An update on Bella

Reading Time: 2 minutes

One week and a few days on, our Pomeranian Bella has pretty much returned to normal after being attacked and needing a vet procedure.

There were a few rough days at the start for all of us. Bella was in pain and lethargic. Myles was distraught from being in the thick of the conflict, thinking he should have done more. I suspect my own difficulties might have been minimal, but it certainly didn’t seem so as each day I wiped out the bloody ooze from her inserted drain tube, and cleaned her fur.

After a couple of days Bella wanted to return to the scene of the crime – so to speak. I took her to the school on a close leash the first couple of visits. Then we tested her with a few friendly dogs and it was such a relief to see her showing no fear, and no new aggression or reaction.

First visit back to school. I SMS’d my family, that she was looking for a rematch, but how do I update her (about the other dog’s unavailability)..

At home we may have even noticed Bella has grown more attached to us. Most of the time, that’s nice with her snuggling and loving more pats. When we leave though, her fury might have actually become worse.

I let the other family (whose dog attacked Bella) know that Bella is back and doing well. They appreciated the update, even saying it might help their healing process. It turned out Vicky’s injury from the bite was serious enough to still need more recovery time.

We were all terribly impacted by the events of last Thursday afternoon. It seems though, the physical and emotional scars, may be more significant with the other family.

Bella received her final medicine this morning – to combat infection. This was just as she seems to have learned the sound of a tablet being crushed up in a bowl, and training herself to come close and sit for the reward of a small bowl of milk. I guess we can keep up the reward bit for a little while longer.

Holding dogs close

Reading Time: 6 minutes

Thursday began on such a canine high.

While I was finishing my morning run I saw a Mum with a pram and a dog, dropping off her 5 year old girl at school who was protesting that she didn’t want to enter. I heard a chorus of her little classmates already inside, chanting something of encouragement, but the girl continued to hold back. The Mum’s body language seemed to say, Not this again as she began pleading with the girl. I got within earshot by this stage and heard the girl’s response, “I can’t go in until I get a kiss”. I almost let out an audible “Ohhh” witnessing such a treasure, the daughter needing a goodbye kiss from Mum. But I misunderstood. The girl walked back to the dog (who was standing dutifully by Mum’s side), bent down and gave a peck on the ageing-grey head of her black labrador. She then practically skipped through the gate to join her friends.

Later that day, events abruptly made me forget that joy.

My eldest son Myles and I took our dog Bella to that same school for a walk, like we do any day that I’m working from home. After she had her routine bathroom stop, she approached another dog and played her usual annoying (Pomeranian) game of barking at the dog to get a reaction, then run around or run away. I paused my kicking the footy with Myles to go apologise to the owner. Other people never seem to mind a tiny loud Pomeranian playing. I moved her on regardless, to give everyone – including me – some peace and quiet.

Her dog “friend” left soon after, then we stopped kicking the ball to take Bella around the oval for some exercise.

Bella always trails behind us. I’m rarely concerned. She’s well-behaved off the leash and never strays too far from us, and always returns. We then noticed a couple of unleashed dogs run up to Bella, seeming to want to say hello or play. Bella didn’t do her usual barking or growling to entice a reaction. She looked more cautious or unsettled, perhaps due to how close they suddenly came up to her. We paused to watch, as a third dog joined the other two, and I began to worry that Bella had no easy way to escape. I saw a lady was in pretty close vicinity to the three dogs, who were all probably 30 metres from us.

We started calling Bella to come back to us. But her tail was up, so I wasn’t too worried. Then we heard a rise in commotion, with barking or growling from one of the other dogs, and saw Bella was trying to scurry away but was completely surrounded. We called her more forcefully to come to us, but she couldn’t escape.

I told Myles “Run!” One of the dogs, a medium-sized brown & white Labradoodle began biting at Bella. Bella was tiny in comparison, and completely defenseless. She yelped out, scared and in pain, and I kind of noticed the lady trying to intervene. Myles arrived quickly to the scene and lifted Bella out, which seemed to free her from the Labradoodle’s jaws. It was only relief for a moment, as the dog started jumping up and latching on, trying to rip down Bella’s tiny hind leg. This is when I reached the scene. I screamed an obscenity at the dog, threw a poo bag at it, and kicked it hard. The dog seemed unphased by me, but it did retreat a little. That enabled Myles to lift Bella more safely away from the snapping jaws of the Labradoodle. The other two smaller dogs weren’t aggressive, but just as interested in Bella. The owner of the dogs was failing to control any of them.

I felt obliged to explain to the lady my fury wasn’t directed at her, but I had no choice as her dog was unresponsive. Our conversation could have gone in a couple of different directions. I was livid. If she had a problem, I was ready for it! She didn’t protest at all. In fact, she was happy with my actions and had already begun apologising profusely.

With the danger now over, Myles and I, and the lady started to talk through the shock we just experienced. I checked Bella’s foot where the dog had latched on, and was happy to see no painful reaction. We also saw no physical marks, so we were relieved to think the attack might have been ‘more bark than bite’. The lady continued to apologise, and tell us how embarassed she was, and that it had never happened before. She gave me her details – let’s call her “Vicky”, and mentioned they would pay for any vet bills to get Bella checked out or whever was needed. Also shared her fear that this event would be all over the local Facebook page, which seemed an odd concern at that point.

We then noticed blood streaming down Vicky’s own fingers. The Labradoodle must have also bitten her in the skirmish, but she deflected any concerns we had for her, and worried only for our dog. Poor Bella did have a growing red stain on her fur, around her neck near her right shoulder.

Myles & I were still worried for Vicky’s well-being. She was bitten badly, clearly in shock, struggling to speak, and almost at the point of tears over what her dog had just caused. We offered to help get her home, and make sure she was OK. But she didn’t want our help. It turned out their house backs onto the school oval. Bella & I walk past their place almost every single morning. She was clearly embarassed and was scolding & muttering her worries to the three dogs, all now finally leashed. Myles & I tried continuing our walk with Bella, hoping things could still be normal. It didn’t last long though. Bella was too shaken and the blood on her fur was starting to increase.

We have a friend who works at the local vet, who I phoned while Myles was carrying Bella home. I really just wanted advice whether her vet was open, or whether we’d need to visit the animal emergency – 30 minutes away. Instead, she kindly drove straight over to take a look. She shaved away the fur near the wound, and washed it out with a few items she picked up. We could then see there was a single puncture mark, just over a centimetre wide. It continued to bleed. Bella was clearly stressed from the attack, and nipping at some of our advances. We were hopeful though, at the vet the next morning they’d find nothing too serious, and maybe just add a couple of stitches.

I sent a text message to update Vicky that night, with a couple of photos that showed the damage. Soon after, I received a call from an unknown number, who turned out to be Vicky’s husband. He asked if I could communicate with him, as Vicky was too shaken up. The guy then explained that they were on their way back from the animal emergency themselves, where they had just been, …. to put down their dog!

I fell silent. Even though their dog had allegedly never attacked before, they felt they couldn’t trust the dog from then on. I said I respect their wishes, but it’s (DEFINITELY) not what I wanted. Earlier I wasn’t even clear myself, whether it was right to report the dog to local council. After the attack I deliberately stretched my hand out in front of the dog to check if I’d consider it a dangerous dog. Which I guess given what it just joyfully did to Bella, should be utterly conclusive.

The next morning at the vet, it turned out the damage was more severe. While it seemed like a clean puncture wound into her skin, the bite in fact tore quite long, length-wise parallel to the skin’s surface. They learned this after putting her under general anaesthetic. They cleaned the area, and stitched her up after inserting a drain which they hope to remove next Friday. The drain is even more disgusting than it sounds. It’s there to allow fluids to release from the area, and prevent infection.

Altogether our vet bill #1 was $1,280. Although the other family would be grieving the fresh loss of their dog, I didn’t hesitate to send the paid invoice onto them, which they promptly reimbursed. In our communications I asked again how Vicky was doing. It turned out she went to work to take her mind off it.

It’s terribly upsetting to see your dog wounded from an unprovoked attack. This whole episode was made worse, knowing it led to a family having to say farewell to their dog.

And to think, my day started so lovely, witnessing a sweet little girl unable to start her day until she kissed her canine companion goodbye.

Pet Holidays

Reading Time: 2 minutesRamadan has been and gone for another year.

It went relatively quickly for me.  My family returned home for four weeks – as the great majority of expats tend to do, to avoid Dubai’s summer assault. It was a smart move, the temperature was quite intense. I heard that Dubai had one day over the 50 degree mark.

Because of the standard need to have an extended holiday period, we’ve not bought any pets while here – apart from regularly replaceable gold fish.   We don’t like the idea of having to inconvenience and rely on others to feed them while away.

This doesn’t bother many people though. I was asked on a Thursday to feed a neighbor’s birds as he was leaving that evening. And the reason he suddenly became a pet owner without our knowledge is that his friend became a proud owner of a monkey (yes, monkey). The monkey-owner could no longer have other pets. So this Ramadan, we joined a bit of a domino effect of pet minding.

Once I agreed to feed the birds, I learned there were also two tanks of fish.

It sounded simple enough though. So I happily agreed.

And everything went well for a day or two. And then. The two angel fish died.

Oh no.

If that’s not bad enough, I think in that same tank one of the big gold fish looks a bit unwell.

I gave the two dead fish a proper burial, and sent them to the great toilet cistern in the sky.

The question now arises though. What do I do?

I was put in charge. I was entrusted to look after these fish. Killing them was not part of the deal!

My first thought was honesty is the best policy. I’ll wait for them to get back, then come clean that I killed their most beautiful of fish.

And then I had another idea, more around self-preservation and bad sit-com gag. Yes, angel fish look generic enough. Perhaps I could buy some new ones from the pet store around the corner. No one would notice the difference. Altho it sort of makes me wish I paid more attention to any identifying traits as they were laying in the bowl pre-flush.

The fish were dark brown. I have an inkling now they may have had light stripes also.

Either way, this kind of farce is not me.

Tonight’s the final night of animal feeding. The family return in the morning.

The body count so far is just two dead, once impressive, angel fish. Providing the two birds remain unscathed I think it’s an ok record. I fed them all as instructed. I’m hoping it’s not my fault. Although, the title of animal murderer is something that could be quite easily bandied about.

Providing there are no more casualties, I’ve decided I’ll write and leave a note from the angel fish. It’ll share that Ryan fed them perfectly well, they just decided to run away, and maybe join the circus. Or, as they’re called ‘angel fish’ perhaps they had a more heavenly calling – and Ryan wasn’t a killer, more of a facilitator.

Eid Mubarak.

And special celebrations to all the volunteer pet-sitters helping others while they’re off on holidays.

Hopefully tomorrow I won’t suffer a fate similar to the unfortunate angel fish.

Cycle of life lesson

Reading Time: 2 minutesJust over a year ago we bought Myles a fish tank. We feel Dubai is not a climate suitable for any other types of pet, and travelling and holidays become more difficult if we have a more dependent pet. But there were lessons Myles would learn from caring after a pet that are too valuable to miss.

Myles looked after the fish tank and his fish quite well, although he’d often need reminding to feed them. He even felt that a few times they needed a hug. He’d do this by crouching down and hugging the tank. I suppose it’s better than trying to hug the individual fish.

Up until a little while ago we had quite a lot of luck with the fish we bought at the same time we bought the tank. A couple died, but there were a core of 3-4 hardy souls who survived even a week or so of neglect between our house minders going on holiday, and us returning from ours. When we returned we tried to replenish the stock of fish with a tank full of new entrants. That’s when our luck dried up. We had to replace new dead fish more regularly and replace them with more soon to be dead fish.

It was during this period that Lewis – our 2 year old learnt – about the cycle of life. He would follow Elle over to the tank to pick out the dead fish, watch her take it over to the toilet, then watch her dispatch it to its final resting place.

Well, we thought Lewis was learning about the cycle of life. He may have learnt a more simple cycle. One morning after watching the fish disappear down the bowl, he went back furiously pointing at the fish tank and saying with some excitement, “More, more, more”.

Despite his request we didn’t needlessly flush any fish. There’d always be another one requiring flushing in a day or two.