Tinea

 

Tinea

Tinea, perhaps more commonly known as Athlete’s foot, is an intensely itchy condition which is hard to eradicate. It is frequently acquired in communal changing rooms.

Barry suffered with tinea during his running years. He travelled the world on business, and went running in every country he was sent to. It was a wonderful way to explore different landscapes.

He tried many remedies for Athlete’s foot, and consulted doctors who recommended different treatments, but nothing seemed to work.

One day, our Dalmatian, Cariadd, began to lick his feet. Once he had overcome the ticklishness of her attention, he relaxed and enjoyed it. To his surprise, within a few days, the tinea had cleared completely. It may have been coincidental, and maybe it would have disappeared on its own eventually, but Cariadd was credited with almost magical properties. She only ever licked his feet when tinea recurred and passed on her ‘knowledge’ to the younger dogs.

People sometimes shudder when they think about a dog licking their feet, but it’s actually incredibly soothing.

Please

 

Please

Spare us a crumb, mister . . . please?

Sleeping dogs

 

Sleeping dogs

        

                                                Puppy Jenna

Everyone knows you should let sleeping dogs lie (lie undisturbed, that is, not tell untruths!)

                                            Old lady Cariadd 

However, only extremely young puppies and particularly old dogs sleep the absorbed sleep of the entirely relaxed. In the intervening years they sleep with one ear and one eye open.

If they haven’t reacted to a human entering the kitchen they may continue to give every appearance of slumbering, but the slightest food-related noise will alert them. The chink of the butter dish, the opening of the fridge door, the clink of a food bowl will awaken them, and they may or may not stir themselves to investigate.

However, a human saying, ‘Whoops!’ will have them instantly in attendance. They know that food has fallen like manna from heaven and it is their task to tidy it away, which they accomplish swiftly and  efficiently.

I wish I could spring into action from a standing sleeping start as they do . . . or ever!                                            

Agility Course

 

Agility Course

Watching dogs speed around an agility course is pure delight, particularly if they make the course their own, and run under obstacles instead of over them, or miss them out completely. Some dogs are natural comedians and respond to laughter, and they are the ones who steal the hearts of an audience.

We had a liver and white Dalmatian called Buddy, who was actually rather good at agility. He had brains and beauty, and wanted always to please his young owner, our youngest daughter, Bethan. She had spent a great deal of time building agility courses in our not very large garden, for Cariadd, our first Dalmatian. Bethan was three years old when we brought the small, warm puppy home, so Cariadd was around six when she started training her in agility. Cariadd was very obliging, but it wasn’t really her favourite occupation. She preferred cross country running.

 Buddy was a different prospect. He would do anything for Bethan and did well in his classes. However, he was just too big to compete with the dainty little dogs that normally excel at agility and eventually the lessons ceased, and he reverted to being a proper Dalmatian, running miles every day with Barry, Cariadd and Dominie.

We have an agility course in our house. The objective is not to discover how fast we can complete the course, but to see if we can complete it without breaking our necks.

The first obstacles are the slow-moving, indolent cats, who weave their way slightly ahead of us, miaouing if we dare to suggest they could move a little faster, please. Every move towards the kitchen indicates to them that meals might soon be served. They have been heavily influenced by the dogs, whose major loves in life are us, followed swiftly by food. The rule is, ‘If the humans move, we move, too.’

Having negotiated a track past the cats, the major obstacle presents itself. This is Roxy, who prostrates herself before us like a living sacrifice. It is imperative that she is never more than twelve inches away from one of us. I fear that she suffers from the reverse ostrich syndrome; that is, if we cannot see her, we might deny her existence.

Preparing meals, filling the kettle, emptying the dishwasher/washing machine/tumble dryer, packing the groceries away in fridge, freezer or cupboard, Roxy is always there, at our feet. I don’t know how we don’t trip over her.

Gilbert is also part of the course, but his function is to help. He moves around us, bringing us toys if he thinks we need some encouragement in our pursuits.

When we have completed whatever footling task we embarked on, we retreat from the kitchen, but now the agility course has been altered. The recumbent Roxy has miraculously and silently blocked our way out of the kitchen. It would not be advisable to step over her, because she has been known to rise up, mid-step-over, and that is quite hazardous. Slowly, we navigate our path back, accompanied by our four-footed friends.

Nothing can be accomplished at speed in our house unless we shut the animals away. Hence, we have baby gates at strategic doorways, behind which dogs can be contained. They don’t work for the cats – they slither under or leap over. The gates mean that the dogs can still be in contact, but not as closely as they might desire.

It's not so vastly different to having toddlers and at least the animals don’t have tantrums.

Ten years

 

Ten years

It is ten years since our last Dalmatian died. Frodo the Faller was fourteen years old, quite a good age, considering all the ailments he suffered. He was preceded by Buddy Liver Spots, Dominie, and Cariadd, all of whom lived long active lives.

Barry had run with them for years through fine weather and foul, but his knees were increasingly painful. Once his new chrome alloy knee joints were in place, he didn’t want to wear them out, so running, a life-long pursuit, was replaced by other activities, and another Dalmatian was out of the question. Thirty years of Dalmatians had been great fun, but we recognised our new limitations and anyway, Labradors are so much easier.

The only Dalmatians we now have are ornaments, and some Disney-type iterations. I think they were toppers from large tubes of Smarties. I always loved Smarties, and they’re so useful for number work and simple music theory with young children.

Sticks!

 

Sticks!

It is a fact universally acknowledged that dogs enjoy sticks or things that resemble sticks. They like to chase and retrieve them, or chew them, or guard them, or play tug of war with them, or simply lie on them and go to sleep.

Many dogs will seek out a stick as soon as their paws touch the forest floor, and the bigger it is, the better. Roxy Labrador picks up a stick the minute she gets out of the car.

Dogs will navigate gateways and narrow paths with sticks that are much longer than it would be thought possible to manoeuvre. Cariadd Dalmatian used to carry sticks that looked more like telegraph poles.

Some dogs are possessive about their sticks and will not relinquish them. Arthur Cocker Spaniel loves to play the ‘Is that my . . . ?’ game. He will not give up his stick or toy until he is ready. He makes lots of noise, but he is the sweetest little dog.

 Sam Jack Russell insisted on taking his sticks into the back of the car and would not release them until he reached home. He and his sister, Daisy, played sticks with their mother, Biddy. The three of them ran along, two going forwards, one backwards. Biddy was also an accomplished tree climber.

Sticks and water go together. Labradors are persistent retrievers and bob their heads under water, looking and smelling for sticks that have sunk. Atavistic behaviour deep in the retriever memory from their origins, perhaps, from hauling in fishing nets in the chilly Newfoundland waters.

We always make sure that sticks are thick and long enough not to stick in the dogs’ mouths and throats. Mostly, we encourage our dogs to play with Kongs and balls, but sometimes, only a stick will do! 

Destruction!

 

Destruction!

                                Pansy and Clown (blue and chocolate)

Warning! If you are averse to animals, do not read on.

Polly spoke about her Labrador breeding friends and the destruction the puppies wrought, and it reminded me of our brief foray into breeding Burmese cats.

It had never been our intention to breed cats. We had had an accidental breeding of Jack Russells, which was fun for the children, and also why we ended up with four of them – JRs, I mean, though we did have four children, too.

My sister and brother-in-law had a beautiful brown Burmese, called Tip, because he had a white tip to his tail. A few years after I left home – the baby of the family - they gave my parents a little queen who had come to the end of her breeding programme (!) Liza gave them a great deal of pleasure and much appreciated the freedom and love they gave her.

When we decided to acquire a cat, we remembered how affectionate and curious Burmese cats were, and found a local breeder, who had a pretty little brown queen, a few months old. They encouraged us to breed from her, and we thought it would be interesting for the children. That encouragement is not generally given these days, but this was many years ago.

The kittens were enchanting. From Alicat we had brown, chocolate, blue and lilac offspring. Each child and its friends had different favourites, so, naturally, we ended up with quite a few cats.

Pansy Blue as a kitten

People often claim to ‘know’ that cats and dogs are instinctive enemies and cannot live together, and take pleasure in promulgating the myth. We have found them to be allies and friends. The cats groom the dogs’ heads and faces and the dogs step between arguing cats to defuse the situation, as they would with warring dogs.

              Cariadd, (Dalmatian) with six Burmese, one brown, one blue, three chocolates and a lilac. They would climb on her for comfort if they started arguing.

We were extraordinarily lucky with the Jack Russells, known chasers – and killers – of fur. When we brought Alicat home, I sat down, and Daisy JR jumped up on my lap! We never had a problem with them, but I would not risk it again. It just didn’t occur to us to worry.

Puppies are fun, adventurous, and messy, but they don’t climb. Kittens clamber up everything in sight, including people. The view from the top of someone’s head, or the curtains, is exciting and different. If there are no people or furniture available to ascend, the wallpaper will do.

Inevitably, the time came, at three months of age, to bid the kittens farewell to their new homes. Interviewing prospective owners was never a job we relished, but we wanted to ensure our little creatures went to loving homes. Equally, I felt we had to be honest about what they were taking on. Burmese kittens do not lie around looking beautiful, although they can. They are adventurous and curious and can get themselves into unusual hiding places.

We once lost a litter temporarily. We had put them in our en suite shower room, where we were sure they would be safe and could not escape. When I went in to check on them and feed them, I couldn’t see them anywhere. Our shower room is not vast and the window was securely closed. Panic set in momentarily but something caused me to look more closely at the bidet and sure enough, the kittens were tucked safely under the pedestal. They soon emerged for their food, and we found a different room for them to grow up in.

As well as giving prospective owners directions to our house, a task at which I am still very poor, I would test their resolve by telling them what to expect. If they were experienced cat people, they would quickly understand. One man put it succinctly – ‘So, we look for the house with the wallpaper hanging off in shreds.’ I agreed that was the case and he came to collect his kitten anyway.

While kittens may not eat the carpet or the plaster on the walls, or chew the door frame, your shoes, or anything else that takes their fancy, as puppies will, they have sharp claws, like needles. They will tear at your soft furnishings, turn the stair carpet into a series of scratching posts, scale the heights of the kitchen cupboards, and pierce your heart with their unbelievably silky fur and huge, lustrous eyes. A warm purring cat on your lap or next to you as you lie on your bed is worth more than a king’s ransom.

If dog/s join the cat/s, you are more blessed than you could imagine.

We haven’t bred puppies, or kittens for many years. It is exhausting, being responsible for so many tiny beings. Guinea pigs, mice and gerbils are much easier, but once our children grew out of the farming phase, we ceased breeding altogether. Oh, that is, until our youngest child was born. She came during the cat breeding phase. We must have got muddled, somewhere! 

Herbert with Bethan

Whimzees

 

Whimzees

A few weeks ago, I mentioned the ‘toothbrushes’ we had bought for Roxy and Gilbert and how the chews came in different shapes and sizes. 

I bought some alligator and hedgehog chews, which they enjoy just as much as the toothbrushes, but I was disappointed to see how much smaller they are.

The dogs aren't bothered, of course. So far as I know, dogs don't discern discrepancies in size. If one has a large carrot, and the other a small, they just accept them. A beach ball is as much fun as a tennis ball, though not so easy to retrieve . . .  

Baby Roxy with a beach ball

. . . and a large stick is as magnetic as a small twig.

               Cariadd, foreground, and Dominie. 'I'll hold it - you chew.'

I decided to treat my ‘granddogs’ to a selection of chews. I hope they enjoy them as much as our dogs do.

Sticks!

 

Sticks!

Dogs like sticks. They chase them and chew them and carry them, the bigger, the better. Small sticks are a hazard – extricating one from the roof of a dog’s mouth is difficult so we always try to distract them from anything smaller than 10” x 1.5”.

All our dogs have enjoyed retrieving and carrying. The Jack Russells used to work in concert, two going forwards, one going backwards on the same stick with a great deal of noise. 

                Here are Sam (long tail) and his mother, Biddy, at the seaside. Sticks can be found everywhere!

Sam JR collected sticks and would not be parted from them when it was time to go home, Consequently, we accumulated a substantial wood pile.

Our first Dalmatian, Cariadd, specialised in very large sticks, more like tree trunks. She was immensely strong and very intelligent and would always find a way to manoeuvre her telegraph pole through a narrow gap. 

Here Cariadd waits for Barry to toss the 'stick' for her while Bethan watches.

The Labradors are stick merchants of a slightly different cast. They are bred to retrieve and not to give up until they have picked up their quarry. In water, they thrust their noses under the surface to sniff out their objective. 

Dogs can smell underwater and can be trained to locate things in rivers or lakes or other bodies of water. They are sometimes called cadaver dogs and 

will indicate when something or someone is many feet deep in water and

 mud. 

Yesterday, Roxy’s stick disappeared. We don’t know whether it was waterlogged and sank or got tangled in something. Whatever the reason, she could not find it. Eventually, she had to be enticed out of the pond with the promise of ‘biscuits’. Even then, her response was not immediate, but she soon found another stick and all was well in her world again.

Cats!

Cats!

We have had a number of cats throughout the years, even, for a brief period, breeding them. Our Burmese were recommended  by our vets, to people seeking kittens, for their friendly dispositions and apparent immunity to alarm. We had four children and they and their friends were instrumental in ensuring that our kittens grew up used to the hustle and bustle of a busy home and loving the attention they were given.

Recently I read Eleanor Farjeon’s poem ‘Cats Sleep Anywhere’ to Frankie. It’s a poem many of us will have learnt at school (and then forgotten apart from the first couple of lines!)

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.

Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.

Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.

Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.

Anywhere! They don’t care! Cats sleep anywhere.

Eleanor Farjeon 1881-1965

This was the cover of my copy of the poem.

Here is a small selection from the thousands of photos we have of our many cats. Many of them are pictured with our dogs. All our cats have loved our dogs. Some of them enjoyed blogging. Some were quite literary. Some enjoyed watching educational programmes on the television . . . or rugby.

Jellicoe,  our 4-year-old  Classic Ocicat . Classics are now known as Aztecs!

Susannah's  one-year-old Somali, Solomon

Marnie with the late Pansy, one of our blue Burmese, about fourteen years ago.

Jellicoe pretending to be a lap cushion!

The late Monty Ocicat with a young Jenna. Monty died when he was three of congestive heart failure

Susannah's Abyssinian, Pats, as a kitten. She is now ten years old.

Jenna with Winston Ocicat, who died unexpectedly when he was six years old.

Susannah providing a perch for Winston

Monty with the late, great Frodo, my velcro dog

Monty loved watching television . . .

. . . and he would not move to allow a dog into a dog bed.  Here it's Jenna trying to get comfortable.

Young Frodo with elderly blue Burmese, Pansy (top) and Singleton.  

If the cats have a squabble, as cats frequently will, they sometimes seek solace. Here it is  Cariadd, our first Dalmatian, doing the honours. There are six Burmese cats sitting on her. To her right are the hindquarters of Biddy, our first Jack Russell.

Christmas Winston!

Winston appreciating my Kindle

Clown, Magic and Angus, all Burmese. Clown and Angus were brothers.

Alicat, our first Burmese, with Bethan, thirty-three years ago

The cats liked sitting and sleeping on the aquarium cover. It was warm and there was always a slight chance that they might catch a snack! Here are, from left to right, Magic, Angus, Pansy, Alicat(behind Pansy), Sweet Pea, Clown and Singleton

Monty studying a spotted cousin . . .

 . . . and here listening to Jim Al-Khalili

Monty and Winston

Winston the blogger

Jellicoe and Isambard sharing Bertie's bed

Herschel and Bertie

  

The Final Adventures of Frodo the Faller – a Trooper to the End

 The introduction of two beautiful Somali kittens to the Crowthorne Crew in February resulted also in the introduction of ringworm. It is not caused by worms but by a fungus belonging to the Tinea family. It creates intensely itchy spots which are very painful when scratched. Bertie and I seemed to be the worst affected but naturally Frodo had to share the experience. At the same time he had another outbreak of sarcoptic mange (canine scabies) on his shoulder, four months after the first attack.

He had also been experiencing recurrent stomach upsets. Courses of antibiotics and a change to an hypoallergenic diet helped – his appetite was unaffected – a greedy Dalmatian is greedy to the endJ

However, it was clear that he was slowly deteriorating. His system seemed to be breaking down and each new problem or setback took him longer to overcome. He began to sleep longer and longer, sometimes as long as eighteen hours, and each time I hoped and prayed he would quietly slip away but he wouldn’t. The mange on his shoulder broke down within two weeks into a wound that refused to heal, despite antibiotics, and it was clear that he would soon be in a great deal of pain if it were left to attack the underlying tissues and expose the bone. So, with great sadness, we let him go. We were comforted by the knowledge that he had spent so much time with the vets that he was never afraid of visiting them and so his final moments were with people he trusted and who loved him.

Frodo was hard work when he first came home with us at five months old. He liked all our family dogs but any unknown dogs were a challenge and he would always make the first aggressive advance. Even in his (short!) show career he would attempt to take lumps out of other dogs as he galloped past them. For that reason and also because he never really liked shows we stopped subjecting him to them. In any case, the small rings at dog shows don’t really allow dogs to show their full potential. There is nothing finer than seeing a healthy animal at full stretch in the countryside.

Eventually Frodo learnt to be more trusting and in his final years he bore the attentions of puppies and other dogs with grace. He was such a special dog – he had so many problems but he bore them all with stoic determination. He was my Velcro dog, never happier than when he had me in his sight. Indeed, when we went walking together he checked on me every few seconds. Sometimes I would hide from him and he would rush back, a concerned expression on his face. His relief when he ‘found’ me was palpable. He was gentle with small children, the other dogs and the cats. Anyone could steal his food from his bowl as he ate and he wouldn’t murmur, quite unlike his Labrador companions! He was the top dog but never lorded it over the others. If he wanted a particular bed he would loom over the occupant until he or she moved. Naturally the cats refused to move and so he would climb in and lie down on them. They moved then!

Like all Dalmatians (or was it just ours?) he was an inveterate thief and we had to hang the rubbish out of his reach as normal bins were no defence against his raids. The medication he took twice daily to try and control his epileptic seizures made him ravenous, constantly seeking food, not always from an appropriate source. He started to eat Frankie’s books because they had miniscule applications of food on them – toddlers are so apt to deposit tasty morsels everywhere! His tablets also caused him to ‘leak’ and thus he wore wraps or ‘loin cloths’ which added to his dignity rather than diminishing it. He was much admired, even in old age, in the forest, my elegant, loping boy. In latter months he wore a harness which enabled us to lift him if he got stuck somewhere as occasionally his hind legs let him down and he couldn’t extricate himself from whichever flower tub or bush that had trapped him.

He taught us such a lot. We learnt how to comfort him after he had had a seizure and was unaware of his surroundings – how frightening that must be. We learnt how to lift him into the car for the journey to the forest where he loved to walk. We learnt to be patient when he had ‘accidents’ in the house because he couldn’t move fast enough to reach the door. He was a fastidious dog and hated to be dirty.

We miss him – it’s only been four weeks – and I have not yet broken the night-time listening habit that developed after his seizures began, ten years ago. I am sure Bertie misses him, too, for he spends much time wanting reassurance from us.

So ends thirty years of Dalmatian companions. I think we shall not have another – all four of ours had different health problems, though the first, Cariadd, was the strongest and the longest-lived.

Our last walk together . . . 

 Frodo was fun, a character and a wonderful companion. He gave such love, such trust. Sleep well, my boy, in starlight.

 Frodo - Washakie Lord of the Rings: 06.12. 2001 - 23.03.2015