So…that went well…the trip to the vet, that is.

Not.

The regular vet we see, a lovely petite French woman, was not there today. Instead we got the fresh-faced, just-out-of-vet-school Korean girl…who looked visibly frightened the first time she saw Moo.

Really?…This is the dog you’re afraid of?…How could anyone be afraid of that face?

We went through the standard vet exam…‘is she eating ok’, ‘is she peeing ok’, ‘have you noticed any change in her behavior’, on & on.

All the while poking & prodding the ever stoic Maggie Moo. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t budge. Even when the woman started grabbing & squeezing the swollen spots.

And after playing 20 questions with her, she looked at me & pronounced Moo to have “a hormone imbalance”.

{{{{{{ SCREACH }}}}}}}}

Ahh…excuse me?

Yeah. Hormone imbalance. That’s what she said.

[Moo in Texas]

At this point I was trying to figure out how to go about finding the vet we normally see. But managed to get out…‘I’m not sure I understand how that applies’.

So this is where I should probably give you some back story.

Moo-Moo is not the first bullmastiff I’ve owned. And the first breeder I purchased from made sure to impress upon me the fact that you won’t know that a bullmastiff is in pain until it’s too late. Said that I should be very vigilant & watch for any sign of slight personality change – then race to the vet.

Which is what I did the the time my first girl, Boo, acted out of the ordinary. We walked into the emergency after hours vet to a chorus of, “That’s the healthiest dog we’ve seen all day!”

They thought I was crazy. They all had good laughs behind my back. They all pat her head & sweetly said to her ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just fine, aren’t you’. 

But I persisted & begged them to run a full blood panel on her.

And I was right.

Turns out Boo was in imminent danger of liver failure with levels so high they were off the chart.

Needless to say, they all changed their tune & I was given several apologies.

But back to Moo.

[Moo in Oklahoma]

Through my exchange with the Korean vet she must’ve decided she needed back-up, so off she went to find the Captain on duty.

The second she & the vet tech left the room Moo let out two low whimpers & laid down.

Moo-Moo is NOT a whiner. She has an EXTREMELY high tolerance for pain & to hear her whimper made me both very mad & extremely worried about her.

So back comes the Korean vet with the Captain – a large, overpowering woman with an open book in her hand who proceeded to walk in spouting off her initial opinions of my “boy” without looking at me once.

[playing with the Super's kid in Oklahoma]

I sat there as I listened to her continue, 

“I’ve seen this a lot actually. HE has an asymmetric skin condition as a result of HIS hormones being out of balance. We’ll just run a thyroid panel on HIM & treat HIM with medication.”

Or something to that affect – I can’t remember. I was too busy being stunned by the vet who couldn’t tell a girl dog from a boy dog while she poked & prodded around Moo’s middle.

I eventually corrected her & without missing a beat she proceeded to continue her diagnosis…flipping through the book for photographic examples to show me. And I shared with them that Moo had just whined the minute everyone left – she WAS in pain.

[post pillow destruction]

They continued to poke & prod & poke some more. Nothing.

Stoic Moo didn’t flinch.

Ok…so yeah, m-a-y-b-e…it might be a hormone imbalance – but what about the swelling?

It didn’t add up in my head.

[Moo is NOT a morning dog]

I managed to get them to agree to run a full blood panel on her – which how convenient, can’t be run in-country – and oh yeah, we’ve already missed the day’s shipment. Her bloodwork has to be FedEx’d back to the States.

And as the Captain continued to avoid eye contact with me, I very calmly asked,

“Have you worked with bullmastiffs before?”

Her reply?

“Oh yes. Many times. But I still believe she has a hormone imbalance. We’ve examined both sides, pressed on the swelling & she’s not flinched. She’s obviously not in any pain.”

[ugh]

Ok…so confession time. Have you ever wanted to bolt upright & shout out, “LIAR!”? With the finger-pointing & everything?

I can’t help it. That’s what went through my head when I heard that. If she had really worked with bullmastiffs before, she would know they don’t flinch! Hell, Eric clipped a toe nail too close the other day. It bled profusely & the girl didn’t bat an eye.

This whole appointment was going downhill – fast.

But what else could I do?

I got them to run the blood panel – and that’s the important thing.

And if I’m wrong – Hey, great…I’m wrong & I’ll apologize profusely for my uneducated ignorance.

But if I’m right? And they do nothing?

That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

So yes, I’ll gladly be the crazy dog lady who is making them jump through hoops just to satisfy my own insanity.

I can’t help it…I seem to be the only one who can tell she’s hurting.

And I love my Moo-Moo.

Something is wrong with Moo…and I’m afraid it’s her kidneys.

I noticed a couple of weeks ago that she suddenly had a big dark spot of skin under her fur along her side.

At the time I checked her out, didn’t see any scratches or cuts & wrote it off as some kind of bruise. But a few days later, an identical sized spot appeared on her other side.

Both where you would imagine a dog’s kidneys would be.

I had already planned on taking her to the Osan vet this week.  But now that I’m home from a day trip up to Seoul with the neighbor, I’m noticing she has ping-pong ball sized bumps on top of the bruises. Again, both sides.

If we were home, I’d race her to the emergency vet this very second for a full blood panel.

But we’re not.

I have to wait until tomorrow & pray I can get her seen.

I’m terrified her kidneys are failing & worried if there’s anything the vet here can do.

She’s not exhibiting any pain (but then again, Bullmastiffs never do). She’s drinking water. She’s peeing as usual. From all outward appearances she’s a happy, healthy dog.

But I know better…I nearly lost my first Bullmastiff to a liver infection because from all outward appearances the vet believed her to be a happy, healthy dog.

But I’m getting ahead of myself…I just need to get through the night & get her in by hook or crook tomorrow.

Please keep my big girl in your thoughts. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her, too.

Having braved crossing the ocean with a then 115 lb dog who lived to tell the tale, Moo-Moo has become quite the popular subject lately.

Many of the emails I’ve been getting from the influx of families considering or already coming to Korea involve questions about their pets…

Can they come?…[yes]

Will landlords take them?…[yes]

What did you have to do to get her over?…[bend over backwards - twice]

On & on.

And in responding to not one, but two potential new families today I’m realizing just how much information there is to share…and how much I really need to do a post about it – or maybe a page that can get updated as the info or process changes. Because that’s life in the Army…always changing.

But this whole thought prompted another…every wife or husband who has reached out to me has always had the same top 5 questions. All the “high-ticket” items: things like housing, medical care, transportation, what to bring, what to leave behind, etc.

And absolutely yes, you need to know all those things up front. But after surviving my first year here, I’m recognizing how important the little things are – and how easily they can make or break your time here.

So bear with me again tonight for wrapping this post up early. Without giving away the story just yet, I’ve been given an extravagant & unexpected gift by a Korean friend that’s lasted 2 days & left me completely exhausted at the end of each night. And if I don’t go crawl in bed…

…right now I…

…I think…

…I may just…

…collapssssssssse.

[zzzzzzzzzz]

[if you're joining late, you can catch up here]

So yeah, things began to change.

The lively little puppy who ran around & around & around began nipping at everything & everyone – while she ran around & around.

It was a puppy phase – I knew that.

Her baby teeth were still growing & the overwhelming urge to stop the pain turned into sharp, prickly little nibbles when she jumped up to see you – or play with you – or sit still with you (if you could get her to sit still).

We bought every kind of chew toy under the sun…well, under the sun of the PX at Humphreys & the BX at Osan (which isn’t many, let me tell you). But it still didn’t help.

As the problem started to get worse, I ramped up my efforts to help break her of the habit.

I worked & worked with her. Trying everything I could think of & them some.

The neighbor & her boys even volunteered once or twice to help me break her of it.

And while they say ‘practice makes perfect’, it wasn’t the case with Libby.

It got to the point that the neighbor could no longer allow her boys to come visit or play – even with our gentle goliath, Moo. Libby was just too rough & getting bigger.

The little pin-prick nibbles of her sharp teeth were beginning to hurt. They were for all intents & purposes “puppy bites”. She was biting me, Eric – even Moo…some days mostly Moo. And while I kept working at breaking her of the habit, it got worse.

It got worse because she was finally losing her baby teeth & her adult teeth were coming in.

So remembering the ‘nibbles” Moo used to give me at that age…

…(and I use that word loosely)…

I reassured myself that this phase was almost over.

Libby was going to be this “great dog”.

I saw a spark of potential in her – the potential to become a wonderfully smart, calm, gentle dog who could & would protect us, if the time ever came.

And as the puppy phases got harder (as they do with all pups before they mature)I began to seek out other Jindos in the neighborhood. Older, mature Jindos – hoping to see a common thread of a calm surface, an intelligent gaze & a maturity that knew when to be protective but preferred to be gentle.

And I saw that a lot, actually. It’s what kept me going while working with Libby.

She was going to be a great dog. I knew it. It was just going to take work.

When her teeth finally came in, the nibbles stopped. But by this point we were already starting to deal with separation anxiety issues.

She was fine as we left the house. There’s a routine to it.

“Come sit. Pay attention. Watch the house. Don’t bark at the cat. And be good girls.”

And each – Moo & Libby – would get a dog treat as we walked out the door. No issues at all.

The issue was when we returned home. Be it 5 hours later or 5 minutes.

She would jump & jump & jump & jump & jump & jump & jump &….

…well, you get the point.

It would take a good couple of minutes just to calm her down. And to make matters worse, Maggie was beginning to pick up her habit.

It became a daily struggle – a frustrating, constant, seemingly never-ending struggle – and one we continued to work on. That’s what you do when you own a puppy. You work & work until the good behavior is learned & the bad one is unlearned.

And in the midst of that struggle her prey drive started to kick in.

Kitten became a constant target – something to watch…and stalk…and practice “the hunt” on. Add in the thrill of chasing Stanely in our backyard…and sometimes out of our backyard…and well, you could see she would make a great hunting dog.

But in her frustration of not being able to get either Kitten or Stanley, Libby began turning her focus more & more on Maggie.

It was about this time that the spats between Moo & Libby started to occur. They started small – and escalated. Moo was trying to stand her ground at being top dog & Libby was pushing it – wanting to take over that role. And soon she did.

Not long after Maggie began going after Paco. And I honestly believe it was Maggie’s frustration over all this – losing her spot, no longer being the only dog – that had her focusing on the little neighbor’s Chihuahua.

Our big, goofy, silly, sweet, 125 lb. Bullmastiff was being bullied by Libby. And Maggie was frustrated with having her in the house.

Give them both a pig stick at the same time & Libby would race off to hide her’s in the blankets, then go off to find Moo & take her’s from her.

We’d get up, take the stick away from Libby, walk it back to Moo…and within a minute or two, Libby was doing it again.

It got to the point that Maggie wouldn’t even take a pig stick from us.

I want you to stop & think about that for a moment.

Moo, the wonder dog who chewed through half the house, half our shoes & ten tons of toilet paper, would refuse to take a wonderfully smelly, stinky, dried piece of pig skin wrapped around a sweet potato filling.

Refuse!

My days would be spent constantly managing Libby & finding ways to help her release her energy.

And just when I was ready to pull my hair out over the culmination of dealing with so many puppy phases all at one time, a new side of Libby emerged.

And I knew things would never be the same.

[read what happened next]

After blogging for a year…I’m finding it increasingly harder & harder to find anything of value to write about these days – as I’m sure you can tell.

And while yes, it is slightly humorous to see my big 125 lb. Bullmastiff grazing in our backyard like a big Moo Cow – is it anything worth blogging about?

No, not really.

I’ve hit a wall lately. I’m not feeling very creative, funny or even mildly interesting.

Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m at a crossroad with this whole ’some-ting’ in my brain bit.

Next week I head back up to Seoul for another MRI.

The doctors have essentially called it quits on the testing process & have moved into “monitor mode”.

And depending on what the MRI shows….

well, I don’t know.

If it turns out there’s more lesions, I guess I keep heading down the same path I’ve been on.

If it’s the same?…What then?

Do I give up looking for an answer, too?

Sorry to get so deep…it’s just been weighing on me lately.

I’ve put my life on hold waiting for an answer – an answer that apparently isn’t coming.

And I feel stuck in place trying to work it out:

my brain + ’some-ting’ = what?