I've had a lifelong relationship with my teeth (haven't we all...). In February, an old familiar feeling started on my upper left jaw. Hmmm... was this another little flareup that I could blame on hormones? Or was this more like the good old days, when a series of abscessed teeth created pain and agony on and off for a few years? At the time, I wasn't making very much money and had no dental benefits, so every little red cent came out of my after-tax, hard-earned dollars. Ouch. More than pain in my jaw. When it started pulsing, with a heartbeat of its own, I knew it was trouble.
The fear of developing some longstanding health issues related to dental decay inspired many thousands of dollars of expenditures that could have been better spent on a mortgage, car payments, or just plain fun and games. But teeth seemed worth it. So I invested. A few root canals, crowns, a variety of fixes and I thought things were well and truly "fixed". No one seemed to be able to give me answers, but theories abounded. No fluoridated water in my youth (we drank water from a cistern that provided water to our house); soft enamel, a genetic inheritance; very little dental care in my earlier days; the list goes on. I do recallr a series of dental appointments in my mid-teens that resulted in a multitude of fillings.
There were dental issues that erupted in my early 20s, the inheritance of this lack of dental care. And I thought it was all fixed. So the February outburst was surprising... I thought things were under control. And there are always more opinions or ideas when I ask how this could happen given the attention and care I've paid to my teeth in the last 20 years. A tooth with a large filling was now causing the problem. My dentist checked it out, x-rayed it and confirmed that an infection had developed in the jaw. Antibiotics and a visit to a specialist were prescribed. A root canal (pulpectomy) was in order.
I was surprisingly nervous during my visit to the endodontist. This man, who spends his time peering through microscopes attached to his glasses, was graphic: "I've done what I can do... one root is cracked and is now calcified, so it is unfixable. It's crawling with microbes." I imagined a series of 6 to 8-legged minuscule creatures creating havoc in the cracked root of my molar. And that's probably what he saw with his super-power vision. A tooth full of bugs, each intent on developing an extended series of problems, resulting in more decay and pain. I asked the obvious -- "Is there anything that can be done to save the tooth?" Apparently only my dentist could confirm this with me, so I went back to my dentist.
The news wasn't good. The decay wouldn't abate with any known treatment, so that tooth had to go. There was some emotional turmoil on my part. I thought those teeth were healthy. All my clean living... and care of teeth. Disappointing. If the tooth wasn't removed, the infection would never settle down. Couldn't seal it off with a root canal, so there would always be a low grade infection.
Getting someone to do something they don't want to do is "like pulling teeth". How's that for an appropriate idiom? Pulling my tooth ended up like "pulling teeth". Again, anxiety set in. This office checks your blood pressure, just to make sure you are up to the ordeal -- my bp was 166/79. Much, much higher than I'd ever seen it, other than (perhaps) during the twin pregnancy! They weren't too worried -- they've had people with their blood pressure readings in the 200s, and those they send home to relax before they do the extraction.
It was hard work giving up that tooth. The specialist had some nice biceps (and he is so nice to talk to, a charming individual, whose main work is to remove teeth from their sockets in our jaws), and he acknowledged that dental extractions are somewhat difficult for new dentists, who aren't aware of the force required to haul a reasonably unwilling tooth out of some one's head. Sometimes a decayed tooth just slips out (apparently the majority of the time those teeth just want to be removed), but in a few, rare cases, it's a bit more work to pull out a tooth. Several hours later (or what felt like hours later), the recalcitrant molar had been sawed into three parts (each root had to be hauled out on its own), wrestled out with those biceps (I did have a few moments of worry when I wondered what he would do if the tooth didn't come out), and I saw the biggest root capped with its abscess, a flagrant example of what was going on in there. He remained cheerful... "Well, that tooth didn't want to leave, did it?" Big sigh on my part. Goodbye reluctant tooth. ...just like pulling teeth...
Now I have a hole in my jaw, where a tooth used to live. And live it did, chewing, grinding, biting, enjoying food. Now I will let it heal and go to the next stage, likely a bridge. I don't know if I will have an implant, although I should explore that option. Depends on the strength of the surrounding teeth, the jaw, and my bank account. I don't think it's covered in either of our dental plans, but I'll check.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Check out a little assignment that was done for a course...
We had a group assignment for my Teacher and Technology course. A project-based learning experience, focusing on the Hudson's Bay Company, choosing a particular theme related to a topic that had been presented in a 1958 television series called Hudson's Bay (the show we watched is called The Watch).
The group I was with wanted to make a book of some sort, focusing on "older" technology, thinking about some people want to read books now -- online blogs, columns, E-readers, and other devices. Not having the ability to create a book 'app' we came up with the idea of creating a web page that looks like a book... click on the page number at the bottom and move from page to page.
QUICKSAND: Mythology, Mystery... Reality?
The group I was with wanted to make a book of some sort, focusing on "older" technology, thinking about some people want to read books now -- online blogs, columns, E-readers, and other devices. Not having the ability to create a book 'app' we came up with the idea of creating a web page that looks like a book... click on the page number at the bottom and move from page to page.
QUICKSAND: Mythology, Mystery... Reality?
Monday, January 3, 2011
A Winter Visit to Vic Beach
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| Pelican Point |
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| Looking west |
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| Wind Patterns |
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| White on White |
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| Lake Winnipeg Ice |
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| Trekking along the shore |
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| Fisherman Beach ... heading home |
Christmas Dinner
Having not had a working dishwasher (other than the two-legged creatures in the house, and that’s a story for another day) for the last three weeks, throughout the entire holiday season, this is actually about the preparation and clean-up of big celebratory meals. From childhood onwards, I always enjoyed Christmas dinner. It usually included turkey, which was one meat I enjoyed without reservation, not being a real meat lover in my youth.
As a child you generally show up for dinner, pick your favourite foods, and enjoy. I remember some wonderful items. There were always dill pickles, homemade. And homemade tomato juice, another favourite. One strong memory is dipping my pickle into the juice, and holding it where my missing front teeth should have been. Don’t know why that sticks out. My dad loved taking pictures, and he was recording the occasion with his new movie camera. The meals at my father’s parents’ house were memorable – this family lived through terrible hunger and privation during the Stalin years in the Soviet Union, and enjoyed every bit of the turkey, pork, beef, or whatever they prepared. Watching them enjoy pigs knuckles, chicken feet, and head cheese must have been part of my early meat aversion. But they didn't waste a thing, and before it was a foodie thing to do, were making sausages, canning meat, and enjoyed the plenty of life in Canada.
As a teenager I started to notice the work done by my female relatives, and I usually participated in the clean-up. In my late teens, I do recall lecturing several older male relatives about having a nice relaxing time in the living room while the hot, tired women had to deal with the meal’s aftermath in the kitchen. To their credit, they did rise from their restful spots and come and help in the kitchen.
The beauty of the food, the enjoyment of its nourishment and taste, and the laughs and talks with relatives we didn’t see that often were a highlight of the year. As a parent, I want to bring that experience to my children. In our house, Tom is usually responsible for most of the preparation of the Christmas dinner. One of his great achievements was making sure we had Christmas dinner, a day late, the day after I and the twins came home from the hospital. That was the calm before the storm, but by then we had a dishwasher, a portable one, courtesy of his mom, Sadie. She wisely counselled, strongly, for the purchase of a dishwasher, and made sure it happened, by contributing the cost as a gift for the new household. Tom professed he loved washing dishes, but he’s been a convert to the mechanical process of washing dishes for years now. Not having had a working dishwasher as a household helper in the last few weeks has been noticeable. Of course we have the benefit of 3 strong, two-legged pre-teens and teen to help us, but it’s still a bit more work than we wanted. It does drive home how much work the clean-up of a memorable meal can be. The preparation is fun, usually, and you anticipate the wonderful tastes, the different side dishes, and the main course, ending with some amazing dessert.
So I give tribute to the women relatives of my past, who created amazing meals for their families, who showed us what taste was about, who cleaned, scoured, whipped and creamed, much of it by hand. They were definitely my role models, and made sure our meals were memorable. I remember many of the special occasions to this day. And one day GE and Purolator will manage to get the special corrugated hose that links our dishwasher to the waste water system to our Winnipeg repair person who will then come to our house, connect the new hose, and we'll be thrilled to once again have a working, non-human dishwasher!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Call me Crazy
Crazy. Call me crazy... I'm crazy to be doing what I'm doing now, or so I've been told ... going back to school at my advanced old age isn't the smartest thing to do. Apparently. I should just sit back and relax, take it easy, don't do anything radical. And yet when I am asked about my current career, people are also amazed that I've been there as long as I've been. I don't hear anyone wondering why a physician is still a physician, or why a teacher is still teaching; why a researcher is still researching. Apparently my current career, based as it is in the lowly bowels of administration and academic advising at the University, is not worth keeping for as long as I've kept it.
These comments don't take into account how many times the position has advanced, grown, how many different things I've learned or done, it's plain weird to have been there as long I have (25 years). I had the opportunity to get a Master's degree, to teach University courses, to bring our Faculty into the forefront of new information system that was introduced at the University, to have 3 children, to take different times off for either family or personal reasons, while I was also able to construct a meaningful career in academic advising. And advising is finally receiving some of its due -- advisors are now seen to be important elements in retaining students, rentention being the new mantra in postsecondary education. Over the years students have told me that I've made a difference in their lives. Now it's time to start something new, a program in education, and it will take a few years to achieve.
The year away did something to me and for me: It gave me time to think and be more creative with myself. It may have been as basic as cooking a wonderful meal, or just being there for my family, but it was different, it was a break from the "normal" existence we'd had for a few years, and it was refreshing to do it in a different place. Then we came back, and it was more of the same. The same town, the same work place, not bad in its entirety, but sameness. The transition or return was harder than I'd thought it would be. I didn't actually think about it, I just did it.
Now that it's almost one year, I am boggled at the quickness of time moving by. Last night I had a vivid dream about the neighbourhood we lived in last year. When I awoke, I was shocked to realize I wasn't in the old neighbourhood. But a lot has happened, and there is much moving forward with plans and lives.
I have finished two courses in the B.Ed. program at the University. My fellow students are now in their teaching practica, but I will wait for that until next year. You need 5 weeks off in order to do the practicum, and that wasn't viable this year. The academic portion was frightening enough -- I haven't written an exam or tests in 17 years. They're mostly still written in long hand, by the way. It's weird to do that for several hours as most of my writing is now done in an electronic format. The brain didn't appear to kick in as quickly. Funny. Transitioning to writing directly into an electronic format was hard when I moved from writing onto paper... now it's the reverse. In one course we had the opportunity to write our tests online, which was a new experience.
Each course explored some fundamental issues of education -- one was sociological, related to the structural aspects of the education system, and the other had its roots in psychology, always more of a struggle for me. I seem to resonate with the systems approach that underpins sociology. Somehow it fits my brain. And I love the politics of it all, why decisions are made, where policies fit in, how the historical patterns relate to current trends. At first it was frightening, but the cohort model, which is the basis of the education programs at the U of M, seems to work. You do develop relationships with others in the group, and it is an excellent model that creates momentum within itself. Of course, there are hazards, but that's part of the learning experience. Because I'm not part of the practicum placement this year, I won't be able to share in the experiences, other than vicariously. But hopefully it will lessen some of the fear that will accompany that new experience next year.
Last Friday night I accompanied Tom to the keynote speaker presentation of a Learning in the Arts conference he attended. Sir Ken Robinson spoke with humour and passion about the way teaching and learning intersect in creating conditions that allow talents to reveal themselves. I am keen to be part of an approach that prepares our children for this century, not the 19th or the 20th, which were the forerunners of the current education system. The relationship at the heart of education is between the teacher and the learner. That is why I want to learn what I'm learning now.
Life is not linear, it is organic (K. Robinson).
These comments don't take into account how many times the position has advanced, grown, how many different things I've learned or done, it's plain weird to have been there as long I have (25 years). I had the opportunity to get a Master's degree, to teach University courses, to bring our Faculty into the forefront of new information system that was introduced at the University, to have 3 children, to take different times off for either family or personal reasons, while I was also able to construct a meaningful career in academic advising. And advising is finally receiving some of its due -- advisors are now seen to be important elements in retaining students, rentention being the new mantra in postsecondary education. Over the years students have told me that I've made a difference in their lives. Now it's time to start something new, a program in education, and it will take a few years to achieve.
The year away did something to me and for me: It gave me time to think and be more creative with myself. It may have been as basic as cooking a wonderful meal, or just being there for my family, but it was different, it was a break from the "normal" existence we'd had for a few years, and it was refreshing to do it in a different place. Then we came back, and it was more of the same. The same town, the same work place, not bad in its entirety, but sameness. The transition or return was harder than I'd thought it would be. I didn't actually think about it, I just did it.
Now that it's almost one year, I am boggled at the quickness of time moving by. Last night I had a vivid dream about the neighbourhood we lived in last year. When I awoke, I was shocked to realize I wasn't in the old neighbourhood. But a lot has happened, and there is much moving forward with plans and lives.
I have finished two courses in the B.Ed. program at the University. My fellow students are now in their teaching practica, but I will wait for that until next year. You need 5 weeks off in order to do the practicum, and that wasn't viable this year. The academic portion was frightening enough -- I haven't written an exam or tests in 17 years. They're mostly still written in long hand, by the way. It's weird to do that for several hours as most of my writing is now done in an electronic format. The brain didn't appear to kick in as quickly. Funny. Transitioning to writing directly into an electronic format was hard when I moved from writing onto paper... now it's the reverse. In one course we had the opportunity to write our tests online, which was a new experience.
Each course explored some fundamental issues of education -- one was sociological, related to the structural aspects of the education system, and the other had its roots in psychology, always more of a struggle for me. I seem to resonate with the systems approach that underpins sociology. Somehow it fits my brain. And I love the politics of it all, why decisions are made, where policies fit in, how the historical patterns relate to current trends. At first it was frightening, but the cohort model, which is the basis of the education programs at the U of M, seems to work. You do develop relationships with others in the group, and it is an excellent model that creates momentum within itself. Of course, there are hazards, but that's part of the learning experience. Because I'm not part of the practicum placement this year, I won't be able to share in the experiences, other than vicariously. But hopefully it will lessen some of the fear that will accompany that new experience next year.
Last Friday night I accompanied Tom to the keynote speaker presentation of a Learning in the Arts conference he attended. Sir Ken Robinson spoke with humour and passion about the way teaching and learning intersect in creating conditions that allow talents to reveal themselves. I am keen to be part of an approach that prepares our children for this century, not the 19th or the 20th, which were the forerunners of the current education system. The relationship at the heart of education is between the teacher and the learner. That is why I want to learn what I'm learning now.
Life is not linear, it is organic (K. Robinson).
Sunday, September 12, 2010
In the Summer of Stieg Larsson
It just took a few moments and everything is back to the normal of school, school supplies, entry into the system. We are all trying to figure out our places -- in the new school (Kai and Gabe in their late French immersion program), in a new program (Nicole in the flex program), in a new mindset (me, as I add a few University courses to my life so I can try to decide what I want to be when I grow up), and a rebuild of the kiln (Tom, as he finally relaxed after 1 1/2 years of teaching without a "real" break).
This week the Manitoba government announced that report cards will soon be standardized across the province -- the hows, whats, details, are yet to be decided. The best way for a parent or student to find out how they're doing is to talk with the teacher -- I've always found that you get the best information up front, and the best communication is at that level. That's my biggest fear as I enter the academic part of the teaching world -- the parents out there. I think I'll need some time and training to help with that! The real news, for me, is that the government plans to standardize in-service dates across the province. That's huge. However, it's one year too late for us. Everything has always been one year too late -- the change to one year of maternity/parenting leave happened after we had three kids in two years. I got some leave, but not enough to eliminate massive worrying and headaches about child care. The intrepid couple who took on Revenue Canada to obtain two parental leaves for their twins have also created a new perspective. When I appealed the fact that we could not claim child care expenses after we had the twins, we were rejected. I didn't use a lawyer... And we were doing what we should do legally -- ask the child care provider to claim their payment from us. So it worked against us and against her because we were honest. Oh well... others will benefit. And once in-service dates are the same from school to school to division, the challenge of finding child care could become more sensible.
The summer always seems to speed up as you hit August -- much of the book talk with our friends, and other folks at the lake, centered around the Stieg Larsson books. Tom blazed through all three in a row, forced to buy the third book as a hard cover edition to fuel his addiction. I got them once he was done, but I interspersed my reading with a few other amazing books. Incredible books. The Larsson books are certainly a phenomenon, but I found the second book too much of a gap filler. Books one and three were certainly written to keep you going nonstop, or as nonstop as you could.
Debra Adelaide's The Household Guide to Dying is a smart and sensitive take on an Australian woman's story as she faces the realization that the cancer she's fought three previous times isn't disappearing this time. Delia, the main character, is a columnist and writer and she continues to dispense some acerbic advice as she continues her writing with a useful guide to dying. Read it. It's great!
David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas (2004) is an astounding ride, six individual tales within the book, taking you from the 1850s into a future civilization with cloned people, followed by survivors of the fall of the civilized world, ending in the Pacific Ocean, where the book began. Each story is linked by artifacts, a lure that kept me looking for a connection. I loved that book, so when I saw he has a new one, I put it on hold. My summer reading included Mitchell's Black Swan Green, a fictionalized memoir in a year of a 13 year old boy's life in small-town England. It's sweet, and it's sad, and the character is more than observant as he encounters real life in the early 1980s. I've got his latest on hold in the library, but it's still 30 or so readers away from me. That's fine. I'll be busy for the next 8 weeks being a student, a parent, and an employee...
An encounter with Cree storytellers in early August was another amazing night -- Louis Bird, Duncan Mercredi, and Joseph Boyden talked and read and captivated a packed room at Aqua Books in downtown Winnipeg. Three Day Road and Through Black Spruce are Boyden's well known novels, and on that evening his first book, Born with a Tooth, was suggested as another great story. Louis Bird spent a substantial amount of time in the 1960s listening to, talking to/with, and recording, when given permission, the storytellers of the Hudson and James Bay lowlands in northern Manitoba and Ontario. An amazing source of knowledge is the web site Our Voices, partly the result of his work at that time, and a record of his work as an aboriginal storyteller. His story about a couple who hook a thunderbird when they are off on a fishing trip is trap from start to finish -- it's basically a fart joke, but wrapped in a long and entertaining story. Mercredi grew up near Grand Rapids in Manitoba, straddling the world of pre- and post-electricity, after the power dam was built. His grandmother singled him out to learn from the travelling snow walkers and storytellers, who linked the communities of their day with knowledge, news, and entertainment. Inspiring. Hopeful. A way to erase some of the imagery created by the stories of abuse that were raised by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Finally, before this gets too long and boring, Tom's niece Lauren introduced me to Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees. Set in 1964, it is almost unbearable at first, but creates hope and love as 14 year old Lily runs away from her abusive and racist father, escaping with the family's black maid, Rosaleen, whose decision to register herself to vote sets the story in motion. The ensuing events send Lily and Rosaleen to another town in South Carolina, where they are taken in by a family of sisters, named for the summer months, headed by August, a beekeeper.
I reminder a day, about 25 years ago, when I worried about running out of good books to read. Ha!! It is personal pleasure to watch my entire family immerse themselves in books. I know we'll never run out.
This week the Manitoba government announced that report cards will soon be standardized across the province -- the hows, whats, details, are yet to be decided. The best way for a parent or student to find out how they're doing is to talk with the teacher -- I've always found that you get the best information up front, and the best communication is at that level. That's my biggest fear as I enter the academic part of the teaching world -- the parents out there. I think I'll need some time and training to help with that! The real news, for me, is that the government plans to standardize in-service dates across the province. That's huge. However, it's one year too late for us. Everything has always been one year too late -- the change to one year of maternity/parenting leave happened after we had three kids in two years. I got some leave, but not enough to eliminate massive worrying and headaches about child care. The intrepid couple who took on Revenue Canada to obtain two parental leaves for their twins have also created a new perspective. When I appealed the fact that we could not claim child care expenses after we had the twins, we were rejected. I didn't use a lawyer... And we were doing what we should do legally -- ask the child care provider to claim their payment from us. So it worked against us and against her because we were honest. Oh well... others will benefit. And once in-service dates are the same from school to school to division, the challenge of finding child care could become more sensible.
The summer always seems to speed up as you hit August -- much of the book talk with our friends, and other folks at the lake, centered around the Stieg Larsson books. Tom blazed through all three in a row, forced to buy the third book as a hard cover edition to fuel his addiction. I got them once he was done, but I interspersed my reading with a few other amazing books. Incredible books. The Larsson books are certainly a phenomenon, but I found the second book too much of a gap filler. Books one and three were certainly written to keep you going nonstop, or as nonstop as you could.
Debra Adelaide's The Household Guide to Dying is a smart and sensitive take on an Australian woman's story as she faces the realization that the cancer she's fought three previous times isn't disappearing this time. Delia, the main character, is a columnist and writer and she continues to dispense some acerbic advice as she continues her writing with a useful guide to dying. Read it. It's great!
David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas (2004) is an astounding ride, six individual tales within the book, taking you from the 1850s into a future civilization with cloned people, followed by survivors of the fall of the civilized world, ending in the Pacific Ocean, where the book began. Each story is linked by artifacts, a lure that kept me looking for a connection. I loved that book, so when I saw he has a new one, I put it on hold. My summer reading included Mitchell's Black Swan Green, a fictionalized memoir in a year of a 13 year old boy's life in small-town England. It's sweet, and it's sad, and the character is more than observant as he encounters real life in the early 1980s. I've got his latest on hold in the library, but it's still 30 or so readers away from me. That's fine. I'll be busy for the next 8 weeks being a student, a parent, and an employee...
An encounter with Cree storytellers in early August was another amazing night -- Louis Bird, Duncan Mercredi, and Joseph Boyden talked and read and captivated a packed room at Aqua Books in downtown Winnipeg. Three Day Road and Through Black Spruce are Boyden's well known novels, and on that evening his first book, Born with a Tooth, was suggested as another great story. Louis Bird spent a substantial amount of time in the 1960s listening to, talking to/with, and recording, when given permission, the storytellers of the Hudson and James Bay lowlands in northern Manitoba and Ontario. An amazing source of knowledge is the web site Our Voices, partly the result of his work at that time, and a record of his work as an aboriginal storyteller. His story about a couple who hook a thunderbird when they are off on a fishing trip is trap from start to finish -- it's basically a fart joke, but wrapped in a long and entertaining story. Mercredi grew up near Grand Rapids in Manitoba, straddling the world of pre- and post-electricity, after the power dam was built. His grandmother singled him out to learn from the travelling snow walkers and storytellers, who linked the communities of their day with knowledge, news, and entertainment. Inspiring. Hopeful. A way to erase some of the imagery created by the stories of abuse that were raised by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Finally, before this gets too long and boring, Tom's niece Lauren introduced me to Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees. Set in 1964, it is almost unbearable at first, but creates hope and love as 14 year old Lily runs away from her abusive and racist father, escaping with the family's black maid, Rosaleen, whose decision to register herself to vote sets the story in motion. The ensuing events send Lily and Rosaleen to another town in South Carolina, where they are taken in by a family of sisters, named for the summer months, headed by August, a beekeeper.
I reminder a day, about 25 years ago, when I worried about running out of good books to read. Ha!! It is personal pleasure to watch my entire family immerse themselves in books. I know we'll never run out.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
My Life with a Dog
I never thought I'd see the day when I might agree with a student telling me "the dog ate my homework". It's here, it's upon us, we are living proof that dogs can eat many things. Some appear indigestible and some appear to flawlessly go through the digestive system without creating a perfect storm of you-know-what. I am now a fervent believer.
Started with stealing a few bits from the bbq when she was only 3 1/2 month sold. Ah, so cute. So Tom flipped her a little piece of something and put it in her dish. Now there is endless sniffing when the bbq is doing its bit. The long snout faces up, and the sniffing starts.
Then she ate the debris Tom cleaned from the bbq and "hid" in the garden -- charcoal bits loaded with grease. Dogs do have 3 million olfactory nerve endings compared to our 300 (that's not an accurate number, but it gives the idea of the difference). That did create a biggish issue with diarrhea, following on the tail of me not blending the new dog food with the old... the puppy's tummy couldn't handle the new digestive indignity on top of just settling down after the dog food change. Then it all "dried up", so we watched anxiously for several days, only to have nothing appear. Hmmm... I thought she probably now had an intestinal blockage and it would be an expensive visit to the vet's. The vet has been helpful, to say the least. The recommended diet when a dog's stomach gets upset is to make rice and boil some beef mince and voila -- a digestible food that doesn't traumatize the intestines. So now we've created a huge interest in rice, and whenever we make rice, more sniffing. If she doesn't want to eat her food (a nice brand of puppy food, believe me... high in protein, natural products, etc., etc.), I add a spoonful of rice when I have some made. Bingo.
The tummy settled down, but we realize she's a garbage hound with the disposition of a delicately bred princess. Kind of like the girl who couldn't sleep because of the tiny pea stuffed under many layers of mattresses.
This interest in food that isn't in her dish has led to stealing baggies of items from counters (bagels, bread, kids' candies from birthday parties, romaine lettuce, Parmesan cheese, a bunch of grapes), culminating in a plasticine figure one of the boys brought home from a school project. That was abandoned as unappetizing, but not until she'd gnawed off a leg and arm via the baggy. One of the Barbies has a hand injury and a little frog is now legless...and baggies are now seen to be containers of delicacies. She's getting taller so we have to move all food items up to higher levels.
In June I bought a treat of five gummy snakes. They were life size (garter snake size), weighed a fair bit, and I was keeping them around for a little Friday treat for the gang. I was busy on the computer in the basement, helping Tom with something, when there was a thump upstairs. Tom went up to discover Kallista with the 5th snake remnant dangling from her mouth. Burp... actually for the next day or so, I could smell the wonderful jelly snake smell on her breath (compared to the usual dog breath we experience when she "kisses' us). So no snakes for the humans, as the garbage hound struck again. Needless to say, the lolly lovers in the house were disappointed.
The dog has a great interest in non-food items as well -- a pair of Teva sandals (Tom's) were wrecked by the removal of a key plastic "hook" holding the straps in place. Nicole's shoes and flip flops have been chewed up -- we now know to put new shoes or sandals up on a higher shelf. One morning my lunch was delicately removed from my work bag -- I heard the screen door slam as the dog hightailed it for the back yard... she now knows to give it up when I say "GIVE" in a firm voice. Poor Kallista... so much great stuff to smell and chew, and so many 2 legged members of her pack trying to keep her from the treats. So far a mouth guard has been the most expensive item that has been destroyed... Tom suggested I keep track, but other than documenting a few of the most intriguing items (and I don't really want to go into the gory details about the chewed-up underwear and socks), I think I'll just chalk it up my life with a dog.
To see her racing along a sand bar near our cottage is heavenly -- she scared off a group of pelicans one day, as they were sitting in the early evening, taking their rest. She didn't get near, but they heard or sensed her in the underbrush and they slowly cruised off in the water, six dignified pelicans leaving their sandbar. She is happy to run in and out of the water along the beach, loves trying to chew the fish skeletons which I immediately try to get away from her, and is more than happy to find other unmentionable weird chewy objects on the beach.
Started with stealing a few bits from the bbq when she was only 3 1/2 month sold. Ah, so cute. So Tom flipped her a little piece of something and put it in her dish. Now there is endless sniffing when the bbq is doing its bit. The long snout faces up, and the sniffing starts.
Then she ate the debris Tom cleaned from the bbq and "hid" in the garden -- charcoal bits loaded with grease. Dogs do have 3 million olfactory nerve endings compared to our 300 (that's not an accurate number, but it gives the idea of the difference). That did create a biggish issue with diarrhea, following on the tail of me not blending the new dog food with the old... the puppy's tummy couldn't handle the new digestive indignity on top of just settling down after the dog food change. Then it all "dried up", so we watched anxiously for several days, only to have nothing appear. Hmmm... I thought she probably now had an intestinal blockage and it would be an expensive visit to the vet's. The vet has been helpful, to say the least. The recommended diet when a dog's stomach gets upset is to make rice and boil some beef mince and voila -- a digestible food that doesn't traumatize the intestines. So now we've created a huge interest in rice, and whenever we make rice, more sniffing. If she doesn't want to eat her food (a nice brand of puppy food, believe me... high in protein, natural products, etc., etc.), I add a spoonful of rice when I have some made. Bingo.
The tummy settled down, but we realize she's a garbage hound with the disposition of a delicately bred princess. Kind of like the girl who couldn't sleep because of the tiny pea stuffed under many layers of mattresses.
This interest in food that isn't in her dish has led to stealing baggies of items from counters (bagels, bread, kids' candies from birthday parties, romaine lettuce, Parmesan cheese, a bunch of grapes), culminating in a plasticine figure one of the boys brought home from a school project. That was abandoned as unappetizing, but not until she'd gnawed off a leg and arm via the baggy. One of the Barbies has a hand injury and a little frog is now legless...and baggies are now seen to be containers of delicacies. She's getting taller so we have to move all food items up to higher levels.
In June I bought a treat of five gummy snakes. They were life size (garter snake size), weighed a fair bit, and I was keeping them around for a little Friday treat for the gang. I was busy on the computer in the basement, helping Tom with something, when there was a thump upstairs. Tom went up to discover Kallista with the 5th snake remnant dangling from her mouth. Burp... actually for the next day or so, I could smell the wonderful jelly snake smell on her breath (compared to the usual dog breath we experience when she "kisses' us). So no snakes for the humans, as the garbage hound struck again. Needless to say, the lolly lovers in the house were disappointed.
The dog has a great interest in non-food items as well -- a pair of Teva sandals (Tom's) were wrecked by the removal of a key plastic "hook" holding the straps in place. Nicole's shoes and flip flops have been chewed up -- we now know to put new shoes or sandals up on a higher shelf. One morning my lunch was delicately removed from my work bag -- I heard the screen door slam as the dog hightailed it for the back yard... she now knows to give it up when I say "GIVE" in a firm voice. Poor Kallista... so much great stuff to smell and chew, and so many 2 legged members of her pack trying to keep her from the treats. So far a mouth guard has been the most expensive item that has been destroyed... Tom suggested I keep track, but other than documenting a few of the most intriguing items (and I don't really want to go into the gory details about the chewed-up underwear and socks), I think I'll just chalk it up my life with a dog.
To see her racing along a sand bar near our cottage is heavenly -- she scared off a group of pelicans one day, as they were sitting in the early evening, taking their rest. She didn't get near, but they heard or sensed her in the underbrush and they slowly cruised off in the water, six dignified pelicans leaving their sandbar. She is happy to run in and out of the water along the beach, loves trying to chew the fish skeletons which I immediately try to get away from her, and is more than happy to find other unmentionable weird chewy objects on the beach.
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