The Adventures of Bella and Cocoa

Michael suggested this title when I first discussed blogging with him. Some days it does feel like this is my life. I just dropped both dogs off at the vet for the day.

I can see why Bella was given up by her first owners. She is huge (164 pounds as of this morning when I weighed her at the vet's) and has lots of "issues." She's timid, won't even go through a partially opened door unless she can squeeze through without touching it. She has major allergies, and although we haven't pinpointed the cause for sure of all of them, it appears grass is the main offender. How exactly does one get a dog to avoid grass? She's on medication which has worked well for some months, but lately is no longer effective. The poor thing goes around shaking her head constantly, because of her itching ears. She chews on the insides of her itching paws to the point where they get raw. So I think we're going to have to go to the next step, which I believe will be injections. I can't even imagine what that's going to cost! Additionally, she's very insecure and has a lot of anxiety, which manifests itself in chewing behavior. Now this might be just irritating with a little "puffball" doggie, but when you put Mastiff jaws into this activity, you have major damage!















The first picture is our satellite remote BEFORE Bella... and the second one is obviously after--the whole top is gone!



So we have learned to be careful never to leave her alone. We put her in a crate when we leave the house for a few hours, and she's perfectly happy and secure in there, just goes calmly and quickly to sleep. And I've learned to let her sleep in my bedroom with me, and she's perfectly happy. As long as she can see one of "her people," she's happy and absolutely perfect. Poor anxiety-ridden puppy.

Then there's Cocoa. He's our old man Cocker Spaniel, now 12 years old. Seems he's gone deaf somewhere in the last year or so. He also suffers from some anxiety, it seems, as he has the charming habit of howling hysterically whenever he's left alone. And this includes being downstairs at night when we're upstairs sleeping. We hear him "singing" when we leave the house. These little songs usually last about 60-90 seconds, and then he's quiet. But they are increasing in frequency, it seems, so I asked the vet this morning about maybe getting medication for him too, maybe some "puppy Prozac"? Maybe going deaf makes this happen; I've heard that when dogs lose their hearing they tend to bark more, just to hear themselves. Who knows. All I know is that it's very irritating and embarrassing; I'm surprised our neighbors have not reported us for beating him. He sounds exactly like a dog who is being beaten and tortured. My friend Claudia referred to him as "psycho dog" when she heard him over the phone. Once the screaming is over, he settles down and goes back to being quite normal--until the next time!

So after reading this litany of issues, I see why Michael suggested the title. I'm sure any non-dog people reading this cannot even imagine why I would put myself through all of this, and it's impossible to explain to those people. And I even read this and say good grief! Why on earth do I put up with it? Well, Cocoa is too old to find a new home; I feel committed to him just because it wouldn't be fair. And with Bella, even though she is a far bigger headache, Jessica and I both just really love her. She's the sweetest dog I've ever known, and I've had a lot of them over the years, so even with all her problems I'm keeping her too.

I have said, though--and my plan is to stick to this--that when these dogs go to puppy heaven, that's it. No more dogs! I'm done. And after re-reading this post, I feel justified, and think this is a good plan!