Monday, 25 February 2008

Cross me and I will bite

Hiya guys. Today I am a very, very mean Moy-Moy because The Assistant ( I will bite him later) gave me a bath without asking me first.

And took my personal property without my permission!
Stealing a dog's hard grown personal property is a bad, bad thing and humans should go to prison for it! I feel that more than my nails were stolen from me except that I forgot what that other thing is.

I am warning everyone in this clinic: If and when I remember what else you took from me, heads will roll! Grrr!


Sunday, 24 February 2008

A Million Dollar Question Answered

We promised our readers, and our new friend Eleanor and her sister, that we will be posting a photo documentation of Moy-Moy's neutering yesterday. We trust in our adopted native dog's very short span memory to forgive us for not letting him say "goodbye" to his willy first. It was for his own good.

Some images might be a tad too graphic for our readers; if you think you are like The Secretary who fled before The Animal Doctor was done with stitching, then you might want to scroll faster.


At 12:30 PM, The Animal Doctor started preparing his tools.



12:45 PM. The Assistant getting Moy-Moy's weight so The Animal Doctor could determine the amount of anaesthetic to be used on Moy-Moy. Neutering is done with the animal under general anesthesia.



12: 50 PM. The Animal Doctor getting ready to give Moy-Moy pre-anaesthetics to avoid the adverse effects associated with general anesthesia like vomiting where the dog could choke himself to death.


1:0o PM. Moy-Moy is injected with Zoletil, the only registered general anaesthetics for animal use in the Philippines.


The effect of the Zoletil is instantaneous; Moy-Moy is immediately anaesthetized, with only his palpebral and pupillary reflex present( which means Moy-Moy can still blink and stare).

The Animal Doctor prepares to shave Moy-Moy's perineal area in preparation for surgery. He wants the surgical incision site to be sterile and free of any contaminants.

The Animal Doctor sterilizes the surgical incision area with povidone iodine.

1: 05 PM. An incision is made on the scrotum to exposed the testes.


1: 06 PM. The testes is removed

1:08 PM. Both the right and left testicles are removed. The Animal Doctor will now close the surgical incision, and apply topical antibiotic.


These are Moy-Moy's testicles. A neutered dog's penis is still intact, except that it will not be coming out of the prepuce frequently, especially in response to a female dog in heat. A neutered dog no longer produces sperm cells and loses the urge to mate.


Moy-Moy is carried to his cage, post operation recovery took 20 minutes.



In less than 30 minutes, Moy-Moy is up on his four paws.

Saturday, 23 February 2008

Where willies go

If you are an avid reader of Moy-Moy's monday-only postings, you, like this one reader who boldly dropped a question in our Cbox, might have gotten curious about Moy-Moy's fixation with another dog's willy ( a british slang for penis according to Wikipedia)

We want to keep the record straight: Moy-Moy is every inch a STRAIGHT MALE, but ever since he uncovered The Animal Doctor's plan to neuter him, Moy-Moy developed the nasty habit of peering on the underside of every dog he meets, checking for signs if the dog had been neutered or not.

Neutering or castration is a surgical procedure to remove a male animal's testicles- where sperm cells and the raging male hormone called testosterone are produced. A neutered male does not produce sperms anymore, and has no interest in mating a female animal in heat.

An essential aspect of responsible pet ownership, neutering is effective in controlling animal population and in preventing transmission of genetic conditions such as hip dysplasia. An added benefit is a reduction in testosterone levels, hence behavioral(e. g. agression, roaming, territorial marking, distraction) and medical problems( prostate disease, testicular tumors) associated with this male hormone are likewise reduced.

In female animals, the equivalent procedure is called spaying or hysterectomy, where the ovaries and uterus are removed to completely halt reproduction.

With his tragic past as an abandoned puppy, a nobody's boy, we felt it was an absolute necessity for Moy-Moy to be neutered to ensure that he never impregnates any other dog by accident resulting to an unwanted litter on top of an already staggering number of neglected animals in this country.

Moy-Moy is approximately three months old now, and today, The Animal Doctor thought was a good time to neuter him. Generally, neutering is performed when the dog is six months old, however, veterinarians now a days ( such as the American Veterinary Medical Association) are preferring early age neutering ( 8-16 weeks old) in an effort to control animal population. However, veterinarians are advised to use their sound judgment on a case to case basis, taking into consideration the over all health of the animal.

Watch out for a full photo documentation of Moy-Moy's neutering in our sunday post!

Chi in the Office

I found this post about dogs in the office in one of our favorite Pinoy pet blogs tonight. Gail made me recall those doggone days when I would bring dogs to work in Ortigas Center. I was able to sneak a total of five canines on separate occasions. One slept on my lap while our company President was giving a pep talk.

This little chi pretending to be a yuppy- young professonal puppy- belongs to my old friend Vic whose dogs I used to babysit way back my single days when I was living all by myself.

Hitler: " If I only have a pair of opposable paws, I'd be glad to help you type your pleadings."


"You sat on these files for weeks. Let me help you now."


"Oopsy, I smell your boss coming, quick hide me!"


"I hope your boss wont come near and check if I'm real coz I'll bite!"


"Im dog tired"



"Next time I am staying home and watching TV "


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Thursday, 21 February 2008

Rest In Peace Jaya

In loving memory of a brave little dog named JAYA
who was fetched by God at 7:15 this evening.

Many thanks to our readers, especially to Butchy and Snickers and Gail,who offered prayers for Jaya's recovery. Jaya's Mom, we are simply awed by the love and dedication you have for Jaya. Despite all these to live for, it was still God's will that Jaya had to leave us...


Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...


Monday, 18 February 2008

Canine Angst

If you pups and kitties have read my post last Monday ( for an archive of Moy-Moy's mondays only post, please check our sidebar- The Secretary), you would understand why I am sporting my special edition puppy eyes today. My pipsqueak sister Pussy had to tell everyone under the comment section where I really went that one monday I did not post.


Prison is not the same word as park, picnic or playdate-- so you never want to be there in the first place. For two nights, I sat alone in my cold and ugly cell, while my sister sat outside, leisurely licking her paws. I missed my plastic chew toy and my toasty old blankie, I wept like a girl and drove my folks out of planet lalala several times in one night.

Finally, the clinic's Disciplinary Tribunal decided to pardon me and so I was out the following morning. You bet, I was barking and bouncing off the ground, yellow liquid dribbling down my leg as The Assistant lifted me out my cell.

The Secretary set me up for a weekend play date with Marshall, who is like my big brother-- except that he is really way much bigger. Last year, I spent Christmas at Marshall's house and he taught me how to hold my pee long enough for me to get past the doggy door.




This time around, I am asking for his advice when it comes to dealing with very jealous cats.

Of course, we played a game of tug first while Marshall thought of something really smart to tell me. It turns out, he made me admit to certain things--bad things that maybe I've forgotten? Like climbing up on The Secretary's leg and doing my funny dance ( its humping- The Secretary), peeing on anything taller than me, chewing on very expensive shoes. The last one was really the meanest because I nearly bit my sister's face off and that got me in prison.

Marshall told me the ones causing all these bee hive oral problems are my boy bits. Huh? My eyes widened with what I heard and I just had to ask, no, whisper--The Animal Doctor was right beside me-- at Marshall's ear, just to make sure I understood him correctly:

" Where did your willie go???"

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Saturday, 16 February 2008

The E-ndignation!

Had I known where to get these nifty Elizabethan collars or E-collars as they are called these days, my prima donna, uber fashionista Japanese Spitz Deedee Marie would not have suffered the indignation of being made to wear something out of an old xray film ( and worse, be photographed with it).


Dogs and cats loath it, but the E- collar is a great veterinary contraption that prevents pets from obsessively licking and chewing wounds, hot spots and any other skin breakages that take ages to heal with all these non stop tongue and teeth action. The E- collar is also an effective way to keep pets from scratching ear or eye wounds, allowing topical medications to work.


These commercially made E-collars now available at Greenwoods Pet Clinic are made of lightweight, transparent material( allowing peripheral vision) and a padded neckline for maximum comfort.

Even a sick doggie has to make a fashion statement, you know.


Friday, 15 February 2008

Prayer Brigade For Jaya

Our patient Jaya may look as fragile as a rose petal, but she is a brave little warrior. A virus has attacked her liver causing her to suffer from what is also known as Infectious Canine Hepatitis. Jaya rapidly developed ascites, or an accumulation of fluid in her abdomen that left her looking like a ballon that grew a head and a tail on both ends.

The Animal Doctor administered treatment, and thankfully reversed the rapid elevation of her SGPT values from 800 u/l down to 90. As Jaya completely lost her appetite, we are forced feeding her twice a day with a tuna and boiled rice ( processed smooth and "un-spittable" in a blender provided by Jaya's Mom).

Just when we thought the worst is over, Jaya's hemoglobin, hematocrit and red blood cells started to drop! A reticulocyte count determined that Jaya's body is still producing red blood cells so The Animal Doctor decided against blood tranfusion.

Right now Jaya is still under confinement and receiving treatment. The disease has scarred her eyes, but we are hoping the optical lesions would heal completely as Jaya's body heals.

Jaya's Mom never gave up on her, and this is enough to keep The Animal Doctor going.

Please join our Prayer Brigade for Jaya by dropping some positive thoughts via Comments or our Cbox. Your good wishes for Jaya's health will go a long way.


Monday, 11 February 2008

Moy-Moy plays doctor!

Hiya guys!!! Um, hmm, I cannot remember where I was last Monday so Sherwin, dont ask, okay?

Whew! Am I dog tired! I have been watching The Animal Doctor for quite some time now, that today, while he was sleeping, I decided I am the real animal doctor!


Here I am with my first patient. I go whisper to this doggy's ear: "Where did your willie go?"

No, of course he wont tell, but can you see how sad he is? I had to give him a single dose of Moy-Moy lovin' and told him to come back next week for another check up. ( Maybe then he will tell where his willie went?)

Honestly, I lost count of the patients I saw today, maybe this one is the last?



Nah, this cowbear is dead, there's no heart beat.

Now I know it is very hard to be an animal doctor, especially if you have patients dying on you. I am very sad now so I will be seeing you again next Monday, pups and kitties :(


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Saturday, 9 February 2008

The cat that broke one woman's heart.

The Animal Doctor probably had nothing better to do one afternoon when he entered My Mum's name in Yahoo's search engine. This is what he found:

After clicking the link, he was transported to this site:


The article was written by My Mum way back in 2003, when the coolest way to getting published ( at least for a wannabee) was to see one's by-line in the pages of a national daily. My Mum had that creative streak in her, its just that years of soaking up on law books and supreme court decisions consigned her to what seemed like a permanent writer's block. She couldnt even make words rhyme, duh.

Indeed, sadness can be a writer's best friend. One night, My Mum came home with a self inflicted injury-- a crushed heart and a mangled ego (brought about by her own stupidity). It was during these times when she forced herself to remember one happy moment in her life. Then she began writing.

(here is the copy and paste version from that website)

Lessons from a cat.
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)

Byline: My Mum's Name

SKELETAL, except for his bulging tummy, Toby was a kitten destined to spend his entire life in the alleys and corners of our school. Nobody could possibly have wanted him. I didn't want him, but huddled among the bushes that evening, he looked like a lost boy. And then he followed me, as fast as his infant legs could carry him, to the jeepney stop.

Right there and then, something strange but familiar tugged at my heart. Motherly instinct, perhaps. My best friend gave me a wry smile when I begged her to put Toby in a box.

Our first week together was awkward. I've had a teddy bear and a stuffed pig, but I've never held a real, live cat in my arms. As days passed by, he grew bigger and his cries got louder. It became increasingly difficult to hide him among the pots and rocks in our garden.

As I feared, my mom went ballistic upon learning about my latest acquisition. But I ignored her sermon about the impracticability of keeping a pet and the subject of cat poop.

I was like that with my mother. I could never make her understand what I felt, using the only language I knew. So, I would just retreat in silence until she gave up and let the matter go.

The idea of being responsible for someone was a novelty for me. I began to linger at the table, collecting scraps from every plate and preparing Toby's meal. Afterwards, my sisters would make fun of the way he walked, swinging from side to side because of the heavy weight of his belly. And though she would never admit it, I caught an amused look on my mom's face one night.

Toby spent most of his time sleeping in a shoe box until he became too big to fit in it. I loved to watch him stretch and curl like a ball, looking as if he never knew a single moment of hunger, cold or fear in his life.

When my best friend visited, she almost did not recognize the cat in a checkered vest and matching collar. "So how did you do it?" she asked. "How did you come to love this thing?"

I myself didn't know how. Toby waited for me at the door and sat with me when I studied. But he was a cat. Cats do not jump up and down when you're home, or wet your face with licks and kisses. In fact, you do not have a clue whether or not they are happy to see you at all. But there I was, loving someone who I wasn't sure loved me back.

Toby died just months after we celebrated his second birthday. It was my first time, as an adult, to be overwhelmed by a deep sense of loss. But I did not lapse into silent mode this time, especially not with my mother. She was the one who had taken turns with me, feeding Toby and giving him his medicines. She had allowed Toby to worm his way inside her heart. In the end, she was the only person who understood my grief. I think Toby struggled to live just long enough for my mother and me to become friends. It's been five years. I thought I would never love again, but things have actually gotten worse. I found myself a new pet, a dog this time. Now we have seven of them, plus three cats and two rabbits that survived my sister's experiments in medical school. My mother is protesting that I have turned our house into an orphanage.

Being with animals, I've learned a different means of communicating, one that does not leave people trapped in semantic confusion and syntax errors. Speaking from my heart, I have found a way to make others listen to what I am not saying.

In a cynical world like this, it is fashionable to be cold and calculating. "You must know how to play the game," my best friend warned me.

But I do not want to build walls, or wear masks, or resort to subterfuge. I value my compassion, spontaneity, and ability to love purely, without conditions.

True, a thousand needles have pricked my heart, but I feel more human.

Amazing how a little kitten started this all.

Lilli L. Fuentes, 25, thinks that law school has drained her creative juices. This is the first piece she has written in five years. She graduated from the University of San Agustin in Iloilo City.

A newspaper clip containing this article is stashed somewhere in My Mum's closet, but we are kinda surprised that it found its way to the Internet and people actually have to "pay" by giving out their email address to read this. And all the while My Mum thought all articles published under the column "Young Blood" become property of the Philippine Daily Inquirer and that she had lost rights to her own written work. Duh!

And you should be smart to guess who's posting. Weeeeeeee!!!


Pussy O'Woosy

Sshhhh, if you promise not to tell Moy-Moy, I will tell you dogs and cats and you Sherwin, where Moy-Moy' s been all week that according to My Mum there was no posting for Monday.

I have a very interesting life myself and if this is not a good reason enough for My Mum to give me my own blogging day, then I dont know what is! I still have to clean my paws, goodbye!

Our Dogs in Iloilo City