Sunday, September 28, 2008

o canada...or melamine: it's not just for pet food anymore...

When melamine turned up in a slew of pet food in 2007, the revelation provoked the ire of pet owners and North American consumers...and with the same nasty chemical turning up in dairy products and poisoning Chinese children, the cynic in me says that Chinese authorities might well take a different approach to 'investigating.'

I don't even dislike melamine -- other than as a food stuff. I'm pretty sure I own fondue plates (vintage 70s in that mustard yellow that was all the rage the first time fonduing was in vogue). I think I saw melanime on the countertops at Graceland where -- might I say -- it was charming (with appliances I remember seeing on Let's Make a Deal).

Remember, when it was pet food, the 'inspectors' said there wasn't any proof that the addition really had occurred in China...there were middlemen don't you know. Just to be clear, that was the same polite deflection offered a decade before when Haitian children were poisoned by the addition of glycol -- basic antifreeze -- to a cough medicine. Feel free to plumb the 60 Minutes archives for confirmation. The World Health Organization (WHO) took up the cause on behalf of those children but found the factory alleged to have produced the concoction was gone -- just like the car Flounder borrowed from his brother Fred in Animal House....

If you think this about chest thumping and point fingers east, think again.

While Menu Foods took the brunt of the public flogging, a lot of 'premium' name foods got caught in that net. The same folks who offer you smiling vets suggesting they have a better idea what to feed pets are owned by a consortium that produces -- toothpaste (although not the kind you use for Fido and Fluffy).

Mercifully, the collies and cat colony here weren't eating any of the contaiminated lines.
That having been said, when I tried to track down the producers to whom I have funnelled a bucketload of cash over many, many years, it proved a tricky proposition. The bigger the name, the bigger the smoke screen. (Note to file: never let your MBAs create your public face...you'll end up lookin' like Tammy Faye Baker after a rainstorm - God rest her soul)

I like to think consumers aren't stupid...even the crazy ones -- like me -- who dote on their pets.

I won't slash the stinkers who didn't reply (some of their MBAs are nasty lawyers, I suspect...)
I will admit that I have cats on their prescription food which concerns me a little..
Better still, I have found a little digging gets you to companies who are domestic...some close to home...who are only to happy to answer questions...

One firm -- while very responsive -- couldn't confirm the source of their ingredients.

The folks at Nutram (produced in beautiful downtown Beamsville, Ontario) were only too happy to provide detailed lists of ingredients when I asked. They invited us to drop in too (which is a fine excuse to go visit some very nice local wineries...) They're pretty close to having a formula for everyone (I say this as the not-entirely-proud human companion of a cat with irritable bowel whose delicate digestive system is serious business...) http://www.nutram.com/

The collies and most of our cats gnosh Nutram kibble...but like all siblings, they refuse to embrace consensus. As luck would have it, our pals at Ryan's pets often have sample bags...send me your furry, your particular...your unbelievably finicky....and we stumbled on a new option -- Orijen http://www.championpetfoods.com/orijen/about/. Bless 'em, they have sample bags...and when we busted 'em open the black and whites (Memphis, Mizzu and Clemson) and their tabby ringleader (Furio Beans) thought we were offering treats. The sample bags are great -- you can try them without having to make a fifty dollar commitment. Better still, mixing them with existing options doesn't involve something akin to training for an ironman competition.

We've actually had retailers point out that Canadian brands are a little more expensive. While we love our vet (she's a goddess...make no mistake), five bucks a bag versus days in vet ICU (which means the goddess and her kind staff are on extra duty they don't charge enough for) is an economic proposition Keynes himself would question. I trust too, that if anything at my local producers goes doolally (as the Irish cousins say), Stephen Harper, Stephane Dion, Jack Layton, Gilles Duceppe and Elizabeth May won't be covering up the bodies. Call me an optimist....

We stumbled on another hilarious -- and seriously popular -- treat after our first visit to Bark and Fitz. It's a chi-chi kind of place (which creeps us us out a little...) but they have good stuff (the little pink coats and boots notwithstanding).

They turned us on to Barking Mad liver treats. Foster (the Marrobone addict) isn't sold but Amber and Shadow drool when they hear the bag. These guys aren't just great producers, they have a brilliant web site -- and I'm waiting for t-shirts. http://www.barkingmadlife.com/

Foster is our fussy (and slightly off beat) associate. He's the bellweather -- much as Mikey was in the Life commercial. He will eat the liver cookies from Bark and Fitz -- and most of our park pals go bonkers for these. Word of warning: they're rich...and too many resulting in something akin to greased lightning.

Fozzie's other great delight -- and an unexpected one at that -- Shrimp and Grits biscuits that I found in Norcross, Georgia, at Precious Pets. I figured the old boy would turn up his nose but he
was delighted http://www.preciouspetsga.com/ Word of warning: you need the Georgia bit in there or you'll get pet jewels...a pet cemetary (apologies to Stephen King) and a boarding facility. As a bonus, the little strip mall where you'll find this (20 minutes out of Atlanta) is a treasure trove: a fabulous Italian restaurant...a British store (with great tea and Coronation Street collectables) AND a little cafe that serves Sweet Tea and fried green tomatoes (have them together). Norcross is a historic junction that was key in the Civil War so you'll find lots of great plaques and information while you're there...(but Fozzie says the cookies are the high point)...

So while the Georgia imports aren't quite local, they're local to the point of sale...and they're from a small firm that uses stuff like grits...and shrimp...where the proprietors will put you on their email list and remember you when you make return visits...

Hey wait...that's commerce like Grandma and Grandpa knew it...hmm...and they recycled too....

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

an homage to uncle howard...a middle name for dan rand

Uncle Howard is one of my favourite colleagues...and a always a contender in the dead pool.
He chastised me for my candidate rating system...he says he needs to speak for the rightish (but not hawkish) crowd. The Stephen Colbertists....

Post away campers...how do you rate 'em?

Dan is penning an epoch...that might be an epic...he needs a middle name for a character...
Not the Palin kind...

What about Sophie...
Fredo won't do for a girl (and it doesn't scream longevity...)
Delilah has her charms...

What is it...
And why is that stuck in the middle for you...

choose your own palin-drone (with apologies to the palindrome set)

Madam I'm Adam...
I'll get you the Panama Canal one as well...

Unless you've been in a coma for the past few weeks you know about Alaska's favourite puck bunny. (I know the Russians...I can see them from here...)

Unless you're calculating right angles with your math teacher (don't stand so close to me!), how you get Trig for a child eludes me...

And I say this as the proud person of Memphis, Mizzu, Clemson and Arizona. But that kinda makes sense. Ask Clark Kellogg.

The five Palin kilets are -- Track, Bristol (like the cream...not the board...but go wild with that...you know you want to...), Willow, Piper and Trig.

http://politsk.blogspot.com/2008/09/sarah_13.html

Halter Grasshopper Palin...of course, I put in Furio Beans (the sighted tabby to get it...)
That was fun...let's try it again...
Opal (our patient) is Wesson Scalper....

John McCain...Steam Fangs...
Hillary Clinton...Meat Notgay (courage Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants...it was a great speech...)

C'mon...Canadian content...
Stephen Harper (the warm, cuddly one...) Tangle Jin Palin...
Stephan Dion...Hump Gizzards Palin...
Okay, we have to go for the trifector on this...
Jack Layton...Gamebird Kelp....

You're on your own for the rest of them, but it is kinda fun...

Hey Mom...thanks for not smokin' lichen while you were considering what to call me....

meet the patient...




Big pharma is no fool...




For everything you see on a commercial, there's usually a version designed for the canine and feline set.




Your Mama's Celebrex® is Rimadyl® for the doggie set (and v-e-r-y popular with the Labs and Aussies). Here's the best part...if they have the big infarc, the pooches don't get gnarly. And they go happy. The meds ain't cheap but they do work so large in part, if a dog goes from lame to happy to off to chase the butterflies, the dog's humans are happy (read: dogs don't sue). In many respects, it's a win-win....

Opal - our hypertensive old queen - seems to fare well. (See note about the twin goddesses who deliver her care)

More meds than Sofia Petrillo when she was at Shady Pines, but they keep Opal comfortable so that is not a complain. While the right eye is not pretty, it's not been functional for a long time and it's no impediment where eating is concerned. It's not a great image but it gives you a sense of how dark that eye is. We'll get a better one.


(Rule 1: If a pet is eating, it's a good sign. Rule 2: Don't forget rule 1. Cats and dogs are not as dumb as models and starlets. Not ever.)




addendum...apparently, cats do have strokes...


...although Opal didn't...
She had a blood pressure spike...but some cats do have the all out version (puts me in mind of Opus' pal Bill in many ways...it was a Bloomin' great cartoon...)

As of this morning, the patient was tolerating her meds...and the humans who were coaxing pills into her gullet and firing drops into her eyes. But the kind doctor gave her a -- wait for it -- puddy-cure just in case she gets fed up with her caretakers.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

the old cat trends upward thanks to her talented physician (well ahead of wall street, by the way...)


My veterinarian is a goddess....and I tell her that as often as I can (hopefully I tell her that regularly enough during non-emergencies that she knows I mean this...)

Vets have a tough balancing act: first, they treat the conditions of their patients (some of whom really do bite - literally); then, they have to manage the people attached to their patients. I have to believe that's the tough part.

Our old cat landed at the vet Friday morning after a strange episode. What we've learned is cats don't have strokes...but they have blood pressure spikes...and spikes cause side effects like bleeding and detached retinas. Opal (the patient) hasn't been able to see for years. She has her world blocked out in her head. Path down the stairs to where breakfast is served. Path up the stairs to napping location. Occasional obstacle known as collie. Trek along the couch to food on top of bookshelf (there is food all over for her to get to but that's her place, thank you very much, and just because she's blind doesn't mean you can offer her less than preferred dining space).

We've had regular updates, but this afternoon's was troubling. Blood pressure up. Ocular pressure up. But come see her, said the doctor, and see what you think.

When you're on life nine with two paws on a banana peel, perky is not your usual ilk. There was her ladyship...sitting in her doctor's lap while the doctor tried to type around a cat determined to smooch her chin (try that with your own GP campers and see if it doesn't get you onto CBC's White Coat Black Art in a hurry when they're talking about ethics.)

Ill as she was, Opal was purring and eating and cuddling.
Austin (the clinic lab and social worker) lost an eye to glaucoma was keeping her company.
Except for a grim looking eye (oh man was it sad...), you wouldn't have known Opie had an issue.
Twenty four hours more, we all agreed.

Tonight the numbers are in -- and much improved. If this keeps up, Opal can come home tomorrow.
She and Austin are hanging out for the night. Good company contributes to the recovery process.

So back to the tricky bits of a vet's job...
All those years in school to evacuate impacted anal glands (one of the four places were the use of impacted is grammatically correct)...and remove hair bands and beer caps and cell phones from their patients' gullets. Weekend work very regularly. As many sad endings as happy ones.

It's one thing to be a talented clinician -- but nobody can teach any doctor the most important part -- having a heart and having the courage to listen to it.

Our vet is a wee little slip of a thing. She could fit her whole body into one of my pant legs...probably twice. But she has the heart of a lion and you have to see her wrestle big dogs to see her at her finest.

When she bought a well-established practice from a doctor who was going on to a specialty practice in opthamology, the patients didn't give her grief...but meeting their people undoubtedly had its interesting wrinkles. She had big shoes to fill (in a strictly metaphorical sense...the previous doc who still consults when eyes are in the offing was a delicate creature too) but those shoes fit perfectly.

I've often said to her when my friends were failing, I just don't have the wisdom to do God's job.
None of us does, she reminds me, but God lets you know when it's time. It's really when the animals speak and they always let you know.

With luck, we'll enjoy a little more quiet time with the old dollie yet before she says goodbye.
We'll have to buy her one of those pill organizers...
Hey, do you suppose cats need Metamucil too...ask me in a few days...

Gin

Teaching old dogs new tricks...

At a conference last week, a great speaker by the name of Steve Crescenzo assured a room full of anxious communicators they could blog. Apparently, he speaks the truth - and his warnings about the proliferation of corporate tripe will make you split a gut. (http://www.crescenzocomm.com/)


I know, I know...it's a tame start. Photos will follow. There may be sound.

I may try to teach the executives at work to do this (which is really not the motivation for this part of the experiment...). Housebreaking wildcats and collies (we're batting about .650 on that count) is good practice for taking this to the office.


There are candidates' lapdogs roaming our neighbourhood unleashed of late. (Apparently, Animal Control can't contain 'em...nor some of the squawking children in these parts...)

We haven't seen a real candidate yet. We should have. The migration of the current trough snouters back to home ridings is complete and the opposition has ponied up alleged alternatives. Then again, you can make the case that in the elections currently underway in Canada (our turf) and the U.S., real candidates are an endangered species who require more protection than the polar bears (who are gonna need large pool noodles and K-rations of seal tartare if these arctic shelves keep collapsing -- but don't let that global warning hijinx boil your blood...just let it keep boiling the oceans).


The campaign volunteers are generally nice folks. I'm hoping for a different hobby in retirement, myself. We have a fairly reliable screening system at our house: the actual candidate gets bonus points for making an appearance (last time, only the Green party guy came to the door in person.)


Our early warning defense system (Foster, Shadow and Amber) let us know when intruders approach: squirrels (which you could suggest applies to the aforementioned candidates - if you don't mind insulting the actual ones with the fuzzy tails), paper carriers, candidates. Once they sound the alert, our candidate rating system kicks into gear.
  • If candidate or candidate's minion flee at the sound of the collie choir: no points awarded. If you haven't got the gumption to face three yappy housedogs parliament is no place for you (even with Sheila Copps in retirement).
  • If candidate or minion approaches...retreats...or vaults onto the porch, jam junk into the mailbox and flee in haste: 1 point awarded. Reasonable representation of the flip-flop behaviour that determines the longevity of back benchers in Ottawa. (Did I promise to do something...and reverse...well of course I promised...I needed your vote...you'll forget over four years -- or three if the same government gets in and sees a chance to extend its reign of error.) **Note we will be trying to capture this for later posting. It's fun to watch! **
  • If candidate or minion approaches...faces collies...knocks or rings: 2 points awarded (minus 1 if they flee at the site of the porch cats).
  • If candidate or minion speaks and can articulate any reasonable position on any major issue without referring to notes: 3 points awarded. Bonus points for being able to speak to the end of the 40 year mortgage, its value to the overall stability of the banking system, and the hiccups it will create in Calgary and Vancouver - never have to award these, but it's important to know they exist).
  • Candidate or minion pet dogs, smile like they're sane and utter anything more than 'Can count on your support?>: 4 points. Minus 2 if we ask why and there's no compelling answer. (Hint: three collies at the door, Memphis and Beans on the porch: take a leap and figure the bill to boost fines for cruelty to animals might be a good opening bid....)

Last time out, we liked the Green guy (it's a party...not a politically sensitive description of the man's complexion). He was personable, earnest, sane. We knew he didn't stand a chance but it felt good to tell him he could count on us. The dogs liked him -- and dogs have better sense that most voters. (Option two was the fully-vested-in-the-pension former MP. Elect her campers -- you're gonna pay for her anyway....)

You have to like all the righteous hand-wringing and fretting about the U.S. banking system. Some looks almost genuine. Let's not dismiss the real concern at play: there go a ton of future campaign donations. Some curious reporter might yet check to see which of the defunct firms ponied up for the GOP and the Dems. Some other might check to see if Lehman Brothers execs forgot to before their junior staff got left swinging.

It's actually a simple explanation: GREED.
I get those emails too...the ones touting the GREAT WATCH AT A GREAT PRICE...or telling me if I just take delivery of the cheque the deposed prince of will reclaim his righteous throne and send me cash. (I don't need the imported wife or the pound of Viagara...)
And the difference between the mortgage bubble, the hedge funds, the inflated values of the alleged pillars of the financial sector and those emails: oh, right...we arrest the emailers if we can catch 'em.

Put it this way...four legs good...two legs bad...
If you don't know what that means Google Animal Farm. The George Orwell version.

More on the ancient cat next time.

Gin