Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
We picked up an exercise pen at a local pet store, which for Ellie will be an anti-exercise pen. It’s necessary to keep her off her legs as she’ll tolerate pain as long as it means she gets to play. Resisting her gaze I feel like a modern day Perseus, except Ellie is the anti-medusa, her sad puppy dog eyes will turn you to mush. She’s tolerated this all pretty well, and still has a ways to go, but oh how happy she will be when she is back on her feet.
Ellie got X-rays on her legs today and we have a surgical consult scheduled in a couple of weeks. A lengthy recuperation period of no physical activity follows no matter the outcome, so hedgehogging is right out for a long while yet. And while she’s lost a lot of weight since we got her, she still needs to shed a few pounds, so her food is going to get cut back a bit more. My wife’s been sleeping in the basement with her to keep her company while I’m with the cats upstairs. For a dog that loves to eat and snuggle and hedgehog, that’s a tough pill to swallow.
The basement stairs are blocked off but somehow she slipped past our defenses this morning as I heard the familiar tappa-tappa-tappa of her claws on the hardwood. I gave her the “bed” command so she’d at least lie down in her bed and rest, but she jumped up into bed with me instead. I guess that’s on me for not specifying which bed. She snuggled up to me and Scout and Sam joined in and we all enjoyed the next hour until my alarm rang out and ruined the moment.
I feel so bad knowing how difficult the road ahead will be for her, so to make myself feel better I’ll post a picture from happier times.
Ellie’s leg woes continue. She’s had a bit of a limp so I took her to the vet today and she thinks it might be a torn ligament. Ellie is getting anti-inflammatory pills for a couple of days and then she will probably have to go back in to see what comes next. She’s isolated to the basement now with no activity, not even a walk, and certainly no hedgehogging.
Poor girl.
I’m happy to report that Scout let me sleep through the night. Perhaps she was wiped out after her birthday celebration. Or maybe I was too tired to wake if she tried to rouse me.
Happy Birthday to Miss Scout, who was born nine years ago today! All of the pets were fêted with their favorite treats in Scout’s honor. I couldn’t resist this picture a month ago when she was relaxing in her warm bed with her back to me.
I thought she would keep me up all night after we got back late Sunday night, which she usually does when I leave town for a while, but instead she curled up on me and let me sleep through the night. And the next night, and the next night, and I thought I was home free.
She made up for it last night.
We’ll see how tonight goes.
Sam yawns while I photograph the Great Ball of Toes.
I love Sam’s pink footpads and have photographed his paws close-up before, but so far this impossible jumble of three paws is my favorite.
Oh Ellie! I giggle every time I look at this picture.
Sam curled up and slept on my lap as I watched a documentary about the Druid wolf pack in Yellowstone. He woke when they showed some noisy ravens on a wolf kill and stood transfixed before the television, something I’ve not seen from him before. Suddenly wolves dashed across the screen and he jumped up and swatted madly at them. His claws were retracted so I let him have his fun attacking wolves and coyotes and elk and bison and all the animals of that great land. Finally, exhausted from the hunt, he settled back down to sleep on my legs. The documentary didn’t flinch from the brutality of the wolves to other animals and neighboring wolf packs, but even so, I hope for their sake they never have to face my little hunter. Particularly if I were to let slip the lie that they’re the reason he has to get his flea treatments.
These pictures are the first I’ve taken using the live view on the back of the camera instead of the optical viewfinder, something I can’t do with my older cameras. The live view allowed me to lower the camera to his eye level as he slept on my legs and get a much more intimate portrait.
I’ve wanted to photograph the Cactus Tree since I first visited Ridgefield years ago, so I was particularly pleased to see this harrier perched on it in the heavy fog one winter’s morning (the picture from the previous post was taken later that morning when the sun first started to break through). It’s not a cactus of course, and these days not even a tree, just an old stump that reminds me of a cactus. It sits a ways off the road on the auto tour at Ridgefield, parts of the refuge are converted farmland so perhaps this stump is a remnant from when humans last lived here.
It’s a good thing I finally got a picture I liked, as on a visit not much later I noticed the stump was no longer standing, apparently having at long last fallen over into the marsh.
Boolie 