Tag Archives: aging

Big trouble

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17

I swear I didn’t do it. Really! I’ve just been here the whole time looking cute. (Photos by Matt Greenberg)

Whatever progress we made with the Thundershirt, quickly unraveled with a late-night car ride to 7-Eleven.

I could tell Matt was feeling hopeful, as he pulled out the red retractable leash belonging to Charlie.

“Do you want a doughnut?” Matt asked. It was almost 11 p.m., but I smiled and said “Sure.”

As they pulled away, I was relieved. Daddy spending some quality time with his boy.

Fifteen minutes later, the front door flew open. Something (possibly profane) was said about the dog. One thing was clear. The dog was in BIG trouble.

“He (bleeping) pissed on my front seat!!! Matt said, just shy of a scream. He was incredulous. “He peed on my seat when I was in the store. I can’t believe it. He peed in my truck.”

By now, Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

Looking back on it, the obvious question to ask: Was Charlie wearing his Thundershirt? The answer is no. It was just a quick trip to the store. Still it was just enough to illustrate it doesn’t take much time for separation anxiety to rear its ugly head.

Charlie resurfaced, trotting through the front room without a care. I could see the temperature rise in Matt. He decided to seclude himself in the library. It was for the best that Matt and Charlie take a breather.

Charlie remained on good behavior for the next couple days. I think he knew it was in his interest to lay low, and to administer lots of puppy kisses.

Matt and I started feeling confident again. We suited him up for a visit to see Matt’s grandma. Upon arrival, Charlie cowered and immediately peed on Matt when he picked him up. Somehow, the Thundershirt just wasn’t working in this instance.

When Matt came home, we left Charlie in his Thundershirt and went out for lunch. I didn’t notice the destruction when we came home. After all, he was wearing it. The Thundershirt. He had chewed through the neck strap and reduced it to a sweater band around his belly.

Matt was forlorn.

In the next few hours, we played with Charlie, talked about our options, then wrapped what remained of the Thundershirt around him. We were exasperated. We left for dinner, and two hours later hesitated before walking back in. The house was in one piece, and so was the tattered shirt.

Hallelujah for small miracles.

Documenting Lex in her favorite chair.

A losing battle

With all the hub-bub caused by Charlie, it was easy to miss something is wrong with Lexie.

Her hind legs are buckling under the impossible weight of her frail 28-pound frame. Just standing at her dog bowl, her legs slide out beneath her. We’ve placed a rug by her bowl to provide some traction, but that leads to her next problem.

Her appetite has diminished. I’ve taken to spoon-feeding her wet dog food. But the last two days, she’s just turned her nose to the food. She’s managed to get by on a handful of biscuits, a slice of turkey and a piece of cheese.

And there’s the matter of her peeing on herself. Sigh. She has no idea, but she’s been wetting her dog bed and our couch.

Lex nibbles on a piece of cheese. Apparently much tastier than mushy dog food.

I brought all of these symptoms to the vet today. She said Lexie definitely is experiencing kidney failure, which affects her urinary habits and possibly her appetite. The vet prescribed a kidney-friendly painkiller to hopefully help Lex stand without pain. Lex also will go on a med to help with her pee issues, and we added in an antacid in hopes of making food a bit more yummy.

All-in-all, we are fighting a losing battle.

The vet said many dog owners simply will euthanize their dog when it starts wetting in the house. My heart sank.

“I’ll get doggie diapers if I have to,” I offered.

Lex doesn’t have much time left.

This much I know.

This much I can hardly bear.

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Homecoming

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Charlie and Lex celebrate a seat up front on the ride home from Camp Bow Wow.

It’s only been six days, and I hardly recognize Charlie.

In the time he and Lex stayed at Camp Bow Wow, Charlie grew almost to Lexie’s height. This, after gaining only 1 pound in the first month we had him. Matt and I slip away to Florida, and he experienced a massive growth spurt.

All of this fades away when I crouch down and pull Charlie into my arms. He wiggles and writhes, melting into a bumbling mess of puppy kisses.

Charlie hops off my lap and slides next to Matt on the couch. He nuzzles Matt’s ear, and Matt gives in, pulling him closer.

Oh yes, I think I recognize this pup. How could I mistake his gentle energy? His uncanny ability to love his way into forbidden territory on the couch?

Lex comes in close, and I lean down only to be intercepted by her gaping mouth boinking off my nose. I’m not sure about this move, but in recent months she’s taken to this awkward show of affection. I silently wonder if it’s a symptom of her dementia. She looks good, her eyes seem clearer than usual. And her energy level defies her 14 years; she even tries to play with one of Charlie’s tennis balls.

Matt said the reunion at Camp Bow Wow was emotional, with Lexie jumping up in his lap, then spinning in circles. It’s hard for me to imagine her this excited, but I take Matt at his word.

Getting them in the truck was a bit of work (Lex missed on her first try, and tangled her legs in the running board) but once they were in they staked out a spot in the front seat. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it also must make the memory grow fainter. The dogs are supposed to ride in the back seat, but Matt allowed them to ride up front for the entire 15-minute ride home.

Knowing this was a special occasion, they behaved, and slipped in a few puppy kisses.

I totally know these pups. How could I be mistaken? Upon returning, Charlie would sniff out the front room, then grab his favorite plushie toy from his toy box. And Lex would hop into her favorite spot on the couch. Matt placed their beds back in the bedroom, marveling at how they were returned in one piece (well, almost). He would later boast about how the staff members at Camp Bow Wow said goodbye to the pups, and how they told him the dogs were model campers. Awwe, proud mama alert.

Yes, I know these dogs.

I’d know them anywhere.

Cheating time

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12

Lexie’s favorite spot in the whole world is serving as a pillow under Matt’s head.

Now that all the new puppy hubbub has settled, one thing has become very clear.

Lexie is failing.

At first I noticed she wasn’t able to completely jump onto the couch. Then she started laying at awkward angles, with her back legs splayed. Today I winced as her hind legs barely supported her body.

When we took her in for her annual shots a couple months ago, Matt and I mentioned we were looking for a second dog. The vet strongly suggested that we not get a puppy. She said Lex was looking great for her 14 years. Still, her body was delicate, and probably not up for puppy play.

There’s also her recent diagnosis of doggie dementia to consider. She’s in the early stages, but starting to show more symptoms. Sometimes I’ll find her staring into a corner; other times she won’t respond when I call her name. I never thought to ask how a puppy could affect this condition.

Somehow the vet’s great advice faded when we found Charlie. He was gentle. She would set a great example for him as he matured. He would inspire a little spunk in the senior Lex.

Now as I watch her struggle, I can’t help but wonder if I hastened her decline. I pray that I am wrong.

I made an appointment with the vet for tomorrow morning. I’m hoping she’ll tell me I am overreacting. That Lex is just tired. That I can’t expect her to always keep pace with a puppy.

Time is not on my side. So all I can do is hope.