Geriatric Care - Not just an issue for humans

I am sorry that I did not get a chance to post last night. I was on dog watch. As I mentioned on ltginfaith.blogspot.com, our older dog is not doing well and last night he took a turn for the worse. I actually have spent the night on the couch. We have decided to put him down today, but I wasn’t even sure that he would make it through the night. The poor thing has lost so much weight and hair. He is normally a beautifully full Keeshond (for those unfamiliar with the breed, they are like huskies). Now he looks like a skeleton with wisps of hair. Tumors have come back where they were removed a little over a year ago and they have spread. And he had started “leaking” for lack of a better word. He also over the past few months had begun chewing at his legs to the point that they were raw. The vet gave us medication in case he was chewing because of arthritis and medication for the leaking. Originally, there was an antibiotic because there were signs of it being UTI and a thickening of the kidneys, but when we finished that they put him on a maintenance pill that was supposed to help.

Over the past week and a half though, he began outright peeing. I think as his legs got worse; he just did not want to make the effort to go outside. Some nights his breathing was so labored, I thought this was it. As I continued to talk to the nurse at the veterinary hospital, she was very patient and helpful, understanding the difficult stages of an aging dog. She kept telling me that we can do everything we can. As I struggled to know, when it was time to say goodbye, she assured me I would know. Last night it became clear. We have done everything in our power to give him care and make his life worth living. When he could not get himself upright, I would stand over him putting my feet on both sides so that he could push against them with his back feet so that he could get himself upright. As food and cookies have become hard to chew, he has enjoyed a feast from the table: chicken, beef, and pork. We had to get rid of the carpet in the living room because of smell, but I have put out a blanket so that he would have a warm comfortable place to lay.

Yesterday though, as everyone was at their respective activities except me, the dogs, and the cat, the smell from him was worse than usual. I hesitate to keep giving him baths because he hates them so, but I had decided to just get him to go outside for a bit, maybe he was leaking again and that was what I smelled, so I encouraged him to get up. You should have seen his look of shame and apology. He had started going bm right where he lay. I thought you have to be kidding me. I had to wipe him up and get him outside, but now I would definitely have to wash him. When I went to get him from outside though to ready the bath, he didn’t want to move. I sat with him for a few minutes on the back steps crying. Then when he did get up it was clear that something had changed, he did not have full control of his back legs. Now I’m thinking do I torture this poor thing and give him a bath or just live with it for a night, because we have to take action tomorrow. My husband concurred. It is time. We have passed the time of comfortable but limited existence and clearly have moved to a point where he is uncomfortable to a point that we cannot help him. The poor thing was able to hobble in to his water bowl and after drinking tried to move away, but just couldn’t be steady enough on his back legs to turn away from the bowl and move to the living room. Then when he got to the living room, he couldn’t get himself to lie down. I decided to stay out here with him last night and again prayed for God to take away his pain, but this morning we all woke up again.

Now I am wondering do I give him the bath to take him to the vet (that vanity thing again) or do they just need to understand that the last thing I want to do to him in his last hours of life is the thing which he hates the most. But I have to take care of this today, because this morning I even had to bring his water to him, he could stand up, but could not seem to bring himself to cross the room to his water bowl.

My Life is Going to the Dogs

It is 10:00 at night and I am out walking the dog to do his business before we go to bed. Sometime between 5:45 and 6:15 am, I’ll be up to walk him again. I remember being so upset with my mother when she refused to get another family dog after our Keeshond, Niki, died. Now those words ring in my ears every day. I wish that she was still alive so that I could tell her I understand now.

We actually have two dogs and a cat. The cat is very independent. All I have to do is feed him.

The dogs, well, we have had James, another Keeshond, for 12 years. We didn’t choose him. He kind of came to us. My brother decided that my parents needed a dog, but my parents, especially my mother did not want another one. She wanted to travel and do things. She knew that a dog would prevent that and so he came to live with our growing family in our new home. James was so easy. If we let him out, he stayed by the house and came in when he was called. Our neighbor would take him whenever we traveled. Unfortunately, age has been creeping up on him. So my husband started to mention the idea of getting the puppy. We did not have James when he was a puppy and truthfully even if we did the kids would be too young to remember him at that age. I knew I was in trouble. Then he mentioned the wish to his younger brother. I just shook my head. I tried to explain my position. I finally was free from small children. I did not want to get tied down with pets. But I knew my pleas were falling on deaf ears. His brother, whose partner shows dogs, began the search. I kept trying to say. We weren’t looking yet. We would be looking after our current dog passed away, which might be years from now. Then the call came in. His brother was at a show out in Missouri and there was a Bernese Mountain Dog puppy available – four months old. When the first pictures arrived by email,

I knew it was all over. Spartacus Maximus, Max, came home a few days before Christmas.

Max is the cutest, most adorable dog ever. He doubles size almost every month. I can’t even pre-buy his heartworm and flea & tick supplies in advance, because he can jump to a new weight class from one month to the next. Now my life, along with the regular “mom” stuff includes grooming dogs (having it done professionally for one is one thing for two, it is too expensive), unending vacuuming, repeated visits to the vet, and constant dog walking. Unlike James, Max doesn’t do as well without a leash. We have spent more than a few hours chasing him down or just hoping he will come home. His favorite game, when he gets loose, is to hide in the woods. He stands so that he can see you, but so that he thinks you can’t see him. It is the doggy version of hide and seek.

But just as I thought, I am completely strapped to the house. When my husband travels, I can’t go with him. When we want to plan a day out, I have to think about how long the dog can last without going out. I have to get up earlier than I would like to walk the dog in the morning and when my husband is traveling, I can’t go to bed as I please, I have to wait until I walk the dog for the last time. And worst of all, since we are moving, we won’t have the family and friends around to help out on those rare occasions when it is just impossible for us to get back.

I now know exactly what my mother meant and I know why God makes puppies so cute – just like babies.