In memorium: Zoë the wonder dog.

 

 

 

Sometimes we don't know how blessed we are. I ached when my goats left, but it was all for the best. Last Friday the house caught fire while I was away. It was an old house, over 200 years old, so it went up like a tinderbox. I lost Zoë, my lovely, happy little Fox Terrier, and I am mourning her loss, praying that she was curled up on her favorite chair and succumbed to smoke rather than flames.

The recliner was verbotten, but sometimes Zoë just couldn't help herself.

I always marveled at the many ways Zoë could settle herself, flopping here, drooping there,now stretching, now sinking, always her own definition of comfort.

I have a lovely picture of her in my mind, racing madly through the house, jumping onto the mini-trampoline and jumping off, racing madly back, bouncing on and off, over and over again; barking when I was bouncing on it and wanting to take part, so excited. Zoë loved to bounce, bounced whenever she got excited, and oh, how excited she became at night when she could have that delight of all delights--a carrot! All my dogs have liked carrots, but Zoë loved, loved, loved them.

The blessing part is that I have no livestock to care for, no water to haul in the freezing cold, no wrestling with flashlights in a dark barn. It's hard to know what would have happened had I still had goats: perhaps I would have been there when the fire started, perhaps there wouldn't have been a fire, perhaps... But it's all speculation and counts for nothing. What is, is now, and though I mourn Zoë's loss, I will always carry her in my mind and in my heart. 

Taking a walk

Now that I'm down to three goats, I have a lot of extra time.  I've never just taken my goats for a walk, though I know people who do it all the time. 

Friday was a perfect autumn day in Maine, warm, mild, with a light breeze and no insects.  True Indian Summer.  I watched the goats hanging around the barn and thought, "I need to get them out of there, but they don't have the safety in numbers they used to have."  I put Zoë on the retractable leash and set out across the field.  Not surprisingly, the goats quickly followed.

Through the orchard we went, passed through the open gate to the far field, and into the meadow;

Fiore

Leah

Hal

 

then across to the alders that grow thickly, threatening to take over if we don't keep them back.  A goat paradise. 

I've often thought I should bring in a hundred goats and just turn them loose.  In a short time they'd tame the brush and eat it all back.  Now I have only the three, but they delighted in the edges and copses.

Zoë was intrigued by some of the deer paths wending through the brush,

but kept a careful eye out for goat danger.  She was a bit leery at first.  She was, after all, on a lead, and not at all sure that she wasn't going to be goat fodder.

I sat on the ground, watching Zoë, watching Leah, watching Hal, watching Fiore, soaking up the sun and abandoning myself to the moment.

It was lovely, but after a while I headed back to the barn.  By now the goats had disappeared and gave me a start, as I couldn't find them.  What would happen if I left without them and coyotes showed up?  Back I came, and carefully listened.  A rustle here, a snap of twigs there.  More rustling.  Calling evenually brought them out and we all headed back.

I'm going to do this again before they go to their new homes.  This kind of pleasure should be indulged.

The Grass is Always Greener

When I was a small child, 'way back in the '50's,  we used to watch a Boston-based TV show, "Big Brother Bob Emery".  He always opened the show by singing "The Grass is Always Greener" to the accompaniment of his ukelele.

     Oh, the grass is always greener
     in the other fellow's yard.
     The little row
     we have to hoe,
     Oh boy that's hard.
     But if we all could wear
     green glasses now,
     it wouldn't be so hard
     to see how green the grass is
     in our own back yard.

I think of that song often when I see my goats in the yard.  Mind you, they have about 30 acres of pasture, not including all the brush and trees which they can munch on anytime they wish. There's just something about a fence that a goat must challenge.

Yesterday I looked out to see them cropping grass on the lawn.  A bit later they'd jumped the fence for the dog's yard and were munching in there.  They made the rounds, wandering over to the Rosa rugosa bushes and wiping them clean of rosehips, exploring the remains of the garden plot (which I did not plant this year since they wiped it out last year), then discovering and eating, with gusto, the chrysanthemum in the planter by the house.

The paddock, the orchard, and the far pasture.  Beyond those trees is a multi-acre field with copses of trees and brush.

Another pasture, the front pasture, which extends beyond the photo, to the right.  Lots of trees and brush there, too.

Off to the left, there's a hill and another field that can't be seen.  They frequent that pasture in the summer when the upkeep on the fences is more stringent.  You can see that there's plenty of room to roam, graze, and browse.

And this is where they want to be, right outside the house. Okay, I admit it, the grass really is greener on the other side.

 Zoë is still a source of fascination. Enlarging the picture (click on it) will reveal Zoë on the step by the side door of the barn.  Some of the does are watching her, but she's oblivious, having interesting smells to explore.

Fedra and Dolly, especially, wanted to keep an eye on that dog.

After a while they wandered to the other side of the house...

Hannah just had to introduce herself.  Zoë seemed to be more leery than Hannah.

They really enjoyed those flowers.  I was not as thrilled.

Finally they wandered back toward the gate.  The source of interest for all of them?  

Zoë, of course.

Zoë on the farm

Zoë, my Fox Terrier loves to be outside, wants to have the freedom to run, but will take off if not watched.  Rather than leave her in the house or in the fenced in yard, I've been making a concerted effort to take her with me everywhere I can and just keep an eagle eye on her. 

Zoë loves having newborn kids in the house, sniffs and licks them, and tries to play with them, right up to when they learn how to play in their very goaty way--by heat butting.

Obviously, she's become very leery of older goats (meaning, anything bigger than her) so, when she sees them coming, she goes the other way.

Wednesday I took her with me when I saw the goats in the orchard. I knew I'd shut them out of there, but they've figured out how to go through the woods, up the gully, and into the orchard to eat the apples. As I walked over to the goats, hoping to move them to the other pasture, Zoë explored.  It wasn't long before Beatrice, my herd queen, noticed a little white dog sniffing around and rolling on the ground. Before long, all the others had noticed her, too, and went to investigate. So there was Bea, heading curiously but purposefully toward that dog spot, and it became comical when she reached out her nose to sniff her.  By that time, more goats were curious and were heading her way.  Zoë, of course, headed back to the barn--with all the goats following. 

 Who needs a herd dog? I have a Pied Piper instead.

Cats and dogs

With all the snow and bitter cold this winter, each long visit to the barn left  my toes feeling like they were about to break off.  I had a wonderful pair of boots last year, but the zipper wouldn't stay up so I returned them.  This year I treated myself to a pair that looked exactly what I needed, and so they were: a pair of Sorel Bear boots. Oh, they are warm!  The kicker, though, the bonus unlooked for, was the box.

My sister's dogs and cats are staying with me for a while, and Roar, aka Hambone, loves boxes.  Little did I know!  As I was trying on the boots, Hambone was trying out the box.  The dogs were fascinated.

There's something in there!

I think it's a cat.

Someone shone a light in the box and startled Roar..

Okay, I'm done.

Zoë and Lilly have to check him over.

Omigosh!  Now the box and the cat are in the living room!

A cat just can't find a private place with two dogs around.

Zoë's going to stay till the bitter end.

Time for a well-deserved rest.

In the doghouse

I hate being angry with Zoë.  She's cute, and fun, and warms my heart.  Today, though, we went out in the car and I made two stops.  The first was Wentworth's, the local grocery store.  I picked up a few vegetables for dinner, and at the last minute grabbed a package of four chocolate chip cookies, and ate one when I returned to the car.  A few minutes later, I stopped at a neighbor's house and was there about 10 minutes.  In the meantime, Zoë was scarfing down the other three cookies--and then returned to the back seat by the time I got back.

I realized as soon as I got in that something was out of whack.  Cookies!  Right!  Where are they?  No sign of them...and then I saw the empty container. Oh, no! This was not good.  Chocolate can be poisonous to dogs, and I didn't know what the limit would be for an 18 lb dog.  I was so angry, I smacked Zoë on the rump and told her in no uncertain terms that she was a BAD DOG!

As soon as I got home, I put her in "her spot" (her bed) and called the vet.  .  Thankfully, the quantity she ate wasn't enough to seriously harm her, just give her a bad case of diarrhea.  Even so, I wanted to make an impression on her.  Every time she tried to leave her bed, I ordered her back there, telling her sternly that she should STAY.  Poor Zoë, she slunk back to her bed on a couple of occasions, on too many more, I dragged her back by the collar.  You STAY, you BAD, BAD dog. Finally, after two hours, I let her come downstairs.  I don't know if it will help, if she'll connect my anger with her eating the cookies.  I hope so.  I don't want to lose my Zoë to chocolate, raisins, grapes, or any of the other things that can prove toxic to dogs.

Fox Terriers are normally pretty active little dogs, but her energy level tonight was higher than normal.  Shawn took her outside and threw the squeaky ball for her until she was exhausted. As I write, she's crashed out on the floor.  I'll have to keep an ear open during the night to let her out if she needs me to, but that's a minor inconvenience.  I'm just very thankful tonight that Zoë is okay.  I've made myself and her a promise:  No temptation left in the car when she's along.

Of desperation and its outcome

A couple of weeks ago, Zoe was scratching so much, and had so many fleas, that in desperation, I used Frontline Plus on her. Now, I used it once or twice last year, but it's not something I'm fond of. I hate using any kind of chemicals, but the herbal spray I was using didn't seem to be doing much. About a week later, Zoe broke out, in one afternoon, with hot spots all over her body. The sores were angry red and weepy, and ranged from the size of a dime to larger than a half-dollar. No itching, just real evidence of toxins in her body.

I wasn't sure what it was from at first, and started ticking off all the things that she might have gotten into.  We live on a farm, after all, so maybe she had found something in the shed and rolled in it?  Nope, the door was closed.  Allergic reaction to sweat bees or ground bees?  Maybe.  Reaction to deer flies?  Possibly.  Then I remembered the Frontline Plus and after some searching online, found a discussion group on Amazon.  Though Zoe's particular reaction wasn't described, I did read about  hot spots at the application site.  Well, one of the spots is definitely there.

I took Zoe to the local vet, who diagnosed Acute Moist Dermatitis, aka hot spots, and prescribed Benadril and steroidal cream.  In other words, to fix the problem, let's shut down the immune system.  I paid the bill, thanked the vet, and went home to email Dr. Glen Dupree.  I love this vet; he never fails to come through.  Apis, he said, and apply Calendula tincture (10 drops per ounce of water, sprayed on) or green tea or Aloe juice.  By the next morning her hot spots were pink and healing instead of raw and red.  Another homeopathic remedy followed.  In the meantime, I mixed up some Calendula ointment, Aloe gel, and Vitamin E and applied that to the hot spots that weren't too sore to touch. For five days, Zoe just lay on "her" chair and rarely moved.  She went outside when she needed to, but had no appetite--my little dog who could eat her meal, mine, and yours and look for more!. 

It was amazing to see how quickly the lesions healed.  I've had other dogs that got an occasional hot spot, but none ever cleared up that quickly.  I knew she had turned the corner on day 5 when someone came to the door and she lept off the chair to greet them.

She's looking lots better now.  Her hair is growing back, but so far as Frontline Plus is concerned, I'll never use any spot- on chemical (poison) again.  Instead, I'm using a growth inhibitor for fleas on the carpets and stuffed furniture, boric acid crystals as well, and adding Flea Free herbal/garlic food supplement to her food every day.  I may also add Brewers yeast, and apple cider vinegar to her water.  Perhaps she won't be so tasty, then.

Oh, and did I mention?  She still has fleas.