Zen and the Art of Animal Maintenance

The first of April is just around the corner and rather than wait until Tuesday when I have to teach and a bunch of other stuff, I figured today I would take care of the monthly animal protection ritual.

Flea and tick season is nearly upon us and all sorts of other parasites pose a threat to my indoor/outdoor pets. So once a month, I need to wrangle them down to treat them with SpotOn and Frontline.

The ritual is imperative but the critters aren't exactly cooperative.

This morning was made even more interesting because Zoe and I finally got back to Tipton Park where I let her off leash and she promptly rolled in something stinky. Ah yes, the joys of spring time!

Fortunately, I have a second bathroom with a tub in the basement (which also serves as my laundry room). So once I got all the towels lining the floor, the shampoo opened on the edge of the tub, the Frontline next to scissors, and ear cleaner and cotton balls prepared, I sought out Zoe who was napping on her bed.

I am convinced Zoe can read my mind. I arrived at her bed and tried to get her up off it and with her ears down and tail tucked, she suddenly became a dead weight. Have you ever tried to move 75 pounds of chocolate lab that doesn't want to be moved? Not easy.

I finally convinced her to move by gently tucking my slippered foot under her butt and she stood up looking for a place to hide. As she's getting older and slowing down a little, I managed to catch her collar before she crawled under the kitchen table or behind the bedroom chair (two places that are hard for a human to pull her out from). So stayed pliable long enough to get her downstairs and into the bathroom - I shut the door promptly to prevent escape - but she instantly became a dead weight again when I tried to put her in the tub. SIGH. Taking a deep breath, I got my arms underneath her front legs and managed to get half of her in the tub. After repeating the process, Zoe was finally in the tub and the bathing commenced.

Labs are supposed to like the water and under almost every other circumstance, I can't keep her OUT of the water. But no, a bath is punishment apparently and she endures it only slightly better than going to see the vet.

Once scrubbed down and rinsed, I have to block her escape long enough to get a towel. I get the towel and she leaps out of the tub dodging the towel as best she can. I manage to tackle her long enough to get some of the water soaked up but she escapes and shakes water over the ENTIRE bathroom: all over the toilet, the washer, the dryer, the sink. Oh well, I can get that later. I pounce on her again with a fresh towel and get more of her dried off. After the third towel, she's at least no longer dripping wet or trying shake herself dry.

Time to clean her ears.

If you thought Zoe hated baths, it's nothing compared to her loathing of getting her ears cleaned. But she suffers chronic yeast infections and the best way to stay on top of the yeast buildup is to clean her ears regularly. Fortunately, her "new" diet of grain-free food is helping reduce the number and severity of her infections. But it doesn't make the cleaning process any more fun. She tries to hide in the bathroom which is actually comical because there's nowhere for her to go . . . and I corner her next to the sink with the cleaner and cotton balls. Six yucky cotton balls and several minutes later and her ears are pink and pretty inside.

Now it's time for the Frontline application. This easy by comparison! I head to the door where she stands tail wagging vigorously, thinking she's going to be set free. Ha! This is one moment I actually feel smarter than my dog. As she's standing there, I find the spot between her shoulder blades and squeeze the tube. DONE!

THEN I set her free. She races up the stairs and I meet her at the treat jar where I give her the cookie she has earned for enduring yet another monthly ritual.

Uh - oh. Now it's time for the CATS.

Fortunately, Henry heard the treat jar and jumps up on the counter to get his. Fortunately the upstairs bathroom is set up for the kitties with the SpotOn and scissors already in place. I snag Henry off the counter and lock us up in the bathroom. I place him on my lap as I try to cut the plastic applicator, and Henry slips off my lap by digging his claws into my legs (nice kitty) and stands by the door crying and pawing. Since he's upright, I manage to clip the applicator and squeeze it on him in a deft, sweeping motion I'm surprised I have in me. Before I know it, I'm finished with Henry!

Now for Beatrice the Bitch. I'm sorry to call her that, but since Henry joined our little family of girls, Beatrice has been a growling, hissing, spitting bitch of a cat most of the time. Poor thing.

I find her hiding in the study under my desk chair. I move the chair off of her and go to pick her up, but the growl and hiss that follows is an indication she's about to let my blood so I back off. She flies out of the room and under my bed, growling all the while.

She's still there.

Because if I've learned one thing, it's how to be Zen when dealing with my animals. I wasn't always and bear the scars as proof. But as I've mentioned before, I can be taught (experiential wisdom) and I am happy to be mindful of the present moment with them. After all, that's where the live all the time.

I have let go of being judgemental and controlling when it comes to taking care of them.

That's Zen and the Art of Animal Maintenance.