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On 10 August, I wrote: Misha's a leaker or, What we DO for our dogs!!

For 53 years, I've assidulously avoided anything having to do with babies . . . no baby food, no diapers, nothing. Didn't like 'em, didn't want 'em, got sterilized as soon as I was able. Never had the maternal gene . . .

So today I find myself in the diaper aisle. Not just walking through it, but standing in front of the diapers, discussing absorbency and other factors with VetteMan, who is more of an expert on this than I am, since he had a baby daughter (oh, she was here, but any time that end had to be dealt with, she was handed back to Pops VERY quickly!).

Then we had to discuss the pros and cons of Mickey Mouse designs vs. Minnie Mouse (yes, Misha's a girl, but she seems so masculine. Anyway, she's spayed, so what's the diff?).

Oh yes - sizes. We must decide on size. Unfortunately, the sizes are by pounds, not by waist size (Misha has swollen to a 30-inch waist). None of the pull-ups goes beyond 45 pounds.

Oh, look - in the generic section - 85-125 pounds (for diapers??). Sorry, no designs, but at least they might fit. VetteMan says, "We can just buy some stickers and put them on."

Ph

Stickers on Misha's Diapers . . .

Ph

. . . and another use for DUCT TAPE


It fits, even around her swollen thighs. So of course after we get the tailhole all cut and fitted, she decides she wants to go out again. Ok, off comes the diaper, out goes the dog. In comes the dog, on goes the diaper. "Oh, I think it's cool enough to stay outside for awhile", so off comes the diaper, out goes the dog . . . I can see a pattern developing here, for the rest of her days (may they be many) . . .

She soon graduated to DEPENDs; VetteMan purchased them.


In mid-August, Misha's back legs swelled due to lymphedema; with the diuretic pills she was taking for this, she became pretty much incontinent. She continued to take walks around the block at this point, however.

Ph

Still trying to steal April's food . . .

Ph

. . . and howling about it when she's warned off!


On 19 August, I wrote: If I weren'so angry, I'd be laughing.

Every 1.5 to two hours, I make Misha take a walk to keep her legs from atrophying. Walking OUT is fine; walking back is a no-go. So there I am, for two blocks, pulling a sick dog . . . she suddenly weighs 200 pounds, doesn't hear the "come" or "come heel" commands, and her legs refuse to move. Fine. So call the Humane Society and the ASPCA on me. Now it's raining, so I have a wet dog to pull down the street.

How does she KNOW we're on the way home? I tried going around the block; nope, we hit the last corner and now we're "going home", so she puts on the sick-dog-that-can't-walk act. I try going home across the street; ditto.

She has, however, given "what for" to several dogs in the neighborhood - THEN she can suddenly perk up, walk, bark, growl, etc., etc.

If I try to lure her with a treat, she walks for as long as it takes to eat the nibble, then stops: "More treats, please . . . "

I fight my anger, 'cause I know she'd rather be walking than lying around, but I'm getting to the point where I don't want to take her . . . If I could lift her, I'd take a wheelbarrow or little red wagon along and put her in it . . . give the neighbors something ELSE to snicker about . . .

Ph

The Doggie Condos; Cari & April want to be outside with Misha (who is hiding behind the ferns in the center of the photo)

Ph

Princess Cari has the penthouse suite, of course



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CONTINUE WITH MISHA IN MEMORIAM HERE


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