Rolling Dog Farm Blog

Friday started off with a trip to the small animal clinic in the morning, and ended with an emergency trip to the equine clinic that night.

On Friday morning I drove the 70 miles east to Helena to drop off three animals at Montana Veterinary Specialists.  With me were blind Stoney the Lab, Belvie the miniature Dachshund, and Joshua the barn cat.

Alayne took the photo of me with Joshua just before I left for the clinic.  He’s been limping on his right front leg, and we can’t tell why.  Joshua is one of the two cats who live at Beauty’s Barn. 

Stoney’s remaining eye, her left one, had become inflamed this past week, with lots of vascularization in the sclera.  When you start seeing blood vessels like that, it means the body is sending them out to deal with some kind of problem.  And since I was headed to the clinic, I took Belvie along so he could get a routine dental.  I left all three animals there and we’ll pick them up early this coming week. 

Dr. Jennifer Rockwell, one of vets at the clinic, called Friday evening to say that our other primary care vet there, Dr. Brenda Culver, had examined Stoney’s eye and found the pressure had skyrocketed to 45 units of mercury, which is painfully high.  Since Stoney is already blind in that eye, Brenda recommended we have it removed, which she will do on Monday.  Jennifer said they weren’t sure what was causing Joshua’s limping — it didn’t appear to be orthopedic in nature — but we’d know more on Monday.

When Jennifer called, I was in the middle of dealing with an emergency with Rocky, one of our blind Appaloosas.  I had noticed Friday evening at feeding time that he wasn’t interested in eating and seemed to be walking with a shuffle.  Odd.  We pulled him into a stall to take his vital signs.  His temperature was 104.4 and his heart rate was an astounding 76.  He was breathing rapidly … about 46 breaths per minute.  Yikes.  I called our equine vet, Dr. Erin Taylor at Blue Mountain Veterinary Hospital in Missoula, for help.  As I was talking with Erin, Rocky broke into an intense sweat, the water beading up on his hair as we watched.  Erin had me inject 10 cc’s of banamine, an anti-inflammatory, into his jugular vein, then wait 20 minutes to see if he showed any response.

Twenty minutes later, he was no better.  I called Erin again.  Erin said she and Dr. Angela Langer, one of clinic’s vets who’s worked on our horses, would go for a run while I made the 60-mile trip west to Missoula with the horse trailer.  When I got there around 8 p.m., Erin and Angela were waiting … and Rocky’s vital signs had improved dramatically, returning almost to normal.  The only visible sign of the distress he’d been in was his sopping wet coat.  Even though Erin said an IV injection of banamine can have that kind of impact — this just took a bit longer — I was astonished.  Still, we didn’t know what had triggered the problem, or whether he was done with it. 

So Erin and Angela went to work on Rocky.  In the photo at the top of the post, Erin is pumping fluids into his stomach through a nasal tube while Angela is holding his head still with a soft twitch.  (The blue cloth serves as a ‘spray shield,’ so when the horse snorts, you don’t get covered in the discharge.)  In the background is Rocky’s buddy Hawk, who came along to keep his pal company.  In this photo, Erin is listening to Rocky’s gut sounds.  Erin and Angela’s first presumption was a colic of some sort, but the symptoms could point to other causes, too. 

Thus they did a belly tap to test for
infection in his abdomen.  This involves inserting a long needle through the abdominal wall to see if there is suspicious fluid inside.  Here Angela is clipping the hair around the insertion site, which was then scrubbed antiseptically.  But the abdominal fluid that dripped out was the normal type.

After nearly two hours of examination and diagnostics, Erin concluded that Rocky had probably suffered from a fast-acting, short-lived viral infection — an equine 24-hour bug — that was peaking just when I noticed him at feeding time. The IV banamine had helped bring it to a resolution quickly.  With his vital signs continuing to hold steady, Erin thought it made sense for us to take Rocky home to the ranch and keep him under close observation, and she gave me a treatment and feeding plan for him for the next couple of days.  So we loaded Rocky and Hawk in the trailer and drove back to Ovando.

I’m pleased to report that Rocky has bounced back over the weekend and is doing fine!

(Click on photos for larger image.)

I made a passing reference in a recent post about dragging the pastures, and one blog reader commented she didn’t know what that meant.  So this is what it looks like.  Alayne took the photo this afternoon while I was dragging our second-to-last pasture.  (Almost finished!)  The contraption on the back of the tractor is the chain harrow, which has tines that angle down and into the ground.  As we drive forward, dragging the harrow, the tines break up manure piles, scattering the clumps in much smaller pieces across the ground.  This helps fertilize the soil.  Horses will also tend to avoid eating the grass near manure piles, so this promotes a more even grazing pattern.  The harrow dethatches and aerates the soil as well.

With 160 acres, pasture management is a big part of what we do here.  To continue to have healthy, sustainable pastures for the horses, we need to fertilize, seed, spray for weeds, spread compost, and finally, drag the fields.  In spring, summer and fall, we’re always working on our pastures in some way.  Only in winter do the fields, and we, get a break from all this activity.

This time of year when we’re dragging, we’re in a race against the weather.  We want to leave the horses out on pasture as long as possible, without overgrazing the fields, but we also need to get the horses off the pastures so we can drag them before the snow flies.  And it takes time to drag that much acreage.  At a spine-tingling average speed of 4 miles per hour, there’s no rushing this task!

(Click on photo for larger image.)

Over the past few years we’ve had lots of blog readers and supporters tell us, "You guys should write a book!"  Honestly, the thought makes me groan, because writing a book is a huge undertaking and takes tons of time … and that’s if you can get it published.  And we are so swamped, seven days a week, that we simply wouldn’t have the time to devote to a project like that.  Even though we’d love to see a book about the ranch and our special animals, it won’t happen if it’s left up to us.

Fortunately, that’s not the case.

If it does happen, it will be because of the lady you see above.  That’s Rebecca Wallick, a freelance writer who wrote the fabulous article on the sanctuary that appeared in Bark magazine last November.  Those are her two beautiful Malamute girls, Meadow on the left and Maia on the right.  (Incredibly sweet, adorable dogs!)  Rebecca is now putting together a book proposal on the sanctuary to send off to publishers.  She was here this week for a couple of days to do more research and to interview us some more.  Book proposals are quite detailed and lengthy documents that present the overall concept for the book.  If a publisher likes the proposal, they’ll commission the writer to do it.

So if anyone knows a publisher or literary agent who might be interested, just let us know and we can put them in touch with Rebecca!

Speaking of "research," Rebecca helped out with chores while she was here, including the daily "treasure hunt."  She had wobbly Smokey following her around the yard while she scooped the poop this morning.  He seemed to think he was supervising.  Hmm.   

(Click on photo for larger image.)

If you’ve followed the blog for the past year, you probably remember our little blind foal — now a yearling — named Brynn.  She’s the one with more medical strikes against her than any animal on the ranch.  In addition to being blind, she has a hole in her heart, she only has one functioning kidney, she has a urinary system that causes her to dribble urine (two surgeries to fix this failed), and her neck is so short from malformed vertebrae she can’t reach the ground to graze.

Well, she actually has figured out how to graze … it’s her own unique method.  That’s what you see her doing in the photo above.  She does this graceful bow, pulls her left front leg back and tucks it under, then stretches out her right front leg for balance, lowers her head, and starts munching.

We don’t let her do this very often, or for very long, because we worry about the impact on her joints long-term.  Yet she’s still small, agile and surprisingly athletic for a girl with her "issues," so occasional time on pasture with her buddy Darby is okay.  This does show you how she has learned to cope with her disabilities, though, and it’s consistent with her overall zest for life.  Despite all her medical problems, she is a very happy little filly.  She has already far surpassed anyone’s expectations on her lifespan.  It’s a real testament to her will to survive all the obstacles nature has created for her. 

So if she has to perform the equivalent of an equine curtsy to do some grazing, she’s ready to do it!

It was starting to feel a bit crowded under my desk yesterday evening.  I kept feeling Ellie May nudging my feet and the wheels of the desk chair, and bit by bit I edged my chair over to the right to give her more room.  Finally, I felt like I was getting elbowed out of my own office, so I looked down to see what she was doing.  And there was the answer:  Baron had decided to snuggle up with her, sharing the same bed.  It happened so quietly I didn’t even realize he was there.  To make room for him, Ellie May kept scooting over on the bed until they were both comfortable.  (My comfort, on the other hand, was somewhat immaterial.) 

I picked up the camera off the desk, rolled my chair back, and took this photo of the two of them.  My chair is usually under the computer on the right, where you see the corner of the keyboard.  Thus you can tell how I kept getting nudged over as that little Cocker adjusted her body sideways.  Once settled in and human shoved aside, both of these blind-and-deaf dogs slept very soundly! 

This is what our living room looks like on a good day.  Soft chew toys lying on the floor, small piles of fluff scattered about.  I was getting ready to head outside this afternoon and start dragging the pastures again when I saw Bailey sitting in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the dead and dying toys.  So I went back into my office to get the camera and take this shot.

Alayne had just finished sweeping and cleaning the living room on Friday evening, and by Sunday it looked like this again.  And this is actually quite tidy!  (Well, for us it is!)

Bailey was not entirely responsible for the mess.  We have several world-class toy shredders who can claim credit, ranging from the young (blind and deaf Baron) to the old (blind Kenai).  But the Queen of Shred, the one who reigns over all of them, is blind Goldie, who’s made her own appearances on the blog on this very subject. As you can see, there’s enough fluff I mean blame to go around.

Our small animal vet, Dr. Brenda Culver at Montana Veterinary Specialists in Helena, examined Popeye the cat today.  Exactly what is going on with his eyes is a bit of a mystery.  The photo above was taken when Popeye was first found by the rescue group BETA in Lebanon in May.  You can see the bubble on his left eye.  I had sent this and other photos to Brenda earlier today to give her a ‘before’ and ‘after’ view of this little guy.  In looking at the photos and then at his eyes today, Brenda concluded that’s a corneal rupture we’re seeing on the left eye.  And that’s what eventually blinded him on that side. 

But that doesn’t necessarily explain the opacity or cloudiness, and Brenda says he does not have keratitis.  His eye pressures are normal, so he doesn’t have glaucoma, nor did she see any signs of uveitis.

The right eye is the truly odd one.  There is no evidence of a corneal rupture, but the space between his cornea and the iris is filled with a white fibrous material.  The fibers are stuck to half of his iris, locking it open, so he can’t constrict or dilate his pupil.  Yet there are no fibers in front of the pupil from the 12 o’clock to 3 o’clock position, allowing him to see through this small angle.  Brenda thinks he can see shapes and shadows through that opening, but only if the object remains fairly still.  If an object is moving, she said it seems to take him a bit to focus again.

Brenda says she has never seen this before, but is concerned that there are a number of viral diseases that might have triggered it.  So she is going to run titers to test for the presence of these viruses and see what we find.  We won’t have all those results until early next week.

Here’s another photo the BETA folks took of Popeye the day after he was found by the side of the road and taken to them in a small cardboard box.  This tyke has come a long way since then, and he’s now a handsome boy with a sleek black-and-white coat … and a pair of mysterious eyes!

(Click on photos for larger image.)

Our farrier, Rich Boyle of Simms, Montana, was out here last week trimming the horses’ hooves.  That meant lots of hoof trimmings lying about in the pastures and corrals.  There’s something about these hoof trimmings that dogs just love as chew toys.  Now, most of the dogs stay in our fenced dog yards and don’t have access to the pastures and corrals, but one of them does get out and about, and that’s Dolly. 

She can’t get enough of these things … and that sets up a contest of wills.  We don’t let her chew on them because they aren’t sanitary and we worry about sharp pieces breaking off and getting swallowed.  So Dolly knows — we’ve been through this a lot in seven years at the ranch — that hoof trimmings are a no-no.  Which makes them all the more desirable, if you know what I mean.

Dolly can’t help herself, though.  You’d think, having found one of these forbidden hoof trimmings, she’d slink off behind the barn to quietly chew on it.  But no, she is compelled to walk around with it in her mouth, as if she’s flaunting it.  She’ll walk right up to me with the dang thing in her mouth … and yet she knows I am going to make her drop it.  Thus the look on her face in the photo above.  Judging from the gravel dust and grit on her nose, it appears she had been rooting around for this particular treasure, like a pig hunting for truffles.  And just like the pigs who aren’t allowed to eat the truffles they find, Dolly had to surrender the hoof trimming, too.

Here’s a photo I took this afternoon in our living room of Ellie May, the little blind-and-deaf Cocker Spaniel who came to us a couple of weeks ago.  Her eyes were chronically painful and we had to have them removed, but she has recovered just fine from the surgery.  The sutures are still in and will be taken out in another week.  We picked up Ellie May the day after surgery at our vet clinic in Helena.  From the moment she came back, she hasn’t left my side.

As I write this, she’s at my feet under the desk. In fact, she stays so close to me here in my office that I have to be very careful when I roll my chair back, because she’s frequently sleeping right up against the wheels.  Even though there are plush dog beds on the floor, she’d rather lie on the linoleum next to the chair than be three feet away on a comfortable bed.  Thus I’ve taken to pulling the dog beds right up alongside the chair to keep her on something soft. 

I had to put her on the living room chair for the photo because I couldn’t get a decent shot of her otherwise; she’s always sacked out on the floor underneath my desk or trying to be right next to me.  The only way we could get her to sit still in the chair long enough for the photo was the old "hold the cookie high" trick, where we waved a dog treat back and forth above her nose.  The minute she thought the cookie was gone, so was she, climbing back down to get back to me.

Alayne said that this morning, while I was cleaning a poopy crate in one of the dog cottages, Ellie May thought I had gone into my office.  Alayne heard her barking excitedly, and discovered Ellie May in here looking up at the empty chair, thinking I was in it and happy to have found me.  Her tiny stub of a tail was wiggling away.

Hey, when you’re blind and deaf, you have to rely on your nose, and sometimes it can give you false positives!  But most of the time her nose works great, and she follows me around the house just using her sense of smell.  (Yes, I shower frequently!)

Tonight when I was cooking dinner, Ellie May was lying on the floor in the kitchen, so close I had to keep stepping over her to get to the sink or to the fridge.  When we sat down to eat, she followed us over to the table and parked herself there.  Wherever I am, she is.  She doesn’t have separation anxiety — she doesn’t get upset and start chewing or doing anything destructive in my absence.  She’ll look for me and if she finally realizes I’m not in the house, she’ll simply give up and wait until I return.  Then she’s glued to me.

What’s interesting about this is that she had spent her entire life, as far as we know, living with a woman, so we expected her to bond with Alayne.  But she chose me, and now I have a minion of my own!

Blind Lena has taken to doing this ridiculous thing when she’s finished with her grain.  She stands in her feed bucket, both feet firmly planted in the center.  She does this to signal to us that a) "I’m done, thank you," and b) "it’s time to untie me."  There’s really no mistaking this look, is there?  And she won’t move those feet until we turn her loose.

We feed Lena’s "brood" — the three youngsters who arrived at the ranch as blind foals, Nikki, Destiny and Cash — their grain at the same time.  Unless we tie up Lena by the fence, she’ll finish her meal quickly and then head over to help herself to the youngsters’ portion.  She’s clearly not a girl who needs any extra weight on her!