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Many beds Bear

A silly post tonight. We start Bear’s drug treatment tomorrow and, let’s just say ‘I’m a bit nervous.’ So, purely for my own entertainment, here’s Bear in his many and varied beds!

He’ll sleep all night on our bed. Then in the morning, it’s the sofa or beanbag. Once we start work, he’ll pick an office to snooze in. Come the evening, he’s flat out on the sofa until he decides it’s time for bed.

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The last few months have been really tough for Little Bear. It all started with the mystery wound on his leg in September that elicited the trip to the emergency vet one Saturday night. Within days, he was gnawing at his feet and belly. The vet prescribed Piriton. It didn’t help. A second vet suggested medicated shampoo and oils to add to his food. That failed to stop it too. A third vet put him on Apoquel and, as I mentioned in my last post, the itching stopped, but so did Bear. He became a shadow of himself, not wanting to eat, play, or even walk. It was horrendous.

Here was our otherwise sprightly little chap, deteriorating before our eyes and we were just being told to ‘keep taking the meds.’ All concerns about the side-effects, poo-pooed. After reading about the drug myself and checking that we could stop it without ill-effect, I took him off it.

He brightened up in himself, but went back to chewing his paws in earnest. I also found a small scab on his head, but dismissed at as a one off. We took him to our groomers as he was so hairy it was hard to see what was going on with his skin. His paws, she said, were thickened. While he was being groomed, I was on the phone to the head vet, arranging for him to see her.

By the time we could see her later that week, his paws had gone from slightly thickened to puffy and sore. Whatever was happening, it had hockey-sticked in severity during that last 24-hours and it was no surprise that they admitted him on the spot for skin biopsies. With the warnings of ‘potentially something more sinister going on,’ ringing in our ears, we left him at the vets for four agonising hours.

There was good news when we collected him. Various scans had showed no evidence of any tumours, so the diagnosis was that of a common bacterial skin infection, easily treated with antibiotics. The working assumption was that the symptoms had been masked by the Apoquel, allowing the infection to run amok.

Still drowse from the general anaesthetic, his feet shaved to bare skin and still shivering from his medicated bath, he was in a sorry state when we collected him. However, with the help of steroids and antibiotics, he picked up quickly. By the following day he had his appetite back and was woofing at the postman. We were thrilled.

Sadly, the improvement didn’t continue. As his feet healed, the rest of his skin became covered in scabs. They’re now everywhere – even in his ears. With the biopsy results back, the vet now suspects Pemphigus foliaceus, which is the most common autoimmune disease in dogs. It can be treated with steroids, but until the right dose is found to put the disease into remission, it leaves them depressed, lethargic, and generally feeling unwell.

We’re off to see a specialist next week in the hopes that we can speed up the road to recovery. We have lots of questions – not least, what part Apoquel played in making an otherwise fit and healthy dog so desperately unwell in his golden years. We also want to know why this wasn’t suspected far sooner.

There are some glimmers of light. On Christmas Eve, he found a ball and decided to have a play. Today, he grabbed a teddy and we played chase around the living room for a few minutes. He’s enjoying his new diet of scrambled egg, fresh chicken and vegetables, particularly if I hand feed him. He’s more than capable of eating it by himself, but I think he just likes the improved level of service.

We have, I hope, many more Little Bear years ahead of us, so whatever we have to do now to return him to wellness will be worth it. If you’ve got some love and prayers to spare, please send them his way. x

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It’s 4am and I’m on the couch with Bear. He’s whining softly and trembling, because he’s desperate to chew his itchy feet, but to stop him making his paws bleed, I’ve had to put his Buster collar on. I feel like a monster.

We’ve no idea what‘s sparked this sudden itchiness but it’s making him miserable. The Apoquel prescribed by our vet stopped the itching almost overnight but the side effects were too horrendous to continue.

Bear became a zombie dog. Refusing to leave his bed. Turning his nose up at his food and appearing weak and unwilling to walk, even around the house.

I’ve not heard him bark in weeks and you’ll know how big a deal that is. When neither a trip to his favourite pet shop or a hot playdate with two pretty lady Schnauzers raised even a wag of his tail, we knew there was something radically wrong.

I spoke to the head vet at our practice last night. Apparently such a reaction to Apoquel is rare (2-4%), so maybe we’ve been unlucky. What we need now though is a way to bring him comfort – fast.

The list of things we’re trying is growing by the day. Hibbiscrub for his paws, non-itchy herbal stuff in his food, a new home cooked diet, Non Stinky Stuff (arriving today) plus an attack on dust mights that apparently, are the most common cause of allergies in dogs.

He’s finally asleep. Tucked up in his new bed beside me, cwtched under a blanket. My poor little Bear. Please cross your fingers and paws for us. We so want our cheeky, barky, little lad back.

Bear last night. The face says it all.

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On Thursday, we took Bear to see a physiotherapist. He’s still not himself. He’s been refusing walks, sleeping all day, turning his nose up at his food, and intermittently limping on his front fore. 

Now, on the limping, Bear has form for fakery. Ever since puppyhood, he’s been adept at convincing us, well, mainly me, that he can’t walk another step on his soon to fall off leg. Pick him up and carry him home and the limp magically disappears the minute his paws touch the carpet. When it started happening at home though, we worried that our little Bear who cried wolf might actually mean it this time. 

Our vets had conflicting views, hence I booked the physio appointment to get him assessed. Enter the lovely and highly recommended Donna Wills. After a thorough check, we had our answer. Bear’s joints are in pretty good shape. He has a full range of movement in the paw he’s limping on and no obvious sources of pain. He needs to strengthen his core (don’t we all) but overall, his muscle tone isn’t bad considering his age. 

While the limp is something we need to monitor, there’s no physical reason to let him off walks. That we’ve been letting him sleep and dodge his usual exercise for fear of exasperating the sore leg has only been making the real problem worse – he’s depressed. 

I know a thing or two about depression and it breaks my heart to think of Bear being brought so low. With the okay to get back to his normal exercise routine, we’re now focussing on variety and doing all the things he loves. 

Friday he came with me to writing class. He was an absolute angel, and just napped on my lap after working his way through his Likki & snuffle mats. We walked by the river afterwards and, while he was far from enthusiastic at first, he warmed up to the idea in the end. On the way home, we stopped off at his favourite pet shop. His tail beat a tattoo when he saw his friend Chris – the deliverer of sneaky biscuits. That was lovely to see. 

After checking out the merchandise aisle by aisle (he’s nothing but thorough), and getting his biscuits, we left with a new bed and two tubs of frozen dessert – his new favourite treat. 

We walked in the woods with friends yesterday and today we’re off to a trick training class. I’m not sure how much of the two-hour class we’ll do, he still tires easily. That said, he loves learning and, if there’s one thing I know from experience, sometimes the best way through the dark tunnel is to be distracted enough to forget it for a while. 

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I’ve written before about the challenges of holidaying with a reactive dog. Not all of our attempts at a break have ended well – I’m still scarred by the experience in Hay-on-Wye. Part of the reason I invested in our own dog-friendly holiday let business was so that our fur babies could stay somewhere familiar to them. Sadly, even before the pandemic, Annie’s deteriorating health and discomfort travelling meant we couldn’t spend any time there. Precious days with our girl were far more important that a holiday. After losing Annie in July, we had a bittersweet return to Wales this month for our first holiday since 2017 and our first trip to Wales together for almost two years.

At fourteen, Bear is still reactive to other dogs on lead, but he is also advancing in years, so our trip centred around making sure he was comfortable. Enter the ‘Bear Mobile’, an off-road dog buggy that is, without doubt, our best purchase of the year. He refuses to sleep in it, preferring to take it all in and tell us in no uncertain terms when he wants to hop out and explore. It gave us the freedom to explore places too, and we did some wonderful walks around the area. Link below if anyone’s interested.

He was a complete star all holiday, even tolerating a couple of pub lunches, a night in a Travel Lodge, and trips to visit family. There were days when we stayed home just to allow him to rest up, but on the whole, he loved his trip. One of my loveliest memories is how we woofed and wagged his tail when we arrived at the house. He might not have been there for almost two years, but they say Schnauzers never forget, and he certainly seemed pleased to be back on home soil again. 💗

More info on walks: The Dramatic Heart of Wales

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Annie would have been fifteen today. The knowledge of that unachieved milestone has hung, spectre like in the air all day despite my best efforts to drown myself in work.

Last year she wore a home made party hat at a jaunty angle, wagged her tail and ate birthday cake as I snapped 101 photos and made Other Half sing happy birthday at volume. Bear barked at our silliness, but Annie wagged her approval as she looked hopefully for second, and then third helpings of cake.

Two glasses of wine, a bone fide ‘binge’ for lightweight me, have done little to lighten my mood. I miss sunshine dog and I probably always will.

Happy birthday darling girl. You will be forever loved. Forever missed. x

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Help! I think I’ve created a monster!

A couple of weeks ago, I had a rare piece of luck. While searching online for a dog buggy for his lordship, up popped one for sale on Marketplace. Not only was it the off-road type we need for trips to the woods, but it was being sold by a lady in the next village whose own dog had only used it twice. The listing was just six minutes old – it was meant to be! Fast forward twelve hours, and Bear was the proud owner of his own set of barely used wheels.

As Other Half commented wryly on the way home though, ‘It’s only a bargain if the little bugger will use it.’ Quite.

The logic behind the buggy is quite simple. Although he’s still very fit, at fourteen, Bear can’t do the long walks he once did. We love walking though, but they’re slightly ruined by having a carry a 9kg lump of dog who will insist on sitting in your arms like a ventriloquist’s dummy. The backpack experiment was a failure, so Plan B is the buggy. Plan C is a personal trainer to help me work on my biceps!

Our fears that he wouldn’t tolerate being pushed around the neighbourhood were, thankfully, unfounded. He absolutely loves it. So much so, I’m starting to worry whether I should be insisting he walk a bit more. Once in, he shows absolutely no inclination of wanting to get out again. He lords it up, woofing self-importantly at passing dogs and cats from the safety of his chariot, his ears flapping in the breeze as I march up the hill on our evening walk, looking for all the world like a dog who’s finally got his humans where he wants them. Then again, I suppose he has!

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Happy Birthday Little Blog

The Little Bear Dog Blog, that thing I started writing just so that I could witter on about dogs without getting crossed off party invitation lists is ELEVEN years old today.

We didn’t even have our darling Annie when I started blogging, although the campaign for a companion for Bear was already in full swing.

Annie will be fifteen in August, Bear fourteen in June. That we still have them is such a blessing. It’s hard to imagine life without them, so I try not to. We focus instead on the good stuff, the cuddles, the playtimes and a thousand and one happy memories.

Happy Birthday little blog.

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To say that the past year has been, ‘a bit of a challenge’ for us all is something of an understatement. If you’re anything like me, you have your good days when you’re just happy to be safe and well, and your ‘I can’t watch one more news report’ days; days when there’s light at the end of the tunnel, and days when it’s basically all tunnel.

Amongst the gloom however, there is still joy to be found. Little moments of magic that lift my spirits and fill my heart. Mine usually show up fur-covered, so I thought I’d share one with you.

Little Bear, as you know, will be fourteen this summer. But despite his advancing years, he still loves to play. Finding adult dogs willing to play with him is a challenge though and my heart has splintered on countless occasions watching his valiant attempts given the cold shoulder.

It was something of an unexpected delight then that a few months ago, our friend’s rescue Luna gave him the paws up. I don’t know who was more amazed – me or Bear!

They’ve been playing regularly ever since and seeing the contented look on his face – well, it’s nothing short of magical.

You can watch the video here: https://youtu.be/KZn84BwlvKk

Bear and his pal Luna

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Sign language for dogs

A quick post today on my phone as Annie is very unsettled and barks every time I sit at my desk, even though it’s just ten feet from where she’s chosen to lie.

Good Girl Annie

She wagged at me earlier, a soft eyed, open mouthed happy wag in response to me telling her what a good girl she was.

It dawned on me though that she was responding, not to the sound of my voice, she’s very deaf now, but to my habitual hand clapping. ‘Good Girl!’ has somehow always been accompanied by a little round of applause.

I’m so stupidly glad. By happy accident, a silly quirk has ensured that, despite her deafness, she still knows she’s a good girl. 💜

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