Happy National Puppy Day!

Apparently today is National Puppy Day, and on facebook many of my friends are posting photos of their dogs when the dogs were just pups.

I haven't had a pup for eons, as I have adopted only older dogs for the past eleven years.  Some blog readers will remember two dogs I had as pups:  Charley, the border collie/rough collie cross who passed away in 2011; and Emma, a yellow lab who is still going strong at 12 years of age and who lives with my ex.

Charley, age 3 months, 1997-2011

Emma, age 3 months, born 2004

But since all the dogs I've adopted since then have been older (Caleb, Eddie, Sadie, Belle, Shyloh, Oliver and Mitzi - have I forgotten anyone?),  and since this is -in Bloggerland - also called "Throwback Thursday", it seems appropriate to post a photo of a large crew of puppies with whom some readers will be familiar - The Butternut Squash Gang.  I fostered them, along with their mama Lucy Loo (who looked just like a butternut squash when she was pregnant)  for the Cowichan and District SPCA.  They became the focus of this blog, and of my life, for four months back in the fall of 2010.  Enjoy the memories!

THIS POST IS FOR MAJOR BO....

And Deli (now Ruby) and Hubbard and Zuke and Nugget and Summer and Acorn and Patti and Peanut and Pumpkin - aka The Butternut Squash Kids (or Lucy Loo's pups).

HAPPY THIRD BIRTHDAY!  

Major had to send me an email to remind me he is three years old today - shame on me for not remembering!  And he is in training with his dad as a St. John's Ambulance Therapy Dog, preparing to bring happiness to people in assisted living situations.  What a great vocation for an SPCA alumni.

Wow - three years since those little tiny wiggle butts appeared courtesy of their butternut squash mama. What a fostering experience THAT was! If you missed those posts, here's the post of the day they were born  (well, actually the day after, as the day of their birth was rather - um - busy!), and here's the post the day they left.

And this one is Major Bo's own very, very, very special story. Have your kleenex ready. It is quite possibly my favourite story on the whole blog.

I smile every time I think of those pups, and I hope they are all doing well - and Lucy too, of course!

Lucy, two weeks before delivery -
the shape of a Butternut Squash

Pups on their Birth Day.

Major Bo at about six weeks old
(c) Jean Ballard 2010

Major Bo January 2013
(c) Jean Ballard 2013

They are always in my heart.

Pigdate Update

Remember this little girl?

Dover, November 2011
(c) Jean Ballard 2011

Her name then was Dover, and she was a teeny tiny piggy  from an SPCA seizure when we first met her. I wrote about her in November 2011 when I was fostering her for a few days.  You'll find the start of those posts here, then click 'newer post' at bottom of that page to continue reading her tale for the next several days.

Well, her name is now Olivia, and she is doing great!  Here's some recent pics of her with her friend Larry the Llama.

Olivia and Larry

Sharing a treat of yummy bread

I am one lucky pig!

She looks like a very contented piggy, and as beautiful as ever. I do love happy endings.

(Updated photos taken by her adoptive family, and provided to me by the SPCA, with permission to post - Thanks!)

Musings, Part Two: A momentous decision

Flowers by the Sea Walk

I have, in mulling things over these past few weeks, decided not to take in any more foster critters except for very short term cases for my local shelter. It was a difficult and momentous decision. I have been fostering animals for the past seven years, and I know there is a huge need for good foster homes.

My sister’s unexpected and sudden death affected me greatly.  My father also died young and although my mother is still alive at 93, she can hardly be said to be enjoying life.  And so, I have been giving a lot of thought to what I want to do with whatever time I have left. 

I miss camping, I miss fishing - I used to do a lot of both.  I am enjoying getting back into hiking, and I have new interests I want to pursue like photography.  While my own animals will always be well taken care of, and I am committed to them for the rest of their lives, adding fosters to my household is going to take a back seat for a long while and possibly forever.  

A cyberfriend recently said to me “Remember in airplanes where it says to put on your own oxygen mask before helping others? Rescue is sort of like that, too.”   I am putting on my own oxygen mask, and it may take quite a while.

And so that brings me to another topic I’ve been thinking a lot about - the blog.   When I began this blog I had, I think, 18 animals in my care - four dogs, 12 foster pigs, an alpaca and a cat. There were always animal antics to write about.  That is no longer the case. I will still blog, because I do enjoy sharing my writing and photography, but I will write on a broader range of topics than critters and nature.  I haven't yet decided whether to change the name of this blog, or wind this one up and start a new one, or just continue under the same banner - after all, my life is still with critters.

No doubt I'll lose some readers;  perhaps I'll gain some too.  Life changes, friends change, we change.  I am moving on. I hope at least some of my readers will come along for the ride.

And now it is time to get out in the garden, where the flowers are blooming,

Dogwood blossom on the newly-planted "Charley's Tree"

Flowers on a cedar fence

and the tomatoes ripening,

Tumbling Tiny Tomatoes

and the strawberries are waiting to be picked. 

Just Add Cream

Musings on ageing dogs and ageing parents

But mostly on ageing dogs and the quality of life.

On Thursday, I delivered Petey to the rescue where he is to be placed with another foster home and be more accessible to potential adopters if he is deemed adoptable, and to vet care if he is not.  Today, I ran over to the mainland to visit my 93 year old mom in her care facility.  Two hours each way on a ferry give one a lot of time for thinking about their similarities, and the issue of quality of life.

There are some who would say it is wrong to send a blind, deaf, ancient foster dog to yet another home instead of finding a way to continue to provide care here.  There are some who would say that they would never put their ageing parent in a facility; that it is the responsibility of adult children to look after ageing parents.  There are some who will keep critters and humans alive at all costs until they are immobile, incontinent of bowel and bladder, and devoid of all pleasures in life.

I am not that person. 

The very elderly, be they human or canine, need 24-7 care. The caregivers at my mom's facility are far more competent and well trained than I am to provide her with the care she requires, even though I know she wishes she was not there. 

Dogs, however, pose a different challenge.  As a deaf, blind, ancient little dog who has obviously had a traumatic and neglectful past, Petey becomes very distressed when left alone.  I live alone, in a small village with two very small convenience stores.  Period.  If I need to do some banking, go to a doctor’s appointment, do a major grocery shop, pick up something from a hardware or drugstore, I am going to be gone at least two hours. Taking Eddie for his much-needed walks means Petey is guaranteed to be left alone for at least an hour twice a day.    I don't have an army of volunteers or any paid staff to tend to the dogs. And one can only call on friends so often – a situation I try to reserve for emergencies or at least very important family –related concerns. 

Taking Petey with me is seldom an option – he can't be left alone in the car, even if the temperature isn't too hot, and virtually no stores here (with the exception of pet stores) allow dogs inside -  not even the post office where I pick up my mail. 

Petey  is a very content dog when lying in my arms , and does usually nap peacefully in one of his many beds as long as I’m in the same room.  He even putters around the yard with me quite happily for a half hour or so at a time.  But his need for 24 hour care cannot be met here, and I will not see a dog in frequent distress with no chance of it being relieved in the current environment.  

A challenge indeed. 

And that leads to a bigger question:  At what point does one decide that a dog's quality of life is so compromised that it may be time to euthanize?  Only when a medical crisis hits?  Or is there a point at which a dog whose little ticker beats just fine should be helped to cross the bridge?  Petey's situation aside, I will eventually face that dilemma with my Sadie, who has insulinoma, an incurable cancer with a poor prognosis.  I will not see a dog become totally immobilized in its own urine and feces, reliant on a human to even get them from basket to door.  I honestly do not think a dog who has been ‘clean’ since puppyhood likes that feeling – even if it is contained in doggy diapers.  As a short term or occasional issue – such as post surgery, or the occasional accident – that’s okay.  But as a permanent situation – No.  When Sadie reaches the point where she can no longer get up, or where her occasional accidents in the house become a routine from total loss of bladder and bowel control,  I will opt to euthanize her.  So far, I have been lucky that all my many dogs have decided for themselves before reaching that point.

When I took on Petey nearly six months ago, I anticipated he may be with me for two or three months – while he had and recovered from his dental surgery and his eye surgery – and then he would be promoted on the website and facebook and find a forever home.  I was prepared to give up that much time, that much of my life – temporary responsibility is part of the reason I foster rather than adopt more dogs. For reasons that are complicated, and for which no one is as fault, this did not happened.  The decision on his eye surgery is still pending as far as I know;  and no one foresaw the incredible need he has to be with a human full time, nor the extent to which being some distance from the preferred vets used by the rescue would be problematic.

I have been blessed to have Petey in my life for these six months, and I hope I have been some comfort to him.  But I also know that I do not want to, and cannot, provide 24/7 care for a dog over whom I do not have full decision making power.  

The dogs I adopt will always be with me to the end.  But I am the one who decides when the quality of life is no longer satisfactory.  Sadie will never be given away or euthanized simply because she needs frequent care due to her insulinoma. But nor will I keep her alive once she no longer has what I consider to be a reasonable quality of life – once she can no longer walk, can no longer control her bladder and bowels, once her collapses can no longer be controlled by medications without significant negative side effects.  I do not look forward to making that decision, but I also won’t rush it.  

With Petey no longer here, I can once again leave the house for 4-5 hours at a time.  There may come a time when Sadie’s needs mean those outings are shorter.  But I am convinced that when it means she needs 24 hour care, seven days a week, her quality of life will be one that neither she nor I would consider acceptable. 

Perhaps others have greater tolerance than I for being away from the house knowing full well that one of the critters is barking and crying hysterically.  Perhaps others are home more, or have other family members or volunteers who can stay with a dog so needy.  If so, then Petey is better being moved to such an environment than staying here.  And if not, then it will be up to the rescue to make a decision regarding his quality of life.

I know what I would do.

And not everyone would agree. 

(Postscript:  as of this afternoon, Petey is now listed on the rescue's Facebook  page as available for adoption. The rescue having made its decision, it is my sincere hope that he will find the type of home and 24/7 caregiver that he needs for his final months or years.)

Willow needs a home

The Cowichan and District SPCA is trying to find a palliative home (permanent foster or adoption) for Willow, a 12-14 year old super sweet cattle dog whose owners decided they no longer wanted her. Willow has a cancer on her front leg – it is not painful and is not bone cancer, but surgery is not an option so her time is limited. She is affectionate, sweet, a good girl in need of a place to live out her days.

Willow is deaf or somewhat deaf but attentive and tries hard to understand hand signals.  She will be on pain meds for arthritic hips that were once fractured but now healed, and she has just started meds to correct a bit of incontinence. If you can offer her a soft place to rest, please contact the SPCA at 250-746-4646. How can you resist this face?

Some days, like today, I feel completely disheartened and can only question what kind of society we live in that treats its animals so poorly. Coco and Willow, both seniors whose owners dumped them; London and so many other dogs lost, often shortly after being rehomed; rescues and shelters inundated with old dogs, young dogs, dogs with pups, neglected dogs.

Broken Promises Rescue, for whom I am fostering Petey, is also looking for foster and adoptive homes – they have Looey, who is a lovely rotti recovering from surgery who needs a foster or adoptive home ASAP; and they have a purebred Westie whose owners couldn’t be bothered to deal with an untreated skin problem so dumped him, and a little chi with a heart murmer, and an American Cocker Spaniel with four wee pups – fosters or adoptive homes urgently needed.

And, of course, there is the steady stream of dogs and puppies needing help at Turtle Garden’s Rescue. In fact, there are nearly 150 rescue organizations and shelters in B.C. alone listed on Petfinder.com, others on adoptapet.com, some that don’t use either. Most only profile a small percentage of the animals they are dealing with. And, sadly (in my opinion), there are others importing dogs from elsewhere under the name of ‘rescue’ while we are unable to clean up the mess in our own back yard. Each of those dogs takes a space that might have gone to a dog already here.

I am only on the periphery of the rescue and shelter world – I help out a little here, a little there, and yet some days, like today, I find it emotionally overwhelming. I honestly don’t know how those right in the trenches – those dealing with the people who dump their old and faithful companions, those who see the state in which the animals arrive, who pick up the lost dogs whose owners never come looking for them, who investigate the cruelty cases – I honestly don’t know how those in the trenches do it. They have my greatest respect.

That said, please remember that any little thing you do to help – fostering, educating, searching, donating, whatever is within your ability to do – is important. In the big scheme of things it might seem small, but you can bet it is important to the animals that are helped.

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated." --Ghandi.

Quick updates

1. London, the missing sheltie

London is still missing, but the good news is that she has been sighted several times by several people in the same area, and yesterday even entered her crate (which was set up in the yard of a place she had visited) but then spooked and bolted again before she could be enclosed. A system has now been rigged up to close her in from a distance if she returns.

For those helping in the search, the breeder emailed tonight to say she seems to be going up and down between the waterfall area of the park and a few homes on the bank, where they back onto the park (mostly off Knudsen Road and in behind the storage units).

She is a very scared dog right now, but will be getting hungry so hopefully she will soon come out for some tasty treat like warm BBQ chicken.

Please keep her in your thoughts and send positive vibes for her safe return.

Eddie helps in the search

2. Eddie, my new family member

Eddie's leg is much better, so hopefully his lameness was just from either too much walking or some twisting during his prancing around. I rested it for a day or two, did a couple of very short walks, and today took him to the park to help search for London - I figured it was time he got used to travelling in my vehicle (to fun places instead of scary new homes or the vet's office!) and the soft trails of the park would be good walking territory.

But that black box in front of your face still makes me nervous!

While somewhat anxious, overall he seemed to enjoy himself and was amply rewarded with treats. We didn't walk a long way; though we were at the park for about an hour, we spent much of that time just watching from vantage points or talking to other dog walkers. Tonight he is favouring his leg a little, so we'll see how he is tomorrow.

3. Petey, foster dog extraordinaire

Petey is doing well. He objects to my leaving him when he is awake, but he's settled in well and "Il Divo" knows how to wrap me around his little paws. On Monday, I'll be taking him down to Victoria to meet with another vet about his eyes. Please send "NO SNOW" vibes, because I don't want to be driving the Malahat in adverse conditions, and d*mn it's cold out there tonight!

Ah likes mah foster-mama pillow!

4. Sad starving Sadie

 Sadie's test results aren't back yet - at least not the ones we are most interested in - but she is holding her own as long as she is fed every three hours or so, and only taken on very short, very gentle walks.

As I've mentioned before, Sadie has episodes where she suddenly starts staggering like a drunk and then collapses in a heap on the ground. The first episode occured last May, with tests and chest xrays in May and June revealing nothing; however, in August the episodes began again, and have been getting more severe and more frequent since then.

In a stroke of luck, if one can call it that, she collapsed five minutes before the vet arrived for a scheduled appointment last week, and so the vet was able to check her heart and blood pressure while she was having an episode, and both were completely normal - we are now able to rule out a cardiac or circulatory problem. Her blood sugar, however, was dangerously low (1.2), and was still well below the appropriate minimum level a half hour after being fed corn syrup and carbs.

We are waiting for tests that will tell us if she has an insulinoma (tumor on the pancreas which causes overproduction of insulin) or possibly Addison's disease. Please keep her in your thoughts too.

Yeah, an' look how skinny I is despite all those extra meals!

The Little Dog That Could

I think this bowtie is a bit big for me!

The spunk and intelligence of many dogs who come into rescue from sad circumstances never fails to amaze me, and my newest foster Petey is no exception. He may be all of ten pounds soaking wet, geriatric, completely blind, deaf, with rotten teeth, and obviously has been terribly neglected, but no one ever told HIM that. He is one independent dude, who in five short days has learned to negotiate the whole house and most of the back yard, much of it without even lowering his head to sniff the ground any more.

Let's see, kitchen ahead and to the right....

He can now find his way between the living room, kitchen, and my office without bumping into a thing. With a few missteps, he can make his way from the mudroom at the back of the house to the kitchen near the front. The dining room is more of a challenge because of chair legs, but he does amazingly well. Mostly he will try to find his own way out of Chair Leg Forest, but occasionally when he gets stuck he will sit down and squeak until I give him a hand. I try to wait a little bit longer each time he squeaks, keeping in mind a poem (by Ogden Nash, I believe) I learned when my daughter was about two and which I think I have quoted on this blog in the past:

I see him stumble on the rung,

But do not run to get him.

He's learning how to climb, and I

Am learning how to let him.

Petey is also very competent in the back yard – he no long bumps into fences. The large puddles currently forming from our first day of heavy rain in a long, long time are a bit of a challenge to him, but usually I just carry him over them to higher, drier ground.

Petey is not keen on his crate, voicing his opinion loudly before settling down to sleep, or waking up and demanding his servant come let him out. However, he loves his oval dog bed and can find his own way in and out of the basket with no problem. While the crate is a necessity at times - like on our trip to the vet yesterday - he has the run of the house when I am home, and an xpen around his basket when I must go out for more than a half hour or so.

He is completely comfortable with Sadie and Becky and Allie, though they are not so sure what to make of him.

Sadie:  MOMMMM.....He's staring at me again!

Petey:  Silly cow! Doesn't he know I can't see????

Petey chows down like there's no tomorrow - he has no problem at all finding his dish! Because of his rotten teeth, he is on canned food only, and he likes most varieties. But today's salmon and sweet potato was a Big Fail. He flatly refused to eat it, backing away in disgust until I, needing to get his medications into him, opened a can of lamb and rice and offered him that. Half a can was gone in a heartbeat.

I dunno about the service here.  A guy could starve waiting for dinner to arrive.

He is incredibly clean – not a single accident in the house - and does his business as soon as he feels his feet on the grass outside. He likes to be warm, and gets quite trembly when naked. I stopped by the SPCA yesterday and they loaned me a sweater which fits him perfectly - much better than wearing his fleece-lined parka inside, and warmer than his "Born To Run" teeshirt, though both have their uses.

Just watch me - Speedy Petey!

We’ve begun a little leash training - trying to get him to follow the tug of a leash in the yard or house. He will follow for a few seconds but then he plants his butt on the ground and rolls over. It’s rather like trying to walk a cat on leash – I follow him rather than the reverse! See, he's no dummy - he knows who's in control!

But the most amusing aspect of this little dog that could is the effort he puts into make his bed. Sometimes it takes him a full twenty minutes of scratching and shoving and twisting and turning and pulling and pushing and mouthing and tugging to get his blanket just where he wants it. Try taking the blanket away and he is inconsolable - he will scratch at the pad in the basket and then give up in disgust and walk away to search for a better spot. Here's a video taken part way through his bed making effort - and although it ends with him settling down, he was back up working on it again as soon as I switched off the video. (I apologize for the darkness - I cannot seem to get the camera to allow in more light in the video mode).

Charley's Will, Petey's Inheritance

Shortly after Charley passed away, I received the following beautiful poem from my friend Gail.  The accredited author is Luis Delgado:

A Dog's Will

Before humans die, they write their Last Will and Testament, give their home and all they have to those they leave behind.  If, with my paws, I could do the same, this is what I'd ask....

To a poor and lonely Stray, I'd give my happy home.  My bowl and cozy bed, soft pillows and all my toys.

The lap, which I loved so much, the tender loving touch.

The hand that stroked my fur,  and sweet voice which called my name.

I'd will to the sad, scared shelter dog, the place I had in my human's loving heart, of which there seemed no bounds.

So when I die, please do not say, "I will never have a pet again, for the loss and pain is more than I can stand."

Instead, go find an unloved dog.  One whose life has held no joy or hope, and give MY place to HIM.

This is the only thing that I can give .....The love I left behind.

This is my inheritance! My Last Will and Testament.

I know if Charley had left a will, those would have been her words.  And while I expect to adopt another dog or two in the coming year, today we address the spirit of the will by welcoming a new foster dog to our home - a dog who, without a doubt, fits the above description of those Charley would want to help.

Please do not skip this photo, as hard as it is to look at.  It is the 'before' picture of a sad unloved dog.  If ever you doubt there is a need for rescue, consider this photo.  This is Petey, when he arrived at animal control a couple of days ago:

The good people at Broken Promises Rescue responded to the shelter's call for help - a shelter was no place for this dog.  Petey is blind and appears to also be deaf.  The vet believes he is at least twelve years old.  His blindness is due to neglect - likely neglected eye infections - in which his eyes are now completely destroyed and will likely need to be removed.  His teeth are also destroyed - nearly all will be pulled when he is ready for surgery.  He was, as you can see, a matted mess.  He has now been bathed, groomed, and been to the vet.  He's on antibiotics and pain relief.  Here is his 'after' photo, courtesy of Broken Promises:

And for all he has been through, despite months or years of living hell,  he is a funny, sweet, loving boy who likes nothing better than being cuddled and who is already showing signs of being the male version of a Diva.  I brought him home from Victoria this afternoon, and he quickly took charge of my lap, much to the cat's disgust.  Then he chowed down on a dish of food, pranced around the back yard with a little guidance from me, wasn't the least bit fazed by Sadie or Becky or Allie, made a lot of squeeky noises and a few barks, and after an incredible effort at remaking his bed to get it 'just right' (I have never seen a dog put so much effort into making a bed!), settled down in Belle's old basket, with Charley's old blanket.  He then continued to grouse and complain until I covered him with his fuzzy-lined coat.  Once appropriately covered, he promptly went to sleep:

Welcome, Petey, welcome.  May you enjoy the bed and bowl bequeathed to old shelter dogs by those that I have loved.
                                                                    **************

Note:

Surgery for Petey and others like him is expensive. Please consider making a donation to Broken Promises Rescue, a registered charity, to help cover such costs. You'll find donation information on their website. Tell them Petey sent you.

Single Plump Female Seeks Loving Companion

Companion Wanted

Plump but currently petite and youthful diva with an inflated sense of privilege and a ton of energy seeks a companion or two or three, any sex, with a willingness to work hard to develop a compatible life-long relationship . Sense of humor imperative. Size not an issue – I hope mine won’t be, either. I may grow to be a BIG girl. Must occasionally put up with my pigheaded behaviour, but will be rewarded with affection, entertainment, and laughter. Prefer financially secure homeowner with small acreage. I'm not interested in having offspring or ending up on someone’s table – serious inquiries only, please.

Contact the Cowichan and District SPCA at 250-746-4646 for more information and ask for an application form for Dover.

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Dover has gone back to her regular foster, but what she really needs is a great forever home. That home must be prepared to offer her comfort, safety and companionship for her entire natural lifespan. A big unknown is her potential size - a fullgrown Berkshire is 600-700 pounds, but her current weight (about 3 pounds, after her stay with Auntie Jean) is well below that of the other  pigs in the litter, who are the more typical 20-25 pounds and about the size of a small pitbull. Whether she is a genetic anomoly and will remain disproportionately small, or whether she will eventually catch up to breed average is a huge unknown.

Once she has achieved a safe weight, she will be spayed and available for adoption. She will need a special placement with someone who can work with her so she doesn't become a 600 pound pushing, shoving pigheaded Diva. She will only go to a home who will keep her as a companion pig (though not necessarily a house pig!) for life - she is not for slaughter, for eating, for breeding. While the breed itself, a Heritage breed with a small population, is considered vulnerable, it is quite simply poor animal husbandry to breed the runt of the litter. And animals who are wanted for breeding are often considered disposable once their breeding years are over. Dover must be wanted for herself, for her piggy personality, not for what she may or may not bring to the table. Oops....poor choice of words.  

Ideally, she will share her new life with another pig - pigs are herd animals and do best with others of their kind.  Pigs can be picky about their pen-pals, but a pig-savvy person who takes things one step at a time can often effect a successful introduction that allows unrelated pigs to become good friends. At the very least, she will need other non-predator companion animals around her - unless you plan to share your house and your bed with a large porcine princess.

So: If you are interested in adopting Dover, can offer her a lifetime home, and are either pig-savvy or very willing to be mentored, please contact Sandi at the SPCA, 250-746-4646. And if you can't adopt Dover, but know of people who may be interested and fit the criteria, please send them a link to this blog (let them know there are several entries about Dover, not just this one, so they can see what a busy little girl she is!).

We hope that networking with our animal-loving friends will help us find Dover's perfect forever home. Suitable applicants will go through the usual rescue process which includes a homecheck.



Adopt me!

The Value of Piggy Playtime

 

Pigs are said to be the third most intelligent species in the world, ranking right behind primates and cetaceans(whales and dolphins). Little Dover may have been the runt of the litter, but she didn’t miss out on a single cell in the brains department. She figured out in no time where the gate to the xpen was. The first day, she just ran to the fence whenever she saw me. By the next morning, she ran right to the gate. Yesterday she realized that if she pushed and pushed and pushed, the bungy cords that keep it closed would give juuuuust enough for her to slip through. We now use caribiner clips instead. It takes a bit longer to open and close the gate, but at least I won’t wake up to find a piggy, whose primary activity seems to be peeing and pooping, running loose on my living room carpet.

She spends a fair bit of time outside of the xpen, in the mudroom with me. The mudroom is separated from the rest of the house by a dog gate. While she plays in the mudroom, I do mundane tasks like cleaning her pen, running laundry back and forth, taking her dishes to the kitchen. She sees me go through the dog gate. It took her all of about three observations to decide she would test her luck getting through the bars. She almost made it – and would likely have become stuck, head one side, belly the other, if I hadn’t stopped her. I now stretch the x-pen across the gate when Dover the Explorer is on the prowl.

So.... just what does one do to keep a wee little piggy entertained and meet the growing needs of her Very Big Brain? Most piglets her age would be rooting outside in the dirt and grass, looking for tasty bugs and worms and other things to eat. They would be running around with their siblings, stopping for a snooze in the sun or a roll in the mud, chasing butterflies and playing with falling leaves. But Dover is still too wee and vulnerable to expose her to the great outdoors.

Pigs may be very smart, but they also have very short attention spans. The toys she enjoyed for a short while yesterday and the day before – the I-cube and Wag-O twisty and the big round ball – are boring to her today.

She tastes the doormat and boot tray, nibbles my shoes, snuffles around the freezer for dust bunnies. She redecorates her xpen by shoving her crate over here, her blanket over there, and then does it all over again. She tips the water dish, shreds the pee pad, and checks in with me every few minutes to see if I happen to have anything for her.

I pull out some dog toys she hasn’t seen, and that keeps her busy for ... oh ....all of two minutes.

Hmm...what's this?  Oh, toys.  Boring!

I fix up a tray with some washed river rocks and tuck cheerios among them so she can root. That keeps her busy for perhaps five minutes.

Then she decides lifting up the corner of the tray with her snout and letting it bang back down is more fun. For perhaps 30 seconds.

I pull out some tiny dog clothes – they are awaiting transport to Broken Promises Rescue. I find an outfit that fits perfectly, but Dover is less than cooperative about modeling it and goes into a full fledged Drama Queen Routine. I’ve seen her wearing a Santa suit in the SPCA ad in the paper, but still I fear causing porcine heart failure, so I quickly remove it. So much for doing a fashion photo shoot for the porcine crowd.

Get if off! Get it off!  I iz NOT a fashion model!

I suggest she hang her Christmas stocking on the door of her crate,

Deah Santa, Fer Christmas I wud like a forever home!

...and she wants a little tree as well, though her interest in it lasts only seconds.

Nuffin' to eat on here.  You'd think she'd hang some gingerbread cookies or sumthin'.

I give her a few sheets of newspaper and she shakes them vigorously and races around the room waving one over her head like a flag. For all of 30 seconds.  I invite the animal-loving teen next door over to meet her. Dover becomes very quiet and shy when visitors appear, but it gives her a new scent to investigate. For a minute or two.

I sit on the floor and she climbs all over me, nibbling at my shirt, tasting my hair, tugging on my pants, nosing her snout under my arm.

Auntie Jean!  I can pinch an inch!

Eventually, she curls up on my lap for a nap.

We can cuddle?

I put her back in the xpen and leave the room. I’m hardly out the door before the squealing and squeaking, the barking and snorting, the oinking and crowing and noisy pig hollering begins once more.

I warm up some goat's milk and pigmush and feed her, even though it’s only two hours since she last ate. I leave again, and after a few minutes of histrionics she calms down and is fast asleep.

The toys and rocks and cheerios and clothes, the furniture and dustbunnies and my grey hair may not have been high value entertainment from her point of view, but the entertainment value to me was ......priceless.

Magic Moments with Diva Dover

Magic moments from today:

--Waking up to the snuffle, snorkle, oink oink oink of a wee little piggy in the next room.

--Hearing that snuffle, snorkle, oink oink oink rise to a cacophony of squeals and screams and moos and clucks and grunts and chatters of a hysterical diva-in-training who wants her breakfast NOW!

--Watching her learn to roll a ball, pushing it around the room with her wee little snoutie.

--Seeing her push and pull and tug and knead her blanket to get her bed 'just right'.

--Discovering that today, on Day 3, she has decided I am the cat’s meow (or the piggy’s oink) as she suddenly climbs on my lap for a cuddle after play.

May I come up here, pwease?

You makes a good cushion, Auntie Jean!

I'z sleepy.  I'z gonna haz a nap now.

-- Listening to her scream every time she sees me – not from hunger but from her demand for attention.

-- Feeling incredibly ‘needed’ by this little piggy, and caving to her demands to play EVERY SINGLE TIME.

-- Knowing that I would have made the perfect grandmother: Spoil the kid rotten for a few days and then send her back home.

Dover and I are having a blast. By Tuesday she will be truly, totally, a full-fledged Diva. And then I will hand her back to Sandi.  <<< insert evil grin here>>>  

Dover, in black and white

Dover the Drama Queen

Dover gets quite excited when it is dinner time:

Excuse the poops in the video - piggy wakes up, piggy poops;  piggy gets excited, piggy poops.  Piggy poops and poops and poops.  But then she also has sweet, sweet moments like this:

I'z sleepy now. Pwease go 'way.

Everybody should foster a piggy at least once in their life!

My sister would have loved this!

We have a visitor.  We are looking after her until Tuesday while her foster mama, the manager of our SPCA, is away.  Her name is Dover and she is a teeny tiny Berkshire piggy, just over five weeks old but only weighing about two pounds (instead of the 15-20 they would normally weigh at this age).  She was, needless to say, the runt of the litter, and has been in foster care since she was 9 days old.  It really is a miracle she has survived.

And she makes me laugh.

Meet Dover:

Yum! Pig mash and goat's milk!

Is blue really my colour?

I'z all tuckered out - time for a nap!

So far I have learned

• she is a very messy eater
• unlike potbellies, she doesn't choose one corner for her bathroom and go only there - anywhere will do, the pee pads, the floor, the blankets, her crate. Silly Pig.
• she likes her crate, but any warm blankets will do
• she doesn't mind the xpen but loves to explore when I let her out,
• she likes dog toys like I-Cube:

• and especially this twisty thing which she really worked hard to shove into her crate:

Ta da!  I'z such a clever piggy!

Charley was happy to greet her and then went back to bed;

Oh, good!  Mama brought home a piggy again! Hi Piggy!

Sadie is absolutely infatuated with her and hardly leaves her side;

Hi Pig!  Wanna share yer food wiv me?

and  Allie  is still undecided:

Whoa!  What the heck is that?





That's gotta be the weirdest looking foster dog Mom's brought home yet!

Stay tuned for more tales and photos of Life With Dover.

I can see my sister's smiling eyes and hear her laughter loud and clear.

Miss ya, sis.  Welcome, Dover.