Pass the Soy Cheese, Please

Mabel does not like peanut butter. At all. No other canine around this house ever passes up the stuff--in fact, I'm not sure I've known any dogs who do--but Mabel does. She right away turns up her nose (literally).

She is a great fan, however, of Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese and doesn't care at all that it comes with a giant antibiotic capsule.

Her Beautiful Eyes: They Tell Even More About Her Than We Thought

It may be that Mabel's a little clumsy. It's hard to say. We certainly have witnessed her simply not paying attention to what's around her when she's excited, but during a visit to get the stitches out of her ear today, I relayed my concerns about her seeming clumsiness and other matters to the vet who has been caring for Mabel since we found her (and who is remarkable in the patience and time she gives us; we love her, and so does Mabel). She listened to me and examined Mabel and was able to tell us within minutes that there's more to Mabel's issues than clumsiness.

Suddenly, her turning into walls sometimes makes sense. Suddenly, we realize why there are times when she acts surprised by something for no apparent reason. There are half a dozen habits and behaviors and incidents on which we are reflecting while saying, "Of course--how could we not have noticed?" because watching her now, it's just so painfully obvious in all of her movements. And I'm horrified now by the number of times I've said in exasperation (as if she could understand me), "Mabel, would you watch where you're going?"

Mabel is blind in her left eye. And normally, even if she'd gone blind in the eye, Mabel's pupil would still constrict in response to light shining into it, but it doesn't; this indicates that the eye is blind as a result of optic nerve damage--which the vet tells us was likely caused by trauma.

Every time we think our hearts have broken for her as much as they can, we figure out another little piece of her sad history.

Now that we know about the blindness in her left eye, we can approach her needs better both in and out of the home (e.g., making sure that when other dogs or people approach to meet her, they don't come from her left and startle her), and we're so sad for her, but we know that she's OK and that there are worse diagnoses. We don't know how long she's been blind in that eye, but she's done fairly well so far, we're sure that she'll get better and better at compensating as time goes on, and now that we know, we can be better about not creating or contributing to circumstances that could be difficult for her. For example, I'm now thinking back to one of the instances when she stumbled down the deck steps--she likes to keep me in sight at all times, and I was accompanying her down the steps on her left side. When she stopped partway down and turned so much that she stumbled down the last step or two, it was because she was trying to see me and had to turn her head and body that far to do so.

Adding another injury to the list of known injuries that Mabel has suffered was not what I wanted to do today, but we're glad to now know what's going on. It will be better now. Everything will be better for her now. That, we are promising her.

The Calm After the Storm

She's been here 2 1/2 weeks now, and I'm amazed at (and grateful for) how much life with Mabel has calmed down. Our routines are not nearly back to normal, and B. and I still haven't both left the house for any real length of time (twice, we've taken walks around the neighborhood while leaving Mabel in her crate to see how she does: the first time, she calmed down after a while; the second time, she was still howling away by the time we had to come back inside). But it's definitely, absolutely better today than it was two weeks ago. This week, for the first time since she came to us, I feel like I might even be able to work a halfway normal schedule, without falling too much further behind. She's clearly feeling at home these days, and she's calmer. Tomorrow, her stitches come out, and the plastic comes off her ear flap. Then we schedule her spaying.

We're learning more about her every day, but what has become more obvious than perhaps anything else (beyond her sweetness) in the last couple weeks is that this sweet dog is an absolute klutz. It's as if she has no concept of space, no realization of what surrounds her. She steps on--and sits on--Chance (and is lucky that Chance is so laid-back). She turns and shakes her head right into walls and door frames. She tumbles down the steps from the deck to the yard. She made herself bleed twice over the course of just 5 or 6 days. The first time even required a late-night visit to our regular vet (not the vet who usually sees Mabel, whose office was closed), who--perhaps overhearing me mention the possibility to Brandi just before she came into the exam room--said she didn't see any signs of neurological problems. I'm not entirely convinced that there isn't something more going on, but it does seem possible that Mabel really is just clumsy and awkward--and so curious and excited about what's happening around her that she just doesn't pay enough attention to what's stationary around her or to where her body is going.

But she's getting a little better--at least with the steps. With help, she's learning to take them slowly, one step at a time, and I'm doing my best to make sure she's not distracted while she goes down them. She hasn't fallen down or stumbled on them in at least a couple days, which is definite progress. But she's still periodically sitting on Chance.