Balinitis

October 7, 2008

Frustrating Drips

For the past few months, my juvenile male Azawakh, Azelouan, has been dripping “semen” all over the house. At one point, I mentioned the dripping “semen” problem to a few people who I thought would be knowledgeable and they chalked it up to “testosterone poisoning.” I didn’t think too much of it. We figured the poor guy was loaded up with testosterone and just way oversexed. It was starting to drive my wife crazy, though, because cleaning up the waxy drips is a monster chore that requires a kind of degreaser to remove them from hardwood floors. When he shakes himself the drips are often flung onto the walls for an extra disgust-factor. Suffice it to say that if a way could be found to turn off the dripping faucet of dog “semen”, it would make me a hero.

To cut quickly to the chase, the stuff dripping from my dog’s penis was not actually semen, it was pus. The poor guy was suffering from a condition in dogs called Balinitis: an infected penis sheath. Fortunately, there is an easy home remedy that almost always cures the infection.

Balinitis in a male Greyhound from iCare of the Racing Greyhound/i

Balinitis in a male Greyhound from "Care of the Racing Greyhound."

Stumbling upon a Solution

A few months ago, I purchased an out of print book, used, on the Amazon.com marketplace. It is called Care of the Racing Greyhound. My dogs are not Greyhounds, but this book is very interesting because it is dense with information about canine sports injuries, particularly coursing injuries. It also has medical information not normally found in books for the general population. This book is extremely dense and I had set it aside, having read about half of the thing. I was bogged down in sprains, strains and massage therapy. After running the 10-miler, I happened to pick it up and the book fell open to page 314 which, unbelievably, had a picture of Azelouan’s problem (shown above).

Balinitis can apparently have a number of root causes from masturbation to anabolic steroid use to excessive vitamin E in the diet. The end result is an infection in the penis sheath that can also lead to cystitis and even kidney infection. Most dogs that have balinitis with a discharge also develop tonsillitis. Fortunately, the cure is pretty simple and usually does not require antibiotics or a trip to see the veterinarian. In the vast majority of cases, just rinsing the sheath out with an antiseptic disinfectant cures the problem.

Treatment

Flush the penis sheath out with a dilution of 1 part Betadine in 9  parts water, 1 teaspoon of Hibitane in 1 pint of water or quaternary ammonium disinfectants. Use a syringe without a needle or a pediatric enema bottle to flush the area for at least a minute. The program calls for cleaning the penis sheath once daily for three days followed by every other day for two to three weeks. According to the book, the vast majority of dogs resolve with simple rinsing. If the infection is resistant, it recommends trying a switch to a different antiseptic. If the infection is stubborn, it may require an antibiotic like amoxicillin with clavulanic acid (Clavamox).

I opted for Betadine dilution because we have that in the house. The day after the first treatment, the discharge was nearly gone. After the second treatment, the drip was gone and the tip of his sheath has become much less red.

Azelouan doesn’t really enjoy having his penis washed out and I can’t say that I’m that excited about it either. On the other hand, he is clearly less agitated and is spending a lot less of his time peeing and licking himself. He seems quite relieved. Actually, he’s overjoyed. Christie, too, is overjoyed that Azelouan is no longer splattering disgusting waxy drips all over our house.

Score one for biblioholism!

For all one of you reading along, last time we established that while in modern English “hound” can mean “dog”, it has an ancient connotation of “noble hunting animal”. This time ’round I want to look at the most common English words for “coursing dog”: greyhound, gazehound and sighthound.

The eye of a retired NGA greyhound.

The eye of a retired NGA greyhound.

Sighthound, gazehound and greyhound are all composite nouns:

  • sight + hound
  • gaze + hound
  • grey + hound

We’ve already established that hound means “hunter”. What do the prefix modifiers mean? Sighthound and gazehound are synonyms. Sighthound is just a more modern form. Gaze is a somewhat archaic word for “to look”. It originated in 14th century Middle English (Anglo-Saxon) as gasen.

  • Middle English (Anglo-Saxon): gasen [to look]
    • English: gaze

sighthound
noun

  1. a hound that runs or courses game by sight rather than scent

synonyms: gazehound

I don’t like these two words because they don’t make very much sense. All hounds can see and use their eyes to hunt. There is a natural suite of hunting motor patterns in canids:

  1. orient (track)
  2. eye (stare)
  3. stalk
  4. chase
  5. grab-bite
  6. kill-bite

These behaviors occur in order. Foxhounds and Beagles will definitely eye and chase a fleeing prey animal. Greyhounds will definitely sniff around excitedly at deer spoor hoping to find the critter to chase. I don’t like the term sighthound. It’s lame and it creates a wrong impression of the behavior of these animals. In modern times large swaths of society are divorced from any sort of real-world experience with hunting. I have a hard time believing that people were really so confused in the 16th century that they believed that cursorial dogs hunt only by sight.The interesting thing, though, is that the word gazehound exists at all. It is so wrong and there was already a really good word in English for a coursing dog: greyhound.

According to the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, gazehound was coined between 1560 and 1570 in modern English. The word greyhound is at least a thousand years older and has its roots in Old English and Proto-Indo-European.

Why are greyhounds called grey? They are most commonly fawn, not agouti grey. The grey in greyhound has nothing to do with color. It derives from the Proto-Indo-European word for “shine” or “twinkle”.

  • Proto-Indo-European: g’her [shine, twinkle]
    • Old English: grig
      • Middle English: grig [lively, bright, fair]

 

  • Middle English: grighund [lively, bright, fair + hunting dog]
    • English: greyhound

Basically, greyhound means a particularly lively and good-looking hound; perhaps the flashy hound that runs faster than the others and is most often successful with the take.

Why did someone decide to invent the word gazehound in the mid-16th century if they already had such a nice word in greyhound? I don’t know, so it’s time to go off the deep end into more-or-less pure speculation.

The early and middle16th century was the reigh of Suleiman the Magnificent who presided over a great expansion of the Ottoman Empire. So what? Under Suleiman the Magnificent, the Ottoman Empire expanded into germanic territories of modern Austria, Hungary and the Balkans as well as pretty much all of North Africa and Greece. English traders could not possibly have avoided interaction with Turkish culture and perhaps been exposed to their hunting dogs (which I’ll just refer to as saluqi for convenience).

In her book Gazehounds: the Search for Truth, Connie Miller suggests that the real origin of the prefix in gazehound is not gaze but ghazal. Ghazal is Arabic/Persian/Urdu for gazelle. I think she’s close but even better is the Turkish: gazel. Saluqi are hunting dogs that can take gazelle. Rather than gaze + hound the original coinage might have been gazel + hound. It’s easy to see how the ‘l’ could be dropped in correspondence and retelling. What Elizabethan Englishman ever heard of a gazel? I like to think that sighthound is a derivation of a giant malapropism.

On the whole, I find a lot of charm in the word greyhound and none in sighthound nor gazehound. Perhaps I should not be irritated when people stop me on the street walking my Azawakh and ask me if he is a greyhound. They are very fair and lively dogs.

Sub-adult Azawakh play-chasing an Azawakh puppy.

Sub-adult Azawakh play-chasing an Azawakh puppy.

Memorium for Sophie

October 3, 2008

In late 1996, my then girlfriend, Christie, found a puppy literally crying under a bush in the Bush in West Africa. The puppy had been culled and left out to die. Christie scooped up the tiny creature whose eyes had not yet opened and took her home. She named her “Sophie Touray” after the movie, Sophie’s Choice, and the African family name she had adopted.

Sophie and Me Circa Early 2007

Sophie and Me Circa 1997

At first we fed Sophie condensed milk from a can by dripping it into her mouth with a fingertip. She quickly learned to lap from a dish. She survived and was strong. As she grew, I was so worried that we could not feed her enough to keep her alive that I put a ton of oil into her food and made her kind of fat, especially for a Sahel hound.

Sophie loved us and she kept us safe. Twice in Africa she repulsed burglars. She once attacked a huge monitor lizard that wandered into our house. We lived in terror that she would be caught eating a chicken and someone would execute her for that crime. I distinctly remember rescuing more than one very shaken but not yet dead chickens from her jaws.

We brought Sophie back with us to Washington, DC. Life was hard for here here. For two years, the three of us lived in a one room studio apartment and Sophie was alone most of the time as we joined the DC rat race. The dogs here hated her on sight for some reason and she learned to hate them right back after being attacked and seriously injured several times.

Sophie was a fierce creature with a wild heart. Perhaps because she was younger, she could accept new people when we lived in Africa. Once we moved to the States, she only ever accepted one new adult: her “uncle” Barry. She was so fierce with people and crotchety as she aged that we were worried when our first child was born. It was an enormous relief that she accepted the baby immediately. She tolerated eye pokes and nose honks without a single growl.

Sophie died suddenly and unexpectedly in the summer of 2007. She was 11 years old. We were all crushed. My children cried every day for weeks. Sophie was not the sort of dog that would be right for most people, but she was our loyal protector and sometimes our reason to carry on.

I miss her every day.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose; By any other name would smell as sweet.”
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

Words have a definition but they also have a deeper tapestry of meaning – especially old words. What do words say about our culture and our past? Take the word “dog” for instance. We all know what dog means:

dog
noun

  1. a domesticated canid, Canis familiaris, bred in many varieties.
  2. any carnivore of the dog family, Canidae, having prominent canine teeth and, in the wild state, a long and slender muzzle, a deep-chested muscular body, a bushy tail, and large, erect ears. Compare canid.
  3. the male of such an animal.
  4. any of various animals resembling a dog.
  5. etc.

I was having a chat with a friend the other day and he asked me what does hound mean. “A hound is a pack hunting dog,” I said.

My friend was not so sure. “Isn’t hound from the German, hund, meaning dog.”

A quick visit to the dictionary and I found that it means both.

hound
noun

  1. one of any of several breeds of dogs trained to pursue game either by sight or by scent, esp. one with a long face and large drooping ears.
  2. Informal. any dog.
  3. etc.

It turns out that hound is a much older word than dog. It traces back to Proto-Germanic which was a pre-cursor language of both English and German.

  • Proto-Germanic [2500–500 BCE]: hundaz
    • Old English (Anglo-Saxon) [400 BCE-1100]: hund
      • Middle English [1000-1400]: hound
        • English [1300-Present]: hound
    • Old High German: hunt
      • German: hund

It also turns out that hundaz as a verb is the progenitor of both the English and German verb to hunt. At a profoundly deep level, hound really means “hunting animal”. For 2000 years the only word for “dog” in germanic culture was equivalent to the word for hunt. At a very deep level of our culture there is a built-in assumption that dogs are for hunting.

Ok, if hound means “hunting animal”. Then what does dog mean?

  • Old English (Anglo-Saxon): dogca / dogga [powerful dog]
    • Middle English: dogge
      • English: dog
      • German: dogge [meaning mastiff]
  • Old Norse: kurra [to grumble]
    • Middle English: curren [to growl]
    • Middle English: curdogge [composite of curren + dogge (growling powerful dog, guard dog)]
      • English: cur [mongrel or inferior dog]

A couple of things happened in the first millennium. First, we spontaneously developed a new word for dogca which is used concurrently with hund. This new word dogca means a powerful dog that by definition is not used for hunting or else it would be a hund. Dogca eventually evolves into the modern German word for mastiff. By the time we reach the beginning of the second millennium, dogca, has become dogge  and is also used in a composite form with curren – to growl. Curdogge litterally means a growling mastiff. Obviously a guard dog. In modern English, curdogge has been truncated to cur.

Dog and cur are congnates. They have the same origin. Dog/cur is the name given to the guard dogs kept by common peasants. The differentiation of hound from cur coincides with the rise of the the Ango-Saxon nobles who restricted hunting as an activity for the gentry. Peasants were could not legally hunt. Therefore, their dogs were guard dogs only and guard dogs are of the peasantry. Hence curdogge becomes cur, the despised mongrel. In the 16th century – perhaps because of the force of overwhelming numbers – dog superseded hund as the generic term for dog in common use. Hound is now generally reserved for traditional hunting dogs (e.g. the Hound Group in the American Kennel Club and Kennel Club of England).

It seems that hound and dog are not the same. The word dog implies common in every sense of the word. The word hound implies hunter and nobility. It seems that no creature escapes the class system in our society.

Puppy Heal Thyself

October 2, 2008

Our latest Azawakh puppy, Tawzalt Idiiyat-es-Sahel, broke all four metatarsal bones in her right rear foot on the day she turned 13 weeks. She was playing in the back yard and rolled into the fence. She caught her foot between two boards in the fence and freaked out. When she yanked herself free, the screaming began. She spent the night in the hospital and the next day a specialist set her bones nonsurgically under general anesthesia.

She was in a splint for four very trying weeks of forced rest. At one point she developed a “bed sore” which required both antibiotics and a bandage change every two days.

Azawakh are noted for their near miraculous ability to heal from some horrific wounds and I tried to hope for the best. When her foot came out of the bandage after 4 weeks, it looked like a flipper and I was crushed. It didn’t seem possible that she would ever be able to walk on it again, let alone run.

It has been 4 weeks since the splint came off. Tawzalt’s foot is better every day. Her whole right leg is still much weaker than the left one. When seen from the rear, the muscles of her left leg are less than half the size of those on the right and they feel flabby by comparison. But something miraculous has happened in the last few days.

Tawzalt can run again.

It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. (more images)