Everything's a toy

Danny's at the puppy stage where he likes to chew...and I'm not kidding. The moment he can get his jaws on something it's happy time.

His chew toy...

...Newspapers...

...Slippers...
...And his favourite: Owners' fingers....

...Ouch.

Danny vs Redang

Two weeks after we got our friend, the bulk of the family set off on a cruise. Mom had been hankering for a trip to Redang; so entrusting Danny's toilet training (which isn't going very well) to our helper, Rhoda (who's been spoiling him rotten), I chucked the parentals + brother (who were extremely excited) on a 2-night cruise to the island famous for its corals and marine life.

After hearing so much about it, it really didn't disappoint.

First sight of the beach

Second sight of the beach with someone's head spoiling the pic.

The big attraction is diving or snorkeling. (The people who look like they've drowned are all snorkeling.)

While dad opted for a snooze in the shade, mom and bro decided on snorkeling. (Hmm...bro needs to lose weight.)

Me? I opted for the age-old past-time of wading. Hey, I can't snorkel. I keep thinking I'll hit my head or choke on some fly going past my snorkel.

I haven't been to many beaches but the waters here are so clear. I was thigh deep in the water and I could still see my feet! (FYI, those are the weird objects at the bottom of the pic. Weird object at the corner is the camera case.)
Also, you get little schools of little fish swimming about. They're all white so you need to spot them by their shadows.

How does this post link to Danny? Well the sun, sand and sea couldn't distract dad. The moment I came out of the water, he handed me his handphone and told me to dial home and ask about him.

I did. And of course what else could he be up to but messing up the house.

Noah's Ark

A couple of days after Chassard passed on, we decided to donate all his stuff to Noah's Ark Natural Animal Sanctuary (NANAS) in Johor. (They were previously located in Singapore but had to move as the rent was too high.)

So on Saturday morning, we packed up a half-eaten bag of dog food, a worn collar, a brand new bottle of shampoo and a host of leftover medication, and headed up north.

I expected to see dogs in their own pens and some cats roaming about but boy was I surprised. The moment I opened the car door, a friendly mongrel face pushed his way onto my lap for a bit of TLC.

Once we entered the building, we were surrounded by packs of dogs, all hoping for some attention.

And forget the pens. It turns out that Noah's Ark's 800 over dogs all roam free on some 10 hectares of land.

Not all the dogs came to us though. Appearantly those that did had been cared for by humans before. Others were quite happy to snooze in the afternoon sun.

These guys were behind a fence but the gate to the compound is wide open. This is one of the "territorial" areas. Although there are no barriers stopping the dogs from roaming all over, they have established certain territorial boundaries. Only a handful are able to cross into another area without getting into trouble.

But interestingly enough, if it rains, they will let any dog take shelter with them. Better than some humans, eh?

One of them is Toby, my mom's favourite. At a certain point of our walk, she joined us and lead us around the compound as if she owned the place.

This is my favourite. I don't know his/her name but she is such a sweetie. She looks ordinary but she came nosing for a pat and she's got lovely fur. I would have played with her longer but another dog chased her away.

And they are not called Noah's Ark for nothing. In addition to the dogs, they also have 400 cats (sorry no pics), a couple of monkeys, horses and guinea pigs.

How did they come by their horses? Well, once the horse gets too old for work at the turf club or zoo, they are shot and fed to other animals. These are some of the lucky ones.

Noah's Ark allows all their animals to live out their lives in peace. In many cases, it gives them a second chance.

With all the land to roam about, Chassard would have loved it.

First camera experience

This is the first shot taken of him with a proper camera. I think it's the first time he ever saw flash.

"Oooh! what's tha... *FLASH* ...WTF???"

Daredevil Danny

The first couple of days he was here, we didn't need a fence to stop Danny from going places. All we had to do was to place him in the kitchen balcony, and the two steps down into the dining area were enough to frustrate him. He would stand right at the edge of the steps with his ears pricked up and neck craning in our direction.

He would look desperate enough for us to walk over and pick him up. Unfortuately, he wasn't one for planning ahead. Something would entice him to run up to the balcony and then he'd realise that he was stuck again.

The bright side was that I was getting some much-needed exercise. The downside... well, actually there's no downside.

Anyway, on Day 3, he decided he had enough of it and bravely attempted to head downwards. He ended up slipping, tumbling and bumping his head on the floor accompanied by a loud yelp.

On Day 4, he was stuck on top of a short flight of stairs, and my mom was ignoring all desperate whines. He plucked up enough courage to try again. This time, he only half-slid down. When he hit the bottom, he immediately shot up the stairs and tried again.

By the time I reached home, he had figured it out. It goes like this:

Step 1: Do ground survey

Step 2: Get into position

Step 3: Have a break before repeating process

So everything's good, right? Actually no. Our friend is getting cocky. Today he was sitting on my lap when he decided to jump off. That's right. The height was like three times his.

He slammed his jaw into the (thank God) carpet, and then made a whole lap around the house yelping away. I thought he broke his jaw.

Think he learnt his lesson? Yeah, right. Half an hour later he was happily sniffing the balcony railing and he placed one paw on the slopping roof!

Tomorrow the wire mash goes up EVERYWHERE.

A puppy for Mother's Day

Mother's Day began like any other day. Mum woke up bright and early and was gushing about how clean the house was without a dog around. When I commented about what fun they are, she immediately told me to go do something more useful with my money like take up the violin or something. Being Mother's Day, I didn't say a word and just went back to my paper.

The propect of having a fuzzy one in the house again never looked bleaker.

Also, we got round to discussing this a couple of weeks back, and everyone had their criteria for the new dog. When I compiled everything, the new boy needed to be *ahem*: a free 3-month-old puppy of a unique, manja, non-aggressive and easy-to-train breed with minimal health problems, needing little grooming that will grow up to be a small dog which won't shed but isn't so small he will fit through the bars of the front gate.

Easy, ya? While I'm at it, I'll wish for a billion dollars and a castle in the sky.

Even after eliminating the "free" bit, no dog breed selector on the Internet could suggest a suitable dog. Still I wasn't in a hurry and decided to take my time to look around.

When my dad reached home on Sunday afternoon, I casually mentioned as he was removing his socks that mum didn't want another dog. He jerked his head up, leaving half a sock dangling from his toes, and said, "Who said they don't want another dog?!!?"

He proceeded to announce that Mother's Day or not, mum was out-voted. To prove it, he packed mum and me back in the car and headed to a few pet shops just for a look.

Mum was sleepy but she wanted to make sure we weren't going start liking some "boring ol' breed". As adament as she had been in the morning, she really seemed to like all the puppies, but one in particular stood out. "Ooooh, what's that? It's so cute!"

Me: "Er? Oh...that's a schnauzer."

Mum: "Ah? A what? How to spell, ah?"

Me: "Nevermind. It's an Ah Pek dog. Next."

But there was no "next" for mum.

"So cute! I like the colour!" "So friendly! Is it trainable?" "Does the fur grow like that normally?" "Such pretty eyes!"

Me and dad: "..."

Pet shop owner: $$$

.

.

.

By 8pm, we were on our way home with brand new 3.5 month old mini schnauzer with a load of accessories and puppy chow in the boot.

Danny loves to be carried and thinks moving toes are fun teething toys. He loves to eat and of course what goes in must come out, right?

Unfortunately, yes.

This morning he was so happy to see me, he was dancing in his own poop. Good thing he's cute.

Neighbourhood bully wannabe

Chassard was a big dog with big ambitions. His number one goal in life? To be the top dog in the neighbourhood.

He started off small, picking fights with a couple of collies who took walks past the house and terrorising the postman. The poor man finally took to parking his scooter at the start of the avenue and delivering the mail on foot so as to minimise the noise level. It must have worked pretty well cos he started doing it throughout the neighbourhood (aka dog central).

"It's the postman, I tell you! I need to go out and bark!"

One fine day, with his ego boosted from past successes, he decided it was time to take on the neighbourhood stray.

How he slipped out I have no idea. All I know is that I was on the way back from a nice relaxing stroll, when I saw a familiar black dog with ears down and tail between his legs racing straight for me. Giving chase was the leaner, meaner, street-wise stray.

And do you know what that gung-ho, geh kiang dog did? He ducked behind me and hid!

I jumped away, leaving him very exposed and equally confused. For one moment he had the safety of a pair of thighs, and the next he was in full view again.

As unglamourous as his strategy was, it worked. Confronted with a new albeit unwilling entrant into the foray, the stray stopped, took a couple of seconds to size me up and then decided I wasn't juicy enough to sink his teeth into.

Once he left, Chassard gave me a mopey look and spent the rest of the night feeling sorry for himself.

Ever since then, he wouldn't go near the stray. He figured dedicating his life to annoying the postman was a lot less risky.

I agree.

Why you shouldn't feel sorry for my bro

My bro is more or less okay now but get this. After one and a half weeks of medical leave, the hospital gave him another seven days!

That's a total of 2.5 weeks! All that for one small wound half the size of a one-cent coin...on his hand! He doesn't even have an ounce of fever! Even people suspected of swine flu only get seven days quarantine!

The doctor's reason? He has to use the computer at work so he needs to rest.



Like real. He's been going out everyday since!

Hey, suddenly occured to me...so, does this mean if I have a mouth ulcer I can be put on a drip?



Hee!

2 weeks ago: "Talk to the hand"

How to treat a dog bite (or how to get a long MC)

I thought it was about time to post something useful instead of just gossiping about the dog. So here it is, my very first sensible post. Taa-daah!

The family's had dogs for many years but even so, when my bro got bit, we were totally clueless on what to do. As it turned out, so was the A&E department.

The result was three days of MC, a two-night hospital stay during which they operated on his hand, followed by another seven days of MC coupled with daily changes to the dressing at the GP. The bandages came off today and he's just left with a plaster of sorts, but for a week he had chipolatas for fingers.

So, to save anyone who's reading this the agony, here's a recap of what went wrong.

1) Prevention is better than cure. Chassard was already growling when my bro tried to leash him. Continuing to do so was a bad idea.

2) We rushed down to two hospitals in search of a rabies jab before we found out that Singapore is rabies-free. If you get bitten by a dog on this tiny island, there is no need for a jab. If you get bitten abroad, however, it is not just one jab you need but a series of jabs. Tan Tock Seng is the only hospital in Singapore that carries the vaccine and it costs around $100+ for each jab alone.

3) The doctor at the A&E didn't stitch it as the dog's mouth (and any other mouth for that matter) carries a lot of bacteria, hence closing up the wound would increase the chance of infection. As his hand kept bleeding, the nurse proceeded to bandage the wound. However, this had the same effect as sealing up the bacteria in his hand. By the morning of his review check-up, his hand was still swollen and he had to be warded. The doctors decided to operate to remove the infection at midnight when they realised the antibiotics weren't working.

According to our GP, he should have just kept it clean but let it bleed out. That way bacteria would be flushed out of the wound.

4) A day after he was sent home from the hospital, his hand continued to swell and was turning a darkish colour. It turns out, he needed to keep his hand in an upright position so the blood wouldn't collect in the hand. He spent the next seven days looking like he was waving at everyone. But it worked. By Day 4 (post-hospital), it had shrunk back to normal and was a nice healthy shade of pink.

So yes, now the family knows what not to do... especially my brother.

Tit for Tat

I never thought of Chassard as a vindictive dog. But this episode really changed my mind.

One warm afternoon, Chassard was cosying up to a sofa and about to take a nap when my brother walked in. As he reached for the TV remote, he let off a really bad, noisy one....And believe me, my brother's ...er... excesses are serious. Never get caught in an enclosed space with him.

Anyway, the worst thing Chassard had smelt so far was himself (this was before the diarrhea incident). He scrambled to his feet, cast a furtive look at my bro and scampered into the kitchen where his favourite smells are.

The very next day, my bro was lounging on the sofa in front of the TV. Chassard was in the dining room with me when he suddenly got up, hurried up to my bro, let one fly in his face and came back to me.

It was the only time he had given off a noisy one but it couldn't match my bro's for deadlinest.

Still it was a valiant effort. Maybe he thought he was returning some wierd form of human greeting.

Whatever it is, after that my bro was a lot more careful around him.