the other dogs if they tried to come near. They unfortunately give him gas.

He scored himself a yellow squash from the kitchen counter the other day. I'm certainly not going to try to take it away from him.