It’s Not Easy

Nellie

Seems like there is always something going wrong with me. I arrived at Asherpark with a horrible stinky infection in my pee trap. I had rotten teeth. One had to be pulled. I had a growth on my eyelid that had to be removed.

Once all that stuff was fixed, things were going along pretty good for a while until I got real dizzy. The vet called it canine geriatric vestibular disease.

Of course it’s canine – I’m a dog. Of course it’s geriatric – I’m a very old dog.

Mom said not to worry about what to call it. She says I have doggie vertigo. That sounds a lot less serious than what the vet named it.

I’ve had three spells of vertigo. First time I nearly scared mom to death. I was whirling and staggering and sick as a dog. Ha Ha! I always liked that expression…..sick as a dog.

Anyway, mom got me to a safe place in the house and gave me a pain pill that made me sleep. By the time I got to the vet I was a lot better.

I had vertigo two more times. The last time landed me in the hospital overnight. Worst thing was I lost five pounds and now mom can’t find them. She keeps feeding me extra food and treats, but I can’t seem to get the pounds to come back.

Ash has barked about how confused I am. Maybe that’s how I appear to others, but I don’t feel confused.

I do stand and stare a lot before I take a step, but remember I’m nearly blind. Of course I can’t hear a thing except for Asher’s big bark. Then I do get confused. What the heck is that boy barking at all the time?

Recently I got diagnosed with canine cognitive disorder. Isn’t that just as silly as the long winded version of doggie vertigo??

I don’t want that stupid condition. Or if I have it, at least call it something else. Ash went to work last night on the computer. He looked for different names, but they all sounded strange. Ash said ‘dementia’ is the most accurate, but it’s hard for us mutts to say.

Finally Ash asked if we could just say I’m goofy. That sounds perfect to me. I’m dizzy and goofy. Sounds like cousins to the seven dwarfs.

Yesterday mom got me some high priced medicine to make me less goofy. It’s called Anipryl and people take it too. I get one pill with breakfast. It’s supposed to help me think better.

We won’t know for a few weeks if it helps or not. It sure made me more active yesterday. Instead of slowly walking around in circles, I practically trotted around in my circles.

When it comes right down to it, we all get old and fall apart. If it weren’t for Old Dog Haven, I’d have died two years ago. Tess asked me if it would have been better to die before I got so old.

No way!! Even if I can’t see or hear, I’m dizzy and goofy, and I drop my bombs in the house pretty often, I love my grub and I love my mom. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I feel very lucky. I want to live forever.

How Come?

Ash

Last night the rains finally came back to our house. It’s getting dark earlier now and the other mutts fell asleep right after dinner.

Me and mom went for a walk in the rain. We wanted to feel the the splash and listen to the plants sucking in the first good drink they’ve had in almost three months.

Mom says she likes autumn the best. The growing season is over, the colors come out, and the cool breeze makes you think about how time passes and changes everything.

With four mutts in the house, me and mom don’t get to spend a lot of time alone together. But last night we had the big yard to ourselves. Mom pulled up a chair on the front porch and I sat down beside her.

There was enough light that mom could see my blue eyes. She took my head in her hands and kissed my snout.

“What’s on your mind, Ash?’ mom asked. How did she know I’d been waiting to ask a whole bunch of questions?

“How come Nellie has so much bad stuff happen to her? She never did nothing to deserve it. Now she’s getting goofy and can’t even make it outside to drop her bombs. This morning she peed a lake in the kitchen. What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

Mom didn’t answer right away. I knew she was thinking about my questions and trying to figure out what to say. Finally mom started talking.

“You’ve asked some really difficult questions, Ash. I don’t know why bad things happen to good dogs and good people. It makes me very sad. But let’s talk about Nellie.”

“Ash, you remember when we first got Nellie?” mom asked.

Of course I remember. Nellie arrived in April 2011. She was the sorriest, stinkiest little mess of a dog I’ve ever seen. Me and Jack and Tess sniffed her pee trap and knew she was sick. We didn’t want to be around her.

“Some people said Nellie wasn’t worth saving, but Nellie is just the kind of dog we bring to Asherpark,” mom said.

“Do you know why it’s so important to take care of a dog like Nellie?” mom asked.

I shook my head, wanting her to spell it out for me.

“It’s because Nellie is helpless and cannot care for herself. It’s because she was unlucky and never had people to love and protect her. It’s because our pack has been blessed in so many ways and we need to share our bounty with others.”

‘So why is Nellie getting more goofy?” I asked.

“It’s very sad,” mom said. “Nellie has dementia.”

“What the heck is dementia?” I blurted out.

“The technical name is canine cognitive disorder,” mom said.

“What does that mean?” I insisted.

Mom had a far away look on her face. It was like she was seeing something from a long time ago.

“Ash, my mother had Alzheimer’s disease. That’s pretty much the same thing Nellie has. It makes you forget stuff. You can’t remember how to do simple things like go outside to drop your bombs.”

My heart started flopping around in my chest. I had this horrible feeling. Mom sensed I was really upset and asked me to take a deep breath and tell her what was troubling me.

With tears falling on my snout I blurted it out. “Are we gonna have to send Nellie over the bridge because she’s goofy?”

“No Ash, we aren’t going to end Nellie’s life because she can’t remember where to go to the bathroom. Bombs and lakes are easy to clean up. As long as Nellie is not in pain, we will keep her and care for her.”

“But how do you know when it’s time for her to go?” I barked.

I was almost frantic to know the answer. I thought about Codie and how my heart broke when she left me. Codie sent me Nellie so I would have another blue dog. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Nellie.

“Nellie will tell us when it’s time to go. Until then we will protect her and love her and be grateful for every day we have with her,” mom said.

“Ash, I promise. You will be with me when Nellie crosses the bridge. And if we are lucky, Codie will appear for just an instant to greet Nellie and walk her home. Your heart will ache but you will know that Nellie and Codie are together in a special place.”

Me and mom sat together for a long time. There wasn’t any need to talk. We’re connected at the heart, so we don’t really need words for how we feel.

After a while we got up together and went into the house. Nellie was asleep in her spot. I lay down next to her so she could feel me close. Mom ruffled my ears and whispered she loves me.

Ash and Nellie

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out For The Season

Ash

Mom always said I was one play away from a season ending sports injury. Unfortunately she was right. Last time I went up for a high ball I landed wrong and something hurt awful bad.

I didn’t want to admit that I was hurt and I sure didn’t want to stop my acrobatics. You gotta understand. I was born to fly.

Flying over four foot fences was a piece of cake. Leaping onto the kitchen counter was easy as pie. Mom used to wonder if I was part cat.

I had so many great nicknames: Flyboy, Airborne, Incoming, Basher the Flying Dog. My favorite picture of me was taken at the beach. I had gone high for a ball and had lots of hang time. Mom caught it just right with her camera.

Ash

Mom heard me yelp when I landed a couple of weeks ago. She ran over and lifted me up. She carried me to the bed and put me down real gently. My leg was already feeling better, but mom was dripping tears on my head. I felt so bad to see her cry.

Tess ran right over and stuck her nose in my business. “I’m okay,” I told Tess though I wasn’t sure how bad I was hurt.

“Oh buddy,” mom said. “I sure hope you didn’t tear your ACL.”

What the heck is an ACL? I learned the next day when I went to see Dr. Brad. He felt around my knee and announced that I did indeed have a partial tear of my ACL. He said it didn’t feel like a bad tear, but it was definitely torn.

It was awful quiet in the room when Dr. Brad explained to mom what she already knew. No running for at least a month. Always be on a leash outside even when I did my business. Absolutely no flying. Lots of glucosamine and other supplements. After a month I could resume light workouts but no ball, no jumping, no this, no that.

It coulda been a lot worse. Me and mom were wondering if I would have to have surgery. Dr. Brad said not right now. We’re gonna see if I can heal up by taking it easy.

The first few days were really weird. Mom went everywhere with me because she tied my leash to her waist. She went with me to the poop zone when I had to go. Then I went with her to the bathroom when she had to do her business.

We got pretty good at our little dance. To keep my mind occupied, mom has been doing lots of training. My manners are a lot sharper.

Next week Dr. Brad says I get to run free, but no jumping. I’m afraid I’m a little out of shape. I haven’t been running the fence line and that fool neighbor dog thinks I don’t live here anymore.

I’ll let you know how I’m doing. It may be my flying days are over but I can still chase the goats. Just watch me!