Sleep well, old friend.

We took Moog to be put to sleep on Tuesday 25th October 2011 at 3.15pm. His last days were filled with cuddles, fuss and treats as we ignored his symptoms as best we could.

With his spotty coat still slightly damp from the torrential rain outside, he died quietly in our arms. He looked at peace for the first time in months, and we knew we had done the right thing.

He is very sorely missed.

Canine Cognitive Dysfunction

Regular visitors to my allotment blog will be familiar with the description of my dog in the heading:

A Moog is a type of dog. Blessed with very little brainpower, he cannot think.

I am saddened to report that our very kind (albeit wealthy) vet has now confirmed what we had begun to suspect. What started as a good-natured joke with a companion who, let’s face it, actually couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, has become his diagnosis:

Moog can’t think.

Poor old Moog, or Max to use his real name for once, is slipping away from us. ‘Canine Cognitive Dysfunction,’ Senior Dementia, Doggy Alzheimer’s; - call it what you like, but the end result is the same. He’s here in body, but not in mind, and it’s not going to get better. Now I realise the symptoms can be grouped under one heading, there’s no mistaking the disease. Gradually, but with increasing frequency in recent months, Max has displayed all of these patterns:

• Gets lost in familiar places
• Trouble negotiating doors and furniture
• Does not respond to familiar commands or signals
• Does not recognise or is startled by familiar people or objects
• Paces or wanders aimlessly through the house
• Soils indoors, regardless of access to outdoors
• Stares at walls or into space
• Seeks less attention, praise and play
• Spends much time asleep during the day and paces at night
• General confusion between day and night, or indoors and outdoors
• Develops separation anxiety
• Frequently trembles or shakes
• Forget they ate/drank and want to eat/drink again and again
• Altered relationships with humans/other pets

So it is with heavy hearts that we will soon be taking the vet’s advice and helping him on his way to some much needed sleep before things get any worse. The day isn’t here yet, but when it is, it will be our last act of kindness for the poor frightened thing we rescued from the kennels 10 years ago.

The Thoughts of Moog will continue. Let’s face it, they were never really his to begin with. But for now, let’s celebrate his life with all the nicknames he has accumulated over the years.

Doglet (like piglet, but a dog); Maxin Andrelaxin; Maximillion; Moog (who could not think). Moogfish (who could swim and swim and swim); Max Factor International Stunt Dog (See him leap through closed windows in a single bound). T.H.E. Moog; Old Moog; Moogos Moogos Gali (former Secretary General to the United Dog Nations, often shortened just to Moogos); Moof; Moogfishdotcom (n.b. to be sung to the tune of ‘moonpig.com’ advert), and Plumbo Columbo (no I don’t know why either). There are probably many more that I have forgotten.

If you’re missing him feel free to sing ‘You were always in the way’ to the tune of ‘You were always on my mind’ by Elvis Presley. 

Moog the Unpopular

I received my seed potatoes, onions and shallots by post last week. They were accidentally left on the floor in the kitchen overnight, and I woke up to find that Moog and his accomplice had been inside the box. Casualty count: One bag of seed potatoes totally consumed (why??) and the onions and shallots have been mixed up, so now I don't know which is which.

New pictures

Time for some pictures from the plot which have been lacking whilst I worked out how to use my new phone. Here is my beautifully painted shed, along with the Moog looking wistfully at nothing in particular, and my new Summer Ball courgettes which are more exciting than the usual green variety.

The Ute is Here

The latest weapon in my allotment arsenal has arrived, in the shape of my new Kona Ute. Ute being short for Utility bike, this is the pick-up truck of bikes. Comfy to ride, not too slow and ready-made to carry me, produce and equipment wherever I need to go. The Ute is now my regular work commuting bike and it's doing a grand job.

For all those doubters who couldn't visualise what a bike like this was for, I have enlisted the help of some tomato plants, my compost caddy, watering can, and, err, The Moog, to demonstrate:

The author would like to assure readers that no Moog was hurt in the making of this blog. Actually The Moog was pretty happy in there and nearly went to sleep before I could get him out again.

Where has John been... and beans

I noticed my neigbour John's plot starting to look overgrown, most unusual, and slightly worrying. The last time I saw John was about a month ago, when he arrived with a heavy heart to bury his recently deceased tortoise (same age as me, incidentally). Moog thinks that'll make a nice surprise for the next tenant of that plot, one day. John told me he now wishes he hadn't planted quite so much lettuce.

Happily I saw John again this week and it turns out he's been away on holiday, followed by a bad knee, so all is well. He thought we were suffering a bunny invasion, but it turned out he mistook Moog's burrowings for rabbit holes, and luckily I was able to put him straight as to their origin.

I reported in an earlier post that my first batch of French beans had rotted before germination. I have since found out that the same happened to a fellow allotment holder and work colleague Martyn, and, to my great surprise, my super-allotment neighbour John. So, it's obviously not something I did wrong, which is nice.

Precautions pay off

When Moog thinks we should do something on the allotment, I'm often left unsure whether it's worth it, or whether my effort would have been better spent elsewhere.

After the wet summer of 2007 I've always been mindful of the disaster of getting crops washed away or drowned - probably harder to deal with than drought because I can water when it's sunny, but I can't stop the rain!

Moog thought we should dig drainage channels down the edge of each bed, and I'm glad we did, as this picture shows, after a few hours of relatively light rain:



Not pictured are some of Moog's own holes, also filled with water!

Friends of the Moog - Storage Saga No.1

Great friends of the Moog, Maria and Cameron, have kindly donated a big storage box to Plot 29. This is great news as now I don't have to drive every time I visit the allotment, laden with tools to ferry backwards and forwards. The big green box sits, rather smug looking for a box, next to the compost bins, and the smelly sacks have taken up residence. A big disc of concrete left over from a job at home (extracted, at some considerable physical effort, from the bottom of the tub I mixed it in) holds the whole thing down to the ground.

Moog thinks: Nice one, Maria and Cam. Now, do you have any Bonios?

Maria and Cameron are amongst the Moog's second family, ie, whenever they are around, he treachorously ignores the Moog Keeper and his wife in favour of the visitors. The grass is always greener, Moog...

Moog digs the allotment

We all visited on Sunday - Mrs Moog-Keeper, The Moog and his friend Pepper. We spent a couple of hours sorting out the site. We’ve moved the carpet round to the side where all the long grass is, as we found it is working really well, not just to smother new seedlings, but to compost the dead top growth. The long grass is hardest to get rid of, so we’ll give it the carpet treatment for a while.

Moog spent most of the time in the corner tied to the fence, digging. The Moog loves to dig! Moog thought he was 'helping', and in fact he made a fairly good attempt at clearing a corner of the plot all by himself. I’d have posted a picture but I didn’t take my camera. Pepper just barked at him in encouragement until she was banished to the car boot for being a nuisance and not helping.

Moog spent the rest of the day looking very sleepy indeed – he thinks he might leave the digging to me in future!

Moog’s Visit: First signs of a change

Moog thought it was a while since the blog was updated, and that it would be good to go and visit the allotment, so I took him:

Moog thinks the weedkiller has done a great job on the bindweed, with only a few green leaves still showing. I’m quite pleased myself to see that it has worked, too! Moog thinks the last bit in the bottle of weedkiller will be enough to finish off the last few stragglers.

Moog thinks the carpet is building up nicely, thanks to more donations from my colleagues at work. About half, maybe, is covered now so any weed seeds in the soil shouldn’t have chance to germinate.

Unfortunately I now have to start digging… Moog thinks, "I love digging!" He's right, of course, The Moog loves to dig. Unfotunately I feel his 'help' will be more of a hindrance; that's a shame, since he's ever so keen on digging. Here's a picture of Moog digging on the beach (his favourite place to dig).

The Moog, In full thought

Here is Moog on his thinking bench. As soon as the sun comes out, he wanders over and makes himself comfortable. It's where he has lots of his best ideas. Most of the time, he just daydreams and snoozes the afternoons away.

Who can blame him? I would too, if I was The Moog.