Into the dog stomach – getting serious with acid and cutting enzymes.
Dog Food Blog | Best Dog Food Guide
Into the dog stomach – getting serious with acid and cutting enzymes.
Did you know tomorrow is National Donut Day? Donuts have always held a special place in my family’s heart. Mystical, you might even say.
I grew up in New England, where Dunkin Donuts are as ubiquitous as Starbucks and McDonalds. Driving through for a box of Munchkins was our way of celebrating, commiserating, or simply getting a sugar fix.
For my grandfather, the Dunk was also a neighborhood gathering place where he went to shoot the breeze, down a jelly donut with a coffee regular (it’s a Massachusetts thing), and read the newspaper. Always a neatly folded newspaper. At his memorial service, there was actually an entire Dunkin Donuts contingent who came to pay their respects, which made me feel better about sneaking a bag of Munchkins into his hand at the wake. It’s what he would have wanted.
When my parents moved to California in the mid-80s, we lost that donut connection, because Californians aren’t really that into donuts. They became a special occasion sort of thing, and with that excuse my mother made sure that when we got them, they weren’t just regular old donuts but those big chocolate slathered cream puff monstrosities. It was our homage to the past, comfort food for the sweets obsessed.
When Emmett was diagnosed with lymphoma, I bought him a doggie donut because, well, what else are you supposed to do. Enjoy your donuts while you can and party on. I took what to be a bit of an iconic photo that sort of defines this blog:
My son turned 9 yesterday, and as I was planning what treat he wanted to bring into school for his classmates, I asked him: “Cupcakes or popsicles?”
“Donuts,” he promptly replied. “OK,” I said, “you shall have birthday donuts.”
At 5 am on his birthday, he crawled into bed with me. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’m just so excited about my birthday.”
At 5:30 on his birthday, my mother died.
And so we sat, dumbstruck, for a bit and attended to the things one must attend to, and then my dad and I sat on the bed side by side and said, “Now what are we supposed to do?”
So we went and got some !@#$ !#@!#@!# donuts.
So when I say I’m happy tomorrow is National Donut Day, I mean it. It is a day to not only eat a literal donut, which I hope you do, but to put aside the petty crap of who bought the best end of the school year gift and whether or not your net carbs are coming in under 30 grams, but to say,
“I AM EATING A DONUT BECAUSE I CAN AND I AM GOING TO ENJOY IT, DAMMIT.” Because one day, you might wish you had.
And if you want to make me smile, I would love if you- or your dog, or you and your dog*- have a donut in Pat’s honor tomorrow (or today, who cares) and share a photo of you enjoying it with me. We would both love that. And for every photo here, on Twitter, or Instagram with the #brainfood I will donate a dollar up to, I don’t know, $ 500, to the National Brain Tumor Society because Mom still had a lot of donuts left in her to enjoy, dammit, and two months was not nearly enough time to let her know that.
*And by donut for your dog, I mean dog treats shaped like donuts, or other your-dog-appropriate ring shaped goods
Thanks for this post! I have always been super against the use of these collars. I can't stand to seen my pup in pain. Keep up the great work on this blog!
BAD RAP Blog
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Has it already been a week since my mother died? I feel like I’ve been in a haze, dropped in the middle of the ocean and swimming only because I have to, not because I actually know where I’m going. I’ve found a new appreciation for Dory, a different nuance in Finding Nemo.
I don’t know why life insists on dumping everything on us all at once instead of pacing things one month at a time, but it seems to be a rather consistent theme. What I’d like to be doing right now is sitting in bed with the sheet over my head, but there’s just too much to do.
When a death ends, the work just begins. Closets to go through and memorials to plan and family dynamics to breathe through. In this case, all these tasks are intermingled with the other responsibilities of being a mother as well as a daughter. I pick my mother’s casket, and on the way home pick out a birthday cake for my son. That sort of thing.
My daughter graduated fifth grade this week. I was not really aware fifth grade graduation was a big deal. I thought we might hear a song, clap politely, and get on with it. I was sorely mistaken. What we were in for was a two hour event with five speeches, two processions, music, slideshows, choreography. It was longer than my high school and college graduation combined.
The line for the auditorium starts an hour and a half early. I walk into the auditorium with the grandparents behind me, mentally counting off the number of seats I needed: 2, 2, 2….oh. 2, 2, and 1. It’s the little moments like this that catch you unaware. Mom would never have missed a graduation.
When the ceremony finally ended and the kids file into the lobby, I pull out the flower bouquet my father picked up for us on his way over. I hand it to my daughter, who stands surrounded by children wearing leis made of dollar bills. Mom would have brought a lei. She always did stuff like that. My daughter smiles politely, seeming vaguely disappointed, but she always seems vaguely disappointed. I am told this is part of being a tween. I am too tired to care.
I was supposed to volunteer at the promotion picnic today, but I leave early because I have to get Brody to the groomer in advance of the family arriving this weekend for the memorial. That, and order programs, write a eulogy, bring an end of the year gift to the teacher, bring a blanket to the funeral home, clean the house, find something to wear, pick up the kids from school, celebrate something, I guess. People offer to help, but these are all tasks I need to do myself.
I am exhausted, in a bone wearying way I didn’t know could exist.
Brody comes back from the groomer, and sits next to me on the couch. He is never disappointed with his lot in life. He just is. I put my head on his back and inhale, feeling the rising waves of grief intruding on my to-do list. He smells like one of those old Strawberry Shortcake dolls. When I cry, he doesn’t say anything or search for unhelpful platitudes or edge away uncertainly. He is surprisingly absorbent.
He is here, breathing with me. It is enough. For now, he is enough.
We brought Lacey home yesterday after her operation on Monday. We don’t really have much news yet.
Due to the location of the tumour, there was no way we could get clean margins (which is usually the goal of any tumour removal) without taking her entire leg. We still might need to do that, but it will depend on the grade of the tumour. Unfortunately you can’t determine the grade of the tumour without removing it, and there was no point in removing it without taking as much as we could. If it is a low grade, it will hopefully be “good enough”, at least for now. But because of the location, it means they had to do a skin graft to seal up the area, which made things a little more complicated. They took skin from her thigh and grafted it to her foot and leg. She’s gonna have a pretty hairy section if all goes well! :)
They also took the nearest lymph node to determine if it had spread. The node was definitely bigger than usual but that could have just been because it was working overtime to combat the tumour OR it could mean it’s spread.
We should have results in a couple of days – hopefully by the end of the week. The only decision we’ve actually made is that if it is a high grade, and hasn’t already spread, we’ll take her leg. I was really tempted to do it this time to save her a potential 2nd surgery but they really didn’t want to do that if it was a grade 1 tumour. Apparently for dogs that get Mast Cell Tumours repeatedly, they are usually all the same grade. As her first one was a grade 1 tumour we have high hopes that this one will be the same.
We haven’t really figured out what we’ll do if it has spread and we don’t really know all our options yet either. We are taking it one step at a time.
She’s already feeling quite a bit better. Yesterday she wasn’t barking at anyone but today she not only barked at people in the park, but she picked up her favourite toy too.
On we soldier, because that is what we must do. A few months ago, my mother asked to read the galley of All Dogs Go to Kevin, and I said, “No, you have to wait till the book comes out like everyone else.” Later that afternoon I felt terrible about that so I said, “OK, I changed my mind, here you go.”
She read it in a day then called to tell me how much she loved it. I am really, really glad I changed my mind. I imagine things are a bit chaotic for her right now but I have high hopes she’ll find Taffy in short order. All she has to do is follow the Meaty Bone crumbles and look for sticky pee spots.
In the meantime, my job right now is to convince you to pre-order my book 1. because I’d like to do another and I need to sell a few in order to do that and 2. I heard the Food Babe presold 15,000 copies of her treatise and it’s always good to have goals.
Good News: The Saturday Evening Post listed All Dogs Go to Kevin as one of their Top 10 Summer Reads! I almost keeled over to see my name on the same page as Harper freakin Lee. And since you’ll already be online pre-ordering that, and my book comes out on the same day, why not just add it on? Booyah!
Treats for Reads
Even more good news: I have so many awesome treats to offer people who preorder the book. I’ll be sending out an email to people on the All Dogs Go to Kevin mailing list with an official announcement this week and then following that up with a post here. The mailing list will have exclusive book giveaways and first go at all the goodies! First book giveaway is this week! Click below to sign up:
We’ve made an arrangement with Warwick’s La Jolla for signed books. All copies pre-ordered through them will automatically come signed. What I’ll sign it with I don’t know yet but I still have a month.
If you ordered through another site, I can happily send a signed bookplate. Details to come.
Spot Eats Socks
As an additional preorder incentive, I’ve written an ebook for anyone who preorders at least one book. My agent suggested a nice prescriptive book along the lines of “How to Clean Ears at Home” but you know, you can get that anywhere.
What you cannot get anywhere else is a twisted children’s activity book, so that’s what I wrote instead. Spot Eats Socks is 13 pages of mazes, Mad Libs, word scrambles, and coloring activities. I guarantee this is the only place on the net you will find a word hunt featuring “ANALGLANDS” and “DEMODEX.” I’ll be telling you how to get it sent to you shortly.
I am truly excited for this! Thank you all so much for being a part of this journey- I couldn’t do it without you!
They say dogs look like their owners! Well in this case I think it’s true. Pretty lady, pretty dog at the Monaco Dog Show. This is a Chinese Crested dog, which is hairless, except for head, lower legs and tail. (There is a variety called the ‘powderpuff’ that has hair on the body as well).
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