Why do I get myself into this stuff?
You may have heard that Bubbles and Petunia are inhabiting our front porch, mooching meals off of us, and following us everywhere we go, even when we leave in the car. You know (or maybe you don't) that we battled with Bubbles to keep her from sneaking into the back yard five times a day and ripping open her belly stitches every time she'd come through the fence, thus the cone of shame (which worked perfectly and solved our problem).
What I am certain that you don't know is that one of the sweet pooches has...ick, I hate to even type the word...Mange! Eeeyooow! After Bubbles was spayed, I noticed that she had lots of little scabs on her, but I figured it was from flea bites or ticks or something. This week she got a hot spot on her tail (something I never encountered in the dry climates where I've lived, but Libbie got one back in August shortly after we arrived here). I've been spraying antibiotics on the spot, but since she lays around in the dirt/sand in the street in front of our house, the spot keeps getting caked with crud and it hurts her when I try to wash it off and treat it.
What the heck is wrong with me? This is a STRAY dog. Why do I even care? Would anyone else ever go to these measures for a dog that lives in front of their house? I can tell you, Scott wouldn't. He thinks I'm nuts.
Anyway...so, I took Bubbles to the vet today to have the vet clean her hot spot (it's not a one-person job) and give her a shot of antibiotics to help her get rid of it. I pointed out all the other little scabs on her and he said it. The word that must not be typed. Mange. Ick. He said it is common here and the dogs get it (mostly) from parasites in construction sand, not from the sand on the beach.
The remedy? Give the dog a bath every five days (what? how? huh?) and bring her in for injections every eight days. Seriously? I'm in that vet office ALL the time. I've actually apologized for how often I show my face there. Do they think I have Munchausen's? Probably.
Brynn and Callie were pretty enthusiastic about helping me bathe Bubbles, which is great because I couldn't do it by myself. Brynn, since she wants to be an "Animal Rescuer" (think: vet at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, not Diego), said that it would be good practice for her.
The bath went okay and didn't take as long as I thought (not that I have a lot of things vying for my time here). Bubbles didn't love it, but she put up with it nicely. She really is a sweet pup. One down, five-ish more baths to go.
IN an unrelated, but nonetheless noteworthy turn of events, someone seems to have moved into the...um, for lack of a better word...shack...nextdoor. Hut, maybe? Metal hut? And seems to be doing some construction on it by banging loudly on his metal hut during the day. Lovely. He does it while blasting some kind of American Green Day-esque music over crackly speakers. It is actually a relief from all of the accordians and trumpets favored by the rest of the neighborhood.