Pet Trauma, Round Eight-ish

Sunshine Dinofelis Qiviut the First ("Handsome") under the influence. He doesn't appreciate narcotics...yet.

CLARIFICATION UPDATE: 1.) Koven most definitely is not the cat-killing dog mentioned below--that honor goes to Daisy, my brother's dog. The near-deadly experience marked the beginning of traumatic experiences for The Cat that preceded the trip to the ER vet and subsequent post. 2.) Sentence fragments. A mixed bag.

There was the scuffle with a cat-killing dog. The escape up a tree. The overheating, dehydrating, loss of circulation to limbs, tongue lolling, panting, glazed-eyed, near death, first-skeleton-of-a-cat to be seen in a tree paralysis. The fire department's reluctant rescue (and my eternal gratitude for it). The homeless Hot August Nights in Reno. The bear-spray surprise burn, scream, puke, temporary blindness. Spending a day alone with Honey's remains and having to break the news of her death. And now, narcotic-induced haze following the pain and insults of a gnarly, gnarly bladder infection--which is way better than the alternative urinary tract traumas--but still: anesthesia, catheters, "accidents." 

Usually Koven and I bow down to His Highest Supreme Majesty The Cat. This round, however, is confusing because I am now trying to appease Koven who wants to sniff and romp with the drugged feline. It's the first time he's had an advantage in the relationship, and I'm thwarting it. So he's been chewing/playing with a variety of body parts from  multiple species: tracheas, knee caps, tendons, necks, ears, hooves, genitalia, wings. 

"Cat" is not on the list.

...and this is your brain on linguistics: just say no to words

This round of "scholarship" with predator and prey is a linguistics research proposal. I look at reports of sexual crimes that are framed within the predator-prey "metaphor" and count the frequency of the signifier perpetrator/"predator" signifying males, females, and juveniles and see if there's any correlation between/among relationships of sex/gender/age  of the victim. This is the exciting part because I think it will involve statistics and I would like to replace words with numbers whenever possible. The other part is some literature review of sociolinguistics and gender/sex that includes pragmatics, semiotics, linguistic frames, metaphor, psycholinguistics, discourse analysis blah blah blah. I'm pretty sure the gap in the research is about the impact on non-human predators when humans are demonized as predators.

I have some sentences about predator-prey dynamics being free of language and morality and point out the many types of ecological relationships left out of the metaphor--what about scavenging? commensalism? mutualism? parasitism?  My bigger claim is probably along the lines of dehumanizing perpetrators, further silencing victims, the power and limitations of framing crime in this metaphor bla bla bla. What I really want to argue is that it's stupid, dumb, and wrong to co-opt the "vitality of the the struggle" (i.e.: the life-affirming, complexity, nuance, necessity of predator-prey dynamics) and label it as deviant, violent, immoral. What better evidence than representatives of the order carnivora--canididae and felidae--eating a previously frozen raw organic Cornish game hen on the living room floor? That troubles the metaphor. I think I'll make a visual argument.

Studies in the Sierra: Koven as Stickeen

"I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found." 





Going from the presupposition that brains are part of bodies, I decided that in order to thrive (or just think)  Koven, E.Ita and I needed to seek some pure air and the scenery where it is found. As a bow to Muir's spirit of adventure and freedom, when I couldn't find any of the trailheads I'd researched, we appreciated the opportunity to pursue a surprise trail on the El Dorado National Forest that led to the Desolation Wilderness.
"Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality." 

"Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and rest! Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day; whatever [her] fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, [she] is rich forever."

Merr's Miller Analogies

Finally...a photo!
This is Koven in Idlewild Park, which is where he meets his dealer as often as possible. Koven is to goose poop as K9 narcotic units are to illicit drugs...except for the part where he destroys evidence. It turns out his favorite treat dispensing toy is the vibram sole of my Chacos...in case he doesn't get enough of a buzz in the park. We're working on his addiction, and his recent success swimming in the Truckee River hopefully will help him realize how many other pleasurable things there are to live for. Hedonist.

Koven is still trying to fit into the social middle school scene.. He's an artist-philosopher and has a hard time figuring out how to play with his "peers." Judah is only a freshman and has already taken the varsity football, wrestling, rugby, and hockey teams to state championships. He's being actively recruited by the NFL and NHL. Koven really wants to like Polly, but she's a cheerleader with severe ADHD, and, like any reasonable person would do, he sometimes just has to run away and hide. And then there's poor Silas. He's had a very rough childhood and is still deciding on whether to join a street gang or marching band. And the cat...well, he's the higher power in our life and we just try to bring him offerings of sardines and liver in the hope he'll not smite us from the earth.

Shortly after his arrival from the Animal Adoption Center, K seemed to develop some allergies and to be just a bit too mellow... He bravely went to the vet who ran lots of tests, and everything looked great except for his urine sample that apparently was full of white blood cells, indicating an infection. We're dealing with that via antibiotics, and experimenting with the allergy symptoms/treatments. Part of this experimentation is with unprocessed (and often uncooked) foods. He was skeptical at first, far more interested in kibble (Canidae's newest premium grain-free food with primary meat source bison...vet recommended red meats, and I thought it would help him stay in touch with his Wyoming homeland) than various mixtures of beef and lamb and their respective organs. Once The Cat started in on the raw stuff, Koven--again, just trying to fit in--ate a bit. Chicken wings seem to have been his gateway drug (after goose poop) and he's eager to test more of the raw stuff. Koven also has endured a few baths with oatmeal shampoo. I think he's definitely improving.

One of our very best moments in the last couple of weeks was howling together. Sascha, a husky-mix who was "my dog" for a few years (hit by a car while I was at church, February 2, 1997) regularly howled when she heard sirens and I'd howl with her.  Scout never howled, Honey howled once, and Koven...I think, based on his performance last week, will be an excellent howling partner. I don't really know if his howls come from the baying hound in him or having descended from wolves. The two compliments in my life that mean the most to me are: 1) having the attending ER physician tell my dad that I was "very stoic" while dealing with a kidney stone, and 2) the wolf biologist who, upon my demonstration of howling, judged it as very similar to a young female wolf. I'm glad I'll be able to get some more practice--maybe I can get my students' attention better by a howl than my current method of awking like a raven.

My hope is that with the means to take photos of Koven, my narration sickness might be cured.

Camera : Logorrea   ::  Childhood Vaccines : Autism...
oh, wait, that wouldn't be right... good thing I did so fantastically on the GRE.

Opposable Thumbs? Really?

According to the usually-legitimate source, Wikipedia, Homo habilis was benefiting from opposable thumbs one million years ago. The perks of opposable thumbs initially involved the capacity for fine motor skills, which resulted in the ability to develop and use tools. So--whatever--it's a big deal and one that I don't often consider as part of my primate identity. Until today, and I'm having an identity crisis.

When I have a lot of work to do, I make sure that Koven gets some good running/training/river time before settling in. I also try to offer him some engaging stuff to do, should he wish to do some "stuff." With the generous gift from Koven's Uncle Bryce, we selected some new toys and treats, including a new treat dispensing toy, since he's mastered excavation of the stuffed Kong.

The rationale for selecting the treat dispensing toy was to amuse Koven and in so doing allow me some sustained and focused work time. However, watching Koven problem solve this new puzzle was quite absorbing. After getting the "easy" treats, he struggled with how to get the larger ones. I want this game to be far more reinforcing than frustrating, and so eventually I stepped in. An hour and ten minutes later, with supposed advantages from opposable thumbs and the use of multiple tools, the larger treats were dislodged. My natural conclusion is that I don't have much up on Koven.

Opposable thumbs also "ensured that important human functions such as writing were possible." Hmmm. Maybe I should try that.

The Antidote Anecdote

I have a sleep disorder more accurately described as a wakefulness disorder. In the past it's been managed effectively with--what else?--medication. My current insurance does not cover this medication, which requires me to prioritize the days that I "pay" to be awake and functional--and weekends don't always make the cut. Insurance can't touch Koven, though, and he is the best drug ever. He gets me up, gets me out, makes me laugh, and when he takes naps I recognize my limited window of opportunity for getting work done--this promotes motivation. We're just back from some playtime at Idlewild Park along the Truckee River. In my enthusiasm to show Koven how great water is, I tripped and did some swimming myself. That'll wake you up. So will a dog sprinting in great wide circles all around you.

Anniversary Celebration

Today marks our one-week anniversary. Koven came to school with me this morning (he embodied perfection under the cover of a service dog in training--brilliant, beautiful boy!) and then he got to see Forrest and relay all sorts of love back to his Amy.

In the spirit of Byrd Baylor's, I'm in Charge of Celebrations, Koven and I choose to celebrate today as a proclamation of  puppy enthusiasm for rolling in dead things and eating goose poop, of trying so hard to get the cat to play and taking it all out on tug toys when cat spits/hisses/yowls/swats, of settling into sleep to dream the celebration(s) of tomorrow...

Today is also "Foucault Action Figure Day," the day of social theorists' descent into and out of my brain in the essential (but not essentialist...more post-structuralist) context within a discursive field of language free Koven-inspired reality. I'm glad that one's been a short-lived celebration.

Friends! Cats! Off leash! Chicken Livers!

From Koven's perspective, today was his best day in Nevada so far--at least that's what he told me. Despite the original plan where he helps motivate me to get out of bed, mornings are all snuggly--Koven on one side of the bed, The Cat on the other, me in between. Eventually I realize I have some mandatory non-Koven centered commitments and he and I agree that we should take a brisk morning walk to problem solve the non-Koven commitments. Our walk paid off in a big way because we finally got to meet the three dogs next door. It's a pack of three: a senior boxer, middle-aged pit bull and an eight month old pit bull. Their humans are very nice, and Koven was invited into the yard to play. Nothing is so blissful and puppies playing. Despite the common perceptions about pittis--these guys are fabulous and not at all aggressive. Koven is so desperate for dogs to play with, and he can play long and hard with Juda--he is much faster and a good little wrestler whenever he allows himself to be caught.

On the domestic side, the almighty Dinofelis Sunshine Qiviut the first has finally agreed to allow Koven and me in his house. The line about "ain't nobody happy if mama ain't happy" manifests in my world by replacing "mama" with "The Cat." Said cat hasn't allowed any sort of play or cuddling with Koven, but they sniff at each other regularly and get through the day without conflict.

Koven and I took our first off leash walk this evening at a dog park in the northwest part of town. He isn't especially keen on going off to frolic in his freedom, but he did do a little exploring and sagebrush/rabbitbrush hurdling.  We saw a bunch of rabbits and he didn't chase, he pooped off-trail, stayed very near to me and when he did get ahead of me, he seemed to sense we weren't in line-of-sight and came dashing back to check in. At one point he saw a couple of dogs playing and headed that way, and when it became clear they didn't want him in their club, I called him, and...he came--with enthusiasm. I'm glad he has some ideas about the recall--my nephew asked me when I was going to train Scout to come; Scout, at this point, was twelve years old. I am so thrilled about having a pup who is very responsive and not a chaser or bully--it gives us so much access to doing the stuff we love.

Treats seem to be one of Koven's reasons for living. However, it's surprisingly hard to find treats of a quality worthy of this boy. Which means I performed a tremendous gift of love when I bought chicken livers--one of the most disgusting concepts and sensually repulsive encounters I've had recently. They got boiled and cut up--and before putting them away Koven did every behavior he could think of in the hopes of a liver reward.  When I finally asked him to do some work for those treats, he was ready.

Our First TimeTogether For More Than 24 hours

If you've never had a Wister or a Teek--that blessed canine being who fills your world with wonder and love and warmth and laughter and shapes and changes you into a more whole human animal being--the realization that you now have "that dog" is a mix of overwhelm and a bit of practicality. I feel like a woman unable to conceive who dreams of having a child but keeps her longing at bay for fear that this baby may not make its way into her family. When he does--through the realities of loss and pain and most of all love of his first family--she cannot find any words to express her own depth of love, humility, gratitude. And so she goes shopping.

Koven is twitching in puppy boy dreamland under my desk on the orthopedic bed Honey gave him. Earlier, we went shopping, and when he trotted past a bin of dog toys he selected--without any direction from me--a fuzzy-squeaky-blue-hedgehog. He carried it up to the checkout and the cashier just asked for the price tag. He continued to carry it through the parking lot and into the car. I'm glad he hasn't determined my gullibility and the power of his indescribable cuteness...

Between walks and play-bows and mitigating sibling rivalry and poop scooping, I've had a philosophical and somewhat somber day. Much of this thinking is in response to one of my all time favorite people and best friends who, because of effing cancer, is considering his own mortality in new ways and causing me to think about it, too--yes, my own mortality and sense of value in living--but mostly, for now, the potential of ineffable grief and loss. TTW's line that "grief dares us to love once more" and Terry Reed's suggestion that the way people mourn their dead is to be among the living has me considering what that might look like in the lives of those I love and in my own life.

My "guilt" over my eagerness to bring Koven into my life so soon after Honey's death, and the prior "guilt" over bringing Honey into my life so soon after Scout's death finally seems to have evaporated.  When Scout died, our vet told me I should give another dog a home as there are so many homeless dogs and because I have a home (in the biggest sense of what that word implies) to offer. Honey was that dog. She offered me so many gifts--from the realization of how sick Scout had been, to bringing me to Reno instead of Monument Valley, and most of all a sense of unconditional devotion and love I haven't known before. She showed me what was possible and she set up a way for those possibilities to manifest. Koven is going to be part of my tangible, physical "real" world for at least the next decade--he will accompany me along the way to my mid-40s. Bringing him into my life and offering him every ounce of love I have isn't selfish or irresponsible. It's not diminishing my love for Scout and Honey and he's not replacing those girls. Loving Koven, committing to Koven--recognizing that human lives extend beyond dog lives and embracing him completely even knowing the pain we'll suffer at his loss--this is me as my best self. This is me being courageous and trusting and so, so grateful. This is me embodying Tennyson's "'Tis better to have loved and lost/than never to have loved at all."  This is me weighing how insulted The Cat will be that Koven's sharing our bed...

Howling Together at the Harvest Moon

He's here! The boy has rendered me speechless. We walked near the Truckee River into a flaming sunset shortly after his arrival. A big shout out to my family-family: Brad and Susan picked him up from Jackson--his first best place, the home he'll always have in spirit and whenever we can get there. My parents and siblings who met him are surprised, I think, at how wonderful a dog can be and offer their full support and endorsement. My dad made the 562 mile trek from Cache Valley to the valley of Truckee Meadows today--it all strikes me as an incredible gift of generosity and love.

Koven seemed disoriented--mostly missing Amy, I'm sure--but after some olfactory investigation, a tasty knuckle bone, and puppy play with his Kong, he seems to be settling in. He's conked out for now, sleeping on his side, resting his head on one pointy ear with the other flopping onto his gorgeous, intelligent, knowing face. I feel like I should be writing a love sonnet; I think he is that sonnet.

                                        Behold! Koven!
I hear this boy is an old soul. Somehow--magic, karma, serendipity, fate--Koven soon shall be entering my world. He affirms for me all that is good in the universe. I am filled with humility and gratitude for the gift of him--and I offer all the thanks there is to the beings who are sending him my way. Thanks, most of all, to Amy--and to Wister, Scout, and Honey. My Wyoming Women--Nancy, Cate, Amy--have endorsed this union and their faith in both Koven and me means the world. Here's to a long life with Koven at the center. Here's to sniffing the world. Here's to the universal translation of dog joy to human joy. Here's to long walks, regular hikes, and time in the dog parks. Here's to treats. Here's to possibility. Here's to life wanting to live in the midst of other life wanting to live.
                                                               Here's to Koven!