CobberConnect
Where Australian Cobberdog Enthusiasts Connect and Share
"Hey! Here I am, can you see me?"
Life with Rafiki aka "Raffi"
love, laughter and adventures with Raffi Boy
Self indulgent and unapologetic soppy stories of a little fur boy who landed in the laps of a crazy mother and frustratingly doting father.
If you're looking for our Hip Dysplasia story,
scroll to the bottom of the page
MY BROTHER: (3 weeks after my 25-year-old son died) “Get a dog.”
ME: “Not yet … I just can’t.”
5 years later
ME: "I'm ready".
HUBBY: “No, no more dogs.” (not a dog lover)
ME: “Looks like I’m going to have to wait until you die.”
HUBBY: “No worries.”
5 more years later he's still alive.
FRIEND: “I hear your getting a dog.”
ME: " What?" Looks at hubby.
HUBBY: “Well, you shouldn’t have to wait until I die.”
ENTER Rutlands Raffi
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"That's me in the bowl!"
"Here's me bruvva and me arriving on the Gold Coast. I guess these two on the other side of the door are my new Mum and Dad, I hope they're worth the trip.
"Oohhh I heard he doesn't like dogs, but I'm getting a feeling he's gonna like me."
"Admit it, how cute am I?"
ONE WEEK LATER
5am shenanigans
5.02 am: Raffi grunts,
I fall out of bed with a bent “morning” back, grab the boy out of his crate and stumble to the back door.
Raffi dutifully urinates.
Back to bed and play 5 mins tug a war with my bra.
I crawl (yes .. back hasn’t woken up yet) to the toilet where I dutifully urinate while Raffi cheers me on.
I flush, he barks.
I make the bed. He helps by hanging off every sheet and blanket pulling in the opposite direction.
I raise the blinds. He helps by hanging (teeth clenched) around the cord toggle.
We make our way to the kitchen. Nips at my heels encourage me to walk faster than my sleep deprived mind and body can manage .
Breakfast … for him.
Lead on, walk to the front yard, sniffing, weeing and eventually the much celebrated pooh.
Tug a war with half the toys in the box.
Step on a rogue pooh.
Clean foot and floor
Tug of war with the other half of the toys in the box.
Play fetch. Me not him. (He’s still learning).
Yoghurt time. Him not me.
Apply betadine and bandaids. My hands not his. He’s deadly serious about tug a war sometimes missing the target.
Lead on, walk to the front yard hoping for some more ablutions. No luck but chase some bush turkeys.
8.01am: Crash on the couch, me not him.
8.02am I couldn’t give a flying fig if he ripped the house apart.
Pre Raffi 5am to 8am? … SLEEP.
I’m too old for this.
FIRST GROOM
Before
"After. Was it worth it?
I do look younger."
I knew I'd made a mistake when she ran to me with a huge graze on her elbow and blood pouring out of the wound.
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It was Julie and her daughter who drove up my driveway that Tuesday with the intention (well mine anyway) of providing a calm environment for my Raffi to get his first ever groom. Trim bum, face and paw hair, clip nails and ear clean. They insist on the wash and blow dry which I think is quite unnecessary. Anyway, it’s becoming more and more evident I often do what I am told at the most stupid of times by the most stupid of people.
I assume they are the experts being that “Pet Pooch Mobile Wash and Grooming” is plastered over the back, front and sides of the trailer.
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Julie is clearly an adventurer as she (with obviously little to no experience) not only took on a dog grooming franchise on Friday but insisted on driving her car and trailer to the top of our very steep driveway.
ME: “Oh my goodness your trailer is on a very steep angle here, how are you going to manage?”
JULIE: (clearly frazzled but excited) “Don’t you worry, it will be fine. This is my daughter Bodhi, this is her first day. She is helping me and learning along the way. Have you got power and water I can access? I hope my power connection works, it’s been playing up.”
RAFFI: “What the hell is going on here? Can we play?”
JULIE: “Jesus, why isn’t this hose working? Oh well we’ll just use this one.”
ME: “What’s the difference?”
JULIE: “The warm one isn’t working; he will have to have a cold bath.”
RAFFI: “Who are these people and what is going on and why am I sliding downhill ?”
JULIE: “Bodhi! Catch Raffi, he’s sliding downhill out of the bath!”
Bodhi: “Got him Mum! He’s ok. Raffi … you’re ok. (Looking at me) I just looooooove dogs.”
JULIE: “Oh dear the water won’t stay in the bath cos of the angle of the trailer. No worries we will use this little bit in the bottom.”
BODHI: (as she squirts a litre of shampoo onto Raffi’s back) “This shampoo is fabulous, you don’t have to rinse it and the smell lasts forever.”
ME: (not aloud) “Oh joy, a dog bred to have no odour smelling like cleaned carpet … and, as promised, “for a very long time.””
RAFFI: “WTF is going on? What’s that smell?”
BODHI: “Mum I should never have worn these Converse “runners’, they have no grip.”
ME: “Hang on, I’ll go get you some towels to stand on.”
RAFFI: “Mum! Where are you going??!!! “
ME: (Towels in hand) “here they are.”
JULIE: “Marsha look at Bodhi! She slid out of the trailer and tumbled down the hill!”
BODHI: (blood pouring down her arm) “I’m ok!”
ME: “Hang on I’ll go get some Dettol and a bandage.”
RAFFI: “Mum! Don’t leave me!”
ME: (first aid kit in hand) “Let me dress that for you. Where’s Raffi?”
JULIE: “Still in the bath, it’s alright he has a lead on. I think it might be best if we reverse down to the bottom on the flat to dry and groom him.”
ME: (not aloud) “Ya think?”
ME: “That’s a very tricky driveway to navigate with a trailer.”
BODHI: “Don’t you worry, Mum’s a legend.”
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Five attempts later trailer safely reaches flat ground.
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Over the next 15 minutes Raffi is “groomed”. I can see his anus contracting as his butt is unceremoniously lifted into the air as Julie clumsily navigates her way around his rear end armed with some mighty noisy trimmers.
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The entire time he looks at me ... “What did I do to deserve this?”.
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Trimmer blades are constantly exchanged with shaky hands accompanied with a worrying “Oops not that one!”
During this whole process Bodhi had Raffi in a headlock. As he struggles to be released, she clings on tighter constantly gushing “I just looooove dogs”.
Julie is working on his face. If mug shots existed for fighting dogs, our Raffi could be front and centre of the white board without a question being asked.
As Julie and Bodhi drive off with seventy of my dollars, I cuddle a rattled Raffi wondering what the hell is wrong with me and if pet insurance covers covers trauma counselling for dogs and if there exists a “Botched” version of the reality show for dogs.
MUCH LATER
*eye roll
So I’ve been going pretty well self-grooming Raffi with a maintenance hygiene cut ie under belly, bum, face etc. Although I get some occasional curious looks on our walks from passersby, I think I’m doing a pretty good job.
So last night I wanted to do his underbelly so had hubby lift him up on his back legs whilst I had a quick go. We managed sorta half so I let him loose and cleaned the clippers.
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Ten minutes later I found him on my bed all relaxed and snoozing. Yay! I grabbed the clippers and started to finish it off. Raffi was hugely accommodating so I went for it.
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Half way through, I thought “what the hell is that?” I looked closer and saw bare black skin. Upon further inspection and much to my horror I realised I hadn’t put the comb back on the clippers and Raffi was now sporting a half Brazilian. 😩
Please tell me this won’t take long to grow back. I’m having nightmares and dare not tell hubby. He thinks it’s humiliating enough that Raffi runs around with a fringe that a five year old could have cut better.
And keeping Raffi upright at the park is going to be a huge task. Is it a big or little lie to say he’s recovering from an operation?
MORE HYSTERIA
"This photo needs to be of her. I was fine."
My heart starts to palpitate when I need to leave Raffi alone. He is ok with it, it’s me who breaks out in a rash. So, I take the plunge and close the gate behind me. I can feel his sad eyes boring into my back as I walk away but apparently the “trick” is to not look back.
It’s when I’m in the hairdresser’s looking like an ad for Alfoil that I realise I have left Raffi in a situation where he could be kidnapped and sold on the black market.
Commonsense: “It’s ok he’s got a chip.”
Paranoia: “How’s that going to stop a kidnapper?”
Commonsense: “Well really who’s going to go into our yard and kidnap a dog in in broad daylight?”
Paranoia: “A kidnapper that’s who!”
Helpful Hairdresser: Oh yes, I’ve heard of that happening. They scout the neighbourhood, note where the valuable dogs are and come back when the owner is out.
Paranoia: “Get these stupid things off my head NOW!”
Commonsense: “Don’t be silly, wait until the colour works.”
Paranoia: “What use is ‘good colour’ with no dog.”
Tackled by a wet-haired mad woman muttering all sorts of prayers and gratitude, Raffi wonders what the hell is happening. Why is she home so early and who is that strange man with a big bag of big locks?
Little does this little ball of fluff know he’ll never again be left outside on his own. Never ever.
LOSING MY "BITS"
Something had to be done. The upside down surgical suit was crippling him. I guess trying to squeeze one's thighs into one's cardigan sleeves would affect ones gait… well you get the drift.
After an exhausting bout of lateral thinking between 2 and 3am an idea was born. Undies! He’s needs undies.
Where to get undies at 6.30am? My drawer.
Hubby: “What in Gods name are you doing?”
Me: "I’m trying undies and look they’re working!"
Hubby: “Black lace? Isn’t it humiliating enough that he’s been ‘castrated’? Just how much of his manhood are you destroying?”
Me: "They were the only ones small enough."
They did look a tad uncomfortable and yes the little fella looked like he was so over being turned upside down, rolled over and his penis being bent from one side to the other to avoid escaping the lace.
Idea #456 - Nappies! Why didn’t I think of it before?
A quick dash to IGA and we were at it again. Working out the positioning of the tail hole is not as challenging as doing up the sticky bits when the dog you are dressing decides the nappy is a new toy.
But it’s finally on! And even if I do say so myself the idea oozes brilliance.
All jokes aside the little fella is doing it tough. Every time he moves he yelps as if a bee has bitten his bum. He can’t chew because of his sore gums (he had to have four baby teeth removed) and his tummy rash is driving him batty. We are off to the vet tomorrow for his three day check up. I want nothing less than doggy morphine. For both of us.
Note: For those who don’t know, Woolies Pet Insurance has a service called ‘Vet Assist’ where you can contact a licensed vet online 24/7. You can video or text chat. I have contacted them three times and each time it’s been brilliant. Two minutes to get a vet online. This morning I chatted to Dr Steph about Raffi’s situation including the itchy rash wondering if I could get some cream from the chemist. She asked me to send a photo whereupon she recommended a cream I could get at the chemist and gave detailed instructions on how to use it. Problem for Woolies is they don’t know what they have unleashed in me. I’m sure it won’t be long before they revoke my membership.
Another added bonus, if you shop at Woolies they give you 10% off your shop once a month. I get $25 off my $250 shop.
TRAINING IS GOING WELL
Raffi: bark, bark, bark, bark …
Me: "Quiet!"
Him (He who never wanted a dog): "Let him go, it’s good for his vocal chords."
Raffi: Drool, drool
Me: "Back up Raffi!"
Him: "Surely he can have one piece of crackling?"
Raffi: Hops on forbidden sofa next to “him”.
Me: "Raffi off!"
Him: "oh come on he just wants to be close to me."
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Raffi: Jumping up on “him” as “he” arrives home.
Me: "Down Raffi!"
Him: "Oh come on, he’s happy to see me."
Raffi: Eating toast.
Me: “I thought we agreed no snacks”.
Him: “But he was looking at me”.
SILLY QUESTIONS
How is it possible to love a creature as much as this?
Is it healthy to love him as much as I do?
Does he get sick of my lips constantly kissing his nose?
I think he loves my husband more than me.
I think my husband loves him more than me.
Is he happy here with two grown adults catering to his every whim?
Is it healthy to want him by my side always?
Is it healthy for him to want to be by my side always?
Is it ridiculous that my hubby and I argue over who he loves more?
Is it too dramatic to say he saved me mentally, emotionally, and physically?
Is it selfish to say I am comforted by the fact that if he lives his expected 15 years and I live to 84 we might go together?
"THE" DIAGNOSIS
Raffi's Hip Dysplasia diagnosis was confirmed with X rays in March 2023 and upon reaching out to our breeder she promptly blamed me for "over exercising" my boy. I was devastated, I cried for days.
How could I be so careless as to cause damage to my beautiful boy. However, I found it hard to ignore that when I had posted videos on FB of Raffi as a pup at the beach and chasing planes and rough housing with other dogs, my breeder was laughing and giving instructions on how to get Raffi to bring back the stick I had thrown into the waves. You can imagine my confusion. I had even made a specific post on her private page asking about how much exercise was too much and she never commented.
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It was only when I was sitting in front of my Orthopaedic Surgeon and he said, "I promise you Marsha, you did nothing to cause Raffi's HD", that I started to doubt what my breeder had said. Still, I wanted to get more confirmation so reached out to two colleagues of Raffi's Canine Physical and Rehabilitation Specialist. They are Board Certified Veterinary Orthopaedic Surgeons in the USA. They stated that, when one says the cause of HD is "multifactorial" ie genetics and environmental, the gene has to exist in the dog for the HD to present itself. ie Environmental factors can reveal the condition but not cause it.
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When Sarah's Bel had her HD confirmed, everything our vets and specialists said now made sense. For how could two pups from the same litter living 1100kms apart end up with the same condition if it was not hereditary?
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Hip Dysplasia in Cobberdogs is rare. 'Hip Scoring' of breeding parents is "highly recommended" by Master Dog Breeders and Associates to ensure the hips are ok to move forward with breeding. Another indication that HD is indeed a genetic disease. Why test breeding parents at all if it's not genetic? These tests seem more essential in a developing breed. I have spoken to a CBD breeder who says she has sadly had to remove one of her breeding dogs because of a less than satisfactory hip score.
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It is important to note that hip scoring isn't a guarantee that your pup won't get HD, but it's viewed as the first line of defence.
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Our breeder does not hip score her breeding dogs. She is not listed on this site, not because she doesn't hip score, but because of her less than satisfactory and uncompassionate response to our situation.
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Note: Raffi is under the care of an incredible Canine Physio Specialist in the States and Is going great guns. He runs free, goes to the beach (wet and dry sand), body surfs and hikes through forests all without pain and drugs. She is Julie McKinney Miller and has been treating dogs with HD for the past 23 years and not one has gone on to need surgery. She uses out of the box methods to build the dogs muscles around the joint including dry and wet sand beach walking for those who have reached a point where it doesn't cause a flare up. You might have guessed I have fallen in love with this lady.
Even though my insurance would cover 80% of his Hip Replacements my aim is to keep him surgery free for the rest of his days.
Raffi thriving with Hip Dysplasia under the specialist care of Julie McKinney Miller,