pets

Last night, Auggie and Eli’s good friend, Scary Lisa¹, and I went to a pet first aid class. It was something I’d been meaning to do for a very long time, but simultaneously dreaded. I am not squeamish as such, but I have too much imagination, and at some points in the class my eyes filled with tears thinking about my sweet boys being in the described situations.

I did learn important things, though, and although I have most emergency necessities available around the house, I am inspired to put together additional first aid kits for the cottage and both cars. In case you’re interested, the list is below. You should also add a mylar blanket and towels.

If you have big dogs like Auggie and Eli, in addition to the oral syringe, you should keep a turkey baster on hand to administer sufficient doses of Hydrogen peroxide in case you need to induce vomiting (which you should never do until a veterinarian who knows what has been ingested tells you to). I’ve had to do this twice, and it is heartbreaking, but lifesaving.

Speaking of poisoning, here is the ASPCA poison hotline (yes, I hate the ads, too). They will charge $75, but if your own vet is unavailable, they are a valid option, with veterinarians on hand.

Here are some important notes: Your pet can take Benedryl (diphenhydramine) if stung or having an allergic reaction, BUT only plain Benedryl—not Children’s Benedryl, which has the poisonous-to-animals artificial sweetener Xylitol, and not Benedryl with Tylenol (acetaminophen). Both ibuprofen and acetaminophen are poisonous to animals, too. The dosage is easy to remember: 1 mg of plain Benedryl per pound of animal.

We practiced CPR and artificial respiration on a canine version of Reusci Anne, and we all had large stuffed animals at our desks to practice muzzling and bandaging. These last were handy for hugging when a discussion of evisceration got stressful. It was not exactly a fun night, but I’m glad I attended.

My biggest dilemma is how I would get Eli into the car if I were alone and he were unconscious. I am thinking about asking our carpenter to modify a toboggan. Too weird?

Here are Eli and Scary Lisa once he’s reminded himself that he loves her.

Scary Lisa has known Eli since the moment we brought him home, and they love one another. But, because Eli is a COVID puppy and was not properly socialized, sometimes he forgets who she is and runs from her. Once he remembers, he’s on her lap. Lisa is not otherwise scary. All our dogs have loved her. ↩︎

There’s a moment in the life of every German Shepherd puppy when, somewhere around five to eight months old, their ears are permanently up. Until then, they have adorable floppy ears, and for weeks, as they grow, there’s a one-day-up/next-day-down process which is both fun and suspenseful. For some individual dogs, the ears never fully stand. I don’t know if it’s genetics, nutrition, or a lack of ambition. Some owners obsess about whether their dog’s ears will stand straight, but it doesn’t matter to the dog, and it shouldn’t matter to anyone who loves him.

Auggie, two days short of eight weeks old.

German Shepherd ears are not merely for hearing. They are deeply sensitive instruments of expression and state of mind. If he is showing pride, joy, or dominance, his ears are straight up on the top of his head, slightly rotating to take in data like a space radio telescope. If he is running fast, or swimming, his ears lay flat for aerodynamic advantage. If he is submissive or doubtful, the ears slide down the back of the head. The ears slide back and flatten completely in extreme situations, particularly if he is demonstrating love. A mama GSD will flatten her ears when her puppies approach, perhaps to show she is receptive to their feeding. We call these “love ears,” and we see this daily with our own guys when they want a scratch or a kiss. A fearful German Shepherd will also flatten his ears, and, like any dog, his tail will drop.

Moses, who was the only musical member of my pack, also laid his ears back and stomped his front feet while singing. He loved to sing.

In my experience, no German Shepherd likes his ears touched. Unless you have a deep personal relationship with him, don’t even try. If you belong to a German Shepherd, he may enjoy being touched on his ears, but only when they are flat, or, with my dogs, if they know you are protecting them from a biting insect. German Shepherds will do almost anything to please those they love. But, unless there is life-threatening cold, do not ask them to wear a hat, a hood, or a costume that covers their ears. They will mope and become so depressed you will want to rip your heart right out.

Auggie is a particularly energetic and proud German Shepherd, and has always kept his ears ramrod straight unless in situations as noted above, but also when he plays his favorite charging game. Then, he will wait for my signal to speed toward me at top speed, ears sharply flattened. When he reaches me, growling in mock fury, his eyes sparkle and his ears pop up, straight and tall.

But when he came home from his nearly month-long stay at the veterinary hospital this fall, something had changed. He was cheerful, energetic, and delighted to be home. We had to drug him to keep him from running, and refuse to play his favorite games. “Not now, baby” is a phrase he understands, and he was hearing it an awful lot.

But he was not his usual self in two key respects: his left ear sagged slightly down the side of his head, and his lip on the same side had a droopy spot that caused him to drool continually. I spoke with the vet. Could he have had a minor stroke? Nerve damage? Was his lip just stretched out from having a breathing tube for so long? He didn’t know; it was possible. I felt sad, and slightly confounded by Auggie’s newfound capacity to spread NASA-grade sticky saliva on walls and ceiling (seriously), but I was so grateful that he was alive and home and doing well, that I didn’t care too much. Still, it nagged at me: a signal that he would never be the same.

He’s been home for more than two months now, and he continues to thrive. He is always hungry, and has consequently gained nine pounds. He is still slim, so that’s okay. It’s good, even, because it means he is thriving. Come spring I imagine—unlike me—the weight will fall away. But the ear and lip continued to droop. Until this week. I noticed first that I wasn’t constantly needing to wipe his lip with a paper towel. Then, my husband noticed his ears—perfectly straight and perfectly normal, even when playing Charge.

Had he been he depressed? Was it the crazy regimen of nine different drugs? Had his body been using the calcium to restore something more important, just as when GSD puppy ears flop while they’re teething? I will probably never know.

But Auggie’s back to his old self, and that’s all that matters.