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.

More of Mabel (Or At Least More of My Underwear) Than You Ever Wanted to See

As I've mentioned before, when Mabel arrived almost two weeks ago, she was still in the part of her heat cycle during which she discharges blood. And on her first full day here, we decided that we had to do something to keep her from dripping all over as she walked around the house.

Brandi asked if I had any old underwear. I did. I had an old pair that I hadn't worn in a long time in part because I switched to a more comfortable style at some point and in part because the material was torn from the band in one place.

So with some scissors, a bread tie, a menstrual pad, and my unmentionables, we made Mabel a diaper.

She looked ridiculous but, luckily, didn't have to wear the contraption more than a day. I never thought I'd be posting photos of my underwear on the Internet, but I'm sure Mabel never expected to be wearing them either. The poor girl looks humiliated, doesn't she?


(By the way, the makeshift diaper wasn't on quite right in these photos. I fixed it later. And as it turned out, that hole between the fabric and the band was the perfect place for Mabel's tail to stick out.)

Mabel's Debut

Yes, I did it. I gave Mabel her own blog. The posts that first appeared on my Vida blog are now copied here too. I may continue posting her updates on Vida as well, but here, all the Mabel posts will be featured together without interruptions by posts about family, food, environment, or other non-Mabel topics.

The Jingling! The Jingling!

Mabel has a tag now--which must be a first because it completely freaked her out for the first five minutes she was wearing it. She was a dog on high alert as she threw her head about and zoomed around in circles trying to figure out what that jingling was. Where the HELL is that coming from?! said her wide, confused eyes. Twice she gave up and settled down, only to be startled up onto her feet again by her own small movements. It was a tiny bit sad, but also hilarious. I wish I could have captured her reaction on video; still shots don't do it justice. That was a couple days ago. She doesn't even notice it now (the freak-out really did last only a few minutes).

By the way, yes, we've settled on the name Mabel. I still like Maybelle (as in "May beauty") better, but B. doesn't, and Mabel is better than Maybel (Maybull wasn't ever seriously in the running). We hadn't really decided on this, but suddenly, we were purchasing her tag and realized we had to put a name on it--a name, not multiple names separated by slashes. So . . . Mabel. Unless I decide to get her a new tag. ;)

Maybelle/Maybel/Maybull the Pit Bull

The night she appeared in our neighborhood, she remained terrified while a neighbor and I kept her constantly in sight and worked to get close to her. She wanted to trust us--wanted to come to us--and would periodically get oh-so-close before panicking and skittering away again. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that she early on moved into the alley that runs behind our house, so every time we'd make some progress with her, a car would appear and scare her off again. Probably 30 minutes into it and one street over, we were able to get a collar and leash on her while she was inhaling a bowl of wet food that Brandi had run home to get. Subsequently getting her down one block, around a corner, and partway down another block to our yard involved our neighbor lifting and carrying her back end while I led her along with the leash, essentially forcing her front two legs to go forward; she had planted her butt firmly on the ground, too terrified to even move, as soon as we'd started trying to lead her with the leash. (We were surprised that she let us move her the way we did--she didn't show even a hint of aggression--but we figured that picking her up might be pushing it and freak her out too much.) She cowered at the back of the yard for a while, as far as she could get from where we sat in the grass, and we let her have that time. We finally coaxed her, gradually, into the basement with another bowl of food, and once inside, she was all over us within minutes--this is a dog who wants and seeks love and affection more than any other dog in this house.

She came to us scarred physically as well as emotionally. Sores and abrasions were scattered across her face and front legs. She had serious infections in both ears. Her left ear flap was swollen like a balloon with a hematoma. She had fleas. She had a hard bump of jutting bone underneath her jaw, indicative of a break. It turned out that she had hookworms. She was too, too thin. And she’d had puppies recently.

That first night was long. There was no way we could bring her in to sleep with us and the other dogs that first night--forget the overwhelming smell and the dirt and the blood drops (from being in heat) and the fleas; we just couldn't take the risk of introducing her to all the dogs that night. She was so scared, it was dark, our dogs were anxious, and we were inside in close quarters. We first tried getting her to sleep in the adjacent dog room (with multiple dog beds and a cozy, blanketed mattress) by herself, but "no freakin' way," said Maybel. Every time we left the room and closed the door, she started howling and crying like someone was beating her. It was horrible. So we had to take shifts sleeping with her. (She even cried and had to be calmed every time just one of us left a room the first couple days.) It was among the worst nights of sleep I've ever had, not only because of the uncomfortable surface on which I was sleeping, but also because a stinky pit bull kept trying to climb on top of me.

We applied Frontline to her back Saturday night. We took her to Pets in the City for a serious flea and odor bath Sunday afternoon and bought her a big bag of food that is helping her gain weight. We went to the vet on Monday. And again on Tuesday and Wednesday. We are scheduled to start her in a training class in early June; Maybel’s training will be free for us because she is a fostered rescue.

When we took her to the veterinary clinic used by a local rescue organization, which is paying for her medical bills, a doctor whom we liked instantly (and who has her own pit bull at home) confirmed for us what we'd suspected--Maybel's jaw had been broken at some point, and she did need surgery for the hematoma. When we came back for Maybel in a few hours, she was bloody not only around her ear (which was drained and which currently has a piece of plastic stitched against it to flatten it) but also around her mouth—the vet had found three broken, infected teeth that needed to be removed too. There was even something (the vet thought it was possibly a piece of wood) jammed up in the root of one of the teeth. My god, broken jaw, broken teeth, nasty ear infections, cuts and scrapes and sores, fleas, hookworms, malnourishment. How miserable and overcome by pain was she for how long? So much pain, so much sorrow, so much fear for an animal who's lived only 1 1/2 to 2 years.

The couple nights following the first were only slightly better. Having her sleep in the same room as everyone else was rough initially (and almost traumatic at one moment), but it's getting better. Bedtime involves just-before-bed interactions outside; two baby gates; and hawk-eye vigilance, a leash, and a spray bottle (she tries to jump up on the bed, which gives her dominant access to the dogs on the other side) until she's settled down in her bed. We're learning, and so is she.

Over the course of her first few days with us, circumstances grew increasingly more complicated, and we feared several times that we were in over our heads and that we absolutely couldn't do this. And truthfully, we are in over our heads. But we're still going to keep trying. Day by day, she's making progress. We've had some setbacks, sometimes frightening ones, but often, those setbacks have been largely the result of mistakes or poor judgment on our part, the result of our doing something the way we're used to doing it without thinking about how it might play out with Maybel, who is still new here and who is still recovering from whatever awful things have happened to her.

But the quickness with which she gifted us with her trust and the affection and sweetness that she displays say something about her resiliency and personality both. This dog will be a wonderful, loving, loyal, long-term pet for someone. She just has some injuries, both physical and emotional, that need to heal.

We are currently working on crate training (we moved furniture between floors so that we could put the crate in the office, where she, Chance, and I are spending most of our time for various reasons, including convenience and the location of the other animals), and though she’s not yet OK with being left in the room alone with the crate’s door latched, she started using the crate almost instantly, without any coaxing or training. The first time I put the bed that she uses both day and night into the crate, she immediately went in. I’ve been teaching her “go to your bed,” and most of the time, she follows the command pretty well. Better yet, several times a day, she crawls into the crate all on her own to nap in her bed. And yesterday, I even got to shower without someone else here to keep Maybel calm. Big stuff. I latched the door and let her watch me walk across the hall into the bathroom, and she was mostly fine. I could hear her whimpering a little bit, but she didn’t bark and howl and cry like she’s been doing when I try to actually leave the house or go downstairs. Progress.

We go back to the veterinary clinic in about two weeks to have the plastic and stitches removed from Maybel’s ear. We go back in about three weeks so that she can be spayed. And then, once she has healed from the spaying, she will be adoptable.

It’s astounding to think that our beagle night was just a month ago. We haven't even recovered from that yet. We've still been thinking about that surviving beagle and looking for information about her every day. But now our hearts and thoughts are full of Maybel too. Barring any catastrophes, even if it takes every ounce of energy and patience and emotional strength we have, we're going to make sure she gets the life and home she deserves. She just wants love. And I don't think that's too much to ask.


P.S. Want to vote on the spelling & pronunciation of her name? ;)

There's a neglected pit bull in our house.

Update, 5/20/08: Maybel[le] (apparently, Brandi & I weren't on the same page when we picked out her name; it wasn't until we began disagreeing over how the name is pronounced that we realized I thought it was Maybelle, and Brandi thought it was Maybel) isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Do we feel overwhelmed, and has this overtaken (and is it likely to continue to overtake) our lives? Yes. But are we prepared to send her to a shelter, likely to her death, because of that? No. Yesterday was a rough day for her, and she'll probably be here for at least the next few weeks, as she recovers from the ear and dental surgeries she had to have yesterday and as we wait for her heat cycle to finish so that she can be spayed. The vet visit made even clearer what a rough time this poor girl has had, and we are the people with whom she is most comfortable and the home in which she feels safest right now, so unless something major happens to make this situation impossible or a dream foster family shows up, this is where she belongs while she recovers. It isn't ideal, and everyone in this house--whether human, canine, or feline--is feeling the stress of it, but it won't last forever. And this dog deserves our help and our love. I realize that I haven't even told you how we ended up with her or much about her yet. I'll do that soon.
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We've been calling her Maybelle. She's been here since Saturday night. And we're not yet sure how long she'll be staying here. At this point, Saturday morning may have to be our cutoff point. If we still have her by then, we'll have to reevaluate and make some really difficult decisions at that time. We're desperately trying to find her a foster home or a place in a rescue shelter because although she is a lovely, affectionate, devoted, completely nonaggressive dog who has so easily taken to us--and whom we loved instantly--our hope that we could foster her long-term ourselves, while looking for a permanent home for her, took a serious beating yesterday because of certain circumstances here. We're taking her to see a vet today because of terrible infections in both ears and a hematoma in one and to find out how soon she can be spayed (she's currently in heat, at the end of her cycle, we think--or hope; it seems likely that she was being used and abused by a backyard breeder). It's been a draining, heartbreaking couple days. We look at her sweet face and big, trusting eyes and injured, ill body, and we just sob at the thought of not only saying goodbye to her but also possibly sending her to a place that we're not sure will find her a home. We're exhausted. Again. Long stories all around. More later.