Cute face, cute curl and fawn fur.
Food and treats come and go in a blur.
But oh, so much strife:
She didn't choose the pug life,
The pug life, it chose her!
Saturday, 27 September 2014
Saturday, 20 September 2014
Saturday limerick: Classical conditioning
Once these two nutters
Did not act like civilised mutters
When the other was near
Food especially was dear.
Peace through peanut butter!
Sunday, 14 September 2014
Saturday Limerick: The Hoodie (two versions)
Most think my little pug
is a delightful little bug.
Mostly that's true of my pup
Until she puts her hood up.
Suddenly my cutie's a thug!
+ + +
Once upon a time
A pug with a gangsta rhyme
Put up her hood
and gave everyone 'tude
"bitch, I'm out to do crime!"
Saturday, 6 September 2014
Saturday Limerick - Bee Sting
"Get it out, get it out, get it out!"
A clear message from her little snout
But if I touch that paw
That she holds near her jaw
My finger I will be without!
Wednesday, 3 September 2014
Do dogs self-medicate?
Last night, around three am, Talos suddenly got up, and asked to be let outside. I figured she might want to go use the bathroom, usually she uses her litter box, but she has not done so in a couple of days. This could mean one of two things, either she has not pooped, or she's been pooping outside. If she has not pooped, it would make sense for her to need to go at an odd time.
This was not the case, however. Once outside, she proceeded to eat grass. Huge mouthfuls of it. Grabbed it and mowed it like a horse. Kept it up for about five minutes, then came back inside.
She repeated this a number of times, I watched her for the entire time for the first four or so, then I pretty much let her out, checked that she was doing the same thing, and went back to bed leaving her to her grazing.
I expected her to throw up, but she did not. I expected poop this morning, but there has been none. That's not so much the topic of this post, however (don't worry, her behaviour is otherwise perfectly normal, wolfs down her food, plays, walks, naps on my lap and we've taken some 'move yer bowls' action. If there's no poop by tomorrow we're headed for the vet!)
What this has me wondering is if dogs have the ability to self medicate. I know they eat grass occasionally anyway, but many people have a similar story where their dog eats grass seemingly to get their bowels a-moving, or to induce vomiting. Basically, it looks like they're taking a laxative to feel better.
This is pretty much right up there with anthropomorphising your dog, as bad as seeing the 'guilt' in their eyes when they've done something bad (it's all in out heads, by the way, they're not feeling guilty at all). Most dogs will nibble on grass, and some seem to really love it, especially fresh young shoots. It's hard to argue that this nibbling has much to do with inducing vomiting or bowel movements, given that after their graze, they have perfectly normal digestion related events. It would be an entirely reasonable supposition that their grazing when they're feeling less than optimal is just ordinary grazing that we now take note of because of our heightened observation of our unwell furry buddy.
But that does not quite cover what I saw last night. That nearly desperate ripping out of the poor lawn and gulping it down looks nothing like the dainty sampling of leaves she does ordinarily. It also does not cover other pet owner's experiences, which seems to hint, like I'm thinking, that dogs do indeed have some sense of which plants (or minerals, many dogs eat clay occasionally) have what effect on their systems, and use them to effect changes in their bodies. Zoopharmacognosy is the official term.
The evidence is hardly clear on the matter, but it seems there may be a case for it. It is well documented that animals make 'choices' regarding foodstuffs that do indeed relate in some way to their physical state. Especially interesting to me is how other mammals than us humans also sometimes get it wrong, and ingest substances that harm them in association with a certain physical condition. I mean, we know how very many of our 'folk' medications turn out to be duds, despite people having sworn by them for hundreds of years, and even our contemporary biomedicine gets it wrong all too often (pills for depression being a big one, often being only as effective as a placebo in long term studies - here's an interesting article) . It's quite cool then to see that it's a feature of animals to 'get it wrong' sometimes. To me, at least.
Here are some additional articles, if you're interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoopharmacognosy
http://skeptvet.com/Blog/2012/10/zoopharmacognosy-do-animals-self-medicate/
http://pacificcrestpethealth.com/blogs/?p=68
This was not the case, however. Once outside, she proceeded to eat grass. Huge mouthfuls of it. Grabbed it and mowed it like a horse. Kept it up for about five minutes, then came back inside.
She repeated this a number of times, I watched her for the entire time for the first four or so, then I pretty much let her out, checked that she was doing the same thing, and went back to bed leaving her to her grazing.
I expected her to throw up, but she did not. I expected poop this morning, but there has been none. That's not so much the topic of this post, however (don't worry, her behaviour is otherwise perfectly normal, wolfs down her food, plays, walks, naps on my lap and we've taken some 'move yer bowls' action. If there's no poop by tomorrow we're headed for the vet!)
What this has me wondering is if dogs have the ability to self medicate. I know they eat grass occasionally anyway, but many people have a similar story where their dog eats grass seemingly to get their bowels a-moving, or to induce vomiting. Basically, it looks like they're taking a laxative to feel better.
This is pretty much right up there with anthropomorphising your dog, as bad as seeing the 'guilt' in their eyes when they've done something bad (it's all in out heads, by the way, they're not feeling guilty at all). Most dogs will nibble on grass, and some seem to really love it, especially fresh young shoots. It's hard to argue that this nibbling has much to do with inducing vomiting or bowel movements, given that after their graze, they have perfectly normal digestion related events. It would be an entirely reasonable supposition that their grazing when they're feeling less than optimal is just ordinary grazing that we now take note of because of our heightened observation of our unwell furry buddy.
But that does not quite cover what I saw last night. That nearly desperate ripping out of the poor lawn and gulping it down looks nothing like the dainty sampling of leaves she does ordinarily. It also does not cover other pet owner's experiences, which seems to hint, like I'm thinking, that dogs do indeed have some sense of which plants (or minerals, many dogs eat clay occasionally) have what effect on their systems, and use them to effect changes in their bodies. Zoopharmacognosy is the official term.
The evidence is hardly clear on the matter, but it seems there may be a case for it. It is well documented that animals make 'choices' regarding foodstuffs that do indeed relate in some way to their physical state. Especially interesting to me is how other mammals than us humans also sometimes get it wrong, and ingest substances that harm them in association with a certain physical condition. I mean, we know how very many of our 'folk' medications turn out to be duds, despite people having sworn by them for hundreds of years, and even our contemporary biomedicine gets it wrong all too often (pills for depression being a big one, often being only as effective as a placebo in long term studies - here's an interesting article) . It's quite cool then to see that it's a feature of animals to 'get it wrong' sometimes. To me, at least.
Here are some additional articles, if you're interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoopharmacognosy
http://skeptvet.com/Blog/2012/10/zoopharmacognosy-do-animals-self-medicate/
http://pacificcrestpethealth.com/blogs/?p=68
Saturday, 30 August 2014
Saturday Limerick - Counterpart
At class you are such a princess
Your charms are nearly limitless
But deep in your heart
lives your true counterpart
she'd rather run like a loon than impress
Your charms are nearly limitless
But deep in your heart
lives your true counterpart
she'd rather run like a loon than impress
Sunday, 24 August 2014
My dog can bite off your finger.
Wow, what a title. Just to catch everyone up, I'm talking about Talos here. Talos the pug. Kira could do it too, but people are less surprised by a terrier mix's ability to bite.
Equally, no one would be surprised if I made that comment about a large dog, like a boerboel or a german shepherd dog. But I've watched my pug systematically work her way right through a pork shoulder bone, leaving only a tiny stump of the thickest part. Gruesome, sure, but what I'm hoping to illustrate here is that pork bones and human bones are nearly identical in size and density. Chicken feet are not that different from my fingers, and those don't even need a systematic approach.
She could bite my finger off of my hand.
Now why does this matter?
Am I warning everyone out there about my massively dangerous pug? No. The thought that Talos is an aggressive dog is laughable. The odds that she'd ever bite anyone is pretty much zero. Even Kira, who guards resources, is extremely unlikely to be labelled a dangerous dog by anyone.
But the fact remains that my dog could do this. And if my small pug, with her tiny teeth and tiny jaws can do this, every dog can do this.
That's why I chose such a dramatic title. All dogs are capable of doing serious damage with their jaws. The fact that they don't, given that we barely teach them the skills they need to navigate their lives, barely give them enough time and attention, and probably the worst offence, barely understand their body language is an absolute testament to their patience and endurance. That said, statistically 50% of kids in the US will be bitten by dogs before they're 12. Half of all kids - and guys, this is not a case of Americans being daft. It's not so different in the UK, one in six hospital admissions of kids are due to dog bites. Here, our stats are not so nicely collated in easy to digest articles (google the two mentioned above and you'll see what I mean), but I feel pretty safe in saying they're much the same.
My dogs are good dogs, safe dogs, family dogs. But almost all dog bites come from good dogs, safe dogs, family dogs (luckily these bites are almost always very minor - fatal bites, by contrast, tend to come from dogs kept in the yard or on a chain). I know the power of those jaws, and I know that humans generally suck about being sensible with dogs. Especially little humans, who have even smaller fingers than me, and tend to keep their faces at dog's eye level too. We have to do more to protect people, but especially kids, from dog bites. We owe it to our dogs to not put them in a position where they finally choose to use their teeth, and we owe it to everyone else out there to keep our dogs out of such a situation.
With that in mind, I want to make some commitments.
1. I commit to only letting my dogs around kids if I am fully capable of supervising them.
2. I commit to allowing my dogs a safe, secure space that they can go hide in should they need to, where no one will bother them, not even me.
3. I commit to learning to read, and to respecting my dog's body language. This includes removing them from a situation where they are scared or overwhelmed, even if it ends my fun.
Join me?
 |
| Intimidated yet? |
She could bite my finger off of my hand.
Now why does this matter?
Am I warning everyone out there about my massively dangerous pug? No. The thought that Talos is an aggressive dog is laughable. The odds that she'd ever bite anyone is pretty much zero. Even Kira, who guards resources, is extremely unlikely to be labelled a dangerous dog by anyone.
But the fact remains that my dog could do this. And if my small pug, with her tiny teeth and tiny jaws can do this, every dog can do this.
That's why I chose such a dramatic title. All dogs are capable of doing serious damage with their jaws. The fact that they don't, given that we barely teach them the skills they need to navigate their lives, barely give them enough time and attention, and probably the worst offence, barely understand their body language is an absolute testament to their patience and endurance. That said, statistically 50% of kids in the US will be bitten by dogs before they're 12. Half of all kids - and guys, this is not a case of Americans being daft. It's not so different in the UK, one in six hospital admissions of kids are due to dog bites. Here, our stats are not so nicely collated in easy to digest articles (google the two mentioned above and you'll see what I mean), but I feel pretty safe in saying they're much the same.
My dogs are good dogs, safe dogs, family dogs. But almost all dog bites come from good dogs, safe dogs, family dogs (luckily these bites are almost always very minor - fatal bites, by contrast, tend to come from dogs kept in the yard or on a chain). I know the power of those jaws, and I know that humans generally suck about being sensible with dogs. Especially little humans, who have even smaller fingers than me, and tend to keep their faces at dog's eye level too. We have to do more to protect people, but especially kids, from dog bites. We owe it to our dogs to not put them in a position where they finally choose to use their teeth, and we owe it to everyone else out there to keep our dogs out of such a situation.
With that in mind, I want to make some commitments.
1. I commit to only letting my dogs around kids if I am fully capable of supervising them.
2. I commit to allowing my dogs a safe, secure space that they can go hide in should they need to, where no one will bother them, not even me.
3. I commit to learning to read, and to respecting my dog's body language. This includes removing them from a situation where they are scared or overwhelmed, even if it ends my fun.
Join me?
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