My poor dog. 2012 has been a pretty rough year for him. Or at least the second half of it has been.

Dunkin has allergies. We deal with his skin one every day. No red meats and no grains. He turns into a giant itchy ball of dandruff. So that problem is solved by having him on a chicken, turkey and lamb diet. He loves his veggies too. No, he’s not spoiled in the least.

Over the summer, his skin was itchier than usual and nothing I did helped. I changed his food brand. Out a little oil in his food. Despite his best efforts to hide his 50-pound body in the couch cushions, he got a few oatmeal baths. Nothing. The vet said that it was probably pollens and other things in the air agitating him. He also said, if I felt comfortable doing it, to skip one month of flea treatment. Knowing that the only other dog he’d be near was always treated and that we sprayed our property, added to the routine checks – we skipped a month of flea stuff.

What I didn’t know is that my grandmother had decided to not treat her dog or outdoor cat, at all, that summer. She became infested. Which in turn infested my mother, then my older sister, then me. I immediately treated, bombed and washed. Three weeks later, I did it again. Vacuuming every day, twice a day. There was no way a flea could even imagine surviving in my house.

Then one night I came home and it looked as though someone or something had been slaughtered in my sun room. Poor Dunkin, who I’d find the following day after a trip to the vets is highly allergic to fleas, had chewed his hind end so raw and bare, he was bleeding. I felt so horrible. To get him though the night, I washed the spot and gave him a benadryl. After an expensive trip to the vet, and, despite no evidence of fleas on Dunkin, another bombing and deep clean of the house, I thought Dunkin was finally in the clear.

Until the aggressive chewer broke a tooth. Chewing on a marrow bone, he initially cracked it. By continuing to chew, he broke it. Sheered a molar off about a quarter-inch from his gum line. I found the tooth piece on the floor, proceeded to tackle him to see if it really was a tooth piece (his least favorite things are toe nail clipping and teeth brushing). Luckily, from the looks of things, the tooth is okay – for now. If I notice any signs of the start of decay, it is to be pulled. I don’t even care if I have to drive for hours to have it done. I don’t want him to be in pain or have other damage caused.

And now? Poor guy has an ear infection… Sigh. Is it 2013 yet?