Monday, May 11, 2015

The real costs of owning a dog (and duck)

Anyone thinking about buying a pet needs to consider the financial responsibility involved.  It's not hard.  Any idiot can Google the cost of owning a dog or cat (there's nothing about the long-term costs of owning a duck).  I did and was shocked by the result.  However, I've learned there are other costs and financial ones are the least of one’s worries.
     I wasn't worried when I forked out $300 to save Gina's life after she ingested cane toad venom.  The stress of concealing the expense from Tony was much worse.
     I was happy to pay $400 to buy Seffy’s puppy, Pippa Jane.  It was a small price to pay for a life time of happiness, companionship and responsibility for my daughter.  Things changed when this happened ... Pippa ate Rat Sac. 
The vet had never seen a dog vomit so much rat poison.
     Pippa’s life was saved by several hundred dollars, but I was faced with the reality of dealing with a daughter’s grief should anything 'permanent' happen to Pippa.  It made me realise I may one day be faced with the angst of having to decide between expensive and painful surgery (sometimes with a mediocre prognosis) or euthanising an animal.  The cost of the surgery is quantifiable; the pain and suffering for an animal who can’t understand, is not. 
     Pippa can't understand her desire to chew so many things, mostly footwear and backpack straps and plastic containers.  Oh, and the legs and arms of wooden furniture like my antique Burmese Teak lounge suite and the PNG Mahogany wood table (from a large trunk that washed ashore at Port Lihou in 1998).
     Providing Pippa paces her appetite, the cost is bearable.  I can easily conceal the damage of backpack-sized items by tossing the chewed item into someone else’s wheelie bin so Tony doesn’t notice.  It’s the constant deception that I find difficult.  Is it just and reasonable for a wife to lie to her husband to keep the peace?
    This happened next.
Pippa has a taste for good literature. She also nibbled on Alex Miller's Journey to the Stone Country.
     I was furious about the destruction of another good book, but wait, there was more.  I had to pay $30 to the Tableland Regional Council library for the damage and to restore my suspended borrowing rights.  The worst was suffering the humiliation of explaining, at the head of a long queue, the kids and I didn't eat the book and a naughty puppy was responsible.  I now have a black mark against my name.
     I can live with the financial burden of owning a dog, the inconvenience of wearing mismatched thongs, never finding a lid for a plastic container, suffering the stigma of failing to discipline my dog and having to sit on plastic chairs since the lounge suite is in the garage waiting for repairs which I am saving for.  But things have got worse.  The other night Tony asked me if I had seen his “other black thong.”
     “No,” I said quite honestly.  I didn’t mention I’d seen pieces of his black thong which I’d quickly swept up and deposited into a plastic bag at the bottom of the kitchen bin.
     This was quite literally the thong that broke the camel’s back.  Pippa is not allowed to set foot inside even though the thong vanished from the back deck (Duh!  Don't leave your thongs on the floor!). Tony now refers to Pippa as “the bloody dog” and he’s on at Seffy continually to keep the back deck tidy and “the bloody dog” outside, all with the diplomacy of a fascist leader.
     Now Seffy and I have to reprimand Pippa each time she comes inside and draconian discipline is not our style.   If Pippa comes inside when Tony’s not around, I have to reprimand Seffy and remind her “Dad really wants Pippa outside.”
     Worse, I have to broker peace between father and daughter when I have no conflict resolution training.  I’ve listened to Seffy refer to her father as “a bloody idiot” because he treats Pippa like a dog.
     This happened at the same time Tony said I had to stop buying frozen peas for my ducks.  Now I am harbouring murderous intentions.
     How come that Google search I did on the cost of owning a pet never mentioned the real costs?

5 comments:

  1. Lucky for the dog you where in the mainland up here it would be a salty drink hope for the best and vitamin K

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  2. I hadn't thought of that, but you're absolutely right. I don't think she'd have been able to vomit up so much without the medication. I couldn't get her to drink bicarb in milk which is what the vet said to try. That's when we went in.

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  3. Get some small bones from the butcher. Pack them in individual plastic bags and freeze them. One a day. No need to defrost.
    And every time Pippa chews a forbidden item, take it with a firm "No" (& a wagging finger for effect) & give her a small frozen bone.
    You can't stop the urge to chew, but you can replace off-limit items with permitted chews. Can also try chewable dog toys (like balls with bells in, rubber bones, squeaky chickens etc.)
    Try teaching "fetch" with a stick or dog toy that she can chew (the aim is not that she learns how to fetch - tho bonus points if she does - but that she learns what objects are 'allowed'.
    Depending on Pippa's size coconuts, pandanus nuts and other garden cast-offs (no old shoes, socks, books or thongs tho) can be turned into a game of hide & seek (hide & chew) - get Seffy to wipe her hands on objects to be hidden, in the early days 'show' Pippa where they're hidden and make a fuss when she finds them. If she's not keen on chewing an 'alllowed' object try using it in a tug-o-war to encourage her to want to charge off with it in her mouth.
    Brought to you from the home of perfectly behaved dogs (erm..OK...from the dog-mother made up of many flaws tied together with good intentions.)

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  4. So, here's what happened to a bone just after I read your comment. Pippa buried it and some days later, retrieved and then re-buried it ... in my office. T'was not nice.
    One of the advantages of working at the Salvos is being able to rescue stuff that's destined for the skip and keep for Pippa. Recently I brought home a heap of small My Favourite Pony things for her to chew. She loves them in addition to the regular shoes, hats and clothes she chews. I think chewing for dogs must be like taking ecstasy for humans - the more a dog chews, the more it craves. Anyway, the yard is now dotted with small pieces of coloured silicon as if we recently hosted a wedding! Gotta love puppies.

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  5. Thank you so much for sharing this great blog.Very inspiring and helpful too.Hope you continue to share more of your ideas.I will definitely love to read. Ilan Tzorya

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