(no subject)
I noticed the distress in him almost a month ago. Elmo seemed to have trouble walking. Soon we noticed his strange circle dance he made each time he wanted to rest. Most dogs will circle a few times to make sure their cushy is nicely pounded down. Elmo’s three circles had progressed to sixteen. He seems to become a bit confused if we move something, like the water dish. He will have trouble finding it even though it is just a few feet away from where it normally is. He has developed a strange desire to be on the screen porch. Once there, he pees on it, something Elmo has never done. Not everyone else could hold his or her water, but Elmo always could. He is banging into the slider doors. Walks have deteriorated into a prance down the hill, a sniff at the garbage can and a saunter back up the hill. Of course, there is that strange appetite Elmo developed for cat food. He still is eating cat food. At least his belly is still working.
Honestly, I think he has had a stroke. I mean, I think a dog can have a stroke. I guess if I wasn’t so broke at this time I would take him into the vet and find out. After the last trip and the bill it brought about, I am a bit tapped. Besides, what would the vet do?
Therefore, I have become a nurse to a couple of geriatric dogs. I used to work at a nursing home a bazillion years ago so I am somewhat equipped for this. We have not come to the diaper stage yet, but it is on the way.
Spencer and I had an argument regarding the future of two of our old geezers. Elmo and as well as Sammy are both showing their age. The mention of a vet with one of those shots sent me into a tizzy that I still not recovered from. We have not discussed it since that time, although I know it has been on both of our minds.
I suppose it is a concept I have to consider, although I don’t want it to. I never thought about the end for these creatures that we have shared space with these fifteen years. In life, fifteen years is a drop in the bucket, you know. My marriage did not last fifteen years but Elmo has. So has my Jeep. That says something about life, does it not? A good dog and a sturdy Jeep can outlast a marriage.
Elmo has been at my feet while I have been writing this. I have heard him wheeze and moan at bit. He seems content however to be close. I gave him one of the doggie pain killers a little while ago. It should take the edge off of any of his aches and pains here very soon. Yet when he looks up at me, I still see the old dog whom has run me ragged. Jumping over chain link fences with a single bound and little less than a chink-chink as the metal was touched. This the same dog who looked over his shoulder with a I don’t see you look just before he took off on an escape. He is the same boy who puffed up whenever a girl came into range. Yeah, that is the Elmo who has been my companion these past years.
They say we lose what we pride ourselves on as we grow older. Great beauties who in later life lived in basement apartments, hiding from the world. Athletes confined to wheel chairs. Geniuses who descended into madness. Even my father, who conceit was his quick mind and his self-reliance lost that to dementia and amputations.
At the same time, the last part of a life can be led with dignity. Knowing that time is short makes some spend more of what is left with those care about. Perhaps this is why I find Elmo closer to me on the couch, or on the floor by my side of the bed in the morning. When a shower is done and the curtain is pulled back, more often than not it reveals that Elmo is on the bathmat waiting for me. I help him onto the couch or through the maze of our house without fussing over him. Spencer get a bit frustrated with him, and raises his voice. I do not, and I think it is that gentleness Elmo wants. I don’t mock him when he runs into the glass slider door. You can see he is embarrassed, and I don’t make a big deal of it. I just open the door for him and hope to get him outside before he makes a mess out there.
So there may be some gratitude for all my efforts in easing his life. Maybe, this new closeness is the thanks for these years of being the one who fed, walked and chased after him. If it is, I am honored. At then same time it might be the fear of the change he has gone through that make him cling to me. If it that, then I don’t mind. I think it is always better to go through a bad patch with someone at your side.
No one should go it alone at the end. Even if it is an old black dog, no one should ever have to be alone at the end.
Honestly, I think he has had a stroke. I mean, I think a dog can have a stroke. I guess if I wasn’t so broke at this time I would take him into the vet and find out. After the last trip and the bill it brought about, I am a bit tapped. Besides, what would the vet do?
Therefore, I have become a nurse to a couple of geriatric dogs. I used to work at a nursing home a bazillion years ago so I am somewhat equipped for this. We have not come to the diaper stage yet, but it is on the way.
Spencer and I had an argument regarding the future of two of our old geezers. Elmo and as well as Sammy are both showing their age. The mention of a vet with one of those shots sent me into a tizzy that I still not recovered from. We have not discussed it since that time, although I know it has been on both of our minds.
I suppose it is a concept I have to consider, although I don’t want it to. I never thought about the end for these creatures that we have shared space with these fifteen years. In life, fifteen years is a drop in the bucket, you know. My marriage did not last fifteen years but Elmo has. So has my Jeep. That says something about life, does it not? A good dog and a sturdy Jeep can outlast a marriage.
Elmo has been at my feet while I have been writing this. I have heard him wheeze and moan at bit. He seems content however to be close. I gave him one of the doggie pain killers a little while ago. It should take the edge off of any of his aches and pains here very soon. Yet when he looks up at me, I still see the old dog whom has run me ragged. Jumping over chain link fences with a single bound and little less than a chink-chink as the metal was touched. This the same dog who looked over his shoulder with a I don’t see you look just before he took off on an escape. He is the same boy who puffed up whenever a girl came into range. Yeah, that is the Elmo who has been my companion these past years.
They say we lose what we pride ourselves on as we grow older. Great beauties who in later life lived in basement apartments, hiding from the world. Athletes confined to wheel chairs. Geniuses who descended into madness. Even my father, who conceit was his quick mind and his self-reliance lost that to dementia and amputations.
At the same time, the last part of a life can be led with dignity. Knowing that time is short makes some spend more of what is left with those care about. Perhaps this is why I find Elmo closer to me on the couch, or on the floor by my side of the bed in the morning. When a shower is done and the curtain is pulled back, more often than not it reveals that Elmo is on the bathmat waiting for me. I help him onto the couch or through the maze of our house without fussing over him. Spencer get a bit frustrated with him, and raises his voice. I do not, and I think it is that gentleness Elmo wants. I don’t mock him when he runs into the glass slider door. You can see he is embarrassed, and I don’t make a big deal of it. I just open the door for him and hope to get him outside before he makes a mess out there.
So there may be some gratitude for all my efforts in easing his life. Maybe, this new closeness is the thanks for these years of being the one who fed, walked and chased after him. If it is, I am honored. At then same time it might be the fear of the change he has gone through that make him cling to me. If it that, then I don’t mind. I think it is always better to go through a bad patch with someone at your side.
No one should go it alone at the end. Even if it is an old black dog, no one should ever have to be alone at the end.