Wednesday, April 23, 2008

lowdogs rise in the east

Last night Molly gobbled her 1/2 cup of cottage cheese before bedtime, per the vet's instructions. It's supposed to help with her acid reflux in the morning.

This morning I joined D. at the window, as he was tying his tie. Molly was outside on the grass in the familiar position.
"She's getting ready to yak, again. Wait for it. There she goes."
"Poor Molly."
Then, he turned to me, looked into my eyes, and said,
"Someday you and I will be on vacation and gazing out the window at a beautiful, real sunrise, not a Basset sunrise."
A girl can dream.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

molly's diagnosis: acid reflux?!

For the past few weeks Molly has been barfing once or twice a day. She mows on some grass, then a few seconds later it's oomp-chuh, oomp-chuh, and up it comes. Not to be too graphic, but we began to realize she wasn't barfing food, just foamy yellow bile. Which sort of reminded me of the fraternity house during my college years, but Molly swore she hadn't been doing boilermakers or engaging in any games of Zoom-Schwartz-Parfigliano.

Anyhoo, we started to get worried as all sorts of Bad Things would pass through our minds. She was still typically happy, waggy, with bright eyes, and couldn't wait for her meals, so we figured she wasn't on death's door. We researched online and started feeding her cooked rice and boiled chicken, and D. even gave her some Maalox. Sadly, he didn't see the giant cherries on the bottle when he bought it, so the poor pup ate cherry-flavored white chalky stuff for a couple of days before she realized it really tasted like methyl ethyl gak and wasn't having any more of it, thank you very much.

Yesterday we arrived home to find more barf on the bathroom floor and the carpet (oh, joy), and made an appointment to see the vet. He sent her home with some medicine and a directive to us to feed her lots of little meals throughout the day, plus a cup of cottage cheese just before she goes to bed.

I don't know about Molly, but if I eat right before going to bed it gives me nightmares, so we'll see how she does...

Sunday, April 20, 2008

bath time: the final indignity

"Je ne veux pas sentir comme une prostituée française." (I do not want to smell like a French whore.)

Bassets, being French, speak to us in French. Don't yours?

Sunday bath time this morning! Indignities include tooth brushing with vanilla-mint doggie toothpaste, ear cleaning, armpit scrubbing, and soaping of the schnozz. Pits-n-snags, as they say. All of which the lowdogs endure with trepidation, but little treats along the way soften the blow.

We get compliments all the time on how soft the dogs are. "What do you use?" people ask. "Ancient Chinese secret," we reply, pushing aside the Head and Shoulders. Dog shampoo? Hell, no, that stuff smells like cheap French perfume. Head and Shoulders works to get the oils out and keep the pups fresh and fluffy.

Then, we toss the dogs into the dryer on "air fluff", and Bob's yer Uncle. We have to pound on the dryer lid to shut them up, though. Don't want to wake the neighbors.

Molly, scrub-a-dub-dub:

Toula waits her turn:

Toula, scrub-a-dub-dub:

Molly's turn to wait while Toula's scrubbed:

Then, when they're both all shiny and fresh as a daisy, they're set free, and run about the house trying to get dirty again. This morning they shot out the back door and up the hill to say 'hello' to the neighbor dogs. So much for bath time. Ah, lowdogs.

Monday, April 14, 2008


Molly out for a ride
Took the lowdogs to the dogpark yesterday, Sunday. It was about a thousand degrees and they didn't do much but sniff around; hardly any other dogs were there. It was too hot for them to run around (and Molly hasn't been feeling well lately, which didn't help), so they mostly stayed in the shade and hung low. Molly does very well in the car on the drive over, but Toula - who used to get carsick when she was young - peeps the whole way like a bird. PEEP! PEEP! I guess it's part of her past life as a cockatiel....Hmmmm.

Saturday, April 12, 2008


For a lowdog, Toula is always trying to be up high. I think in a past life she was a cockatiel.

She prefers to sit at the top of the stairs, on top of the hill in our yard, and, when we're at the sofa watching TV, she climbs to the top of the sofa and lays there stretched out like a cat. OK, maybe she was a cat in a past life. Oh, hell, maybe both, and she's gone 'round a couple times. She does tend to be naughty, and that's karma, baby.

At any rate, this morning she climbed up top and sat down on the back of D.'s neck, perfectly comfortable (for her). We couldn't roust her, so D. had to stand up and get off the sofa. She got down, then two seconds after he reseated himself, she got right back up there.

Toula sitting on D's neck

Monday, April 7, 2008

hover hound

Hover Hound
It's official: Molly's knee seems to have healed, at least enough to allow her to have some fun. Yesterday we took her to the dog park, and after wandering around sniffing for about 15 minutes, leading us to believe she really wasn't up for a party, she suddenly shot off after the other dogs in a Basset Burst of speed! I captured one of these pshooooo! events with my Treo phone and had to share it here.

If you look closely, you can see all her paws are off the ground. She doesn't normally get this animated unless there's ham or a cookie bone involved, so this was a red letter day. Next time we go on a "grunt/drag" I'll have to remind her of this episode....

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

she's baaaaaack.

Yesterday I was able to get Molly to join Toula and me on our first walk together as a threesome since the infamous Easter Day Beach Wounding in which Molly threw herself with abandon into the sea and tweaked her knee.

Took this with my Treo on our walk last night, and I must say I'm amazed that the phone can capture the waggy tail movement of the lowdogs. They are perpetually happy, thus constantly wagging, which makes it all the more important that we maintain a lowdog household forever. Because there are only so many glasses of wine that can be wagged off your coffee table before you realize Bassets are the Chosen Dogs.