About Me

On September 1, 2010 my sweet little muppethead, KiraDog, died. She was diagnosed with Cushings disease in November 2009 and it finally gave way to heart disease and liver failure. I knew I needed another dog to fill the void in my heart and my home so I worked with Furbaby Rescue (where Kira came from) and was gently encouraged to meet a particular dog in need of a forever home. On September 10, 2010 I adopted Conor. . . . This is his story.

About Me (and really, when you think about it, it IS all about ME):

Conor: Gender: Masculine; Usage: Irish, English, Irish Mythology; Pronounced: KAHN-ər (English): Anglicized form of the Gaelic name Conchobhar which means "dog lover" or "wolf lover" also "lover of hounds". It has been in use in Ireland for centuries and was the name of several Irish kings.

Hi everyone!


My name is Conor. Well, it used to be Bumper but my mom thought it was as silly name (and in a way, so did I) for a grown-up puppy so she re-named me Conor. Conor, now that's a good strong manly-man Irish name, don't you think? I'm quite proud of it myself :-)

Anyway, I'm a "Liver" coloured Shih Tzu and I was about 2 1/2 years old when I was adopted (Mom says my Birthday is July 4, 2008! She's not 100% sure of the right date, but that's the day she picked). I have allergies and have to be careful (pfft!) about what I eat - no wheat, grains, or beef allowed. I'm a rambunctious guy who always seems to find trouble, er...toys, to play with. I like watching the world around me from my perch in the kitchen bay window and love my mom to bits - and even though he didn't really like me much, I also miss SirWillyCat a little.

Characters in my life:

  • Aunt Jo and Uncle Dale: Mom and Aunt Jo have been friends for almost 30 years, since high school. Aunt Jo is a pet person and raised both her kids to love animals. Uncle Dale, having grown up on a farm, had to be converted a little bit.
  • Aunt Diane: Mom's friend and (retired) co-worker. Aunt Diane lives a few doors away from us and we sometimes go to her place for a visit.
  • Miss Eleni: Founder of Furbaby Rescue
  • Miss Nicole: A Furbaby adopter who has two puppers to call her own. She lives in a different town, but close enough to mom they could visit (if their schedules ever let them!) Miss Nicole loves hearing my stories :-)
  • Miss Vanja: Met mom through Furbaby Rescue. They haven't met in person 'cause she lives far away.
  • VetLady: Dr. I. Elizabeth Borgmann, founder of the Whatcom Road Veterinary Clinic
  • Willy: (aka SirWillyCat): Adopted January 7, 1994. Willy died on January 24, 2011. He was 17 1/2 years old.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

owwww!

Something hurts really really bad, mom.  My foot hurts so much I can't even walk on it, just let it dangle beside me as I tripod down the stairs to greet you after work.

Needless to say, I freaked out when I saw what greeted me after work tonight.  Conor normally runs down the stairs and barks up a storm until I come through the door from the garage.  Tonight I saw him leave the upstairs window and head down...but no barking.  I thought that was odd then when I came in the house, he was holding his back right leg straight out.  I thought he was stretching, but then he tried to walk towards me and the leg was just dangling there, swaying as he stumbled then fell.

I immediately checked him, then picked him up and checked the leg.  No blood, no evidence of a cut or gash, and the leg wasn't broken but when I touched the pads he flipped out.  I ran upstairs, called the Vet and was able to bring him in right away (30 minute drive, though).  Now, Dr. Borgmann wasn't able to find out what exactly it was, but when she shaved his feet and spread his pads, the blood started flowing.  I'm pretty sure it's a sliver of some kind.  The other night when on our walk there was a pile of glass on the road, like a car window had been broken into.  We gave the glass shards a wide berth but I suspect he got a sliver of glass in his foot anyway.  Dr. Borgmann thinks if that's what it is, quite likely he's been licking his foot and made it worse.

So, $113.17 later and Conor is wearing a cone collar and I have fancy medicine gel to jam into his foot 2-3 times a day.  A good chat with Vanja helped calm me down.  The Vet said insofar as emergencies go, this one was pretty minor - But I said how would I know that?  So far as I was concerned for all I knew he had a stroke and was partially paralyzed, or a sprained leg, or whatever...not a sliver that may work it's way out on it's own in a few days.

Oh, one thing that did come out of it is the Vet checked his teeth and two of the front ones on the bottom are loose and he has tartar build up.  I have to brush his teeth every day now.  I had to with Kira so I already have the doggy toothpaste and a spare compact head soft bristle brush.






Screw you mom!  I have a freakin' cone on my head!


So apparently I can't be trusted to keep my foot clean and dry to let the medicine work - I have to wear a plastic bag on my foot when I go outside to pee.  Mom takes it off when we're inside, though.

So screw you mom, I have a freakin' bag on my leg!


Screw you mom!  I have a freakin' cone on my head!

And a freakin' bag on my leg!

The paw in question.

The pads are swollen and there is still some residual bleeding when I put the gel between the pads so there is certainly something in there.  I hope whatever it is works it's way out on its own.

Now, onto something completely different:

Today, January 7, is Willy's 17 year adopt-i-versary!  17 years ago today I adopted him from the Edmonton SPCA.  The card said he was 5-6 months old so he's 17 1/2 now.  He is certainly aging and is fading.  I kind of figured this past Christmas was our last one together, but I take comfort in the fact he's had a very long and healthy life, longer than I ever thought when I adopted him!  I remember thinking, well, 13-14 years tops, maybe...never thought I would have him for 17 years!  He's been a constant comfort and no matter where I've lived or what I've been doing, he's always been there.  I remember when he was 8 my friend (Jamie) described him as a 'geriatric' cat.  I thought, WTF?  He's only 8!  But apparently that makes him a senior citizen...wonder what she would say, now that he's more than twice that today!!!!

2 comments:

  1. Conor, I think you cone is Pawtastic, hope your footie heals quick, so you can resume your "let's gos" with a bag on your foot.

    Smoochies from Nova Scotia

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  2. Whatever it was, it worked itself out. Still doing the baggie for the potty breaks but the cone is off. I had to laugh - he would try to scratch his ears and would end up spinning the cone instead. Didn't get a video, but it would have been funny as heck to watch over and over!

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