Ask Mason

Yours truly...a day in the park with a bone in my mouth...extreme quality of life

It is interesting to note, dear reader, how often people turn to me for advice or even just to share a concern or complaint. Now I don’t pretend to have any sort of expertise or training in this field but I do have a body of life experience, albeit from a dog’s perspective. In that vein, today I will respond to a query I often receive from readers, which is the age old question of “How will I know if and when it is time to end my dog’s suffering?” It is a valid question and one that I am honored to tackle.
First, there is no hard and fast rule for this, but as humans you must know that you have given yourselves an incredible license…choosing your pet’s ultimate fate is certainly a great privilege and not something to take lightly. You hold the power to end your beloved pet’s suffering when there is no hope for a future and no quality of life remaining. But with all power comes a grave responsibility (pardon my choice of adjective), and that responsibility weighs heavily on every pet owner’s mind. On this you must trust me…we will tell you when it is time. We will tell you because we know of your concern and we are grateful that you can do this last act of extreme love for us. There will be no doubt about the time, and even if you cling to us for an hour or a day past that time, we know you will ultimately do the right thing, which brings us peace of mind.
So, while our lives are brief in comparison to yours, we know with absolute faith that you will see us through our journey with love and compassion. If we could, we would do the same for you. Remember, it is not the length of the life lived, but rather its quality. You give us the ultimate gift of love by ending our suffering when it is time.
I apologize for the rather grim subject, dear reader, but it is one that every pet owner must face from the moment we enter your life to the day we leave it. Shakespeare said it best in The Merchant of Venice…
“The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Nothing to do with my blog but thought you'd enjoy seeing that fool Lizzie with a pizzle in the park

Most Recent Update for Carina and Carisa

May 12th

Hi every one! Sorry for the delay. I am just going to write something very quick and give more info and pictures later. We have been hit with some very major emergencies. We got a dog with his paw detached, had to have emergency surgery to re-attach it and I am caring for him around the clock too. Then a 1 yr. old little girl came in dragging her back legs, after a Mylogram, we found the problem and she went straight to back surgery, and she too will be coming to me for recuperation. Another dog was attacked by two other dogs and he is now critical, so been dealing with all of this and trying to figure out how to pay for it all, as yesterday alone we spent $11,000 on the 3 sick dogs! ARRRGGHHHHH

Now to Carisa, she was totally clear, looks great. We will work on building her immune system for the next 2-3 months then we will have her spayed and have to enlarge the nostrils as she cant breath too well.

Carina is also doing very well, unfortunately she is still not clear of mange, still positive! Taking way too long. 😦 Her hair is still growing, she will just take a long time and there might be not much more I can update you guys about as it will be a VERY slow process with her as her immune system is really shot. We did do the bile Acid test on Monday and it came back negative, so that is good news, at least no Liver Shunt!

Thank you to everyone for caring!!

Tina Seri – Pugs ‘N Palsa

This Pug has Nine Lives, or See Puggy Run

Well, dear reader, it appeared that yours truly was down for the count, ready to buy the farm, about to take the big dirt nap on Friday. My hindquarters failed me and I was drinking more water than normal. My mom, rather than wait until Saturday to see the vet, came home from work and took me that day. Blood was drawn, urine sampled, and a grim prognosis given. The vet did give me an injection of Cortisone, hoping there would be some noticeable improvement on Saturday My tearful mom bundled me up in her arms, hailed a cab, and got me home. She phoned Grandma reporting her news and asked her to make an appointment with my Cape Cod surgeon for Monday.

And what an improvement there was Saturday morning! I offer you a brief film as evidence. The blood results came back fine…no anomalies and normal kidney function…BUT, and here is the clincher, I have Lyme disease, which of course caused the dysfunction of my hind legs.

So, once again, I have been snatched from Death’s mighty jaws! My appointment with the surgeon was cancelled and I am now taking powerful antibiotics for a month. Our plans to weekend in Connecticut with my other grandparents were reinstated and off we went on Saturday afternoon. What a glorious weekend it was. Lizzie and I ran with gay abandon over the acres of green grass, basked in the healing sun like frogs on lily pads (Lizzie most resembling that amphibian), and enjoyed the adoration of our family. Like Lazarus, I was restored to life, and like the Phoenix, I arose from the flames. As my Cape Cod grandma said to my mom on Friday, “Don’t give up on the old boy yet; he always comes back.” Yes, Grandma, I do, but not without some drama.

Respectfully and gratefully submitted,

Mason

P.S. When viewing my film think “Born Free” or “Chariots of Fire” themes playing over.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJD7zKMiKDM”>

For Whom the Bell Tolls, or Pavlovian Pug

You may wonder, those of you who happen to read my Facebook page, what my somewhat cryptic but philosophic thoughts referenced yesterday. They were not the aberrant wanderings of an addled brain, let me assure you. Our weekday mornings have a comforting sameness and when that routine is broken by the unexpected or unusual, I am literally thrown out of my comfort zone.

As Lizzie and I waited patiently for our humble ¼ cup of kibbles to be doled out by Dad, our doorbell rang. Shock and then instant mobilization! I was at the door in a trice, ready to greet the pizza boy at 6:45 am. My brain works in a very linear fashion and there is little to no reasoning in its function…A + B = C…the bell rings, it is pizza being delivered, and it is my job to wait for it. There cannot be any other possibility. When the pizza didn’t arrive within the anticipated time frame, I began a furious and unearthly barking, somewhat akin to a death keen. I looked frantically around at Mom and Dad, and then at Lizzie who had curled up for her morning nap. Why weren’t they crazed with excitement and concern? My eyes shot wildly about as I kept up my cries. Finally, my parents approached me, telling me in a somewhat patronizing way that it was a mistake. There was no pizza coming, which is worse than a child being told there is no Santa Claus. They said someone had hit our buzzer by mistake. At this point I lost my cool and began to howl even louder. There was no consolation for me, and the bitterness of my reality slowly sunk in.

And so you understand, dear reader, the true meaning of yesterday’s Facebook update. I am a pug that functions within the parameters of my limited world and when those parameters are breached, then I lose my mental compass. Yesterday was a very trying day for yours truly, but since tonight is Friday my hope springs anew!

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Waiting

Waiting

Always waiting

Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen

You know, dear reader, that sometimes life blindsides us with such unpleasant maladies that we can’t help but wonder if we’ve done something really terrible to anger the gods. Two weeks ago the gods tested my fortitude, tolerance, and maturity.  My intestinal track was challenged in ways I found unimaginable and produced such a copious outpouring of vile excrement that even I was disgusted.

I fear that sharing this illness may offend some of my more sensitive readers, and for that I apologize, but the severity of that illness  left me weak as a kitten and without a great deal of dignity. Now some of you may be saying, “But Mason, you do have a diaper…why weren’t you wearing that helpful garment?” My answer to you, my well intended but highly naïve readers, is that wearing such a device in this situation would be analogous to catching the ocean’s incoming tide with a bucket.

My poor, inexperienced dad was overwhelmed and sleep deprived from mopping up after me throughout two nights. Mom was flying around the west coast on the corporate jet and not coming home until Friday night, which left only Dad in charge. He realized that a trip to the hospital was necessary since none of the usual treatments were working. After an assessment and a round of the appropriate drugs, yours truly was right as rain.

Since some time has elapsed since I began this entry, I must move forward. Lizzard and I are beginning our preparations for the annual migration to Cape Cod. In years past this has been a cause for joyful anticipation but this year I am feeling a sense of trepidation and concern. Grandma’s new dogs are definitely making me question the wisdom of this journey. Daphne, the Frenchie, is a handful (to state it mildly) and Cecily, the black pug, has serious breathing and jealousy issues. So I know that you, dear reader, are wondering how this will impact yours truly. I, of course, share these same concerns. Since I am in the autumn of my years, a certain amount of respect, deference, and attention is due me and my fear is that it will not be forthcoming in this new environment. Grandma is aware of my needs and wants to be accommodating, but the reality of four dogs and two cats may prove to be insurmountable. I will certainly establish my supremacy quickly and firmly, but Daphne, in her extreme youth and inexperience, is sure to breach my wall of power.

Stay tuned and send positive energy my way.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lizzard and I enjoying nature's bounty

The youth in question

Daphne and Cecily together...formidable! Don't be fooled by their sleepy expressions.