By: Arden Moore

My dog, Chipper, goes ga-ga if I mention the phrase “woof park.” That’s my nickname for dog parks. If I say that phrase – even in a whisper – Chipper, my Golden Retriever/Husky mix, will start to whine and wiggle with delight.

For nearly three years, we’ve gone to a local dog park in the early morning. There’s a regular crowd there featuring well-mannered dogs just looking to play a friendly game of chase (or chase me, please) and tennis ball fetching. The owners pay attention to the canine antics and share training tips and goofy dog stories with one another.

Recently, however, we arrived an hour later than usual. The usual gang was not there. Chipper and my small dog, Cleo, bolted into the fenced-in dog park and began what they normally do – the perimeter prowl. They stopped and sniffed. Their noses were filled with the scents of dogs and other delights – pure canine bliss, I guess.

At dog parks, I pay close heed to the body languages unleashed from my dogs and other dogs. This time, an Australian Shepherd mix made a direct beeline to Chipper. In the world of dog etiquette, that’s a rude – and threatening – gesture. Most dogs come up to one another from the side. This dog then growled and leaped on Chipper. I produced my deepest, I-mean-business tone and yelled at both to stop and sit. Surprisingly, they did. If they hadn’t, I was prepared to use Chipper’s leash to safely separate them without getting my hands bit.

I managed to put the leash on a shaken Chipper and noticed that she had a cut below her left eye. It was starting to bleed. Meanwhile, the owner of the Aussie just looked, shrugged and said, “Oh well. Dogs will be dogs.” Unbelievable.

Fortunately, I keep a dog first-aid kit in my car, and I cleaned Chipper’s wounds and stopped the bleeding. Then I noticed another man coming back into the parking lot with a dog limping. It turns out that the Aussie attacked his dog, too.

Dog parks are designed to be places where well-mannered dogs can romp and socialize. They are not places for aggressive dogs to try to “work out” their bully tendencies. And, they are certainly not places for owners to abandon their responsibilities to keep their dogs from harming others.

My parting advice: Please pay close attention to the interactions of dogs – and the watchfulness of their owners – before you decide to bring your dog inside the park. If you see aggression, leave and treat your dog to a long walk elsewhere. Even though your dog will have to be on a leash, it will be a far safer way to get in some exercise.

By: Arden Moore

Indoor cats – guaranteed to be free of risks from illness and injury, right? Wrong. For 12 years, I have jokingly regarded my calico cat, Callie, as a “cheap date.” The reason? For a dozen years, all I’ve need to spend on her was routine needs – food, treats, bedding, toys and annual veterinary exams. She was the poster cat for feline health.

She has spent her life indoors since I adopted her as a tiny kitten found running the streets of Miami. She goes outside to my fenced backyard, supervised by me, and she strolls back into the house when I say, “Callie, inside.”

For the past few years, however, her belly has grown and I nicknamed her “Calorie.” I knew she wasn’t to blame for the added weight. She wasn’t raiding the refrigerator at night while I was asleep or pilfering food from the dogs’ bowls. The blame belonged to me because I wasn’t paying attention to her food portions.

But a couple months ago, I noticed that Callie was slimming down. It’s natural to take credit for this fit feline look, but I knew unexplained weight loss often signals a silent health condition.

My veterinarian confirmed my thoughts: Callie was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, a silent disease that strikes middle-aged and senior cats. It is caused by a benign tumor in one or both of a cat’s thyroid glands, which in turn, causes an overproduction of thyroid hormones. Unchecked, it can trigger hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (a disease that causes a thickening of the heart) and damage the kidneys and eyes.

The best option for curing this condition is a pricey radioactive iodine injection. The total cost for this procedure, necessary tests, medications and hospitalization tops $1,400. Ouch. But this is one feline disease that has a real cure.

Callie is definitely worth this investment, and she recently returned from a week’s stay at a veterinary imaging center. During that week, I received daily updates on her recovery and was able to “tune in” and see her through a Web cam accessible on my computer.

It turns out that only one of her thyroids was affected by this disease and now she is happy being back at home. She is displaying renewed kitten-like energy and purrs longer and louder.

That hefty veterinary bill reminded me of the importance of getting pet insurance. At the time, I only had policies covering my two dogs. Callie’s pricey “vacation” convinced me to obtain insurance for my cat, Murphy, age 7. Due to Callie’s senior status and the hyperthyroidism diagnosis, the only insurance available for her would cover in case of an accident – not an illness.

Please learn from my experience and obtain insurance policies on your cats. As I’ve learned, even indoor cats are not insulated from disease.

By: Arden Moore

It is never easy to admit that you have a bias. But when you do and can work on overcoming it, the results can be amazing.

I guess that is why a tiny mixed breed dog came into my life about a year ago. For years, I declared that I was more comfortable around dogs medium size and larger. I used to joke that I never wanted a dog smaller than my cats.

Then Cleo showed up. She arrived in the backyard of my elderly neighbor, Flo, at night. Flo’s dog, Buddy, a vocal mini-Schnauzer, sounded the bark-bark-bark alert that something was shaking and whimpering on the back porch. Flo saw this small, frightened dog and was not certain how Buddy would react if she brought in this dog, so she called me.

My dog, Chipper, a 60-pound Golden retriever/Husky mix, is a former shelter mascot who is used to dogs and cats of all sizes and attitudes. She, like my two cats, Callie and Murphy, also know what it is like to be without a home and then to be rescued. My three pets welcomed Cleo without a growl or a hiss.

Cleo weighed barely 10 pounds when she arrived. Her coat was matted and dry and her teeth were nearly brown. I could feel and see her ribs. She sported a collar that was too tight bearing her name and a phone number from an area two counties away. I tried calling the number, but it was disconnected. I also left word with that county’s animal shelter as well as those in my area. I posted signs. I alerted neighbors.

No calls. Something told me that this little dog either ran away or was dumped. What was certain was that she was in dire need of good nutrition, a bath and a complete physical exam by my veterinarian. Within a month, I had spent $500 plus to provide her with the necessary vaccination, dental cleaning, food, grooming, bedding, leash, collar, cool toys – and most importantly, pet insurance.

Cleo has taught me that little dogs sport big hearts. She now weighs 12 pounds and her once too-skinny body is toned and muscular. She easily trots next to Chipper on our daily 40-minute walks and cuddles with my cats during afternoon naps. She races to greet me when I come home and is learning tricks to earn healthy treats.

Like many of you, I didn’t plan on adopting a second dog. It just happened. But something told me that she deserved a second chance in a caring home. On June 27, we celebrated the one-year anniversary of her arrival into Flo’s backyard and my home. For Cleo, June 27 marked a new beginning — and for me, it marked the end of a bias toward dogs smaller than cats.