We Visit the Hospice

We went to see Auntie Moira in the hospice the other night. We’ve done that 4-5 times since Moira moved there, and I like the place a lot!! The staff are all really nice and they call me by my name already. They must be really smart to remember it so well. Auntie Moira’s room has now become part of my territory, since – well – she’s my auntie, and I love her!

A week ago, Auntie Moira, 3 other humans – including my mom, of course – went the block and a half to the hospital, because Moira had a craving for an O Henry bar!! We made quite a procession b oth ways, and the woman in the kiosk, that we filled up when we all went in there, was nice too. Nobody looks askance at us when I go into the hospital or the hospice. It’s odd, to me, that there are so many other places where dogs aren’t allowed to visit. Not just stores like the Safeway and Shoppers’ Drug Mart, but – get this? – places like Ikea!! Mummy snuck me in once, and we got thrown out, when she opened the dog carrier bag to see if I was OK. Mummy asked the policewoman why, and she said, because there’s food in this store!! Mummy was, like, what??? The restaurant, which is totally separate from the furniture displays, wasn’t even on the same floor! 

Of course, even the hospice has food in the place!! There is a kitchen with a chef, who Moira says is a really good cook!! Apart from good meals, he also makes home-made chocolate chip cookies and leaves them out on a shelf for anyone who wants one. There is also a nice little kitchenette place near where the cookies are, where mummy gets me ice water and refills Auntie M’s water jug. She was told last night, that patients can have food brought in from elsewhere and kept in the fridge. And if dogs are unsanitary, why did the staff at the hospital ASK Mummy to get me from the car and bring me up to Auntie Moira’s room, when she was there? Dumb de dum dum, I say!! 

While we were visiting Auntie, Cecilia spent the time trying to get Moira’s new iPad, that her son got her, to go online. She didn’t succeed. Moira and Mummy just blathered at each other. Moira came across a picture of a “blonde” Standard Poodle and was impressed. She doesn’t like it when Tony-the-nurse, who was rude to Mummy a few weeks ago, visits. Moira says Tony has done a lot of great things for her, but she has such a strong – Mummy calls it “overbearing”; others might call it “in your face” – personality, that Moira just gets exhausted and wishes she would leave. We don’t know how sick people manage to keep people they don’t like as much as others from either visiting or staying too long.

Mummy doesn’t like Tony, though. Tony was very rude and overbearing with her a few weeks ago and never apologised. BUT, Mummy says she has forgiven Tony. I didn’t know what that meant, but Mummy explained it to me. She realises, now, that Tony must have some “issues” that make her want to be in charge and get all the kudos for the things she does. WE don’t know WHY Tony is the way she is, but we do know that there is some reason... So we have to understand that and make allowances for her.

But – says Mummy – that doesn’t mean we have to like having her around! We don’t have to be friends with everyone, but we still need to treat them with respect and not make scenes, either. We are supposed to treat everyone with respect, whether we really do respect them, or not. And we should be able to expect the same in return. That doesn’t mean we need to point that out to someone who is disrespectful, although we can, if we think saying something will fit the parameters of what is “helpful, kind and healing”. Otherwise, we should just keep our mouths shut and – maybe – walk away. As long as we aren't seeing an injustice being done. In that case, we should intervene or call someone who can help.

But, I didn’t know all that last night, when the night caregiver came to empty Auntie’s “bag”. I saw a stranger standing in Moira’s doorway, holding a tall pitcher about a half hour before bed-time. I didn’t think she should be standing there – she was giving off nervous, embarrassed energy – so I growled at her, to get lost. Mummy told me that was inappropriate and wee needed to let the woman come in and do her job. Besides, the woman wanted to make sure Moira wouldn’t be embarrassed. None of us were, so the woman went ahead.... with my supervision. I made sure to sniff around before and after and watch very closely what the woman was doing. It seemed very odd to me.

Most of the time, though, I was out patrolling the hallway. All the staff seem to know my name and make an effort to greet me and rumple my hair. I would really like to visit some of the other patients, but if they are alone, they are usually asleep.

By the way, we were both encouraged to see that Auntie Moira could sit up more easily than last time we had to help her do that. Also she was able to use her hand to pick things up, and it had been just about dead - no feeling in it at all - for a month. And, when we got to the hospice, Auntie was in a reclining chair, like what men watch TV on, fooling with her iPhone, and not sleeping! She was even awake later than she had been at home for the last 6-8 months!

Mummy thinks that, you never know! We can pray, and Moira might actually get healed. Another of my Aunties, Auntie Debby, who is also a nurse as well as a churchgoing Christian, says it's too late for Auntie Moira to be miraculously healed, but Mummy doesn't agree. God can do whatever He wants, when He wants! And maybe He will heal Moira and maybe He won't, but we can still pray!

There are quite a few new dogs in the neighbourhood now. Some new people moved into our apartment building and brought their dogs along with them. I just love meeting new dogs! We met lots more when we walked to the shopping area just west of here. I’ve noticed that all the human parents have to stop and talk, but they never smell each other. Some of the dogs’ owners get all embarrassed when us dogs sniff each other, as if it was something wrong! Like, dirty!! Yet humans put their paws on each other a lot, which we never do!!

Anyway, tonight we met a 10 week old puppy, who is a Puggle, the owners said. Mummy thought it was a baby English Mastiff, but it – he – was way too small!! He had the buffy coat, black face and sad eyes of a Beagle, but his tail was curled differently. The puppy’s dad was thrilled that Mummy thought Kramer – for that is his name – looked like a Mastiff, because that’s exactly why the man got Kramer!! He wanted a Mastiff but isn’t allowed a dog over 30 lb. I liked him OK. He was nice and quiet.

Mummy’s sister, Heather, is coming over tomorrow to do something with pictures Mummy took last summer at the golf tournament that Heather set up to raise money to help blind golfers be able to keep playing their favourite sport. It was good fun last year, but there weren’t very many people, so the tournament didn’t make money. Heather decided to do it in the first place, because her darling spouse, Bill, who died of cancer a year and a half ago, was a blind golfer. Bill, like other blind golfers, had played before he was blinded. We were told that it’s almost impossible for someone blind who has never played sighted golf to learn to play, but there are lots of golfers, who were blinded as adults and now cannot make enough money to keep playing.... so Heather wants to help make that possible as well as do something she knows Bill would really like. We are going to do it again this year and hope that more people will come.

That made Mummy think about what we can do to make Auntie Moira feel good. Maybe we should start a foundation or find a way to encourage people to make donations for brain cancer research, especially at our local hospital, which already has a general cancer research foundation, but not one dedicated to glioblastomas. She will probably ask Heather about how to do that, tomorrow.

♬ Catching up is hard to do....♫

Hi everyone! We're having a quiet day here in Snow-couver, so I thought it would be a great time to write in my diary again.

I guess it was a crummy idea for me to think Mummy was no longer in charge, and that I could do what I wanted. We both like me to walk off leash a fair amount, because I like to sniff bushes, and Mummy doesn’t like having her back jerked, every time I stop suddenly to smell something. (Needless to say, I do not walk in front of Mummy! I never have.... unless I’m chasing the crows. Or my Frisbee.) Well, I decided I’d like to cross the street the other day and see what kind of new smells were on the other side. I’m supposed to stay on the sidewalk, but I – like – “forgot”....

That ended my offleash walk for the day.

She also wanted me to “Come” a couple of times, and I said, “In a minute”, which didn’t go over very well.... so it was back on the leash again. Mummy gets really stern, too, when she’s upset: she doesn’t talk to me for a long time!

I decided I’d better do what I’m told, so I won’t have all of my privileges taken away, but.... I probably will forget again. I’m still a puppy, after all. (Some of the time!)

The other day, Mummy got all excited about a play date at the Offleash Beach that she'd set up with some people from North Vancouver.

I was kind of hoping she’d forget about the bath I hadn’t had in a long time – over 2 weeks! – but nope. She got me all spiffied up to go to the beach to meet Maya, the 1 year old Coton monster, and her parents, Stephen and Ayuka. I was keen to go, but Maya was a puppy!!! She was bouncing around - boing, boing, boing - and barking, and running and jumping on everyone, including me. She dug really deep holes in the sand and crawled in after them, she played with my toys and thought my treats were for her!! I’ll admit she was pretty cute – looking – with really long cottony hair that stood up straight around her body, making her look 5 times as big as she really is.

 But, I’m a grown-up now.

Mummy always says I’m not an alpha dog, but her Facebook friend, Birgit, says it’s not about alphas and omegas, it’s about relationships, and I wanted to make that clear to Maya. I’m older than she is, so I get to set the rules!! But boy, it sure wasn’t easy getting through to her! She kept bouncing around me, barking at the top of her lungs and even jumping on top of me!!

Now, I don’t care about most of the dogs we see at the Beach. We may never see them again, and they don’t act like that, anyway. But Maya is a COTON!! And I have the feeling I might have to see her again! So I had to let her know that I would play with her, but only on my terms. That is, for a minute or two... after I’d lain down in the sand with my head turned away from her for a long time, wandered off to say hi to the other dogs, and been as Mummy says, a real prune.....

Mummy also says I acted just like that myself, when I was Maya’s age! I can’t believe that!!! OK, maybe I was a bit bouncier than I am now, but I sure didn’t bark as much! I did jump on bigger dogs, like she does, but I was quickly put in my place.

With all the rain we’ve had lately, it looked as if everyone and their dog had decided to go to the Offleash Beach. I’ve never seen so many dogs in one place in my whole life! And they all came to Mummy as if to a magnet. Everyone thinks it was because she keeps my breakfast in her pocket, but I think they wanted to say hello to me!

It was a nice, almost sunny day, but as we stood around, it got colder and colder and colder! Mummy’s hands turned beet red, because she thought it was spring and didn’t bring her gloves along. We knew it had snowed on Saturday, down at Michelle’s place in Everett, because we saw the photos, but it was so warm here on Saturday, Mummy took her jacket off , when walked along the rocky beach over by 26th Street, and just wore her T-shirt. I don’t have that option. :(

It looked as if Stephen and Ayuka were getting cold too, although Maya certainly wasn’t – all that jumping around!! – so, after an hour or so, we all decided to go home. That was fine with me; there were lots more dogs to say hello to, and of course, their moms and dads like to stop and say hello to Mummy, too.

I wanted to play with my Frisbee once the little ankle biter had left, but when Mummy tried to step up on the ledge beside the beach, where she could throw it, her bad leg gave out and she fell. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough so that she limped all the way home and went to bed afterward. She has decided her problem isn’t the arthritis so much as it is fibromyalgia. And sure enough, today, she hardly hurts at all. It doesn’t make any sense of course....

On the way home, we stopped at the Safeway for some groceries. I always wait outside, because Mummy goes in and just gets a couple of things, and I get lots of pats from everyone. As we were leaving, we met Fred, the homeless man, coming with his cart full of bottles and stuff. He makes money by taking them back to the store. Mummy has known Fred for years, so she asked him if he’d been to our place yet. No, he said, but he’d been hoping to run into us. Our garbage and re-cycling is locked away, so Fred can only get in if someone unlocks it. Well, it was Sunday, and there is always a lot of stuff in the re-cycling bins, and Fred always leaves the place clean, so he came back with us.

Fred looks just like what you’d think a homeless man would look like. A shock of unkempt grey hair, a week’s worth of unshaven beard, a red flushed face and a handful of yellow teeth. We had never had a real conversation with him, but he turns out to be a normal person underneath all the booze, drugs and homelessness. As well as collecting bottles, he also, he told us, picks up bric a brac that’s been left out and takes it to a flea market over town, where he can sell it for a small amount. Fred told Mummy he had once been a truck driver, and Mummy asked him which job was harder work: driving a truck or his present “job”, and he said this one was harder. It sure looks as if it is!

We got up early this morning, just to go out to the front lawn, and guess what?? It was snowing.... here!!! Michelle must have sent her Everett weather up to us!! Grrrr. (Mummy says that every single time she has driven to Seattle – and that’s plenty of times – there has been a permanent raincloud over Everett. She always gets lost on the way home, because she either isn’t concentrating, or can’t see the signs because of the rain and the traffic, and inevitably goes off the I5 on the Everett exit.) We don’t think it has EVER snowed here – at sea level too! – in March, much less near the end of the month!! It all melted, of course, but it’s still cold out, and it might snow again tonight....

 So far today, we just went around the block with Auntie Debby and Bubbles, her Chihuahua. We had a good time, though. Down by the park at the foot of the street, we came across Uncle Angus and Molly, a nice Staffy-like dog he was taking care of, and Susy the Min Pin and her elderly owner, Ruth. Ruth has a heavy German accent and a voice like a Steller’s Jay, but she’s awfully nice. She just moved into Auntie Debby’s building last year, and everyone likes her a lot.

Ruth had a really unpleasant thing happen last year. She was living in a nice house, which she’d paid for, in back of her son’s big home. People here call them coach houses. Ruth went away for a holiday in the winter, and when she got back, her son had moved all her furniture out and into Debby’s highrise – meaning from Vancouver over here to West Van – sold Ruth’s house to someone else and taken a year’s lease on the apartment! If that wasn’t bad enough, Ruth thought that meant he had actually paid for the year, but he hadn’t. He’d only paid one month – i.e. $1,000 – it’s not a high end building at all - and her second month there, she got a notice from the landlord that she hadn’t paid her rent.

We all though, oh no! Every time we see Ruth, she’s going to be griping about her sorry lot, but nope. She’s always happy, pointing out nice scenery, talking about flowers and birds and a really pleasant person, despite her voice. Has never mentions how she came to live in our neighbourhood, since.

 One of Auntie Moira’s friends had a similar thing happen to him. Frank, who was living in a waterfront condo at the foot of the street, is in his early 90s, as bright as a penny and very well-to-do. A year and a half ago, his son bought him a condo over in Dundarave – about a 15 minute walk from here. His son is also very well to do. Frank wasn’t sure he wanted to move, but the new place was nice, and he and his wife began to enjoy it. It’s close to nice stores and coffee shops, and there’s a Seniors’ Shuttle Bus which takes him over to the Seniors’ Centre whenever he wants to go” He could take a cab, but he likes the shuttle bus, because he meets lots of people he knows and talks to them.

Well, Frank’s son decided that Mom was too frail to be living in a condo, so he and his sisters got together and decided to move Mom and Dad into a cheap nursing home over in North Van, which is miles away from this neighbourhood and the people!! Frank reminded them that he has plenty of money and can pay for a caregiver to come in, but the son, “Nope! You’re out voted!” Auntie Moira and Mummy are both upset about this – how children can just take over their parents’ life like that. Mummy is glad to know I will never put her in a nursing home!!

 Speaking of Auntie Moira, she learned her brain tumour has grown, so she is back on really heavy duty chemo now. She feels a lot better than she did, though, so we’ve had a few walks with her and Taffy. Taffy has been taking care of her mom and hasn’t had a lot of exercise, so she has actually been rushing up and flinging herself on me, as if she’s actually glad to see me!! It used to be the other way ‘round!

The Bald Eagles who were here last year are back, so Mummy is keeping close to my side. She doesn’t like the way the big one flies right over us at low altitude, as if wondering who she’d like for dinner.... The daffodils and early rhodos are finally in bloom, and the buds on the tulip magnolias are getting bigger every day. Clearly, the plants think it’s spring, even if the Weatherman doesn’t!

Well, as Mummy would probably say, that’s all the news that’s fit to print. For now.....

Hi friends

Mummy reminded me tonight that I hadn’t written in my diary for a long time. I think she may have picked tonight to remind me, because she isn’t feeling well and wants me to stop growling at her to play. Mummy’s arthritic back has been hurting her more and more lately. She fell last night, on the way home from the store, and is sore all over today. She slipped on the wet cement. And then she went to see her favourite plastic surgeon for a bit more “work”. So far, he has worked on her neck, her back, her nose and now her forehead, but she doesn’t look any younger at all! Apparently its skin cancer, but isn’t it a coincidence that the stuff decided to grow right where everyone wants that “work” done?

 

 

Anyway, plastic surgery is no fun at all, apart from kidding around with the doctor. Getting the freezing needles hurts, although not as badly as the ones she got in her nose, and when the freezing wears off, the pain is pretty bad, she tells me. Today’s tumour was 3 cm. across. The one on her nose was... “bigger” the doctor says. I guess that explains why her nose is still swollen after 8 months.

We’ve had a pretty quiet winter. Ciera was over for a few visits, but we’ve also had a lot of rain. I don’t like going outside in the rain, although Mummy tells me I didn’t mind it when I was a puppy. Yeah, well that’s when I had short hair! And I don’t even remember that far back! All I know is, if I get wet, I get cold, and then I get the blow dryer when we get home. So I’d much rather play inside with Mummy!!

 

She loves to throw the frisbee, or the new glow-in-the-dark ball down the hall and then try and beat me to it! Hahaha!! I ALWAYS win!! Then Mummy tries to get it away from me, and I snarl fiercely. Sometimes I even shriek a bit!! That scares her!!! Hahaha!! We also play in the lobby of our building, when it’s late at night. There’s lots of room to throw things, and if I think I need to bark, nobody can hear me. I don’t think!

I’m not really a barky dog, although I do have a very prestigious certificate from the Coton Friends BBB Club. I got it – quite deservedly, too, if I may say so – for scaring off some hoodlums (so-called ‘cause they were wearing hoodies) that were up to no good late one night. I really only bark when I see other dogs, people I know, people I don’t know, good friends, bad guys, squirrels.... Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a squirrel in a long time!! We did see a coyote one night, though. But I didn’t have a chance to bark at it, because Debby – the lady we walk with at night – scared it away! Mummy was upset at first, because she doesn’t like scaring things. She was thinking, “the poor coyote”....

I had a lot of fun last Saturday. A lady had called Sonya Paterson, because she was interested in getting a Coton for her family, but she had never actually seen one in the flesh. Sonya told her to call Mummy, because, she said, I am always kept in show condition.

Mummy and I had a good laugh about that!! Then she gave me a bath.

On Saturday, Leslie, Rob and their two children came to visit. When they rang the doorbell, we ran all the way down the hall to meet them. I was so excited, I ran right up to them and jumped around on my back legs kissing everyone. Mummy says she could tell that, the minute they came through the door, Rob’s face changed. That’s important, because he’s the father and breadwinner, whatever that means, so what he says, goes.

 

 

Rob and Leslie had dogs when they were much younger, but their children – 10 and 12 – have never had one. The little girl enjoyed playing tug of war with me and my mongoose roadkill toy – the one Older and Wiser Auntie Penny E. gave me when we met. (That was a long time ago, and the mongoose has had his leg amputated in the meantime.) I growled fiercely, and the little girl laughed. They all did! Well, maybe not the 12 year old boy. He was pretty quiet and didn’t pay much attention to me. Have you ever seen a 12 year old boy who is 6’ 2” tall? Neither had I. I hope he doesn’t get teased at school.... what they now call bullying.

The little girl picked me up and carried me around right side up, and upside down, and with my legs hanging all over the place, and I didn’t let out one squeak of objection. I pretended I was a stuffed animal, and thanks to my excellent breeding and the bath the night before, I felt even softer and cuddlier than a stuffy!

Rob the Father, is 6’4”, but he’s a grownup, so he doesn’t feel shy about his height. He wanted to play with me too, and somehow got the roadkill mongoose away from his daughter, whose name both Mummy and I have forgotten, if we ever knew it.

 

 

Mummy is quite sure the family will get a Coton soon. The only trouble is, they want a coloured Coton, and there aren’t a lot of them around. Also, Leslie, the mom, has been doing a lot of research, and she wants a puppy from a really good breeder who puts pedigrees on his or her website along with all the results of all the tests. She cannot interpret them, but she wants to see them anyway. Leslie asked Mummy about tests that say “fair” instead of “good” or “excellent”, but she was asking the wrong person. Mummy doesn’t know what those ones mean.

Leslie had brought along a photo of a puppy she really liked. We don’t know where she got it from, but Mummy recognised the puppy right away!! That’s because Mummy would have killed for that puppy, herself!! Leslie thought it was a puppy from a Florida breeder, but Mummy knew it was from her friend Brigitte, who lives in Denmark. Leslie emailed her right away, but wouldn’t you know, someone else got the puppy while we were still talking about it!! Anyway, Leslie has emailed my breeder, Sara France, as well, and promised to let us know whenever she gets the right puppy. We wish her luck.

Mummy says it’s important to get a puppy from a good breeder. One of the easiest ways is to read pedigrees, even though some breeders don’t like to publish that information. (They worry that a puppy mill will steal the pedigree and use it to sell their mill puppies.) Mummy read pedigrees long before she got me and discovered that quite a few American breeders dogs had the name “Cotonnerie” in front of them. That told Mummy that Cotonnerie must be a good breeder, if lots of breeders liked her dogs, too. Of course, since then, Mummy has learned a lot more about Cotons and their pedigrees, and that there are a lot more good breeders than she knew about when she got me. She told Leslie and Rob their names, too and sent them the links to their websites.

 

 

We think that coloured Cotons can be just as beautiful as the white ones, and that the standard should allow coloured dogs to compete too.

Not that anyone asked us.

 

Well, it looks as if Mummy is going to wimp out on my grooming tonight. She says she isn’t “up to it”. And that’s OK with me.

Talk to you later.....