There's Got To Be A Morning After

We have a very old Golden Retriever that we have had since he was a puppy. We picked him out of the litter ourselves. The vet has told us that his life expectancy is 8-12 years. He'll be 12 in September. He has been in great health. Still has all his teeth in good condition. Very little joint issues. He might be occasionally a little reluctant to jump in the back of the SUV. He still runs with DH (short, slow jogs). Still chases a ball and can jump into the air.

Friday he wasn't feeling well. I thought he might need a dose of worm meds, but it became obvious quickly that it was something much bigger than that. A few months ago he had what seemed to be a seizure episode from which he recovered fine and was right back to his usual forever-the-puppy ways that are definitive of Golden Retrievers. This quickly developed into another one and this time I thought we were going to lose him. He was quite lethargic. He begged to go outside, but then had to be blanket carried back into the house (he's too heavy and big for me to pick up alone) when he collapsed and could not get up. Casey and I carried him into the house, made him comfortable and I talked to DH at work. We had decided that we weren't going to go to heroic efforts to keep Copper alive at the end. That we wanted him to be able to pass on still happy and contented and pain-free. Copper didn't seem to be suffering. He would wag his tail when we spoke to him even if his eyes were shut and he wasn't moving. He breathing wasn't labored. The vet clinic was closed for the weekend. The vet is a friend of ours and we knew that testing would be necessary to determine what was wrong. And we had already decided that we were going to let him pass if he was seriously ill and that we would euthanize if he was suffering in any way. So we decided to wait and watch, loving him, brushing him (which he loves) and offering him water (which he refused).

I slept on the couch near him so he wouldn't be alone and I could meet any needs during the night. He remained seemingly unconscious breathing evenly. At 2 am he began to lift his head and look at me. About 30 minutes later he began to shift his weight around to get comfortable. And though he threw up several times during the night, he never indicated any type of distress. About 3:30 he got to his feet and wanted to go outside. I was reluctant to let him in case he couldn't get back up the steps, but he really wanted to and did make it back in.

This morning he is back in his favorite spot parked just inside the front door where the air keeps the tiles cool for him. He has walked around a few times. Is taking water. Wags his tail and even barked at me when I was playful with him. I think he's going to make it! I know we're going to lose him sometime. Probably soon. He's really pushing the envelope already.

But I don't think it's going to be today... And for that, I'm grateful.



Charity

My Dog and His Shoe Obsession...

The above is a photo of a household war zone. Betwixt our dog, Copper, and myself. The battle goes like this...He slinks off to the shelves situated at the back of our foyer, selects the shoe of his choice and ferries it back to the homeschool room (We have not homeschooled for two years now, but nevermind, the moniker remains). Never the kitchen, living room or one of the bedrooms, mind you, only the homeschool room will do. He deposits it there and with a sigh of contentment drops to the floor beside it and pants heavily. As if this was some heroic feat and he is now completely spent. After awhile the novelty of this particular victory wears off and it's time for a new foray to the shoe rack. A new victim is selected. Another triumphant addition to the homeschool room floor, another moment of respectful silence in memory of the dead before yet another return to the foyer for more POWS. This continues until the room starts to resemble a scene from The Killing Fields.

After awhile I've had enough of this. I am weary of tripping over shoes and they're not contributing much to the decor. I pick them up, return them to the rack and issue the required, and what he and I both know is an utterly futile scolding. There is a cursory observation of the truce. But once my guard is down and I think peace has finally been given a chance, he slinks off for yet another assault on the ever-obliging footwear.

Dr. Doolittle Lives

I'm surfing the web tonight and absolutely overran by animals. My massive lemon-colored shorthair cat is perched on the back of my computer chair. His weight teetering the chair at an awkward angle that makes my neck ache. Libby, our Russel Jack Terrier, adopted in June from a family needing to leave the state, is sitting ON my feet. Our aged golden retriever sprawls out to my side. He's too large to fit under the desk and at the moment he is...um...odoriferous. Mr. Bonz, the starving, abandoned kitten found barely alive last month on a 4-wheeler trail, is clamoring over my lap and keyboard. He is grateful to now be part of the family after his extended isolation in the back bedroom while we concentrated on restoring him to health. The only animal missing is Coquette, our snotty, vicious, anti-social, but oh-so-gorgeous tuxedo kitty. She's only willing to sit on my lap when she doesn't have to share me with beings less worthy than herself. What can I say? She's a high maintenance diva that we only keep around because she's so pretty. I've never really been an animal person so I'm not sure how I turned into the female equivalent of Dr. Doolittle. They just kind of all showed up one by one. And I was either too weak or too empathetic to say no....

Charity

An Unexpected Project

Jana (a neighbor and friend) and I were walking near a thick woods on Friday. We spotted a small tuft of black fur in a rocky patch of the trail. We approached to find a tiny, terrified kitten. Jana scooped it up and handed it off to me so she could chase down another that began bolting into the underbrush. We tried to find the other kitten, but were unable to do so. We decided to finish our walk and try another search on our way home. The tiny black kitten snuggled in my arms for the rest of the walk, lethargic and dazed. I created a little nest for it in our small master bath to keep it separated from our two dogs and two cats. I was able to get a bit of diluted soft cat food into it before retiring for the evening. Since it was nothing but a bit of fur stretched over bone, I dubbed him "Mr Bonz". I didn't really expect him to survive the night.

But in the morning, he was still breathing, but not very responsive and seemed too dazed to even take water offered to him in an eye dropper. I brought him into our vet who gave him a subcutaneous injection to hydrate him and gave me instructions as to his care. She said we'd just have to wait to see if he would live as extended starvation may have caused internal organ damage. She estimated his age at 6-7 weeks. He weighed only 14 oz. Further inspection revealed he had extra toes.

I have become much invested in his survival and growing rapidly attached to Mr Bonz. He spends the night sleeping in the hollow of my collarbone purring contentedly and kneading at my neck with his oversized paws. Here is a pic of Mr. Bonz in the palm of my 16 year old son's hand.



It dawned on me yesterday afternoon that this multi-toed, all-black cat showed up on Friday the 13th. Good thing I'm not superstitious!!

You Couldn't Find a More Faithful Friend

Sometimes the quietly consistent friends in our lives are underappreciated. We take for granted that they will always be there and fail to be as grateful for their loving presence in our lives as we should. I can think of quite a few that fall in this category in my own life, but today I'm thinking of this one.



Copper came into our lives as a puppy. Casey picked him out of the litter because of his unusual blue eyes. He has grown up in our home and is now in advanced old age. He will be 11 in September. Since the lifespan for Golden Retrievers is 8-12 years, he will most likely not be with us many more years. I thought it was high time I took a moment and expressed gratitude for his loving, loyal, gentle, faithful friendship through the years. We could not have found a better canine companion.



Charity