Kameeke got her name from the little boy next door whose attempt to say “come here, kitty” sounded like “ka mee kee.”  Debra acquired the cat in early June of 1989, about two months before we met.

Kameeke had been a part of our lives from the first time I went to pick Debra up for a date.  Debra showed me in and asked me to sit for a few minutes while she finished getting ready to go.  She said that the dog (Sandy) didn’t like men very much and would probably be standoffish.  The cat, she said, was unlikely to appear, as she always hid when company came over.

When Debra came back downstairs after about five minutes, the dog was plastered against my leg on the couch, and Kameeke was curled up in my lap, purring.  When she saw that, Debra says, she figured I couldn’t be all bad.  If the cat and dog liked me, there must be something good about me.

Kameeke wasn’t a hugely affectionate cat.  She’d come by now and then for some loving, but then would hop down and go off to her corner.  She liked being in the same room as the rest of the family, but didn’t need to be reassured every moment.  That suited me just fine, as I don’t think I could handle having a cat lying on my chest and drooling on my face all the time.  A few minutes here and there was quite sufficient.

Kameeke carried her age well.  She started slowing down, of course, but she’d still tear through the house from time to time, and she never lost her fascination with string.  It was only just recently that the years started catching up with her.  At some point we realized that “cure” wasn’t an option, and when it became evident that all of our efforts were just prolonging her suffering, we acknowledged that it was time to let her go.

We’re richer from having known her for 20 years: countless smiles, some real belly laughs, and most importantly the love she showed when she crawled up and asked to be petted while she purred.  We’ll miss having her, but will always remember.

Rest well, Kameeke.

Just wanted to share this video from yesterday’s treadmill session.  They’ve reduced the water level and increased the speed.  Charlie is improving by leaps and bounds every day.  Perhaps soon he’ll be leaping and bounding.

The title pretty much says it all.  The physical therapist at A&M sent us these videos of Charlie walking yesterday.  This is just two weeks post-surgery, after not walking for almost two months.  He still has a long way to go, but he’s getting there pretty darned quick.

They tell me that they’re feeding him four full cans of food a day. That’s more than double what we normally feed him, but I guess he’s got a lot of weight to put back on.

We’ll be heading over there tomorrow to pick him up.  We’ll decide over the weekend whether we’ll be taking him back or continuing the therapy here.

Charlie has had a very difficult couple of months. He was improving after his back surgery in December, but right after Christmas he had a setback. He spent most of a week at the vet’s office, and on New Year’s Day we were on the road with him to Texas A&M University Veterinary school for an MRI. The MRI revealed a cyst of some kind on his spinal cord (actually in the membrane around the cord).

After a few weeks of continued physical therapy and consultations with doctors, we determined that he wouldn’t get better without surgery to remove the cyst. So we took him back to A&M on the 20th, and he had surgery on the 21st.  The surgery lasted about six hours. Surprisingly, Charlie was awake and alert the next morning, hungry and in good spirits. Debra went to see him over the weekend, and Charlie started physical therapy on Monday of this week.

Jennie, the 4th year veterinary student who is his primary caregiver took this video of Charlie walking on the underwater treadmill on Tuesday—just six days after his surgery.

They had to put the treadmill on incline because the day before, Charlie was holding his legs up and letting his back end float while he padded along on his front feet. With the treadmill on incline, he can’t cheat.

We went over to pick Charlie up this afternoon and bring him home for the weekend.  He’s apparently been somewhat homesick or something–not wanting to be there. We’ll keep him here for the weekend and then I’ll take him back on Monday morning for another week of therapy. After that, if he continues to improve, we’ll likely bring him home and continue the therapy locally.

Ever the charmer, Charlie has endeared himself to everybody at the hospital. Especially Jennie, shown here with her favorite patient.

Charlie has lost a lot of muscle mass in the back, what with being immobile for most of 8 weeks. He’s shaped like a lightbulb. He can’t yet stand on his own, but his legs are already much stronger now than they were when we took him in for surgery. It’s going to take a while and he might not regain full function, but I expect he’ll at least be able to walk again.

I can’t say enough good things about the staff at Texas A&M’s Veterinary school. They’ve been incredibly helpful and, most important, up front and honest about the risks of surgery and about Charlie’s chances for recovery. They’ve also given Charlie very good care and seem to be very personally involved with his treatment. If I ever have another pet who has a condition that my normal veterinarian can’t handle, I’ll go directly to A&M or to the nearest major university vet school if I move away from here.

There was a thread over on Free Republic today discussing two “pit bull” attacks, one involving a 53-year-old woman, and one involving a 91-year-old woman.  The discussion was mostly innocuous, except for one poster who insisted that “pit bulls” are inherently vicious and unpredictable and should be outlawed and the “breed” extinguished.  His postings are similar to comments that I see and hear every time a “pit bull” attack is reported in the media.  The people expressing these opinions show an astounding lack of understanding of basic canine behavior and reflect total ignorance of the breeds that informed people call “pit bulls.”

First, there is no such “breed” as a “pit bull.”  Bull Mastiffs, Boxers, Dobermans, and Rottweilers among others have been called “pit bulls” by the press and by uninformed individuals.  To many people, the term “pit bull” is synonymous with “vicious dog.”  That is, any dog that bites or exhibits very aggressive behavior is a “pit bull.”  In fact, many times a news story will say “pit bull attacks child,” when the dog was actually a Labrador or a Cocker Spaniel.  The paper might print a correction, but of course then nobody cares.

The term “pit bull” refers to a handful of very similar breeds, including the American Bulldog, Staffordshire Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire Terrier, and the American Pit Bull Terrier.  These all are medium sized dogs with broad shoulders and powerful muscles, 16 to 22 inches tall and weighing from 30 to 70 pounds.  They typically have a blocky head with powerful jaw muscles.  A pit bull’s jaws, by the way, don’t “lock.”  They do, however, have very strong jaws and are very persistent.  If they do latch onto something, they tend to hang on more than most other dogs would. 

People who raise pit bulls intelligently will tell you that the dogs are energetic, playful, loyal, loving, protective, strong willed, and extremely intelligent.  In other words, they’re not much different than many other breeds.  As with any dog, early positive training and socialization are important.  It’s especially important not to indulge any dominant or aggressive behavior.  Like any other large and powerful dog, an out of control pit bull can do a lot of damage.  A Labrador or Golden Retriever can do just as much damage.

There’s simply no good evidence that pit bulls are any less predictable than other dogs.  The stories of a dog suddenly turning on its owner or an innocent bystander for no apparent reason are just that:  stories.  Cocker Spaniels and Chihuahuas are much more likely to bite a child, and any dog that is abused or neglected and then set loose is likely to be a danger to people and other animals.  Whereas it’s true that pit bulls (among others, like Dobermans and Rottweilers) have been trained by idiots to be “attack dogs,” there is nothing to indicate that these breeds are inherently vicious.

My personal experience with Charlie and some of my friends’ dogs bear this out.  A properly raised pit is a great family dog, fun to play with, and very tolerant of children who sometimes hit or tug inappropriately.  They’re usually fine around family pets (cats and other dogs), but might be very aggressive towards other animals.  This is extremely variable from dog to dog, as it is with all breeds.  They are dogs, after all, and chasing things is in their nature.