Kiya's hornet(?) sting at Sentosa

Two Mondays ago, Persons D and S took us to Sentosa with Persons DS and SM. It was a glorious morning - bright sunshine, warm sand.. and the big blue sea!

I did not wait. I got into the sea very quickly.



It was at this point that Person D suddenly lost control of Louie because he was so excited (and he can't swim properly like me - he hops in the water. What type of dog hops in the water?!) and he broke free and sprinted around. Person S was frantic but Person D and I knew Louie would come back - he did, but from then on Person S made sure we were leashed. Hmphf.

We went swimming, and then took a five minute break, and then it was back to the water again.









Look how much of a handful Louie was, to Person S. Whenever he saw another dog, he got crazy. Jeez.




Louie, look. This is how you swim:






Persons SM and D marvelled at how good a swimmer I was, so I swam even more to show off my ability. I floated so easily, and paddling was so fun and painless!




Of course, sometimes I really did not like the water in my ears and I'd shake, much to Person SM's amusement ("It's no use, Kiya!").




Louie looked quite miserable. I think he really wanted to break free and leap and hop in the water instead of paddling about.







I met many dogs there. Sometimes, Person D would let me offleash - which I should rightly be - I was extremely well-behaved with all the dogs there, though some were not that nice to me.





I remember her. She is called Bella and she just got here from Geneva, Switzerland! I wondered how she managed the switch from snow to sand.





It was at this point when Person D felt very bad for Louie who was leashed up throughout. He was also getting very frustrated, barking and whining. He really wanted to run. So all of us swam across a short stretch of water to an island of sorts. When we got there, Person D persuaded Person S to let Louie offleash, and when he did, Louie immediately hopped about in the water and ran into the bushes on the island.

Person S was worried that he would sprint away and then swim to shore and terrorise both people and dogs like Gozilla, so he ran after him. I ran with him as it was all so exciting.

Alas! Louie, that git, he ran over a nest, home to some sort of stinging creatures - hornets? wasps? - but being such a sprinter with such a slinky body of his, he jumped right over them and ran away. Person S and I were right behind - and we got the full force of the stings. Poor Person S! He shouted at me, "Kiya, run!" and he ran back to the sea and jumped into it.

When Person D found me, I was rolling about as I got stung. Person S also suffered about three or four stings. We swam back, and soon, the pain got to me and Person S. Of course, the trip was over. And back home, after all the showers to get rid of the sand, and drying up, Person D found me with my right eye swollen.






She said I looked like a boxer with a bruised eye.




I did not find it funny, as it was painful. But I was so tired from all that swimming in the sea, I slept through it all that day, and even the next.

Person S and I are both alright now, but we were rather huffy towards Person D and Louie for a while. They got by unscathed.

D's broken heart

Dogs are such wonderful, simple creatures. They love you, in the purest sense of the word. Their love is simple, innocent, and unending.

Yes, they all have a history - abandoned, adopted, rehomed dogs, even dogs from pet shops or reputable breeders or puppy mills. But they do not and cannot speak of their history. Some dogs are scarred from their past, but most shrug it all off, and still display an astounding optimism, trust and love for people.

They do not harbour secrets. Dogs can never deliberately, maliciously, do things to hurt. They do not understand that concept. They do not complicate things. They run about and jump on the couch when I return because they are over the moon to see me again. They bark and growl at other dogs walking by the house because they are either excited or territorial. They whine when they miss me. They paw me because they want more affection.

Dogs have a past.. but in reality they do not have a past. They truly live by the day. They have no other concerns but to receive love, play-time, and food. That is all they need and want.


These days, I wish very much that all people can be dogs. Then there will be no hurt, no anger, no sadness, no complications, no intentional or unintentional motives and expectations.

I am thankful for my dogs, if only to remind me that I am, at the very least, absolutely and adoringly loved.

D's headache

Louie has been incredibly difficult. Perhaps it is because we have been separating Kiya and Louie when we leave for work - Louie is "secured" in the kitchen, while Kiya has the rest of the apartment. Kiya has the sweet end of the deal because she truly is a marvellous, good dog.

This did not quite work out. Last Friday, I was at work when I turned on the webcam and I watched, with increasing apprehension, Louie removing one barrier after another, systematically and determined. Within 30 minutes, with a bit of whining and pacing but always with a goal - I watched him break free with a triumphant leap over the wooden fence -- to pee on my bed. Oh.. the things I wanted do with his neck.























[Two full cups of detergent, hot laundry washing, vinegar, sun drying, and some perspective from S, I could look at Louie calmly again]

I secured him in the kitchen on Saturday night, making sure it was foolproof as we were off to watch Angela Gheorghiu (!) at the Esplanade. [What a concert! She was jaw-droppingly amazingl and we had great box seats such that I could even watch the cellists' techniques, e.g. drop their arms to switch strings].






I wouldn't want to feel gutted watching Gheorghiu while being tormented wondering whether Lou had broken through and peed on our bed again. Anyway, I had nothing to worry about. A wonderful concert, great dinner at Overeasy, and two obedient dogs waiting for us back home. I got complacent.

On Monday, S set up the kitchen barrier as I did on Saturday evening, but by 9+am I saw to my horror, that Louie could not be found in the kitchen. He could not be hiding by the foot of the fridge for such a long time, and I knew he must have escaped again. I got home only to find he had managed to wedge his annoyingly skinny body through the chairs, (somehow) pushed the glass door open, and got through to Freedom again - and peed on our bed. That was the third time.. it was difficult not to feel absolutely exasperated and incredibly furious.



S found Louie amazing and joked about getting him on TV as a Houndini dog. I was not amused. We finally devised a fortress and put it to the test on Tuesday. Louie tried, but could not get through. We had won. For now.

This is what I want to see everytime I turn on the webcam. Maybe if I imagine it hard enough, it will come true, everyday.

(clearing old photos): at the park

I took these pictures of Kiya and Louie several weeks back - when Kiya still had her leg all wrapped up, and the flowers on some type of tree were shedding profusely and sakura-ly.








Kiya in her lime green pear collar.










He can't keep still.

Louie's loss: Kiya's callous surgery

One fine morning, Person D discovered some blood smears on the floor. She traced it, to her horror, to Kiya's callous on her front left elbow. It was swollen, with a small scratch which was bleeding. She cleaned it and applied Betadine ointment liberally.

The next day, the swelling on that callous lessened, but now, the other callous on her hind left knee swelled. It was quite a sight.




Even with cleaning/antiseptic and a day of rest, the swelling persisted. The next day, Person D informed Kiya's rescuers and they came, and because I am a high-maintenance dog, Person D stayed behind to walk and take care of me, while they took Kiya to the vet. The verdict was not good. Kiya has a completely torn ligament on her left hind knee (which explains her VERY slow sprints, and her on/off limping ever since Person D fostered her in January!), and by sheer coincidence, the callous on the same leg suffered an infection (reason very unknown).

To operate on her leg to 'fix' the torn ligament, the infected callous would first need to be surgically removed, i.e. she would need two separate surgeries. I think Person D was very upset. The financial toll was depressing (less lamb meat for me?!) and we all live in a walk-up apartment on the fourth floor, which made it very uncertain whether, even with the ligament surgery, Kiya would recover (think of the impact of going down four flights of stairs at least twice or thrice daily).

In any case, she was given antibiotics and a jab to hold down the infection, and a week later, she had her surgery. When she returned, she had a thick white cast which kept slipping down her knee. When her leg began to swell, Persons D and S decided to remove the cast immediately, but had a very hard time removing it. The cast was wrapped much too tightly around poor Kiya's knee.

This is the very leg.




It isn't a pretty sight.






Over the next week, Person D constantly fussed over Kiya's leg. I have to grudgingly admit that Kiya's tolerance of pain is quite astounding. She was given no pain killers so that the dull throbbing pain would remind her not to sprint or jump around, potentially pulling open the wound. One day, Person D changed the dressing and only put a thin layer of gauze on Kiya's leg, and then left us for a short while for grocery shopping. When she and Person S returned, ha ha! I had a good laugh seeing their reaction, as Kiya had bit through some parts of the stitches and even the plastic tube thingy (which was supposedly to help the skin stretch).





Person D was furious with herself. Some parts of the wound was gaping. She bought Steri-strips, sterile surgical strips to hold wounds together, and spent hours doing up Kiya's leg.







It was all very systematic.










Even when the wound finally began to heal, Person D was still extremely careful, and would only remove the dressing when she was around, and let the wound 'air' out a little. Here is Kiya, looking murderous with her shaved leg. I'm sure she is putting on that expression to hide her embarrassment.




The dreaded box of bandages, tapes, strips, antiseptic ointments, gauzes, etc.







Sometimes I tell Kiya to simply chill out. "Everything will be better", I told her. She glared at me.





Today, the stitches have long been removed, the wound has all but healed, and hair has started to grow back. Kiya looks almost normal now! Her next ligament surgery is still uncertain, but if Persons S and D get a place with a garden (so I overhear..), they will send her for the surgery then.




I do miss the very first meeting I had with Kiya. We were both taken to a fenced dog park in Pasir Ris, and Kiya was very interested in me. But I was quite terrified of this big black thing. I was finally brave enough to play with her, and I let her chase me. Of course, no dog is fast enough to catch me. Still, she was rather fast for a "Rottweiler", and she bunny-hopped as fast as she could, tongue lolling out, having the run of her life. I will always remember that. And I will remember it for her.