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Dr. Johnson checked Mimi and Noah for ear mites (negative, although they have a bunch of nasty yuck in their ears that indicate they had ear mites but nothing moved in there so they do not have them now), lice and mange (negative), intestinal parasites (by fecal check, negative). There was discoloration of their skin from having poop constantly there, around their feet and legs and stomachs. They received their vaccinations. No problems. I was given some ear wash stuff to take home.
Surprise! Mimi, who weighs six pounds, four ounces, has some teeth, in the back. Very discolored, very dirty. But teeth. She has a kind of dislocation of her left shoulder, but it pops back into place easily and doesn't seem to bother her in the least. Dr. Johnson agreed with Mary that she has had at least one litter. He thinks she is maybe two years old. Hard to tell since most of her teeth are gone. I think maybe she might be a little older -- she acts like a puppy, but papillons do that. They've been bred to please people and they do that well, capering around and flirting. She is a little coquette, irresistable. She wants to be friends, but is scared. She does this thing, sitting up like a prairie dog, begging for attention. She is scared, still, of hands. But with her gregarious personality I'm sure it will be very soon that she'll allow herself to be petted. And really, how cute is that? I've taken the picture with the magnification thing on the camera because they get scared when I come closer -- since I still haven't read the camera book, or at least not the part about that lens, the picture is blurry. Someday I'll read the manual.
And Noah, who weighs about nine pounds, is not blind. He has normal pupil responses but one of his eyes doesn't track very well. We used to call it "wall eyed" but I think there is some more polite term for it now. One of the reasons people thought he was blind is that both his eyes are light blue. And -- he is very withdrawn and will not look at people. He sort of goes inside and averts his head and keeps his gaze fixed. He doesn't even try to come close, not even for food. He acts depressed, passive, very subdued. Dr. Johnson thinks he is not old -- what I thought was maybe arthritis in his back legs seems to be a learning to walk thing. He lived in a cage and didn't get to walk much. Dr. Johnson thinks maybe three, maybe five years old -- again, hard to tell because so many teeth are missing. His teeth are just awful. In fact while we were there one was hanging by a thread and came out when touched.
I think tomorrow I will get two tiny Kongs and squirt a little bit of Cheez-Whiz inside. I want to start getting Noah into living life; he should be interested in something, look forward to something. It might take some experimenting but there has to be something he will enjoy. I have two new little harnesses and tomorrow after I give them a bath (they STINK, still) I will take them outside onto grass. Chances are they've never walked on grass before. Then I can begin potty training -- they don't have a clue. We can have their teeth cleaned and have them spayed/neutered in a week or so but I don't think that will help Noah's marking habit much. We'll see.
Mimi and Noah are going to have to be separated at mealtimes. Mimi has a zest for life and also a zest for food -- she eats like a threshing crew. Noah, depressed and withdrawn, is much slower. So she eats for both of them, in record time. Noah doesn't seem to care that she takes his food. So I'll give him a private place to eat and some more time.
I met Ginger --
Saw some other nice volunteers with various dogs taken from the puppy mill in eastern Washington. They are combinations of papillons, chihuahuas, yorkies, mini dachshunds. Thirty of them were brought to Seattle to be picked up by foster volunteers. They had been driven straight to the groomer's to be bathed and clipped. They were covered in feces and urine and their coats were all matted. They arrived at the parking lot at Ginger's restaurant smelling good, kind of damp. The saddest thing -- not one tail was wagging. Not one. Eventually a little puppy-ish papillon arrived, wagging and glad to see everybody. That was the exception that really called attention to the sadness of these little guys. It wasn't fear, wasn't aggression. It was a kind of indifference, a blankness, a thousand yard stare.
I brought Mimi and Noah home, my little fosters.
The pictures aren't the greatest, but I was trying to get them settled in so they could just relax this first night -- I didn't want to keep flashing the camera in their faces. I brought my other dogs in one by one, and they were all, oh yeah more dogs big deal when can we eat.
Mimi, at left here, looks like maybe a chihuahua-papillon. Teeny tiny little girl, but Mary says probably she's had at least one litter. She has no teeth. She seems curious and apprehensive.
Noah, on the right, was thought to be blind, but when you get him inside, away from really bright light, he seems to see fairly well. His eyes are all messed up, filmy blue-gray. Maybe an infection? He's an intact male. At first they thought he was ten years old, but then maybe not. We just don't know.
Their story: Puppy mill in eastern Washington, not busted (yet). Deplorable conditions, hundreds of tiny dogs. Some really sick, all filthy and neglected. One of the volunteers told me that one little dog had a bad infection, and when the vet checked she found two dead puppies inside. Ginger created a relationship with the woman who had agreed to give up a couple of hundred dogs, maybe knowing a raid was coming. I don't know more than that. There are apparently at least a hundred still there.
Both of them are not one bit afraid of all my other dogs. They both seem apprehensive about people. Neither has the slightest idea of potty manners. Both have ear mites. Tomorrow they will see Dr. Johnson and we'll figure out the when and how of spay/neuter and beginning vaccinations. Maybe I can get a closer estimate of their ages, too.