Zena’s Final Bow

Last week we made the heartbreaking decision to allow our darling girl to have some peace.

As many of you know Zena was born with an autoimmune disorder and was on steroids for much of her life.

December 2017

She got to twelve looking and behaving like a much younger dog and then somehow things began to go downhill.

She was drinking even more than usual and became incontinent which upset her as much as it confused her. With more medication she was able to control herself again and we thought we had it sorted.

The drinking continued to increase though and eventually it was decided that the medication she was taking was pushing her into Cushing’s. We stopped the immunosuppressants and she appeared to improve a little.

Then she developed a cough which became worse and worse and she was given medication for a tracheal collapse.

She developed chronic diarrhoea and despite different diets and vet medications only imodium could help to control it a little. 

Then she began to struggle to eat and I switched her dry food to canned food to make it easier for her.

Through it all she was the stoic, loving and darling stubborn Princess that I loved.

But it was all adding up to a lot of discomfort for her and it began to take a toll.

Apr 2018 with Wally, our pottery Wombat!

Even with immunosuppressants the autoimmune disorder would cause her pads to peel and her toenails to twist and break which meant days wearing bandages and times when her nails had to be pulled out. Without treatment I knew there would come a time when it would be too painful for her.

Towards the end we must have been seeing the vet twice a month for one thing or another.

Yet every time we walked into the vet her tail would wag and she would accept whatever was done as if she knew it was to help her.

Then over the last two months her health took a further dive as her back legs became weak and it appeared that she was indeed suffering from Cushing’s but it wasn’t through the immunosuppressants, they had simply made it worse.

She could no longer get up and down onto the couch which she used to compete with Raffy about. He now reigned supreme and she accepted a bed on the floor. I once picked her up and put her on the couch and she immediately made it obvious she wanted to get down again. It was as if she was saying if she couldn’t do it herself she wouldn’t do it at all. My stubborn Tibbie.

Before the couch became too hard for her to manage

We were in a dilemma. We couldn’t treat the Cushing’s without making the auto-immune worse and vice-versa. We decided to do the best we could for as long as we could.

To see my little girl stagger made me realise that the time was coming and for the last month she and I were saying goodbye.

For the last twelve months she had no longer wanted to come on my lap for cuddles, but the last two weeks she would come up for a cuddle for a short time and I would tell her how gorgeous she was.

Looking into her eyes I knew she was tired.

I drove her to the park now as she could no longer walk the short distance there and back again.

When she began to refuse the treats that had made her park visits so special it was another sign that her enjoyment of this life was fading.

By now she was on so many medications to try and control the most uncomfortable symptoms she was displaying but we had nothing to control the auto-immune and the itching.

I remember a week ago one of the last times I took her to the park. I drove her there and we chatted a while with friends who then left to go to coffee. I didn’t join them although Zena loved going into the village, it was always a little tricky with  the two dogs going at different paces and I didn’t think she could handle the walk. I was wrong.

I stopped to chat with someone at the gate and before I knew it ten minutes had passed. I looked at my husband and he didn’t have Zena as I thought. She was nowhere around. I turned to run to find her and saw two friends slowly making their way back from the village with Zena on a lead. She had followed all the other owners and dogs off for coffee.

Her last adventure. I picture her now walking slowly through the village she loved padding after the rest of the group and taking in the smells and sights of a Saturday morning. If I wasn’t going to take her she was going to take herself. My darling Zena.

June 2019

When it came it took me by surprise, a little.

We went to the vet with Raffy who had an abscess on his toe and Zena came with us because I thought that perhaps the vet might want to do blood tests. They were also due to have vaccinations but I had already made the decision not to vaccinate Zena.

I didn’t realise we wouldn’t be leaving with her.

I think when the vet saw the deterioration since her last visit and the way she just lay on his office floor listlessly he understood her struggle. I had kept in touch with him by e-mail so he knew things were hard going.

I thought I was prepared. I thought I was ready, but you never are.

She sat on my lap that last time and I told her how much I loved her and would miss her as the tears fell. I know it was the best for her, I know she was tired and it was unfair to ask any more of her but of course I wanted her to stay with me forever.

Our little girl had given us over thirteen years of love and so many memories.

In my mind I see her in her favourite places, I miss her moving from room to room with me, my little velcro dog.

I miss her gentle snoring as she slept alongside me and I miss her Tibetan cheekiness as she drove the daily schedule, punctuated by the once all important treats and meals.

We still have Raffy but he cannot fill the huge gap left by my girl.

When I am sick there is no Zena to share the bed with me.

When I sit down at night no Zena will come and demand cuddle rights.

When an animal comes on the television there is no Zena to leap up and protect us (even though it used to drive us mad).

Thirteen years ago we brought home a black, silky, adorable little black Tibetan Terrier. After Zac died she and I stayed up all night crying and sobbing. She never quite recovered from his loss but we drew closer as a result. It was as if she knew I missed him as much as she did.

I picture her with Zac now. Finally back with the love of her life and wouldn’t it be wonderful if one day, when I am tired and lay down the burden of this life I have my two Tibetan’s waiting for me and I can hold them once again and tell them how special they are and how much they have enriched the last fifteen years of my life and look forward to that love being carried forward in some way.

Zac and Zena, early days.

Her pain is over but mine is just beginning as I adjust to a life without my Princess and a house and life full of the echoes of the past. The journey is at an end and I wish I could turn back the clock and start it again. It was such a beautiful one.

 

Pawprints left by You

You no longer greet me,

As I walk through the door.

You’re not there to make me smile

To make me laugh anymore

Life seems quiet without you

You were far more than a pet

You were a family member, a friend

A loving soul I’ll never forget.

It will take me time to heal

For the silence to go away

I still listen for you

And miss you every day.

You were such a great companion

Constant, loyal and true

My heart will always wear,

The paw prints left by you.

Goodbye my darling Princess, I love you.

 

 

The Princess Imagines

You may think I am sitting on a stool but……

I am actually the first Tibetan to climb Chomolungma.

What do you mean I never did scale Mount Everest?

Well I’m sure I would have if I’d ever gone to Tibet. And stop trying to push me off.

This may look like a comfortable sofa but…….

I risked life and limb leaping over rocks and through torrents of water to reach this haven.

You may think I am playing on the beach but ……….

Really I am exploring the great Sahara desert. I can tell you it takes ages to get the sand out of my coat.

You may think Raffy and I are just playing in the reserve but…….

We are actually hunting the rare Snow Leopard (which is even more rare in our village in Australia let me tell you!).

Or maybe it’s the neighbour’s cat. Just maybe.

You may think I am trying to dig for treats but……..

I am actually exploring the Yanacocha mine searching for gold.

Sadly no gold – no treats. Spotted before I could grab a mouthful. But such an innocent face.

Sometimes we have to spice life up a bit and an imagination is a great thing to have.

I have tried to tell Raffy that but ……

He just likes to look pretty.

I can do both 😉

Love from Zena, the imaginative Princess xxx

The Princess Remembers

I thought growing old would take longer. But here I am at eleven and a half and everyone is telling me how good I look for my age.

I am now on three medications a week but the response is usually, ‘Well what can you expect at her age. Things go wrong.’

Thanks guys!

They say that when you get older you tend to live in the past more and more. Remembering.

So as everyone seems to be saying how old I am I decided to look back.

I decided to get the old photos out and play ‘I remember’.

I remember many more occasions than these but I think it would be too many pages.

I remember when I saw grass for the first time and meeting Zac (my Uncle) who was gentle and taught me everything.

I remember cuddling up with Zac in bed.

I remember Zac playing with me holding a tiny twig and not pulling so I could feel I won.

I remember when the world was new and an exciting place with lots of new smells and sensations.

I remember when I was small enough to fit on a lap with space to spare.

I remember wanting to do whatever Zac did, to go wherever Zac went. I still do.

I remember playing ‘we didn’t do it’ with Zac.

Twigs in the house? Who? Me??????

I remember sharing the fun rocking lounger with Zac.

I remember leading Zac a dance.

‘Come on old fella. You’re only two years older than me.’

I remember Zac – the best Tibetan ever.

I remember Zac teaching me to watch TV. Now I’ve taught Jazz (Raffy isn’t interested).

I remember sharing the chair with Zac, even when he didn’t want me to.

I remember our last time together at the park when Zac didn’t want to walk so we sat in the dust together and our friends came to visit.

I remember my heart breaking in time with Mum’s heart.

I remember lonely walks in the park after Zac left me.

I remember lying in my bed and not wanting to get out.

I remember meeting Raffy for the first time. It was not a success to begin with.

I remember him getting into my bed with me.

I remember introducing Raff to the garden.

I remember tug of war when I won.

I remember him growing.

I remember him growing more.

I remember him growing even more.

I remember it being hard to share the sofa with Raff.

I remember introducing him to the other poodles at the park.

Daisy chasing a young Raffy with me shouting encouragement.

I remember Raffy playing finding lots of friends at the park. This is Cassie sharing her stick with us.

I remember Christmas at the park with Raffy’s friends.

I remember treats at the park

I remember Raffy and Ollie kissing hello and feeling sooooo embarrassed!

I remember how Raffy squeezing into my bed.

I remember a sleepover with friends.

I remember that bad hair day.

I remember how Raffy and I like the sun.

I remember good and bad, happy and sad and I hope to make more memories even though I am now an older Tibetan.

I would love to hear your rememberings one day.

Love Zena – the remarkable Princess 🙂

What About Me?????

What About Me?

September was a mense horribilis, a horrible month.

It seemed to start like any other month but then it took a nose-dive.

I sensed a certain tension in the air and a few earnest discussions but as long as I got my walks and meals on time I didn’t think too much about it.

There was the usual injustice of Raffy getting larger portions at meal times and despite my watching him closely and threatening him with all sorts of dire punishments he managed to finish his food without leaving me as much as a tiny biscuit more times than I care to remember. I have failed with that boy. He is not as well trained as I believed.

All the pleading in the world failed to move his hard heart – he left me nothing. Nothing!

We even had some ducks come into the garden to play which gave me a splendid opportunity to get my heart rate up and have a fun chase. The ducks love it or they wouldn’t come back for another game would they?

It was about half way through the month that things began to go wrong. A couple of times Mum noticed I was a bit wet in the morning. She became concerned about my allergies and assumed I was licking myself. Zero for observation Mum. Anyone would think you had something else on your mind but:

What about Me? I’m the most important Princess in this house.

I was off colour and uncomfortable BUT Mum didn’t really notice.

She was neglectful and cruel.

She was occupied with other things but she should know that I always come first. I have obviously failed with my training of her too.

When she should have had all of her focus on me what happened? Only Dad needing surgery. Talk about oneupmanship.

Can you believe it?

I had a need and where was Mum? At the hospital with Dad. All because of a little surgery on his heart, some problem he inherited from his father that had to be fixed. Something about a valve.

What about my inherited problems? What about me?

I was outraged. He was in a fine hospital with doctors and nurses fussing over him and I was left with Raffy not knowing when my next meal would be.

Sometimes we spent the time like this:

Raffy: ‘When do you think she’ll be back Zena?’ Me: ‘Never. We are going to starve to death together on this sofa. Unless I eat you first.’

And sometimes I spent my time more like this:

Oh my gosh she is seriously going to leave me – again!!!!

Okay, so we had our walk every morning before Mum left and okay we never did actually miss a meal but the point is that we could have.

We did go to Grandma’s twice which was great because she allows us on the sofa. Even Raffy is allowed up and he is well known as a destroyer of sofas. Plus she gives me lots of treats. She understands a little better what a Princess needs.

The only fly in the ointment there was Jazz who has been acting rather ‘fresh’ with me lately. At one point Grandma came into the room to find me flying from sofa to sofa (including her velvet one) to try and escape his attentions which I can tell you were strictly dishonourable. That also got my heart rate up!

Someone of my age and status should not have been exposed to such behaviour. I am Princess Zena. Where is the respect? I have failed in training Jazz too. I should have nipped that behaviour in the bud at once, literally nipped but I am a lady and don’t behave like that. I don’t bite.

Anyway whilst I endured such indignities Mum was rushing back and forth the hospital with little thought of my sufferings.

At the same time number one son in Bangkok needed surgery too and for one heart-stopping moment I thought she was going to put us in kennels and fly over to him but then I realised that she couldn’t because of Dad and I could breath again.

But still – what about me?

At last when I thought my suffering would never end Dad came home and he’s fine.

Really he is.

I’m sure his heart will be okay soon and with any luck he’ll be out walking Raff again and doing all the stuff he usually does. And I’m sure that huge cut doesn’t hurt a bit. I don’t know what the fuss was about.

Finally Mum turned her thoughts to me and twigged something other than allergies was going on and took me to see the lovely Peter, my vet.

I was a little insulted when he commented that I smelt a little and Mum was very embarrassed because she had been trying to keep me clean. They talked over me and about me for a while and Peter took some blood to test. He is gentle and considerate. Mum could learn a few things from him. Though not how to take my temperature. We won’t talk about that!

Anyway at last, someone was paying attention to me.

In the end it seems that my problem is one that many of the older ladies suffer with, a little problem of leakage when I sleep (glad you can’t see my blush) and should be fixed with a little hormone pill every week.

I was relieved to have it sorted and Mum was very relieved that it wasn’t something more serious and Peter gave me a couple of liver treats because I was so good and brave. It was worth going to see him.

So that my friends was my month.

I was neglected. Almost starved, or at least in fear of starving which is close to the same thing which I’m sure you would understand Phenny.

And, I had a close encounter with a very eager toy poodle who had clearly been watching the wrong kind of television, and he didn’t even offer me dinner! What is it with the younger generation?

What sort of a Princess does he think I am?

I am beginning to think I am not being fully appreciated.

And to top it all off we had to suffer a trip to the Groom Room. Some months are just best put behind you and forgotten.

Raff & I waiting to be picked up after a bath and tidy.

BTW – for those of you who might be interested. At the time of publishing Dad is back to normal duties. He’s walking the boy, shopping, driving and gardening. Doing all the things he always did. Apparently it is a miracle.

Me. I needed a little extra medicine. No-one tells me I’m miraculous but then I guess for a Princess it’s just part of the job description. Being Amazing is in my DNA 🙂

Bye for now.

xxxPrincess Zenaxxx

Raffy Speaks Out

Hmm.

It has come to my attention that I have been mocked steadily by the self styled Princess in this blog and I thought it was time that you heard my side of the story.

I have listened to my uncle who is a Risk Director and I have learnt a great deal.

I see the danger and I’m not afraid to admit that if I’m honest it scares the fur off me!

The Princess is so blasé. She doesn’t see the danger out there. She thinks she is invulnerable and trots around with her tail in the air. So it is left to me to look ahead, look behind, fret and generally try to spot the hazards.

Survival is an exhausting job. I believe I am noble to take it on. We who live on the edge, who make the world more secure for others are so unappreciated.

Do you know how many hidden dangers there are in the world? A simple walk to the park is anything but. However if you listen to The Princess you’d think otherwise. You would be wise to listen to me.

I am a finely honed machine. I am ready and coiled. The moment danger strikes I am gone. Cowardly do I hear you say? A survivor I say.

Let me explain a few things to you sceptics. I go to the park and often I take my ball (no jokes about it being pink please, I also have an orange one). I am an equal opportunist, gender neutral poodle. I didn’t have a choice about that latter fact!

See my watchful stance – that ball is mine, all mine.

Anyway, as I was saying. I go to the park with my ball. Fun you think? Playtime? Let me tell you something. I have to be alert every moment.

At any time that ball can be taken from me by a limber labrador or a conniving cavalier. I have even had it taken by my own pals when I was distracted by a treat. A cunning tactic used by their owners to leave me vulnerable. It is a NERVE WRACKING experience.

Even when I go home with the ball it requires all my guile to hide it from thieves.

A cunning hiding place. My bed. Who would think to look there.

Next I have to worry about desertion. Every moment I am trying to enjoy my breakfast I am aware that one of the adults could sneak out without my protection and venture into the great outdoors to who knows where. And then of course if I leave my food to check on them The Princess swoops in and eats it. I get no peace.

Towards the end of the day there is worse to come. I have to fight my way through dinner. I eat in a dignified fashion. The Princess, who has inhaled her meal, lies watching my every move and daring me to finish. My nerves are shot by the time the meal is ended.

And as for her accusations that she has to lead the way in new or scary places I readily concur. I am not afraid to admit that I do allow her to go ahead of me.

Firstly, you try stopping her.

Secondly, it is only sensible.

My place. Right behind The Princess and able to escape at a moments notice.

You do not allow your best asset to get captured or damaged.

If I get trapped in a small laundry or slippery floors who is going to get me out? I can’t be picked up like she can.

I need to be free to show the others where the exits are.

It makes sense for her to go first and to leave me with my superior intellect to be behind guiding her.

And anyway, as you can see from the picture above I pay her protection. Look closely and you can see the biscuits I put on my table for her to enjoy when I have finished eating. That is our arrangement and I find it unfair that she should mock me when she has agreed to it.

What you must remember is that we live in a very dangerous part of the world. We have the huntsman spiders. Why are they called huntsman. I will leave you to work that one out. Obvious.

My cousin got trapped behind the barbecue with one of these once. He told me all about it and I’ve never gone near that part of the garden again.

And at night we have these, the ring tailed possums. Hundreds of them run over the roof at night. I think our house is a possum freeway.

Yes, I know they look like they are cute and cuddly but I can assure you they are not. If you heard their sinister hisses at night and heard the shrieks as they battle each other in the garden you would not fall for their ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ routine. They do bite, The Princess has told me all about them and she wouldn’t lie………Or would she?

Trickery. That’s another one I have to look out for now.

All in all I work extremely hard in this family to be the one who sheds light on potentially hazardous situations.

I am very aware of any suspicious people or dogs following me when we are out for a walk. I like to move to the side and let them get ahead of me so I am ready to react if I need to.

And I never mix with dogs I do not know or one who is not known by a pal. Everybody understands about stranger danger.

Stranger alert!! Who is this tiny doppelganger? It turned out to be my new cousin but….. better to be cautious than sorry.

I like to have the doors locked and the electronic gates closed.

I do not like to draw attention to myself but it is hard being such a big good looking guy.

Well aren’t I gorgeous?

I avoid going out at night unless it is with The Princess as a decoy.

I bet one of those furry big eyed possums things are out there….waiting.

I am also very suspicious of new items that appear in the house or garden. I know where everything belongs and if it’s out of place I am suspicious. There was a plant pot that caused me great concern a few years ago, fortunately due to my vigilance Dad went up to it and I knew that it was safe because he wasn’t blown up.

Then there is the table that Mum uses for her iPad which often threatens to leap out and bop me on the nose. I get out of the way when she has that out. And now she has started using a magnetic board for one of her projects. When she picks that up I’m off.

I could go on but I don’t have the time to outline all the threats. After all don’t they say that most accidents occur in the home? I have to be vigilant whilst The Princess sleeps on.

But if you find yourself in danger I have found two very useful ploys to get out of trouble:

Play dead

Convincing yes?

Then Run

I am a blur of speeding poodle

Take care and keep safe. Raffy, Security Advisor to The Princess

The Most Loved Princess

Ha!

The big boy had a birthday and guess what?

THEY FORGOT 🙂

They didn’t remember until two days later. Not like my birthday when Mum bought me a new collar. turns out it wasn’t right, they couldn’t get it to fit quite perfectly but at least I got something.

The Hulk got nothing.

5 years old

I haven’t told him. I’m not that mean. Well. I might tell him sometime, especially if he throws up in my bed again. Then I’ll tell him.

He is now 5. By Mum’s chart that means he is about 36 people years.

As I’ve mentioned before, I think he should be thinking about moving out and looking after himself but of course they won’t hear of it. I guess he would be pretty useless.

I can’t believe he’s been around, a thorn in my side, for almost five years.

I suppose he does have his uses. I wouldn’t want you to think I totally dislike him. It’s more indifference with the rare moment of irritation and the even rarer moment of appreciation.

He is useful at night or when Mum goes out because I don’t like being completely alone.

He’s quite useful in the car although I have to be careful he doesn’t fall on me because he seems to prefer to take most journeys, even long ones, standing up which can be a bit scary.

Totally unaware of his birthday. 

He can have his uses if we need to go away to holiday camp (aka Kennels), though mostly it’s me reassuring him. He doesn’t eat when we’re away so if I’m cunning I can get two meals, though I do think they were on to me last time.

He’s quite good when my nails are broken and bleeding because he licks them and keeps them clean whilst I lie on Mum with her rubbing my tummy. Equal to a health spa really.

He can be quite useful when we’re out because other dogs take one look at his size and tend not to want to engage him in anything other than friendly terms. Of course, once again if one is more aggressive it’s me that has to chase them off. He just runs away.

Best of all his uses is when he leaves me his biscuits which he does on a regular basis. Mum picks up his dish so I don’t get to them, but we have an arrangement. He always takes out a few and drops them on his table (yes, he eats from a table…sigh).

I think just on that fact alone he’s worth keeping around. Otherwise he’s dead space. A huge amount of dead space.

Love from the best loved Princess.

Birthday Blues

Happy birthday to ME

Happy birthday to ME

Happy birthday to ME-E

Happy birthday to ME

Yay!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉 Not

I am just so excited

Today I am 11 years old. Eleven! Where has the time gone?

TBH I didn’t think I’d make this great age, not after Zac left us at just 8 years, but here I am.

According to the old fashioned understanding of dog years equalling seven human years I would be 77years – 😱 77 years! That is like………OLD.

I was about to panic when Mum told me that understanding has come a long way and now experts acknowledge that it is not as straightforward as that. We age at different rates to people and to other sized dogs – phew!

In fact they do say that the first twelve months is closer to fifteen years in people years. This sounds a bit scary but then we slow down and depending on our size we dogs age at different rates to each other.

This means that as a medium sized dog I am actually 65 years now. If The Hulk (aka Raffy) gets as far as 11 he would be 72 years. By the way he has a birthday next week and will be 5, about 36 in people years. I reckon it’s time for him to leave home and be independent, but Dad spoils him.

So I am 65 years. That’s not so bad. I see people of 65 who can work, run and seem to be pretty good.

I know I’m not in perfect health but with Mum being a member of the diet police I am doing okay.

I have some grey hairs but doesn’t everyone? Mum gets rid of her grey hairs but I like the natural look.

I can still jump onto her lap and still run (but I don’t often want to).

I still sound fierce and bark the alert at any strangers.

I can still catch bird-burglars when they break into the house and I can chase the possums up trees. The Hulk doesn’t even see the possums. He stands in the middle of the grass looking confused and waiting to see which direction to run in.

I am still a brave Tibbie.

I am not afraid of small children and they can pet me, pull my hair or sit on me. I know that if I ignore the bad behaviour this helps to train them and I can reward the good behaviour with a tail wag.

I guess that is what has come out of all these years of living. I am a wise Tibbie. I have learnt stuff. Some of it good, some of it painful but that’s life. Sometimes you suck on life and sometimes life just sucks.

Getting older means that some of your friends and family don’t get to stay around with you. I still miss my soulmate Zac after five years. That will never change and life is emptier without him. I have had to be more independent because he isn’t around for me to rely on. The Hulk is useless, in fact he relies on me. It is tiring.

I wonder if Zac ever found me tiring? No. I am sure he loved every crazy minute of being with me even when I pushed him in the pool! I am sure I enriched his life immensely and it was other things that made him grumpy.

The other problem with getting older is that some of the pals I used to know at the park have moved to the rainbow bridge and I miss them.

The new pups are just not the same. We don’t speak the same language.

But it is what it is.

So what did I get for this auspicious birthday you may well ask?

A big cake?

Bacon?

Liver treats?

Cheese?

No.

I got a new collar and lead. Oh wow! Help me to contain my excitement.

Here it is. As you can see I am dancing about with excitement – not

It isn’t even sparkly – no diamonds, no bling. I’m obviously too old for bling in Mum’s eyes. That is sad.

I can see the difficulty.

Being older I have everything I need and most things that I want I can’t have because they’re bad for me or impossible dreams.

Getting older is challenging.

Getting older with ill health is tough. Things the other dogs take for granted like bones and fatty treats are bad for me. They can go to coffee with their family and enjoy tucking in to all sorts of things – not me. I have to sit on the sidelines of life and watch them have fun. Even some dogs that are older than me can have the stuff I can’t have and do the things I can’t do. It doesn’t seem fair.

Just watching them tear around the park after a ball or just running for the joy of it makes me feel tired. I used to do that, before I got sick.

Still, I guess I have to try and look on the bright side. I’m still here.

I can still walk to the park in the mornings, although I don’t always want to, and I do get to enjoy a comfortable house with lots of soft beds which I do want.

My house is warm in the cold weather and cool in the hot weather and dry in the wet weather. I like that. Mum knows I like it. Just as I like lying on her all evening so she can rub my itchy tummy and I can sleep, or watch television. There are still some good things I can enjoy.

Things could be worse. I acknowledge I am a pampered pooch – but then – I’m worth it.

So here I am on my special day enjoying my favourite activity – sleeping next to Mum and wishing time would slow down a little for all our sakes.

Happy 11 years Zena

Love from the old mature and wise Princess

The Panicky Prancing Poodle

Well shock horror I’m in the dog house. Colour me bothered. I’m still getting my food and cuddles on demand so I reckon they’ve overlooked my so-called transgression.

I am appealing to you, my fellow furries (and sometime furies) to wade into the argument.

I am a watch dog. A fine (well, almost fine) specimen of years of breeding and it must be said some years of in-breeding. However, I digress.

I am ever alert ready to protect my people, my tribe. Or at the very least to make sure they recognise the danger so that they can protect me 🙂

This week the sun shone briefly in Melbourne. Mum opened the door into the garden and Raffy and I lay in the sun.

Outside? Good grief no…. far too cold.

We lay on the soft carpet inside where the sun was shining, we’re not stupid. Well, I’m not anyway.

The next thing I know something flutters under my nose and heads for the coffee table. A bird. In the house! Can you believe it? And not just any bird. That stupid Mynah bird which constantly hops around the other side of the glass door taunting me and pecking at the outdoor cushions.

So I did what any red-blooded Tibbie would do. I caught it. Mum and Dad were shouting ‘Zena, No!’ but did I listen? Of course not.

We were under attack and I leapt into action without thought of the danger to myself.

The taste of feathers wasn’t good, they prickle and get caught in your teeth but did I care? Of course not. I reacted instinctively to protect those I love, I threw myself into danger. I should have a medal. I am so not appreciated.

Then before I could investigate this flapping thing any closer Dad grabbed me and made me release it. All I could do was spit out the fluffy bits.

I know. All that effort and he just let it fly off. I ask you. My super fast reactions were wasted on them. Did I get praise? No I did not.

I didn’t actually get into trouble but I could tell Dad wasn’t pleased. Apparently he likes those pesky birds. Though I can’t understand why if he likes them he won’t allow me to roll in the droppings they leave. Sometimes I cannot understand these humans I live with. 

I swear those feathers take ages to dig out of your teeth

Anyway, back to the story.

Now you may ask what was our big, brave 40 kilo poodle doing at the time? This dog who was bred to be a retriever of game or a gun dog. This dog who has been bred to wade into water and grab the ducks.

It is rather embarrassing and I am ashamed to tell you but….twist my paw.

Okay, here goes.

He was hopping from paw to paw with a shocked expression on his face. Literally dancing on the spot. He looked ridiculous. He didn’t know whether to run or to hide and as he doesn’t like confined spaces there wasn’t anywhere to hide.

Our big, brave scary poodle was petrified. And to think I had once assumed he would be my bodyguard. Ha! And again I say….Ha!

It was a tiny bird. Perhaps he’s also afraid of spiders.

All I can say is that we had better not rely on him in a crisis.

I’ve heard about the poodle prance but I haven’t seen it before but believe you me he was prancing and it wasn’t with pride!

Here he is doing what he does best…….NOTHING 🙂

Zena Looks Back

This is Zena, signing in again after another long gap.

I have finally managed to get her to sit down at the computer and think of me.

Finally my indignation got through to her

I think she needs to go to one of these groups. You know, the kind where people with addictions go.

She told me it was finished. She told me it was over. She told me she wouldn’t do it again and that she was sorry. She told me I would get her back.

What happened?

She relapsed. I am ashamed.

I think I have to out her in order for her to come to grips with the problem.

She tells me now that it was the little green leaf hints that did it. Every time she opened her e-mails there was another list of little green hints, beckoning, calling her back.

Then one day, before I knew it, before I could stop her she had enrolled again.

She is back on ANCESTRY!!!!!!

She is back following up those little green leaves and trying to trace her family roots and all I can do is sit (or lie under the desk) and ride it out with her. She is clearly a lost cause.

I have to admit I don’t get it, but perhaps that’s because I know where I came from. I am Tibetan. The blood of temple dogs and wolf warners runs in my blood. My ancestors nimbly leapt from rock to rock shouting out a warning to their people if the predators came near. Perhaps some of the larger ones might even have been brave enough to fight to protect the flocks they ran with.

At night my ancestors shared the huts with their families, feeding from the scraps from the table (except of course they didn’t use tables) and at night they curled up, tails tucked around them to keep warm.

They were faithful, brave protectors of their families. Rather like me today. Okay so I don’t have to nimbly leap from rock to rock which is just as well. And I don’t have to shiver in the ice and snow which I would hate. To be honest I don’t even like the rain. And I get my food twice a day and never have to be hungry or hurt. And I have to admit I don’t have any flocks to protect. But apart from that I am just like my ancestors.

I really have to say that I don’t understand the obsession so I decided to look at my family tree to see if I could get any understanding at all.

Zena aka Bovais Ladyhawk

b: 30 June 2006

Mother:  

Aust Champ Bovais Stormie Moments

Father :

Aust Champ Bovais Takem By Surprise

Maternal Grandparents:

Schaka-ta’s Pascal A’Bovais

Caerlaverock Ja Bovais

Paternal Grandparents:

Bovais Takem By Storm

Caerlaverock Ja Bovais

Maternal Great Grandparents:

Schaka-ta’s Mankado

Schaka-ta’s Jazira

Boshanti Tyson

Caerlaverock Fan Maytock

Paternal Great Grandparents

Schaka-ta’s Pascal A’Bovais

Caerlaverock Ja Bovais

Boshanti Tyson

Caerlaverock Fan Maytok

Maternal Great Great Grandparents

Cheerio Ace of Hearts 

Schaka-ta’s Kymara 

Pinrow Black Flash 

Rebecca of Araki 

Boshanti Marconi 

Kashi Heavenly Hiraani At Boshanti 

Jemecs Briareus 

Caerlaverock Ba Norzin 

Paternal Great Great Grandparents

Schaka-ta’s Mankado

Schaka-ta’s Jazira

Boshanti Tyson

Caerlaverock Fan Maytock 

Boshanti Marconi 

Kashi Heavenly Hiraani At Boshanti 

Jemecs Briareus 

Caerlaverock Ba Norzin

Oh my gosh!!!!

I had no idea 😦

Can you see how many common ancestors I have. I mean they are not common, I’m sure they are of the best blood but they are all the same bloodline. I am totally shocked. I know there was a fair amount of ‘line-breeding’ but….. I have to look into this a little bit more.

AND I don’t supposed you noticed but I seem to have a relative from the Araki kennel in there which is the kennel that she got her first Tibbie from when she lived in France. We could be related.

I will have to look further into it and if it is possible maybe I could find some pictures….. and if only there was an Ancestry.com for dogs I could get some little green leaf hints too to help me go even further back.

Bye for now everyone. I have to have a nap before I do some more research. If you don’t hear from me for a while you know where I am. Following those little green leaves wherever I can find them…..

bye bye from Zena, your Princess 🙂

Toe-tally Unbelievable

We had to dash to the vet again last night.

An emergency. Mum practically had the lights flashing. Bells, whistles and alarms.

And no. Before you think the worst, it wasn’t me. It was the big boy.

Raffy (drum roll) had hurt his toe! Yes folks, his toe.

He had a boo-boo on his toesy-woesy. Ahhhhhh. Everyone send roses.

Sigh….

The greatest baby actor ever known

He just couldn’t bear to have me the centre of attention for a while. He had to try and share it.

So now he is on anti-inflammatories and told only to do little walks. He isn’t even limping today.

I have to admit yesterday it did seem more dramatic.

He was limping a little at the dog park and by the time he got home he wouldn’t put his weight on that leg (should have gone to Hollywood that dog!).

He didn’t eat breakfast and played the ‘I am such a sick dog’ all morning.

At one point he struggled to get to his feet.

He made such a drama of it that Mum and Dad weren’t sure if it was his paw or his joints. He did this funny side-wise motion with his front leg which made it look like he was trying out for a baton twirling competition.

At the end of the day they took him to the village vet.

I went too.

The vet was so pleased to see me (of course). He commented on my new hair style and said I looked younger than ever. He’s okay that vet. He has very good observational skills.

He examined the boy and discovered his toe was swollen. All those dramatics for a toe. I ask you. I was embarrassed, I’m not sure how Mum and Dad felt but I couldn’t believe all that fuss for a swollen toe. If it wasn’t for the vet giving me treats it would have been a total waste of my time.

 

Of course as soon as we get back Mum googles things and discovers that there is a cancer standard poodles can get that can start in the toe so she is on toe watch now.

What can you do with her?

Twice a day they squirt these anti-inflammatories into his mouth and praise him for standing there and being so good.

I would be good.

Squirt it in my mouth. It apparently tastes really nice.

If he thinks a sore toe gives him bragging rights over pancreatitis he is sorely mistaken.

I am toe-tally out of sympathy!!

Love – Zena, the put-upon Princess