Dogs Are Better People Than Most People
Some of you who know me have heard me say (or seen me write) that before. I am a firm believer that Mark Twain was 100% correct when he said, "Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would be kept out and your dog would be let in."
Over the years I have had many dogs. All were different and all were important to me and all were family. All the time I spent with them was too short. Most of them, when the end was near, I had to help them along. The last one, nearly 10 years ago, I simply couldn't. Maybe it is softness in my old age.
I have two now, and both are getting older. One is 14 and the other is 11 and are getting to be an age where their lifespan is on my mind. Both of these dogs are rescues and the youngest was seriously messed up when we got her. She is now a loyal, loving dog and while I don't like to play favorites between the two, she is my favorite.
On Monday, I woke up and on my way to the kitchen I encountered a pile of puke. Karlie (the young one was waiting at the door to go out. We went out and she seemed slower than usual. After she did her business, she had no interest in her usual chase of the tennis ball. We went back in and she seemed to have no interest in her food...which is out of character, because she has always been very food oriented.
When I came home at lunch I found two piles of shit in the house....again, not normal by any means. She has still not touched her food. I offer her a treat and she takes it, but goes and lies down without eating it. I take the dogs out and both do their business, but Karlie mopes back to the door.
When I get home from work, she still has not eaten and her treat is on the floor where she left it.
I am nervous. Loss of appetite can be serious. She climbs into bed with me, slowly but she lays next to me. I hardly sleep because I am nervous about what could be coming. This is somewhat unreasonable on my part, but it makes no difference, I am still thinking about it.
The next day comes and still, she does not eat. She does drink, which is encouraging, but her food goes untouched. That evening, she again takes a treat and goes an lies down, but this time she actually slowly eats it. I sleep a little better.
The next day, her food is still untouched, but when I get back after work, her bowl is clean. and she is a bit more of her old self. She still is uninterested in the tennis ball, but her tail is wagging.
Finally on Friday she seems to be fully recovered and my fears are alleviated...but her age is at the forefront of my mind. If dog years are 7 times, she is 77 years old...but still acts much like a happy puppy.
Damn I am getting soft.
I hope I croak before these two are gone, but it is not likely. I will still die with a dog.
Over the years I have had many dogs. All were different and all were important to me and all were family. All the time I spent with them was too short. Most of them, when the end was near, I had to help them along. The last one, nearly 10 years ago, I simply couldn't. Maybe it is softness in my old age.
I have two now, and both are getting older. One is 14 and the other is 11 and are getting to be an age where their lifespan is on my mind. Both of these dogs are rescues and the youngest was seriously messed up when we got her. She is now a loyal, loving dog and while I don't like to play favorites between the two, she is my favorite.
On Monday, I woke up and on my way to the kitchen I encountered a pile of puke. Karlie (the young one was waiting at the door to go out. We went out and she seemed slower than usual. After she did her business, she had no interest in her usual chase of the tennis ball. We went back in and she seemed to have no interest in her food...which is out of character, because she has always been very food oriented.
When I came home at lunch I found two piles of shit in the house....again, not normal by any means. She has still not touched her food. I offer her a treat and she takes it, but goes and lies down without eating it. I take the dogs out and both do their business, but Karlie mopes back to the door.
When I get home from work, she still has not eaten and her treat is on the floor where she left it.
I am nervous. Loss of appetite can be serious. She climbs into bed with me, slowly but she lays next to me. I hardly sleep because I am nervous about what could be coming. This is somewhat unreasonable on my part, but it makes no difference, I am still thinking about it.
The next day comes and still, she does not eat. She does drink, which is encouraging, but her food goes untouched. That evening, she again takes a treat and goes an lies down, but this time she actually slowly eats it. I sleep a little better.
The next day, her food is still untouched, but when I get back after work, her bowl is clean. and she is a bit more of her old self. She still is uninterested in the tennis ball, but her tail is wagging.
Finally on Friday she seems to be fully recovered and my fears are alleviated...but her age is at the forefront of my mind. If dog years are 7 times, she is 77 years old...but still acts much like a happy puppy.
Damn I am getting soft.
I hope I croak before these two are gone, but it is not likely. I will still die with a dog.
56-60, M
