Howdy blogaroos. Squirmy here. Remember us? A couple of crazy dogs who live in Nova Scotia, Canada. Dogs who totally, completely, entirely, 100% rule the life of the human we own.

This blog began in 2014. We are talking pre-pandemic, pre-Harry and Meghan, pre-Taylor Swift Eras Tour, pre-Temu, and pre-retirement for the Warden. Yup – she was working and still found time to type our dictation EVERY day for about 8 years – and then every few days after that. The blog was started by Viktor, a Polish Lowland Sheeepdog (who I believe I am the reincarnation of), a sweet Bernese Mountain dog, Paxton ( lovingly also known as Bucket Head) and Frodo, another Polish Lowland, (also known as the Boss and Einstein). When Paxton sadly left us for the Rainbow Bridge, a new character joined our asylum – Elroy, a Berger Picard (also known as the Coyote). Each of us has our own voice – which personifies our personalities.

In 2020, Viktor suddenly left us – and that same year, yours truly joined the tale. The pandemic hit the world and so did I.

Sadly in 2024, the brilliant Frodo – who was the only remaining original character in our story, also went to the Rainbow Bridge. And since then, well, we kinda hit a writer’s block. Sort of like a jump on an agility course that has a bar set way too high. You see that bar coming, you start running faster, but when you get to it, you go under instead of over.

Now it’s not that we still don’t have stories to tell – heaven knows we are far from a calm, quiet household. But since the Warden retired, she has less time than when she worked. Or so it feels. Or it’s just one of those things retired people say – even though they DO take advantage of opportunities to nap if the occasion presents itself….

We would love to be a three dog household again, but the Warden realizes those days are over. While we are extremely well-behaved (insert rolling eyes emoji), the cost of being owned by a dog has risen more than the price of eggs. Not to mention the costs for medications for the Coyote – who contracted Lyme disease (and subsequent nephritis) back in 2023. You know those pill box thingies that have the days of the week and times to take them? He has two boxes. He “takes” 13 pills each day. I put the word takes in quotes because unlike the Boss who would willingly take his daily meds in a pill pocket, the Coyote never takes them on his own. His mouth must be pried open (after you say the not-so-magic word “open”) and the pill must be shoved WAY to the back of his throat. Close to his stomach. Because if it’s not far enough back – pa-ding he spits it out.

Life with the Coyote has always been a roller coaster because he TOTALLY marches to his own drummer – and nobody else can even hear the music he is listening to. At 9 years old – he STILL presents a flight risk. Seriously. The dude would take off through the front door and go explore the world – drinking out of every filthy puddle he came to, peeing on every tree in his path, and watching the skies for …..whatever. Birds. Butterflies. Leaves. I say he’s pretty close to feral. That’s not to say he doesn’t like household comforts – like sleeping on the bed with the Warden every night. Recently she bought this crazy expensive fluffy donut bed that came vacuum sealed and had detailed instructions as to how it needed to be fluffed in the sun for hours every day for like a week or something for it to open up. Anyway, when it became completely fluffized, the Warden put it in the bedroom thinking the Coyote might choose it instead of sprawling out on her bed. She literally hangs off the side while he lays spread out in the center. So- she puts the bed down thinking this is the solution. Wrongo. Yours truly immediately started dragging it around, and I tried to pull off the furry fabric. When she yelled “no,” I hid underneath it. The Coyote just jumped on her bed. Meanwhile, I continue to sleep under it. Money well spent.

Currently, the Warden spends more money on attempting to feed the Coyote than she does on meals for herself. I say attempting, because she tries anything and everything to get Buddy to eat. He has ALWAYS been the picky Picard, but since his illness, he’s 1000000 times worse. Before you make a suggestion about how to get him to eat, here are some things she has tried…

1. Different foods. Different kibble. Freeze dried raw. Raw. Canned. The crappiest grocery store brands. The most expensive pet store brands. Home cooked. The last one was her most recent attempt. She knew he liked steak ( who doesn’t? ) He likes potatoes. She got recipes for dogs with renal issues. She took the steak and potatoes added other veggies, fish oil and a powder supplement (from the Vet) to be sure the meal was balanced. He took one sniff and walked away. It’s the “additions” like the fish oil and the supplements. Won’t TOUCH it.
2. Hand feeding.
3. Feeding from a raised bowl.
4. Feeding from a plate.
5. Feeding off the floor.
6. Feeding at different times.
7. Feeding in different locations in the house.
8. Feeding while on walks.
9. Feeding while the the Warden stands on her head and begs him to eat.

He goes through phases where he WILL eat. And he cleans his bowl. And then, he suddenly decides food is boring. So he will do this little dance around his bowl, bopping his head up and down and moving the bowl around. If left at it long enough, he’ll spill the contents and walk away.

So leave him alone when he doesn’t eat, right? He’ll eat when he wants to, right? Wrongo. He doesn’t care about food. Really. Sometimes he’ll come over to see what’s cooking in the kitchen, and the Warden will offer him a bite. He’ll examine it like a forensic pathologist, and then leave it. The Warden vows she’ll just put down food and if he doesn’t eat, so be it. She REALLY tries. After two days of waiting with bated breath, and him not eating , she caves. And she force feeds him. Does that bother him? Nope. He jumps around afterwards and is all happy and perky. Then he wipes his face in the carpet and any wall or vertical surface around him because heaven forbid he might have a crumb on him. No need to ever worry about that – I clean his face for him.

Except for the eating drama, the Coyote does enjoy a good quality of life. He trots along on daily walks, attempts to play Humpty Dumpty games with me all the time, enjoys a good chew on a bully stick and loves lying in the sun on the deck. He barks at things in the night – because his supersonic hearing probably picks up the sounds of real Coyotes in the distance – or the futile attempts of raccoons to get into our bungie corded green bin.

He’ll go to the road with the Warden to bring back the bundle of weekly flyers. He’ll jump around encouraging the Warden to toss them in a retrieving game. So she tosses it. He yanks her to the end of his leash over to the bundle of papers. And he stares at it. But doesn’t pick it up. So she picks it up. He jumps around for her to toss it. She does and they repeat the same scenario, with her picking it up every time. He has her so well trained in retrieving…

He has his own drummer. His own rules for every game. And an incredibly discerning palate. The Warden always says it’s a good thing he’s SO sweet….

In the meantime, I have assumed the role of Boss in the house. Or I think I am. I realize that based on seniority, the Coyote should be the Boss. But he doesn’t want it. He’s too easy going. He doesn’t want a leadership role. He doesn’t feel the need to bark out commands. He has no curiocery. That’s Viktor’s term for “our strong desire to know what is in the grocery bags that our human has just brought home.” He has no stealth-like skills in abducting hand towels from the kitchen and silently running away with them. He does not like to launch himself off visitors. He isn’t into counter surfing. A Boss needs those skills and I’m a master at all of them.

I’m still training in obedience, getting ready to hopefully trial in Open in the late fall. I was doing great at scent classes – finding the scent wherever it was hidden indoors. I loved the game. Until our last workshop. When the “hides” were outside. I had never done REAL scent work outdoors. Sure – I can find golf balls in the woods, and I can find kibble tossed in the lawn. But put a bunch of things outdoors – and find the scent? Hello? I’m a boy. A REAL boy. And what do real boys love to do outdoors? Well just look at some of the bushes around our house. We love to leave pee-mail. So before the Warden could warn me, I did a quick squat and peed on the outdoor find area. I didn’t even waste time lifting my leg. I just couldn’t hold it – the urge was way beyond my control. Not to mention several other dogs had already done their turns searching in the find area. And no – no one else peed. But me- I had to ruin the area. A big no no.

The Warden said we need to go back to basics outdoors. I need to learn that when I’m working outdoors in scent detection, I’m not allowed to leave my mark. Bla bla bla .

So our life has been pretty ordinary of late. Although…. For the last few weeks, the Coyote was on a serious hunger strike. I mean SERIOUS. And after almost two years of food wars, the Warden conceded defeat. Somewhat. She vowed that if she ever force fed him, and he later “returned the food” by throwing up – she would no longer force feed him. And that has sadly happened. In addition to vomiting, he has been plagued by ongoing diarrhea. He went to the vet and his bloodwork showed that his kidney values are worse. And a quantitative test for Lyme shows it is still in his system – and at a level that might again benefit from treatment. His physical exam was unremarkable although after partial sedation it still took 3 people to hold him during a prostate exam. Yikes. I don’t blame the dude for tucking his butt. They also were able to get his blood pressure taken – and it was good. Slightly elevated – but not crazy. So. He went to the vet a week ago for Lyme treatment via injection. The vet did not recommend pills for the treatment- as it would be harder on his already quirky stomach.

Before that vet visit, the Warden was seriously wondering if it was his time to visit Frodo and Paxton. And Viktor and Beamish and Harper and Guinness and Schubert and Barney. But she wanted to make sure.

So he got his first antibiotic injection. And is due for another one next week. Now keep in mind, before this he was refusing to eat. Almost everything. And this had gone on for quite a while. Throughout the day he ate MAYBE a small piece of meat, and dinner time was a no go much of the time. Blueberries- which he had enjoyed during our daily morning rituals were like poison to him. Bread? Sometimes – but not with his usual interest.

And what we are about to write we do with extreme trepidation. Because the past two years has always been up and down. But the most recent down was at a level similar to when this journey began. He was not eating, his weight had dropped significantly and his gastric issues were like those in the beginning.

But almost a week to the day after his first antibiotic treatment for the Lyme, it has been like a light has been switched. He is hungry. For the first time in months. And he is eating. Mind you, it IS turkey burgers and prime rib burgers (!) but he is eating every morsel. He eats bread again. He’ll eat kibble if offered one by one while on a walk. TODAY he came over and wanted blueberries. Instead of running out the door when food is being prepared, he is actually coming in to see what’s cooking.

While all of this may sound less than earth shattering news – for the Warden it is like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She still holds her breath when she puts his food dish down – but the tightness in her shoulders relaxes when she sees the empty dish.

We also can’t get TOTALLY excited because he still continues to have way less than P3. (That’s Picture Perfect Poop if you’re just joining us for the first time. P3 has a direct correlation to human happiness when they are owned by a dog).

IF this treatment works, it may buy him more time. The bottom line -he has to eat. The diarrhea IS still an issue, but even that is SLIGHTLY better. He isn’t waking her up in the night to go out. And even in the morning , he’s not RACING to get out.

It’s funny, when you are owned by a pet, there is this heart-brain balance. And it’s tricky. Your brain can tell you that things with a sick or elderly pet are not good. Not good at all. Your brain is the fact checker. Your heart shouts out words of encouragement and hope. Your heart focuses on positive moments – and all the glorious moments in the past.

It’s important that the brain and heart work together. Because if they do, you can be sure that you’ll make all the right decisions for your pet. Life is about quality. And cherished moments and memories. When you have quality, you are so fortunate. Quality AND quantity are like winning the lotto. But not everyone wins the lotto. So focusing on the quality is what we really need to do. Every day. Every single day….

If you made it through this story today, thank you for sticking with us. Over the years we have “met” so many readers virtually AND in person – and we are thankful for each and every one of you. We’re not promising that we will continue to share our tales – but the itch to share our adventures is still there. Like a black fly bite. We’ll see. In the meantime, I have to go now and play Humpty Dumpty with the Coyote….

Have a good one. Peace and paws up. Stay safe.