UPDATE: 4 JUN 2010
For the last 13 years, my dog Tucker’s been a constant companion who spends his days sleeping next to my desk. He saw me finish college. He was part our great Millennial Day migration from Florida to NC. He’s helped raise two children (and two dogs). And for every year of his life, he’s spent significant time on a certain dog-friendly beach in Florida that he once ruled like a charming prince when we lived there.
The previous post from February (below) ended with Tucker going in for an exam. The results were pretty much what I’d expected – he’s perfectly healthy, but for his hips. At that point, I was just grateful he’d lived beyond last fall’s diagnosis of three months. But lately, things are changing quicker. His voice is gone. He’s deaf. Silver hair is fast encroaching on his deep red coat. His breathing’s grown increasingly labored. His bottom teeth are nubs. But…this dog just keeps smiling. The day he doesn’t is the day I’ll know that it’s time.
Most of the time when I’m working, I don’t even know he’s there. But just now, I sensed some movement in the corner of my eye. He was trying to get comfortable on his dog bed, but couldn’t. He looked at me for a second, and let out a frustrated sigh. So I joined him on the floor and spent a few minutes stroking his silky ears. He smiled.
We’re going back to that dog beach in Florida next month, and all I keep thinking about is how much I want him to make this last trip. Even if it’s for him to simply lay in the cool sand under an umbrella and do nothing more than breathe the air and feel the pounding surf resound in his chest. And then he can fall fast asleep. Maybe forever. That would be the happiest ending of all, I think. We all know it’s coming. The way I see it, we’re stealing time now as it is.
***
ORIGINAL POST: 11 FEB 2010
I’ve never had a dog get old on me. As a kid, a couple were put down for health reasons and I left home before another one got old, but until Tucker – I’ve never had to care for a senior canine. He’s nearly 13, has wicked hip issues and uses one of his rear legs like an old man uses a cane. But he’s happy. Last fall, when his hips stopped working and he lost muscle mass, I thought it was the end. The vet gave him six months. Well, it’s been more than six months now and he’s still smiling. Sure, I help him up or down the back steps, but mostly, he manages. Slowly. One step at a time. This from a dog that was once the stud of the beach.
What struck me today about how different it is with an old canine is the way I brush him. It wasn’t very long ago that brushing him meant wrestling a strong, squirmy dog excited about getting to go in the house to lay on the sofa. These days, he’s just as excited to go in to lay on the sofa, but the brushing has taken a docile turn. Where at one point when I’d thrash his fur and feel his muscles flex underneath, now I feel bone below his coat and my strokes are as gentle as how you might brush your grandparent’s hair.
Tucker goes for his annual exam next week. Last year I was inquiring about final arrangements. He keeps surprising me.
***
Jenifer
Feb 11, 2010
That gentle touch is love. Your analogy that brushing Tucker’s hair is now “as how you might brush your grandparent’s hair” is lovely and brings to mind a beautiful memory. When I was a little girl, I would sit on my grandfather’s lap and brush his thick, silver hair ever so softly. He was chair-bound, rendered completely still by a series of strokes. No arms moved to hold me or hands reached to touch me, but there were always his loving eyes to see me. I remember and cherish these quiet moments and connection with my grandfather as some of the most precious in my life.
Rebecca McCormick
Feb 20, 2010
We don’t have pets, but my favorite expression of Myron’s love is when he lets me put my head in his lap, and he strokes my hair until I fall asleep. I’ve often asked him, if we’re together as I’m transitioning to the non-physical world, please stroke my hair as I go.
Bo Hussey
Jun 5, 2010
Just took my 13-year-old Jack Russell for her annual exam this morning. She’s struggled with kidney issues for several years and we almost lost her due to fluid on her heart two years ago. She continues to defy the odds. As you put it so well, we’re just stealing time now. Her hearing is gone now and she doesn’t want to take walks very often but she’ll play ball for hours and is ALWAYS there to greet me when I get home from work. I’m not sure how I’ll handle it when she’s gone. Let’s make the most of these last weeks, months, years…
Kat Jaibur (@katjaib)
Jun 5, 2010
See? I knew I didn’t want to read this. Thanks for making me, Jim. Okay, now I’m going to cry.
I love that photo of you and Tucker — look how high he jumped! It is so tough watching our four-legged friends/babies get older. They cannot tell us how they’re feeling — at least not in words. It’s up to us to pay attention. I love that you got down on the floor with him. I’ve been doing that more with Millie-dog (who turns 9 this month). She lets out a huge sigh of relief, contentment, joy. “Oh, finally, it’s my turn.”
I am dealing with watching and assisting my mother as her health & mental state declines. It is a journey of gratitude and heartbreak, and it’s up to me to choose which way to see it. Realizing that Millie’s needs and energy are changing, too, is sometimes more than I can take. But it’s a wake up call to appreciate them and the time we have with them. We’ve been taking Millie to the dog beach more. I will do so all summer. I hope Tucker makes it to his. I am picturing him under the umbrella, nice cool water dish nearby. Loving every moment with his family. That’s my prayer for you… and for him.
Jerilyn Pool
Jun 7, 2010
Dogs are amazing. (Cats can go to hell.)
I like to take in older dogs that would otherwise go to the pound or be put to sleep. I baby them and let them live out the rest of their days being spoiled and snuggled and fed yummy treats.
Right now, I have three old lady dogs that have been with us anywhere from 5 to 8 years. The schnauzer is getting very close to the end. Her hips are painful and some days she has no mobility until I pump her full of anti-inflammatories, but she’s not ready to go. One of the other dogs spends hours licking the hips of the schnauzer.
When my baby was born two years ago, these same three old lady dogs stood vigil over her day and night. They still do, even though she pulls at their ears and tails.
It has moved me to tears more than once how much they care for not only their humans, but each other.
Thank you for writing about this. I always knew I liked you, but dog people will forever hold a special place in my heart.
(@auntmarvel on Twitter)
olivier blanchard
Jun 7, 2010
You can tell everything about a man’s soul by the way he treats an old dog. You’re all right, my friend. You’re all right. 🙂
I hope you and Tucker get your wish.
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
Thanks for sharing that, Jenifer.
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
My grandmother used to do that. I do it now to my daughters and they love it. so soothing.
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
Thanks for sharing, Bo. I don’t know how we’ll handle it either. I think it helps to know that he’s had a great life. How did your dog make out at the exam?
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
Thanks Kat. What an amazing thing, the bonds we make with animals. I often ask my wife why we tolerate animals living with us? They’re expensive, they have dander, they require security deposits on vacation…why? Then I look at them and I see the idea of the most loyal love on earth reflected back to me.
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
I love it. Our two Aussies have literally helped raise our kids. I’ll never forget the first time we took our first born to the beach, and the dogs stayed between her and the water the entire time.
Jim Mitchem
Jun 7, 2010
You too, Olivier. The way you’re publicly dealing with Sasha’s passing is helping me. Thanks.
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