Watching the slow decline of your wonderful pet -- an essay

[cmeon]

Beautifully written- I hope it helps to get it out, at least a little.

It's so wonderful when sweet souls find each other in this life- I hope you have all the time you both need!

[dreamcrisp1]

This is so beautiful.

I dread the day I lose my dog. He's my little buddy and everything to me. He's gotten me through my boyfriend moving to South Africa.

[labbie]

Jan 22, 2016 12:32:39 GMT -5 sxia said:

So, my dog is getting near 16.
She's a great girl. I don't think she has long now. I'd be happily surprised if she's with us next Christmas.
She's had mast cell tumors. She had a surgery about 4 years ago for lumps that were benign, another one 1 year and a half ago that ended up being cancerous.
She's now terrified of the vet and collapses into shivering whimpers while we wait in the office.
She had an ear infection last December and it turned out she had a piece of plant matter (a foxtail) in her ear.
I'm trying to keep her vet interventions as low as I can now.

She has another tumor that I am controlling with antihistamines and a Chinese mushroom powder that my coworker has had great success with.

She is nearly deaf now and her eyes are cloudy. She sleeps deeply. She can't see her treats all the time when they're on the floor. The kids and I point them out to her or she sniffs them out eventually. (Nothing wrong with her nose). My co-worker tosses her pieces of carrot, and she gets about 2/3 of them. But she's truly happy every day when she sees him come in with her carrots. If she's asleep, I wake her and point to his office and she springs up when she realizes. Or if she's awake, she can smell his arrival, even through a closed door. I wake up butt-crack early and this morning, I thought I may have had to leave her at home on the couch. She hates to share the couch, doesn't like to be held. The Chow in her means she is not a snuggly dog. She is the queen. The couch is hers. But this morning when I came in to wake her at 4:30, I couldn't tell if she opened her eyes or not. I lifted and stroked her heavy head. I thought she might be close to going. I scooped her up in my lap. I held her and told her I loved her. She lay there quietly for a minute. Then she yawned and pushed away from me, clumsily hitting the floor. 

As I got my lunch together, she came over when she smelled chicken.
She stood next to me until I got the leash and walked her. (If I don't walk her before getting in the car now, she'll have an accident.)
When we get to work, she sniffs around as I get my coffee.
Then she starts doing zoomies, running from my office to another and another while no one else is here.
She begs for her favorite sweet potato chews and pounces on my hand like she used to when she was a puppy.
She sits and goes to "shake". 

Two hours later she asks to go out again.
She goes to the wrong side of the gate, as usual. She forgets which way the door opens now until I open it.
We walked and came back and she went to lay down, tripping and stepping in her bowl of water. That's a new one.
I'm not sure if she's noticed her foot is wet.

So I'll keep giving her her medicine. Trick her into swallowing the pills she hates twice a day.
Keep giving her as many hugs as she'll let me. Keep looking at her sleepy face in the mornings. She snores away during much of the day.
But I live for those morning zoomies. I live for playing hide and seek in my office, letting her sniff out which cubicle I'm in. (This is when no one else is here.)
I live for watching her try and catch carrots.

But it's hell wondering how close she is to leaving.
But it's heaven knowing that she doesn't know she's sick and doesn't seem to worry about any of it.

Beautifully said. And a timely post that's brought me some comfort, so thank you.

The last sentence is something to hold on to, and it's what has brought my DH and I comfort after losing our sweet girl last month. I truly believe that pets in general have so much to teach us about living in the moment. But there's something truly special about loving an older pet that has taught me so much about life. It sounds so cliche, but I've found it to be true. I take comfort in knowing that all she understood was that her 'pack' was with her at the end, and that we loved her.