#Dog Health Awareness

[happydogophiles]

Canine Wellness: Recognizing Common Dog Health Problems

🐶🩺 Keep your furry friend healthy and happy! Learn to recognize common dog health problems, get expert tips, and ensure your pup's wellness. 🏥🐾 Let's give our dogs the best care they deserve! 🐕💖 #CanineWellness #DogHealth 🩺🐾

When it comes to our furry companions, their health and well-being are of utmost importance. As dog owners, it is essential to be aware of common health problems that can affect our canine friends. By recognizing the signs and symptoms early on, we can ensure that our dogs receive the necessary care and attention to maintain their overall wellness. In this article, we will explore various common…

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

James Middleton: Kate, William and the dog that saved my life. The younger brother of the Princess of Wales was so depressed he came close to killing himself. Then Ella, his faithful cocker spaniel, stepped in — and even found him a wife. He tells Matt Rudd about his ‘waste of money’ education, family therapy and the help Prince William gave him. The Sunday Times, 22 Sep 2024.

I’m in a cottage on a farm with the brother of the Princess of Wales and his eyes are filling with tears. He has a cocker spaniel called Luna on his lap and I have a cocker spaniel called Inka on my lap. Both dogs are looking anxiously at their owner as he tries to tell me about the death of their mother, Ella. It could be a bit awkward when a man you’ve only just met starts getting very emotional about a dog that died nearly two years ago. Instead it’s the moment I realise James Middleton isn’t exaggerating. A dog really did save his life.

On a winter’s night in late 2017, Middleton climbed a ladder to the roof above his parents’ flat in Chelsea and contemplated suicide. Overwhelmed by feelings of failure, he had decided that the labour of living was no longer worth the effort. As his thoughts spiralled, it was only the sight of Ella, watching him carefully through the skylight, that gave him pause. How could he leave her, he wondered.

Over weeks and months Middleton had isolated himself from family and friends, ignoring increasingly desperate phone calls and texts. When his sister Pippa came to the door, he would hide in his room. When he tried to go to work, he got as far as the car park and then drove home again.

“I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep, I was constantly agitated,” he says. “If I sat down I had to stand up again immediately. I couldn’t eat because I felt constantly as if I were about to throw up. What was most challenging was that I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. It wasn’t living, it was just existing in this awful state of anxiety.”

As his mental health crisis deepened, it was only Ella and the routine of looking after her that kept him going. “I was never alone in a time when I felt very lonely,” he says, stroking Inka’s ears. “I’m surprised there weren’t marks on the carpet from the laps I was doing, but she would sort of get in the way. It was a silent interruption, but for a fraction of a second it would stop the spiralling. “Something was taking over my mind, but not knowing what it was made it very difficult to talk about. And I didn’t feel as though I had a right to be depressed because I’ve had everything, because I am privileged.”

We are meeting today, I should mention, at Bucklebury Farm Park, a genteel sheep-petting outfit plus farm shop (excellent organic pesto) at the more desirable end of Berkshire. It is owned by his sister Pippa Matthews née Middleton and her hedgie husband, James, who is, among other things, the next laird of Glen Affric. Carole and Michael Middleton, parents to James, Pippa and Catherine, live in a manor house a stone’s throw away and Middleton’s own farm, which he bought from the parents of a prep school friend mid-pandemic, is a mile over there. It’s quite the empire.

Now married to the French financier Alizée Thevenet and father to 11-month-old Inigo, Middleton is happy to talk about his annus horribilis and his dog-assisted recovery. He does so at book-length in Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life. But it’s a good question: what does someone born into such wealth and privilege have to be depressed about?

The roots of his 2017 crisis can be found, like most roots of crises, in childhood. Born in 1987, the same year his mother set up the mail-order company Party Pieces, he followed his two older sisters to Marlborough. If the prestigious boarding school demanded academic excellence and his parents expected it, both were to be disappointed. Diagnosed with dyslexia then, and with attention deficit disorder when he finally sought help in 2017, he struggled where his sisters had excelled.

“School is about comparing yourself to others,” he says, recalling how he would avoid friends phoning to compare exam results in the summer holidays. “I didn’t feel despair when I failed because it happened so often, but I was embarrassed. I felt let down because I didn’t think that those results properly represented me.”

In the early chapters of the book he charts his struggles with expectation — his mother is frequently in tears, his father just as frequently exasperated. Even without VAT, it must have taken a large chunk of the trust fund established by Michael’s grandmother, the heiress Olive Middleton, to put his son through Marlborough. When that son had to spend a gap year retaking his A-level chemistry four times, a “humiliating record” for the school, he tells him his education was “a waste of money”.

Although today Middleton studiously avoids criticising his school or his beloved parents — he learnt valuable survival skills at Marlborough, he tells me, and “Mum and Dad just wanted the best for me” — the pressure was clearly intense. He sought escape from that pressure in nature and in dogs. “I was an outcast … alienated from my classmates,” he writes. “But dogs never judged me. Mum asked repeatedly if I wanted to bring friends home to stay at weekends. But truthfully all I wanted to do was to see Tilly.”

Tilly was the family’s golden retriever, but from an early age Middleton was desperate for his own dog. His parents, on the other hand, continued to be desperate for him to succeed. And so, after that long summer of resits, he squeaked into Edinburgh University, choosing criminology, environmental studies and geography modules because he was “pretty certain they would all be multiple choice”. They weren’t, of course, and he failed his first-year exams. More crying from Mum, more exasperation from Dad, more solace from a dog, this time his own.

“For all my reservations, I shall be eternally grateful for the time I spent in Edinburgh because it is thanks to Ben, a university friend, that I find my adored dog Ella,” he writes, introducing us to the dog that saved his life. Despite his best efforts, puppies and student life are not compatible, and when he was banned from bringing Ella to lectures he finally abandoned his studies. “I knew that if I left university I’d be responsible for that decision,” he says. “It was a big step, but I had Ella with me, as my companion and my responsibility.”

Middleton’s story is not exactly Angela’s Ashes. When he announces that he is ditching his degree to become an entrepreneur in London, he is cut off, he tells us, from the Bank of Mum and Dad, but he can still move in with his sisters at the family’s flat in Chelsea. His uncle Gary Goldsmith, he of Celebrity Big Brother 2024 notoriety, is also on hand to invest in his cake kit start-up. Nobody in this story is going to find themselves on the street.

But cynics desist! Don’t underestimate the impact of parental expectation, nor of not conforming to the traditional model of success. Middleton, anxious and increasingly socially uncomfortable, had left his friends in Edinburgh and washed up in London with his dog.

“She was my shield,” he says. “Through her I could enjoy things. I could take her for a walk and see what she was seeing. I process a lot of things in my mind and that can be overwhelming, but she helped me open my eyes and realise everything was OK.”

There are, I’m sure, many advantages to being royal adjacent, but when his sister Catherine started dating Prince William in 2004, Middleton found the level of media interest “shocking”. A young man who used his dog as an excuse to leave parties early was not equipped for the spotlight, for stepping out of the flat into a sea of flashing cameras.

“I’d never seen a royal wedding,” he says, rather sweetly. “There hadn’t been one in my lifetime. Not a big one anyway. I wasn’t aware of the scale or the global interest. I just felt privileged that my sister was asking me to do it, and it meant something to her. I wanted to make sure I did it.”

His description of the intense amount of practice he put in to the reading is like a potted version of The King’s Speech — he stutters, he stumbles, he takes lessons with the voice coach Anthony Gordon Lennox, he reads nervously and then more confidently to an audience of one dog ­— Ella, of course — in Chelsea Old Church. And then it’s the big day. “Really, the build-up to Catherine’s wedding was no different to Pippa’s or other friends’ weddings,” he says, unbelievably. Just the family, 1,900 guests, Her Majesty, an archbishop and a few world leaders. Watching the recording back today, there’s no hint of nerves — Middleton, 24 at the time, gives a bravura performance. Afterwards an American production company wrote to ask if he’d like to star in his own film — their opening offer was $1 million.

“They even ventured,” he writes wryly, “that members of my wider family might like to take part.” Middleton is not unaware of how everything is distorted by his proximity to royalty.

On the surface the next few years of Middleton’s life read like a Hello! magazine special — parties, holidays on Mustique, holidays in the Alps, a blossoming relationship with a glamorous older woman (the actress Donna Air, about whom his parents were hesitant because of the eight-year age gap), weekends at Sandringham (“Did you get my message, James?” the Queen asked the first time he visited. “Ella is welcome to stay in your room.”) But then came the night of despair in pyjamas on a Chelsea rooftop. Long sessions of cognitive behavioural therapy followed with a psychiatrist who was happy for Ella to attend too. She was, Middleton says, the only reason he kept going.

In December 2017, his mental health still fragile, he left London without telling anyone and holed up in a remote cottage in the Lake District. While his family grew frantic with worry, much to his irritation (“I’m a grown man”), he describes three days of elemental existence — fetching firewood and water, heating soup, walking Ella and her two pups. For the first time in a year he enjoyed a deep sleep and, in front of the fire after a wild swim with his dogs, he felt fleetingly happy.

“Dogs are amazing,” he says and all five of the dogs in the cottage with us — three spaniels and two beautiful golden retrievers — look delighted. “They do just sense things. Ella had been with me in every therapy session, she was always with me. I think we can learn from dogs. They’re not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. They’re not even thinking about the next couple of hours. They’re thinking about right now. I’m here, they’re here, in the moment.”

As Middleton’s recovery continued, he says his sisters understood — they both had friends who had depression — but his parents struggled. “They were uncomfortable with the fact that I’d been labelled ‘clinically depressed’,” he writes. “To people of their generation, I can understand why it was concerning. Society was only just starting to break through the stigma.”

The solution, in the end, was to invite the family to the therapy sessions. “I felt guilty because I knew they were worried,” he says. “They felt guilty because it’s really hard if you’re not able to help the people you love the most. I was finally understanding how I felt but I got nervous trying to translate that to my family without the help of an interpreter. When they came into the sessions they had the opportunity to ask questions that I couldn’t necessarily answer.”

In the 13 years since Catherine’s wedding Middleton’s hair has receded a little, but he now has a beard for balance — a little twirl of his moustaches and he could be a not-too-distant cousin of Tsar Nicholas II. He probably is — this generation of Middletons is not the first to hang out with royalty. He looks less bright and bushy-tailed than he did in 2011, but that might be fatherhood or the weekend with friends he has just returned from in Norfolk. Or it might simply be the passing of enough eventful years.

Whatever it is, he tells me he is now happy, which, given the depths of his depression, he still finds extraordinary. His idea of what constitutes success has changed — he is no longer motivated by money but by the things in life about which he is passionate. He doesn’t even like the word entrepreneur any more.

Having stepped away from Boomf, a marshmallow delivery company (Boomf is the sound a marshmallow makes falling from a letterbox), he started James & Ella, a “premium freeze-dried raw dog food” company in 2020. He clearly finds it easier to be passionate about dogs than marshmallows. But it’s in his personal life that the change has been most dramatic.

“I remember sitting in the therapist’s chair with Ella’s head on my lap, wondering how long it was going to take to get better,” he says. “But within a year I had met my future wife. And we’re now here with an 11-month-old son, living on a farm with six dogs. If someone had told me that would happen, I’d have been annoyed. It would have just seemed so ridiculous.”

He met Thevenet, 34, at a members club in South Kensington, west London, in 2018. Ella, having actively disapproved of several previous girlfriends, broke the ice by going over to her table. They married in the south of France in 2021 (a Hello! magazine world exclusive, naturally) and Ella was a flower girl. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Except, alas, the dog. It is one of life’s cruelties that man’s best friend has a much shorter life expectancy than man. Just asking Middleton about the death of Ella, early one Saturday in January 2023, makes him emotional. Despite being given two weeks to live the previous September, she had made it through Christmas, perhaps buoyed by the thought of one final week in the Alps. Of course Middleton was with her when she took her last breath at 3am. The whole family, including William and Catherine, gathered in his parents’ garden for what sounds like an extensive memorial on the Sunday.

“Saying goodbye to Ella was not just saying goodbye to her as a dog,” Middleton says. “It was everything I’d been through with her. She had arrived just as I was starting out in my twenties and she was leaving as I’d finally figured things out in my mid-thirties. She put me on the right path and I didn’t want another day from her. I didn’t want another hour. I would have loved it but I didn’t need it. “She was sent to me before I even knew I needed her, but she chose me. She was able to transform my life better than any human could have done and then she put me in the capable hands of someone and together we’re now raising our own family.”

Eight days after Ella was buried in her favourite sheepskin, Alizée interrupted Middleton’s mourning to announce that she was pregnant. He is convinced Ella knew and that her death was a kind of passing of the torch. His son, Inigo, was born last autumn. “I hope there’s an Ella who will find Inigo, if there’s a time in his life when he needs it,” he says, as one of the golden retrievers has a long stretch.

If you’re not a dog person, you might find this cosmic canine intervention a bit much. Whether Ella was the ultimate therapist or a very effective placebo, it worked for Middleton. His sisters’ families are also fully invested in the joys of cocker spaniels — Pippa has one of Ella’s sons and Catherine, whose announcement of the end of her chemotherapy treatment comes a few days after this interview, now has one of Ella’s granddaughters — no corgis to date. Middleton himself now regards his mental health crisis as a blessing. “Although I would never wish it on anybody and I would never want to go through it again, I’m pleased it happened. It was an opportunity to recalibrate and to re-evaluate what matters.” Happiness, he says, is what matters. Happiness and lots of dogs. Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life by James Middleton (Radar £22). 

[cicidraws]

i still every day get like over 100 notes on my mouse doodle dogs ive done

since yall like that sorta thing heres more: Bulldogs. especially english bulldogs. i love them dearly.

[thatkarleesidraws]

You wanna know why I like Dazai so much?

It’s because he resonates with me. When I was 18 and severely depressed, I went to the club every weekend. Friday, Saturday and sometimes even Thursday til 5 in the morning, blackout drunk, smoking one cigarette after another, waking up with a massive hangover, just to fill that void in my chest.

Of course it didn’t help. I’ve known it back then, and I know it now. But slipping into those self-destructive behaviours was better than not feeling anything at all.

I don’t know when it started. Maybe I was just born with it. All I knew was that I don’t feel like I belong here and that I want to go home.

I’ve been the golden child, the smart kid that got good grades without studying much. But where did it get me now? I’m 25, working through my second therapy, taking antidepressants again and I have no idea what to do with my life. I have no desire in earning a whole lot of money, no desire to contribute anything to society, no desire to exist.

It’s odd, really. Contradicting even. I find a lot of things beautiful. Music, art, nature, sometimes even people. Always seeing the world through the eyes of a child. Though somehow I’m always at war with myself, trying to bend and force my mind to function properly.

I’m not even sad. I just don’t know what to do or say anymore. I’m so tired of explaining myself, tired of being the “funny friend”, tired of always listening to others. I don’t even want anything anymore.

But there he is. A fictional man, with a dark past who pretends to be silly and carefree even though he’s dying inside, who puts my thoughts into better words than I ever could. That is why I love Dazai so much. Because there is this one character that gives me the feeling that I’m not alone in my suffering. Is it delusional? Yeah, maybe. But I can’t be bothered. He gives me a sense of belonging in this world of pure chaos and for that I cannot thank him enough.

[fyodors--ushanka]

So I'm a little silly so I'm sending another ask (I really like ur stuff, also, please go st ur own pace bestie) so whenever you get to it is when you get to it.

Atsushi and Dazai helping the reader with a depressive episode. (Like, bedrot can't do anything kinda thing)

Thank you ur the best <33

Thank you, and you're welcome!

Warning: mental Health, also some self projecting

Dazai:

Dazai walked down the hallway, a crease between his eyebrows as he furrowd them. He knocked once.

Then twice

Then Three times.

You opened the door, face sunken in from not eating or sleeping. Your eyes were red, likely from crying. "What?" You questioned, voice hoarse. "I came to check on you." "Oh.." you numbly replied. He frowned. "May I come in?" You were hesitant, but let him in. "All I have right now is tea and rice, sorry." You closed the door, pulling a jacket from the floor and zipping it.

"You seem upset.." was all he said as you sat down. You served him some rice, sitting a cup of tea in front of you. He poked your lips with the chopsticks, nudging a piece of rice into your mouth. "Do..Do you not like it?" Your voice even sounding small with each word. "I like it, but you haven't been eating for how long?" "A few days ago I ate Onigiri" He forced more food into your mouth.

After successfully getting you to eat, he made you lay down. He brushed your hair from your face, frowning at the change from work you to home you. He wrapped his arms around you, making you cry into his chest. He spent a few more days like this, doing anything he could to help.

Atsushi:

Atsushi heard a thump, so he ran to you. He didn't expect to find you distraught, tears flowing down your chin onto your thighs and shirt. He freaked out, checking you for injuries as you stared forwards.

He found some food and made you eat. "P-Please eat, Y/n! Your face is all sunken in and pale..." You shiveredd a bit, pulling your hood above your head. "Why are you so sad?" You avoided answering, instead stuffing your face with food.

He cupped your face with his hands, looking deep within your eyes. He brushed some hair from your face, a few tears that built up into your eyes finally shed. You didn't speak. Your eyes bore into his own.

He wrapped a blanket around you, coaxing you to lay down. He refused to leave until you were better, helping you do chores seeing as you didn't want to leave your bed. He listened as you vented, giving you support. As the days passed you got better, happier.

[hannigramislife]

"I am NOT justifying what he did, but Dazai as a character went through so much pain and—" Good, God please double the pain of Akutagawa, Q, Chuuya, Gin, Ango, Oda, Atsushi, and give it to Dazai.

[spiritchill]

"Don't fake your problems man, create real ones. "

- Jake the Doggo

[mansorus]

I D G A F 🐶🐾🐕🦴🦮🐕‍🦺🐩

[hyggehooligan]

Seeking: BPD (borderline personality disorder) information and resources; for individuals and loved ones

I was diagnosed this year at age 39 and my wife and I are still trying to figure things out and learn as much as we can.

I'd be very appreciative for suggestions of books or other media or things to check out to help us navigate this diagnosis; for me as a person as well as both of us together as a team. I feel very lucky to have a good relationship with my psych and my therapist so I'll be asking them as well.

Thank you so much!

Pic of my beasts for your enjoyment 🤓

[spoonful116]

There are 3 main types of assistive animals: therapy animals, service dogs, and emotional support animals. I'm taking a look at each type and some of the similarities and differences

[bodymodificationnation]

My service dog died in July and I’m still so broken. I feel like I will never be happy again. He was not only my best friend but I considered him to be my son. He was my whole world and I’m so angry that life took him away from me. He never did a single thing wrong. He didn’t deserve this.

[suicideenthusiast]

// Regarding my last mental health posts, let's be positive again! I may not feel empathy or guilt, but I do:

Care for people

Experience happiness

Love animals

Like hanging out with my friends

Like being unserious/silly

People with lack of empathy are just as human as you are! They are not robots! They can laugh easily, they can be emotional, everything! Empathy and guilt aren't everything <3

[thebeauty-inlife]

Roxy, the black Labrador, embodies the essence of a dog Zen master with grace and wisdom that transcends the ordinary. Her serene disposition and mindful presence make her a living embodiment of tranquility.

Roxy moves through life with a graceful fluidity, each step deliberate and unhurried. Whether she's enjoying a sun-drenched afternoon or a leisurely walk in the park, every moment is a testament to her Zen-like approach to existence.

What truly sets Roxy apart is her ability to be fully present in every moment. She doesn't dwell on past experiences or worry about what the future may hold. Instead, she finds contentment and joy in the here and now. Her playfulness is infectious, and her moments of rest are a gentle reminder to embrace the present and let go of life's worries.

Roxy's wisdom extends to her interactions with others. She listens with a profound patience, her deep, soulful eyes reflecting a profound understanding. In her presence, you feel seen and accepted, as if she's imparting the wisdom of the ages through her silent gaze.

Roxy's life as a dog Zen master is a testament to the transformative power of living in the moment and embracing the simplicity of existence. She reminds us that amidst the chaos of our daily lives, there is a wellspring of peace within us waiting to be discovered. Roxy's legacy is one of mindfulness, serenity, and the profound beauty of a dog's soul.

[mochathesamoyed]

Depression.

Support me on Patreon!

www.patreon.com/mochathesamoyed

Check out my website!

MochaTheSamoyed.com

[sp00kysk3lly]

This country really does make me fucking sick!

[neurosky]

Throwback to the time I went for a walk and stopped by a store to get a drink, while still being terrified of people. Then the cashier taught me how to open cans without using my nails, and the guy behind me lent me a little money because I didn't have enough, and I realized people really can be kind