Rolling Dog Farm Blog

I went over to Widget’s House this evening to take some photos for tonight’s blog … I didn’t have any particular story in mind, just thought I’d see what I might get with the camera.  Kathryn had just arrived inside to start getting the dogs’ dinner ready, so I stepped into the back paddock.

There was our deaf Pointer, Tyler, on the search for bugs or flies or just about anything he could chase through the air.  Sometimes if a bug is crawling up the wall of the building but it’s out of reach, he’ll stand there staring at it, fixated on the tiny moving creature.

Then there was the happiest dog alive, blind Cedar, who always has a smile on his face. (Except when he’s barking at Buzz, who for some reason Cedar just doesn’t like — probably because Buzz used to run into him all the time.  Now Buzz is in the paddock next door, so Cedar can bark at him through the fence, and all is well.)

That’s Beth’s cottage in the background behind Cedar.

Oh, and then we have Levi.  Levi went blind from trauma … the blood in his eyes indicate he was beaten … and as a result he has a really bad submissive urination complex.  I would like to tell you this photo was of him rolling around in happiness, but no, he was being submissive because I had just told him "Off!  Off!" when he jumped on me. He’s a very energetic jumper, and any correction sends him into his submissive mode.  Despite this, he really is a very joyful character and loves being with his friends.

And finally, back inside Widget’s House, was Libby.  She’s one of our original ‘Seattle six-pack’ of dogs who moved to Montana with us.  Libby was the victim of two separate animal cruelty cases in Shelton, Washington — two different owners abused her — and both ended up being prosecuted.  With that track record the animal control shelter didn’t want to adopt her out locally (they had inadvertently adopted her out to the second abuser, after rescuing her from the first one) and asked if we could take her.  Her only ‘disability’ is, um, a case of obesity.  This is a flattering photo, trust me.

And that’s what I captured with the camera this evening!

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That’s wobbly Allie in the foreground, but what are those things behind her?  You’re looking at our new compost bins!  While we have always composted the horse manure and then spread it on our pastures as a soil amendment, we never thought it was ‘okay’ to compost dog poop and apply it the same way.

So every week we’ve scooped the poop, bagged it, and hauled it to the dump.  In winter this is particularly unpleasant, because we end up scooping snow and ice along with the poop, and if the temperature rises above freezing the bags get full of melted poop water, the bags spring a leak, and … you can figure out the rest.   

About a month ago Kathryn asked, "WHY can’t we compost dog waste?"  We talked about all the things we remembered reading and hearing about it, but concluded we should do some research.  Lo and behold, Kathryn found a new guide to composting dog waste published by the Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS), part of the U.S. Department of Agriculture.  This report was published in December 2005 by the NRCS office in Fairbanks, Alaska.  Because of all the sled dogs in Alaska, dog waste is a big problem there — 20 million pounds of dog poop produced each year in Fairbanks and Anchorage alone!

The NRCS report was based on a study that involved several mushers and dog kennels in Alaska.  The research showed that composting dog poop was not only safe and effective, but resulted in a product that you could indeed use to improve the soil, just as we do with the composted horse manure.  (But you still wouldn’t want to use the composted dog poop on food crops for human consumption.)  The NRCS how-to guide says that "Composting dog waste is a simple and inexpensive method for disposing of dog waste that can enhance the environment and reduce the amount of waste deposited in landfills."

The caveat here is that the report says "It takes at least 10 dogs, preferably 20, to generate enough waste to maintain a bin."  Well, that isn’t a problem for us!

Next it was my turn to research compost bins on the market.  I found the ones we needed at a place called Green Culture and ordered them.  That’s what you see in the photo.  Interestingly, the literature that came with the bins said we shouldn’t compost dog waste!

(In case you’re wondering, those backyard in-ground stool digesters you may have seen in pet catalogs work like mini-septic systems and don’t compost the waste.)

Finally, one bit of trivia to leave you with, just in case you ever really wanted to know:  The average dog generates 274 pounds of poop per year.  There you have it.

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Our big handsome boy blind Buddy was adopted today by Susan S. from Missoula.  Susan had come out on Monday to meet Buddy for the first time and introduce him to her other dog, a very small girl named Dalai.  Susan decided Buddy was just perfect, and Dalai seemed to think Buddy was just her type.  So Susan came back today to pick him up and take him home. 

She emailed this evening to say all was well and Buddy was adjusting just fine.  Susan wrote, "Dalai was thrilled to see him.  Much tail wagging.  She wanted to play immediately but he wasn’t ready for that yet."  (He was never one to rush romance.)

Susan added, "He LOVES his new crate.  After he explored the yard a bit I showed him where his crate was and he already knows exactly where it is.  When I gave him a biscuit he took it right in the crate to eat.  He also likes his new hedgehog toy and tennis ball — he’s played with the ball a bit but always takes it back in his crate." 

I took the photo this afternoon of Susan with Buddy, just before they left for Missoula.  Thank you, Susan, for adopting this wonderful boy!

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About a year ago we realized we had a very remarkable foal on our hands in the form of Nikki.  Incredibly smart, calm, easy-going and — dare I say it — gorgeous, too.  A dream foal, except for one small problem.  She was blind.

Her first few months of life had been rough, but by the time she was a year old, she had blossomed into an adorable young horse who awed visitors with her ability to buck and kick and whirl around her corral, and never run into a thing.  Nikki would race right up to the corral fence, hit the brakes, and stop a foot from the panel.  Then she would pivot with athletic grace and take off like a flash to the fenceline on her right, coming to a dead stop — again — just a foot from the corral panel.  People would ask us, "Is she really blind?"

Thus it began to dawn on us last spring that when she turned two this year, we should begin training her for under the saddle.  We wanted to find out what she could do and how far we could take her.  Last December we interviewed and hired a trainer named Nichole Zupan.  Nichole went to college on a rodeo scholarship, majored in equine studies, and was experienced in starting colts.  Just as important to us, Nichole showed a real interest in working with a blind horse.  As it turned out, Nichole lives just 20 minutes from the ranch, making it very easy and convenient for her to come out a couple of times a week.  We agreed that when the snows finally melted and we had bare ground, Nikki’s training would begin. 

So today was Nikki’s first day at school.  We set up a round pen this afternoon, and Nichole came by this evening to get started.  Nichole spent this first session doing some basic ground work:  getting Nikki to circle and use her head, not her shoulder, to lead with.  Nikki was more fluid on her right side, but stiffer on her left side and she wanted to push her shoulder out, rather than lead with her head.  In the photos you see Nichole with Nikki in the round pen.  (Click on photos for larger image.)

To give you a better sense of the ground work, I also shot some video of this first training session.  It was very breezy, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, the microphone picked up all the wind … so that’s pretty much the only audio you hear on this video … sorry!  Except Nikki does get a word in at the very end. 

http://www.dropshots.com/dropshotsplayer.swf

Evelyn turned out to have far more problems with her eyes than we ever imagined.  During his examination yesterday morning, our veterinary ophthalmologist Dr. Yakely found Evelyn to have multiple eye conditions that precluded any surgery other than removal of both eyes.  We knew Evelyn had cataracts and detached lens.  Well, she also had detached retinas, glaucoma, a corneal ulcer, bullous keratitis, and a disorder called endothelial degeneration of the cornea, in which the cornea retains water.

In short, her eyes were a disaster.  Because of his findings, Dr. Yakely said there obviously would be no point in doing an electroretinogram to test her retinal functions.  He decided to do an ultrasound of both eyes to confirm what he found in his visual examination.  That’s what you see Dr. Yakely doing in the photo above. 

With this diagnosis, Dr. Yakely said our only option would be enucleation, i.e., to take both of her eyes out.  I left Evelyn at the eye clinic for the surgery, and came back late in the afternoon to pick her up.  She was still pretty zoned out but ready to be discharged.  I carried this big (85 pounds!) sweet girl out of the clinic and laid her down in the back seat of the truck.  And then we drove the 4 hours back to the ranch.

Evelyn stirred only once or twice during the entire trip back.  She was quite doped up on pain medication.  But when we arrived at the ranch, I got out of the truck, walked into the house briefly, came back to the truck … and found Evelyn sitting in the driver’s seat.  Again.

I was too tired last night to post an update and so am doing it this morning.  Evelyn is in my office with me, and I just took this photo of her.  Despite how she looks, she’s in good spirits and anxious for her breakfast.  She’s been trying to tell me, "Quit writing and start feeding!"

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Evelyn and I left the ranch late this afternoon and headed to Spokane, Washington.  Evelyn has an appointment with our veterinary ophthalmologist, Dr. Bill Yakely, on Monday morning.  For this sweet blind Lab, it’s also a trip home in a way — she originally came to us from Spokane Animal Control.

I took the photo this evening when we arrived at the hotel where we’re staying.  I learned on my first stop on this trip that whenever I get out of the truck, Evelyn immediately — and I do mean immediately, because I barely have the door closed before she does this — climbs from the back seat into the driver’s seat.  Of course, she can go from back seat to front seat in an instant, but somehow just can’t figure out how to go in reverse.  Hmm.

Evelyn is blind from cataracts, but she also now has detached lenses.  Just recently the lens in her left eye ended up pressing against the back of the cornea, causing irritation and inflammation in that eye.  The lens in her right eye is still floating in the fluid inside the eye.  Our vet in Helena, Dr. Brenda Culver, evaluated Evelyn last week and recommended we take her to Dr. Yakely.

We don’t know yet what the outcome will be.  Evelyn will have an electroretinogram (ERG) first, which will determine whether her retinas are still firing and if so, to what degree.  The ERG results will dictate what kind of surgery she has.  Evelyn might have lens extraction surgery in one or both eyes, or we might have to remove one or both eyes.  If her retinas are still functioning normally, it’s possible … just maybe … she might wind up with some ability to see again.

I’m nervous about it, she’s not.  Evelyn is sacked out on the hotel room floor as I write this.  When I took her for her first walk this evening, she did her trademark ‘happy girl’ routine … she found just the right patch of grass and rolled around on her back, woofing with delight.

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Have you ever noticed that big dogs like to curl up in very small dog beds?  Sometimes they seem to seek out the smallest bed in the house to sleep on.  As an example, here is blind Kenai, all 90 pounds of her, trying to fit herself into a Dachshund-size bed that’s no bigger than 18 inches across.  I saw Kenai doing this earlier today and decided to take her photo.  Somewhere out there is a dog psychologist who should be able to explain this.

The look on Kenai’s face was almost as if she was asking herself, "Hey, where’s the rest of this bed?"

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Our farrier, Rich Boyle, came out today on his regularly scheduled trip to trim all the horses’ hooves.  Here he is giving our new arrival blind Luna her first Rolling Dog Ranch pedicure.  She had been rolling and then lying down taking a nap just before we got there, which is why she’s a bit on the muddy side.  (Although our snow is finally gone, everything is still very wet and muddy from the recent melt.) 

Luna was still very relaxed from her nap, and it seemed at times like she was falling asleep again while Rich was trimming her hooves!  Alayne was mostly for show, since this horse clearly didn’t need to be held for the farrier.

Right behind Alayne is Beauty’s Barn, our new barn for blind horses which we built last year.   The side roof on the left is the entrance to the heated and insulated medical stall.  Way in the background on the left you can see Widget’s House, our building for disabled dogs that we built in 2004.

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We have a couple in Missoula who are considering adopting our handsome boy Buddy.  They know he came to us as a blind dog from Spokane Animal Control.  Buddy had progressive retinal atrophy, in which the retinas degenerate over time.  However, in the two years that Buddy’s been here, we — that would be Alayne and me, regular volunteers, and now our employees Beth and Kathryn — noticed how exceptionally well Buddy was navigating around.  We began to wonder whether his eyesight had somehow improved, but couldn’t figure out how that could be.  I began to doubt our own assessment of his blindness.

When we open the door at Widget’s House, Buddy zooms right in, heads straight down the line of crates and finds his own, then waits if his crate door is closed.  If it’s open, he darts right in.  (We have to show our other blind dogs where their crates are, then guide them in.)  When we let him out in the morning into the dog paddock, he bolts through the gate like he can see exactly where he’s going.  I can’t remember the last time I ever saw him walk into anything.  I mean, if you watched Buddy you just wouldn’t think he was blind any longer.

Well, I decided that before we adopted him out, we owed it to Buddy’s potential adopters to get another evaluation of his vision so they would have the full picture and knew what to expect.  And WE wanted to know how his vision could have improved.

So today Alayne drove Buddy over to Helena to see Dr. Brenda Culver, our primary care vet who is also very talented at ophthalmology.  Her assessment:  Buddy is completely blind.  Can’t see a thing.  Brenda did several different tests and none indicated any visual response at all.  Buddy might see the difference between light and dark, but that was about it. 

I was astonished to hear this.  How can he zoom around like he can see where he’s going?  Now, all of our blind animals navigate pretty well — they create a ‘mental map’ of their environment and then follow this map — yet Buddy is at a different order of magnitude in terms of capability.  Brenda attributed it to an incredibly keen nose and pure smarts.  Yes, Buddy had memorized his familiar environment like any blind animal, but he took his navigation skills to an entirely new level. 

I’m sure that once Buddy gets into a new environment he won’t do nearly as well at first, but soon he’ll create another mental map.  And before long, he’ll be doing as well as he is here today.

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I took the blind mare we picked up on Sunday in Wyoming to see our equine vet, Dr. Bill Brown, this afternoon.  Our immediate concern was having Luna’s painful eye condition treated.  Her right eye appeared to be an empty socket, while her left eye was sunken and infected.

In the first photo Bill and his vet tech, Vicky C., are prepping Luna for surgery.  She’s already been sedated and had her face scrubbed; Bill is now injecting a local anesthetic around, behind and in the eye to deaden all nerves.

In the second photo Bill has just begun cutting open her right eye.  It got a lot more gory after this, but because this is a ‘family blog,’ I didn’t photograph the rest of the surgery.  It turns out that her right eye socket wasn’t empty after all … deep inside, buried in orbital fat, was a shrunken eyeball the size of a marble.  (A normal horse eye is about the size of a small lime.)  Bill removed it and set it aside to examine after surgery.

Bill cleaned out that socket and sewed up Luna’s eyelids.  Then he got to work on Luna’s left eye, and before long that eye was out, the socket cleaned and the lids sewed together.  We set the left eye aside for a closer look, too.

Here’s Luna immediately after surgery.  She’s still conked out but beginning to come awake.  You can see the sutures in the eyelid.  Her face is darker than normal because we’ve washed all the blood off and her face is still wet. 

While she was recovering, we went to examine her eyeballs.  Bill took a scalpel to the tiny, marble-size right eye and sliced across the unnaturally thick surface.  Immediately black, old blood squirted into the air.  "Weird!," I said.  "Weird is right," Bill said.  He sliced all the way through and peeled the eyeball open.  It was unlike any eye I had ever seen.  Once all the black blood drained out, we could see the interior surface of the eye was coated with a thick black crust.  The lens of the eye was rock-hard, completely calcified.  It felt like a big salt crystal.

We moved on to Luna’s other eye.  Bill sliced it open.  The same thing happened:  black blood squirted out.  Inside that eye was also a black crust.  "What on earth happened to her?," I asked Bill.  He wasn’t sure.  Yes, it could have been trauma to both eyes at some point in her past.  Yet Bill thought it more likely she could have suffered from years of untreated recurrent uveitis (inflammation of the eye that is a common cause of blindness in horses).  Luna might just be a worst-case example of the end stage of uveitis, where the eyes finally die and blood eventually seeps into the eyeballs and can’t drain out.  It was, to say the least, very bizarre.

Whatever the cause, Luna clearly had been in pain for years.  I can only imagine what those eyes must have felt like.  And yet throughout this ordeal, somehow this sweet old mare maintained a delightful, loving personality. 

We also did complete blood work on Luna this afternoon and everything looks great.  Bill said her heart sounds fine, too.  We gave Luna all her vaccinations, including her first West Nile Virus, and she’ll get the boosters in another few weeks. 

The cost for all of Luna’s medical care today:  $508.35.  Thanks to the donations we receive for the animals, we can provide whatever they need in the way of veterinary medicine.  Luna is a perfect example of a disabled animal who needed help, and we could take care of her because the sanctuary’s supporters make it possible.

I brought Luna home to the ranch late this evening.  Now her new life begins.

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