The Trouble with Tobys

On the very first day we brought Toby home, my brother nicknamed him "Lumpy" because of two grotesque growths on his elbows. Luckily, those merely turned out to be irritations caused by lying on the hard concrete floor at the shelter, but Michael must have been psychic, because fast forward seven years, and Toby is one heck of a Lumpy Lab.

The good news is, all of his growths have turned out to be benign, including the newest one, which I had our vet examine just yesterday. (I decided not to bring Toby in during Meadow's appointment next week, so we can concentrate only on her.) While Toby was at the vet, I also asked the doctor to aspirate several other lumps we had been watching since August, and I brought to his attention two more, teensy-tiny lumps - which Nick had found nearly a month ago. We couldn't show these to our vet during Toby's last visit because they were so small that we lost them somewhere in all that fur.

But with Meadow's harshly learned lesson fresh in my mind, I took great pains to locate them again the night before Toby's visit, even marking his fur with magic marker just so I wouldn't lose them again. (Before you laugh, this worked awesome, and the vet tech said I wasn't the first to do so.)

As it turned out, the newest lump and the others we'd been watching all turned out to be Lipomas, so no further cytology is needed at this time. As for the itty bitty lumps, one is only a skin tag, and the other seems to be yet another cyst that I just need to keep an eye on.

Which means: Toby is again in the clear. Phew.

Just the other night, while Nick and I were discussing all of Toby's various lumps and bumps, we realized he had about twelve of them - all of which seemingly appeared over night. When Nick commented that it reminded him of a scene out of the movie Gremlins - my imagination took hold.

What would I do if Toby's lumps and bumps suddenly erupted, and out popped a dozen miniature yellow Labradors?

It's hard enough dealing with just one Toby  at times - and my heart nearly stopped at the thought of twelve tiny Tobys running rampant in my house. And rather than Gremlins, the scene I envisioned more closely resembled something out of Star Trek:

Toby Number One: Sneaking into the bathroom to systematically shred and devour each and every toilet paper and paper towel roll he can get his little doggie paws on.

Toby Number Two: Lying sideways on the floor near the hall closet, trying to obtain some "kitty krunchies" by cramming his head through the small opening where the cats enter and exit their litter box - and getting stuck in the process.

Toby Number Three: Standing up on the microwave cart, knocking over our fragile, decorative fruit bowl while trying to steal a bunch of bananas - and then knocking over the microwave too.

Toby Number Four: Out in the yard, digging endless holes, shredding every baby tree he can sink his teeth into, and pulling poison ivy through the fence - traipsing around the yard with the venomous vines trailing along behind him.

Toby Number Five: Following closely behind Toby Number Four's rear, waiting impatiently for his brother to "go" so he can enjoy a "snack." (I know, "Ewwww, gross!" But oh so disgustingly true.)

Toby Number Six: Leaping on every visitor entering our home during a holiday gathering, covering each of them with muddy footprints, knocking any trays of food they might be carrying out of their hands, and toppling elderly guests to the ground.

Toby Number Seven: Curled up on the sofa, looking so sweet and innocent, while totally ignoring the fact that he had already been asked to "Get Off" fifty times in a row.

Toby Number Eight: Digging through his dog bed, digging up our carpeting, digging down to the hardwood floor, and then continuing to dig some more - for what reason, I haven't a clue.

Toby Number Nine: Stealing each of the other dogs' toys and stock piling them under his roly-poly tummy, and then contently gnawing on just one of them while the other dogs watch with envy. (Little Miss Meadow has been known to do this too.)

Toby Number Ten: Trembling, spinning in frantic circles, whining as if he has not eaten in months, and spraying drool everywhere while I'm preparing doggy dinner dishes - and creating a puddle which I'll probably slip in, cracking my head open on the tiles.

Toby Number Eleven: Idiotically running right up to a strange dog which is barking and growling menacingly at him, as if he were greeting a long lost friend - and ending up needing seven staples to close up the gaping wound on his muzzle.

Finally, Tiny Toby Number Twelve: Whining, staring at me despondently, and whining some more, over and over again, driving me nearly insane until I finally get up to assist him - all because he wants to go to bed but the cat is in the hallway blocking his path.

And THAT'S the Trouble with Tobys.

So how many Tobys do you think YOU could handle?

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REMEMBER MY POST ABOUT PEARL? As of last night - she no longer shows up if you search Labs4rescue for female yellow Labs (don't ask why I checked) - which means - she has most likely found a home of her own (and can finally stop haunting me)! Hooray for Pearl!

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Fellow Bloggers - did you hear about the Blogging Fundraiser to Benefit Animals? Its worth checking out - win money for your favorite charity, and a little cash for yourself too!

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