Apologies for the relative neglect of this “blog” over the past month. I would like to say that my neglect has its origin in doing productive work (for instance, revising & rewriting my dissertation proposal, writing that paper on Battlestar, preparing to teach, or otherwise engaging in career-enhancing productivity and assorted seasonal reflections), but, unfortunately, that is not the case. Rather, twelve days after Calvin was declared healthy and cancer free, Mickey died after having a rather unpleasant week. And, then, shortly after Mickey’s death, Igge, in response to environmental stress, became extremely constipated and had to be taken into the emergency clinic to undergo general anesthesia and have the poop manually removed. One might, therefore, infer that December has been as unpleasant as it has been unseasonal. I had intended to make a post sooner about Mickey, but then it was too soon and, now, it seems too late.
One supposes that his obituary – if newspapers ran them for dogs – would have read something to this effect:
Mickey died peacefully at the Bayview Animal Hospital on December ninth due to complications arising from liver failure. He was with his dog-dad and dog-mom. Calvin and Igge, both cats, and Minnie, a dog, survive him. He was just under fifteen years old.
Mickey enjoyed playing in the snow (especially catching snowballs), chewing on plush toys, fetching sticks in the water, going for car rides, seeing farm animals from the car, “drive-thrus” and donut-holes (“Timbits”), eating, napping, chasing cats, and sitting on his dog-parents laps even though he was sixty-some pounds.
Widely reputed to be “the best dog ever,” Mickey will be sorely missed by his family and friends.
As Mickey was adopted from the Ottawa Humane Society at eight years of age, please consider making a donation to your local Humane Society in his honour.
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My condolences to Mickey and his social network.
Sorry to hear about Mickey. Looks like he had a pretty fun, long life though. Is Igge okay now?
Thanks Eric and AZ. Igge is doing much better. His constipation has cleared up. (Mind you, he’s having 4ml of a liquid laxative a day and eating two cans of soft chow.) The other concern we had with Igge was what looked like a cyst under his eye. Fortunately it isn’t a cyst – rather, he had an abscessed tooth (readers might recall we originally, ironically I suppose, thought Calvin’s tumor was a tooth problem) and the infection wasn’t coming out of his mouth, but had worked its way up the root into some cavity and then out underneath his eye. So, long story short, he had some teeth pulled last week. He’s doing much better now and recovered much quicker than I would have in similar circumstances. Meanwhile, regarding Calvin, see my forthcoming comment in the post on Calvin…
Condolences. There is some comfort in having doubled his life-span, I suppose. Everybody should adopt older dogs.
Thanks, Matt. There’s a dog at the local humane society that is routinely featured in the paper in the weekly “pets available for adoption” column. She’s a rottweiler mix (like Minnie) and her name is Princess (same name Minnie had at the shelter in Toronto). It seems “Princess” is the default name for black and tan female mutts of indeterminate age. There’s also an approximately three year old hound who is terrified of humans who came in as a stray at the shelter. Too soon for another dog – especially one with medical and psychological problems – however. How are Dutch and Lucy?
Craig, that’s very understandable. Lucy is vegging out on couches, still, only going on short walks. Her final heartworm treatment in a couple weeks. Aside from his randomly recurring phobia of hardwood and vinyl floors, Dutch is fine. They both enjoyed the drive to Vermont immensely (with more room in the backseat than we had up front). Naturally gracious guests, and generally spoiled – all of us – by lots of time together. Vermont itself was okay too (a river and fresh snow very exciting for New Year’s, no leashes and acres to explore, etc.) Their stockings (an archaic ritual) far superior (no fruit fillers). At times I worry that, if anything, they are too emotionally close (Dutch being likely to go first); they literally share the same bed(s), bowls, bones, etc. On walks, you know, every third rock and bush is doubly sniffed, doubly inscribed.
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