This essay was to be my April Fool’s Day article about Ginger. However, I felt I needed to address the fool at Mar-a-Lago before dealing with my Irish Setter. Ginger is my second Irish Setter by the same name. After getting my master’s, I got a job, and then I got my first Ginger. After a dozen years, Ginger I died, and I got Bobby, my second Irish Setter. At the other end of my journey down my yellow brick road, I got my second Ginger. I designed that backstory to inform you that I know about Irish Setters.

I took Ginger II in for her first shots and puppy check-ups. On one of Ginger’s early check-ups, I asked the vet about one of my concerns. When I put Ginger in her crate at bedtime, Ginger would whine. Ginger’s vet reexamined her. There wasn’t anything wrong with Ginger; she was fine. Then Ginger’s vet had become my psychiatrist. She asked where the crate was in the house. I replied in my bedroom. Then she uttered this profound statement, “Either you are going to train your dog, or your dog will train you.” From then on, Ginger’s crate was downstairs, and she never whined at night again.

Ginger is going on eight, and for the first part of her life, she had no significant medical problems. Then, she had a couple of dances with death. Ginger has been a patient at Purdue Veterinary Hospital several times and has been there a couple dozen times as an outpatient over the last several years. Ginger developed inflammatory bowel disease (IBD). There isn’t a cure for IBD, only various treatment programs. She has tried several and is now on cyclosporine. She is doing fine for the time being.

Unrelated to IBD, Ginger has had some problems with upchucking phlegm and, at other times, food. She takes ondansetron to resolve the vomiting, but it is obvious that when dealing with the nausea, she doesn’t eat. When she resumed eating, the meds had reduced the feeling of being sick and upchucking.

However, after a couple of days of Ginger feeling fine, she didn’t eat her breakfast. I couldn’t explain it—talk about feeling dumbfounded. Then I recalled Dr. Derrè telling me when Ginger was at Purdue’s ICU, she was fed intravenously. He stayed late one evening trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he took some dog food and offered Ginger a small amount. Ginger finally ate. I felt like Dr. Derrè; I needed to do something.

When Ginger was well, I would put her wet and dry prescription dog food in a blue plastic dog bone as a midday treat. While Ginger watched me that morning, I took her wet and dry food from her bowl and put it in the blue bone. Then I gave her your blue bone treat. She devoured the treat and returned the empty bone for me to refill it, which I did. Again, Ginger munched down her treat. I did that in the evening. I assumed that Ginger was getting over her nausea slowly, and I repeated the blue bone treat the next day. On the third day, I repeated the routine in the morning and midday. All was well. So, I put her dinner meal in her bowl, which she refused to eat.

The following day, I tried putting Ginger’s food in the bowl, and again, she wouldn’t eat. I have been feeding Ginger via her blue bone for over a week.

Nevertheless, I recall the vet’s warning, “Either you are going to train your dog, or your dog will train you.” Ginger has trained me to provide her meals as she wishes. Wait until my local vet, Dr. Wozniak, and Dr. Derrè at Purdue read this article.