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Walking The Dog, Slowly

12.19.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

The Dog starts having accidents around the house. They are always in the same place, near the back door, where he is usually let out into the yard to do what he needs to. So far, it has only happened when we were away a bit too long.

I vow to be more careful about making sure he gets out more often, and right before I leave if I’m stepping out for a while.

One day, as I’m getting ready to leave, I realize: I used to take him with me everywhere in the car. At some point, for some reason I don’t quite recall, I stopped, and then it stopped being a habit, and then he stopped expecting to leave with me.

I take a couple days off work to do things before the holidays, and since I’m at my leisure, and I can once again maneuver around my garage, I put The Dog in the back of my car. He can go with me to the hardware store.

He doesn’t like sitting in the passenger seat anymore, he’s very arthritic now and can’t seem to get comfortable. He tries to climb into the back of the car, but needs my help to do it.

I’m in no hurry. When he’s settled in, I drive off. I glance at him in the back, and he’s alert, looking around, feeling the motion of the car. He can’t hear much any more, but his other senses are fine, and he’s happy.

The brief ride exhausts him, and he sleeps for the rest of the day.

We do the same the next day when I go to the post office. I have to lift him into the back of the car – a Mini, not a big jump, but still, too much. Afterward, again, he’s exhausted, but also, very, very happy.

I used to walk with him every morning, a long brisk walk that was my time: My exercise, my head-clearing, my time with The Dog. I find it difficult to take those walks now; The Departed’s main contribution to parenting was driving The Child to school in the morning, which I must now do.

Of course I could walk him at other times, and I do, but it’s difficult. The Dog’s stroke slowed him down considerably, and his arthritis became more severe. The walks mostly consist of taking a few brisk steps and then standing still, in the dark and rain, waiting for The Dog to catch up, watching him meander and sniff things. Lots of leash-tugging and Hurry Up‘s that were mostly for venting frustration, since The Dog cannot hear them.

After seeing his joy in the car,  I take him for an evening walk. He’s ecstatic when he sees the leash, though he no longer wags to show his enthusiasm. I miss our long brisk walks and I miss his wagging.

We walk slowly and I can see the effort it takes him and also the joy in his meandering. I don’t pull him or try to speed him. I just watch him sniff at things and look up, happily.

He keeps moving. He knows I want him to keep moving but sometimes it is too much for him. I lean over and adjust his collar and fiddle with the leash, and he waits and rests a bit.

When we get home, he follows me upstairs. It’s a huge effort, the stairs, and one he does not make as often any more. He prefers to be near me, around people, and even that is too hard for him now.

There is only one possible ending to every story.

I’m in no hurry.

Categories // All By Myself, Dog Days Tags // pets

Dog Days … and Cats: Peace At Last

09.11.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

I make a second appointment at the vet for Striped.

That night, she does not pee in the bed. She just sleeps quietly next to me.

The next morning, I get up and over my morning coffee, I read on the internet. I google things like “anxiety disorder in cats,” and I read the discussion boards, including one that is devoted to homeopathic medicine for animals. I had no idea there was such a thing so it’s kind of educational, except I can’t really follow the conversation because apparently this sort of thing engenders strong opinions among its adherents, so a lot of posts are removed by moderators, rendering the rest of it incomprehensible to the googler who stumbles on it two years later.

One comment jumps out at me: Cats won’t use their box if they are afraid to, causes of this fear may include another cat, a dog, etc. I roll this thought around in my mind. The dog did sleep in my room that night. Maybe that was the reason? And the next night, he slept downstairs, and there was no problem.

Do I owe her more time while I sort this out?

The vet’s office calls to confirm the appointment, and I go into my bedroom and sit down on the bed. Striped comes out of her hiding spot under the bed and joins me. She lets me pet her. She nuzzles my hand. She does not bite.

We did this last time and that time I said, no, I’m not ready, suddenly she is so sweet; and then I talked to the vet and got some possible explanations; and then I backed out of the appointment to see if things would change.

I look at her and I see she is thinner.  Her fur seems a little raggedy – like she’s not grooming at 100%. Something is very wrong, although I may never know what exactly. This is what my gut is telling me – the gut I never listen to, and later, always wish I had.

She and I sit together and she isn’t scared. She accepts.

This isn’t selfish. Neither of us is happy and never has been and there aren’t a lot of alternatives. People will propose alternatives; people always want to believe that things can be fixed or made better, and that they can help you do that by offering you some words to that effect.

But I know her better than anyone and I’ve played all the alternatives out in my mind for this cat and if I thought any of them would actually make her happier, I absolutely would do it.

The next day, I bring the carrying crate into her and she simply walks into it. At the vet’s office, she simply snuggles close to me. The end is peaceful and gentle in a way that her life never seemed to be.

Categories // All By Myself, Dog Days, Random Thoughts Tags // pets

Random Thoughts: Control?

09.10.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

I always think that if I were to just do something differently, the outcome would be different.

This is true of some things: you probably won’t burn your dinner if you read the recipe and keep an eye on the stove.

But sometimes the recipe is wrong, and sometimes the stove doesn’t work properly.

It’s hard to know when that is the cause; we assume everything else works and it was us that was somehow at fault – even if we’re watching the stove and following the directions.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Categories // All By Myself, Random Thoughts Tags // pets

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