how the other half lives

This is Marco, a Japanese basset hound, who lives in Kobe, Japan.  His owner, Toru Hirose, has built him his own private snack bar, restroom, and napping space.  Did you see that?  "built him".   

Marco lives in an 800 square foot apartment on the 15th floor of his building.  Toru wanted Marco to have his own space, hidden from view.  He also wanted an alternative to taking him for a walk.  The wait for the elevator might be too much for Marco!  Now, when Marco is thirsty he just trots over to his water bowl which is conveniently located in a private alcove 10" from the floor.  He can drink his water from a shiny, happy, silver bowl without his ears dragging on the floor.   If he's had to much to drink he just turns around and backs into his nook where he has a fresh wee wee pad waiting for him to piddle.  And if he's tired from all of that activity, he can trudge 3 feet in front of him to his cozy white crate and take a nappy.

Toru should have named him Riley.  This is the life. 
Shhhh.  Don't tell Zuzu.

what now?

We've had a very busy month here - every weekend in July we have driven hundreds of miles up or down the east coast either dropping off or picking up a child from some adventure.  Last weekend we went up to the Adirondacks and then dropped Jasper at camp in New Hampshire - Zuzu even got to go on a boatride.

This past weekend it was Charlotte's turn - her first summer at sleepaway camp.  All day Saturday, she was diligently piling her clothing/books/flashlights/hairbrushes on her bed in preparation.  We were determined to have it all packed and by the front door so that we could just up and go on Sunday morning.  Despite all of our practice, this is highly unusual behavior for our family.    At dinnertime,  I happened to glance at the pooch who had been following me from room to room all day.  I noticed her right eye was swelling up.  Like the good mommy I am, I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away.  How often does that work?  Um, never.  And true to form, by bedtime her eye had swelled to the size of a walnut, and she could no longer open it.  Perfect.

Given that we were once again piling everything into the car the next morning and driving for the entire day, we decided it was time for a Saturday night trip to the doggie ER.  For goodness sake, we can't have a one eyed French Bulldog!  What if?!?

I suspected she might be having an allergic reaction to something in the yard.  That, or the dreaded distichia had returned.   Back in March, when we took Zuzu in for her one year checkup, we mentioned that Zuzu's left eye was tearing pretty frequently and as a result she had long brown stains in her folds.

Distichia - an extra layer of eyelashes growing in toward her eyeball - were scratching her whenever she blinked.  Poor nunky.  She had to have them removed (to the tune of $1500!).  We couldn't very well let her go through life getting scratched every time she blinked.

After the operation, we were told that they could grow back, but that it was unlikely.  Hmmm.  It's about time for that, right?  And she had just started tearing again the weekend before,  rubbing her eyes on the sisal carpet when she got up in the morning.

As it turns out, she scratched her cornea.  Not sure exactly how.  But when they dyed her eye orange to examine her, there it was.

48 hours later, a cone around her head, and some antibacterial ointment 2x/day - all better.  At the follow-up with the vet it turns out there are no new distichia to speak of.   Phew!

poop patrol

Warning:  the images you are about to see are extremely graphic.  Some people may find them disturbing, even disgusting.  Please proceed with caution.

It's fairly predictable.  Whenever I take Zuzu for her 7am walk she heads for our big beech tree where she takes break number 1 (a peepee).  At the sidewalk we head left for about 15 yards and she starts sniffing for a spot, on the spit of grass between the sidewalk and the street in front of our house.   Interestingly, she never takes break number 2 (a poopie) at home.  No, she much prefers to cross the driveway to our neighbor Jerry's grass.  Every time. 

Personally,  I prefer the comfort of home - unless I happen to find myself in a fancy restaurant or hotel, where I always make it a point to visit the facilities.   I suppose it's much the same for Zuzu, she prefers luxury - a well-manicured lawn when she can find one, sans weeds.  And Jerry does an enviable job of tending his lawn.  In fact, Jerry, who is retired, is out there every day, sweeping the sidewalk, cutting the grass, tending to his curb appeal.  Who can blame Zuzu for wanting the best? I always worry that Jerry is looking...and thinking "here comes the poop machine".  But the sweetheart that he is,  if he is out there, he just wants Zuzu to give him some love.  

She also seems to have a penchant for pooping in front of white picket fences. 

It seems Zuzu is not the only one looking for a picturesque spot to do her business.  I spotted this one on a walk in Santa Monica a few days ago.

Isn't that a pretty gate?  The dropping was actually part of a giant chain of poo (of which I have spared you the complete picture).  Nasty, and remarkably, left right in front of someone's multi-million-dollar-mansion.   Why?  My husband's theory -

VENDETTA