Like a lot of folks who blog, I am clearly not very consistent. It has been over a month since I last did this. That leaves lots of things I could talk about, but none that are life shattering, some changes but no shatters.The past month has been a blur of birthday parties (ages 1 to 60), new knitting stitches, experimental crock pot dishes, and detailed job projects. I'll post on some of those later (I know y'all can't wait) but for today I just needed to talk about the little white dog.
The doctors at Auburn said that Roscoe probably had two to four weeks left. This weekend we crossed the four month mark. Anyway you look at it, that is wonderful news. And all in all, Roscoe's doing ok - still defying the odds, still letting folks know that he is in charge, still manipulating me out of more treats than he should get. But in the past week, things have begun to change. Not the horrible seizures that I was warned about, thank goodness, but change none-the-less.
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| Link to Book |
It was interesting timing for me, as her book was based on her experiences with an older dog and the last stages of his life. Next week Roscoe will be seven, which is when vets start to consider a dog to be a senior. I knew that, but anyone who has small or medium sized dogs knows that at seven your dog may need some dietary changes (maybe) but he still plays and guards and explores and does all of the things that a dog does so well. For Roscoe, last week he grew old. I really don't know how better to describe it. He just went from a middle aged dog to an old dog.
The first thing I really noticed was the way he sat. When a young or middle age dog sits, there is an erectness to it. Even if they are not alert, there is a look of almost being at attention. Last week Roscoe jumped up on the ottoman (that was good) and sat down waiting for me to let him on the couch. His body kind of settled down in between his shoulders in the posture of an old dog who is too tired or too weak to stay upright. Just like when one of his legs has been in an awkward angle, I again felt the need to physically push his body back in the correct position. It never works for long, but it makes me feel better.
He has begun to have a lot of "accidents" when I leave him. Not being sure if it was because he couldn't hold, or forgot, or was just plain pissed off, I finally bought my first crate and started leaving him in it with Sam when I had to go out. Surprisingly, they both took to it with no issue, and there have been no more surprises waiting for me. Honestly, he seems more comfortable with the security of it. I wonder if the world gets too big and confusing for him now and the security of the crate takes some of that away.
His eyes still follow me every time I move, and when he looks at me it is still with the love and affection that he has always had, but there is now a dullness there - not a disconnect as much and just a tiredness.
I don't believe he is in pain. I promise I won't let that happen. But there was a study that showed that an MRI of an older dog's brain showed the same patterns of degeneration as those of a patient with Alzheimer's Disease. (Something with which I am all too familiar.) Add to that the fact that Roscoe's decline is caused by a brain disease and I guess it makes even more sense.
The last couple of days he is having trouble keeping down one of the meds. A call to the vet this morning means new meds that I have to pick up this afternoon. As always I'm hoping for the best, but trying to prepare for the time when I know there is no best.
So once again I am writing something that sounds all doomish and gloomish. But with each stage of this there has been a new lesson to learn and joys to appreciate. Watching Roscoe wrestle with Sam, or kick his back feet when he is telling some uninformed dog walker to stay out of his yard, or shoot across a room to steal Sam's bone ... the warmth of his little body when he curls up to nap in my lap, or the shock of his cold nose in my face when he want me to wake up at 2:00 in the morning to let him go out (ok, maybe not so much that one) - all daily joys for which I remain grateful.
His little body may be reacting as if he is old, but I know he is still young at heart.
