What a sh*&ty day....literally....

Well, the chronicling of Oliver, and my other farm inhabitants, continues.

The three dogs have been battling a stomach bug. Each of them have had a round of stomach meds, and every day one of them stops their dose, another comes down with diarrhea. All three have had an entire dose, but, over the weekend, Casey started with the runs again. A call to my vet, a sprint to the pharmacy, and he's back on round two of Flagil.

I cleaned up an accident yesterday in the house, and his long, fuzzy fur had implications of it coming from his butt. Ugh. What can you do. He's sick.

Overnight, we hear him at the door scratching to go out. My husband watches as he scoots his butt around at 4:30 am, sorry for his discomfort, but, wanting to be back in bed. I investigate for any signs of an accident, and we all, eventually, go back to sleep.

In the morning, there is another accident. My house is starting to really smell. I need to buy more incense.

Hubby and I go down to the barn to feed breakfast and put our horses out, with one layer of blankets. This is another adventure we've been on recently. Changing weather has meant closer monitoring of water intake, blanketing or not, medications or special supplements needed, how much grain is being eaten vs. left, how much hay is being eaten vs. wasted, and calculating the total for what they are actually ingesting so I can ensure that the two with health issues (not the old hip fracture) maintain their weight over the winter. With the recent arctic blast, my 41 year old had a hard time keeping warm, and for the first time, I double blanketed my horses. Double blanketed!!! I rarely blanket at all. But, owning this farm has taught me that "nothing is etched in stone," "pay attention", and "things change," so my opinions need to, as well.

On top of this, my third a horse, spiritual soulmate #2, with the old hip fracture, is having a hard time weighting on his back legs. I was giving him bute as a precautionary step to keep him comfortable, but backed off when he seemed to make headway. Winters are harder for him.  He needs to navigate through tough, deep snow, and slippery, icy conditions. This is taking a particular toll on him this year, and breaking my heart. To pieces. His spirit is gigantic; it is a shame his body cannot contain it. 

Well, he today showed me he needs his bute. I could barely pick his back feet up to pick them out. This concerns me for his hoof care. He recently got a new barefoot trim I need to keep up with regularly. Hard to do if he can't lift his feet long enough for them to be trimmed properly. But, we will do what we can, and take day by day.

Hubby and I take about 45 minutes to do the morning barn chores together, and rush back to the house, as we both have places to be. The smell hits me as soon as the door opens. There's another accident on the rug. We make a quick, flustered team effort to clean it up, and try to get rid of the smell, putting the dogs out on more time "just in case" before we both head out the door.

I come back home a little over two hours later, to yet ANOTHER wall of dog crap smell. It is on the rug, very runny, and on my soft pine wood floor. Lovely. I am grabbing towels, cleaner, wiping and blotting and rinsing. The dogs go outside again so I can properly clean in a huff. When they come in, I decide to do a canine butt check.

The two old guys are both the culprits. I grab the blankets off our leather sofa we use to line the seats, and throw them, along with towels, in the laundry. One of the dogs jumps on, then off, the sofa, and there is a menacing spot glaring at me. I grab more cleaner, wipe the couch down entirely, grab new dog blankets and once again, line the couch.

Now, I decide to grab the two "guilty" aka "sick" dogs. Warm water, a soft towel, a small pair of scissors, and I am cleaning and trimming them up, trying to get my home back to something somewhat sanitary and clean. The dogs are not thrilled with my antics, but, it is necessary.

Another call to the vet, who asks what I feel we should do, and we decide to treat all three dogs together one last time. HOPEfFULLY, this will ensure this nasty bug is gone from their systems. The 17 and 14 year old, for sure, have weaker immune systems, and the 7 year old is symptom free, for now. I am diligent about going out with them, watching them, and cleaning the yard up. I am a bit concerned with my system for cleaning messes in the house. I want to be sure to sanitize as best I can to keep this cycle from continuing. I decide between bleach and white vinegar, I am disinfecting everything as best as I can.

It's been a long day of shit management! I have another moment where my thoughts go to the days when these geriatric pups are no longer in our life. There is a momentary flash of relief, not just for me and the convenience of not having so much to maintain, but, for them, as well. For them to no longer experience whatever discomfort they are experiencing. I am assuming this discomfort is temporary, and medication will clear up whatever is ailing them, and they will, once again, go back to enjoying their naps, scratches, running for food, trotting along for weekly walks to the barn and jaunts out in the yard. But, I am more and more aware that, eventually, they will not bounce back, and their discomfort will become more frequent than their comfort. Having 2 dogs and 3 horses all circling this turn in life is daunting, sad, and disheartening.

I still find comfort in their adorable and loving spirits. I give them as much love as I can, and take as much back as I can; as they can give.  But, the steps towards their final days are starting to land heavier and heavier, and my heart is following right along.

Progress; Olivers, and mine, or not

Well, first of all, I need to learn more about blogspot. I have a hard time finding where to create a new post. So, for me, not so much in the progress area for blogging. Sigh...

As for Oliver, it's hard to tell, and I'm glad to be documenting it for myself. I can't say he is worse, he is definitely not better, but, there are still moments I have the panic of "Is he okay?"

We've had a week long arctic blast in New England recently, and it's taken a toll on all my older four legged residents. And this two legged one.

Our 41, yes, 41 year old horse, for the first time, had a very hard time getting warm the second morning of the chilling blast. He's not big on eating hay due to his lack of teeth.  Eating hay is one way for a horse to stay warm. He was quite beside himself this particular morning, shivering, hadn't finished his hay, which is hard because he is quidding most of it. (This is when they cannot break it down to ingest, but, instead, roll it around in their mouths, suck as much as they can from it, and drop a "quid" or a long balled up wad of hay on the ground.) Double blanketing, walking him around to get his blood moving, closing his stall up and some warm water, did the trick, and in 45 minutes, he was comfortable. Due to the 10+below 0 temps due to windchill, all my horses got double blanketed until the brutal temps dissipated. I learned some new things in the way of caring for a horse that has a hard time thermo-regulating, and also that it is okay to blanket in certain circumstances. That is progress!

Oliver continues to have moments outside where he is like a wind-up toy, not sure where he's going, anxious to get somewhere, and bouncing off the small snow banks. He even trudged through the inches of unplowed snow a few times, obviously trying to get somewhere fast, but not knowing where he is. It is hard to watch. Then, two hours later, he's back out; sure footed and fine.

He sleeps most of the morning, and I usually wake him up gently before noon to bring him out for a pee. Then, he is alert and upright for a while, until finally settling on the couch. If I could, I would take him for a walk every day. This is impossible, however. I need to really keep an eye on him, so I can't take the other dogs with him. Jacki, the younger of the three, and Casey, the other elderly dog, race around, from window to window, while we are outside. Casey in jeopardy of Jacki bowling him over in her excitement. So, I try to go out in the fenced area with the three of them, and walk "with" Oliver. He likes the company, and tends to follow along most of the times, doing a big loop and getting some good daily exercise. However, with this ice cold weather, he just wants back in. And so do I.

He starts to act up, aware of the time 45 minutes before supper time. Once I feed them, we all go outside.  They stretch their legs, poop, pee and I pick up the yard. Once we go back in, Ollie's activity tends to depend on mine. If I'm busy doing things in the house or on the computer, he is pacing. But, if I sit and put my legs up with the tv on, he snuggles on the couch and relaxes. The pacing starts again after 7:30, which is an hour before "medication time," when he gets his last Tramadol for the night. Usually an hour after that, he settles down.

He is getting a very low dose of Tramadol. Right now he gets 3/4 of a tablet. My vet says he can have up to 1.5. I figure, as, or if, he gets worse, I will up the dose to his maximum. Once the maximum doesn't keep him comfortable, then we have to make decisions.

In 4 months we've doubled his dose. I really thought he would decline more quickly, but he seems to be holding his own. I am fairly certain his times of being unsettled are not related to an acute pain per say, but a general and low level discomfort, whether its dementia or physically related . He shows no signs of physical pain. I think he gets bored, and living in his mostly dark and quiet world due to hearing and vision loss are just unfamiliar enough to cause him to look for activity, or reassurance, maybe. The more we interact with him, the better he is. The reality is, though, I can't interact with him all day long. So, I try to check in with him numerous times a day.

There is progress. I am understanding and managing him in a manner that gives him love, comfort and support, even if it's not every second of every day. It is a huge "inconvenience" for us "humans", but even as soon as I type this, I need to immediately follow it with, we don't "feel" inconvenienced. This little dog has had a pivotal place in our lives. There is an unending, immeasurable love between us. I would never euthanize him due to an inconvenience. When I see, feel, or know that he is in pain, suffering, or lost his will to live, I will know it is time to let him go.This blog is progress enough for me at this time,

Ollie update, among other things

What a difference a day makes. Or, a week. Or  just plain old time.

The day I blogged about following Oliver around, stressing about his health and aging process, was a stressful day. By the time the "feeding frenzy," as I call it, rolled around, I was maxed out.

The feeding frenzy occurs between 3:30 and 4:30 in the afternoon. I feed the 3 dogs, who are getting the bulk of their medications (those that need them).  There is a particular dance to this process.  Pick up the three bowls. Fill them with the appropriate amount of homemade dog food (which we tweaked, so we now have 2 recipes, older guys, and younger girl), add the necessary medications and/or supplements. Meanwhile, the three dogs are at my feet, staring. Well, Ollie isn't staring, he's mostly blind. But, he's there, looking up and dog, shifting his weight in anticipation. Casey is whining. Loudly. The frequency increases the longer it takes me. I am much too slow for him. Jacki sits politely, waiting, tail wagging.

Pick up 2 prepared bowls for Ollie and Casey. Casey now realizes what is going on and starts to hop around on his back legs, which is very bad for him, so I am expedient in my delivery time. I have to hold his little dish just over his head, keeping his attention on it, so he will follow it. Meanwhile, I am lowering Oliver's dish down in front of his nose, as he follows the smell, placing it on his mat for him to enjoy. Casey is hopping in circles (NO!!!) until I put his down on his box, which he dives into like a fiend. Jacki waits patiently. I grab her bowl and place it in her stand, grab 2 treats for Coco, our 12 year old Maincoon cat, who has joined the party, looking for treats on the kitchen island.

Ok. Dogs are good. They will need to go out in the front yard after dinner for poop time.

I head to the barn, bring the horses in, stir and grab their feed from the tack room where I strategically also feed the barn cats that we cannot let outside yet, placing their dishes down just before I exit so they are not interested in sneaking out the door. I deliver said horse feed, and head back to the house to let the dogs out. Once the dogs have their daily constitution and a jaunt in the yard (as I am helping Ollie up and down the stairs, picking poop and tossing in the woods) I go BACK to the barn,  pick the paddock, give the horses a once over, grab their bowls and set up breakfast. Everyone is acting like their normal selves and pets are settled in for the night.

Well, on this particularly stressful day of following Oliver, I am ready to get in the car and go somewhere, anywhere, for a much needed attitude adjustment. I rush out to meet a girlfriend to get my toes done at a local shop, but they are too busy, so I pass on that, and we go to dinner, enjoying some Chardonnay as a reward for surviving another exceptionally stressful day.

I am looking forward to tomorrow.

Unfortunately, fate felt otherwise. My day was not through.

That night, my mare, Katy, had a bad colic. We found her laying in the snow, caked in ice.

Katy's had numerous health issues, so at first, we weren't sure what was going on with her. Colic? Another bout of lyme or erlichea? Hormonal issue? She wasn't presenting typical colic signs, and has no history of colic. But a history of weird health issues, she has had. No temp, definitely uncomfortable, but not necessarily an emergency (I am not one to call the vet right away until I know it's something  I cannot  manage and have luckily managed 95% of their issues with my vets approvals and blessings). We give her  medication and check her an hour later.  She is more comfortable, so we wait til morning, assuming whatever she is battling will have subsided.

Wrong. She is worse in the morning. so I call my local vet right away. Something is wrong and she is not working out of it this time. I walk her over an hour, talking, begging, with an occasional shout at no one  in particular: WHY is this happening?? My POOR "kids!!!"

The vet comes; it's colic and probably life threatening. After reaching, past his elbow into her rectum, she has an obvious problem. The day shrinks away and all I see is her, her pain, and my inability to help. My husband turns around and comes home from work (now you KNOW it's serious). We call a neighbor, who comes to dig a hole. We discuss where, how big, etc. the hole should be and what will happen when it is time for Katy to be placed in it. My head is spinning, and my stomach is churning.

The first dig finds water 3 feet from the top soil. We need another spot to bury our horses. Not the place we always planned to bury them. More talk about holes. And how to get her in it. What he will have to do with her body. It is surreal.

By now, I've have accepted this. She is in pain, and I will not let her suffer. We discuss holes, bodies, burials. I head back to the barn to sit with her. My sleeves are wet from catching tears.

She is very quiet, medicated, but not exhibiting signs of discomfort anymore. It's because of the medication, I'm told by the vet. I grab my camp chair, open her door and sit in her doorway. She comes over, hangs her head down slowly, until it is on my chest, resting, sleeping, looking for comfort and rest. My heart is broken, but being filled by the love we share. Slowly, I am accepting this is what is best for my friend, and I am making peace with having to help her pass.

An hour goes by. She is still "quiet." I give call to a long time vet/friend  who checks our horses once a year, to update her. She tells me, "if she is not exhibiting signs of pain, giver her time. Days if you have to. See what she "tells" you.

We are now on mare watch. Oliver's needs have vanished into the background.  Bob, my husband, takes an occasional walk to the house to let the dogs out and make sure all is well. I continue to wait, watch, and walk Katy when she seems up to it. Is she perking up a bit? I'm not sure. I want her to. Maybe I am seeing what I want.

Hours go by. Bob is bringing me coffee, rubbing my back, taking me in for a hug between tears of grief and sighs of acceptance. My sister calls to check in off and on, and stops by to give me a hug, as well. She's been through the loss of a horse. My phone is going off with text messages of support.  You only understand if you've been through it.

I have a vet appointment for Casey, so Bob takes over "Katy colic watch" for an hour while we head to the office. Casey if 14, and is no longer as spry as he was.  I am told by the vet that he has a heart block, which means his heart literally stops at various times, and his age is definitely catching up with him. This is a serious health issue with a grave prognosis.  He also has, probably, a stomach virus. I get meds for the virus, but am acutely aware that his days are now also numbered (as are everyone's, really) and take him home to let him sleep off the trauma of the vet visit. He does not enjoy the vet.

Wednesday turns into night, and Thursday morning, and by Thursday night, to our astonishment, Katy is perking up!!  Our horror has turned into hope. We start to feed her little bits of very soaked grain, and the management begins. How much do we feed her of what and when? There are constant checks for manure. Do her eyes seem brighter to you? I have now become an expert at equine heart rate monitoring, and, thanks be to the Lord, hers is consistently normal. She is out of the woods. We hope.

Now we wonder, "do we fill the hole I've been glaring at outside my kitchen window?" We can dig it up again if need be. Should we give her more time to be sure she's worked out of whatever ailed her?  We will have to fill the hole if it's not going to be used so it doesn't freeze as a large pile and gaping hole. I have never thought about this part of owning a farm, until it backed me into this corner. Reality can be very abrasive.

By Friday evening we decide, yes, fill the hole. She is back on an adjusted "regular" schedule.  We are still, however, on high alert, watching every detail to stay on top of how she seems to be feeling.

The scare with Katy prompted us to gather the three dogs; 17 year old Ollie, 14 year old Casey and 7 year old Jacki Friday afternoon. We put their leashes and harnesses on, grab the camera, and take them  for a walk to the barn. This is something they usually all enjoy, but is difficult for just one person to manage. The weather was mild, and the ice had melted. We head down the driveway, Bob with Casey and Jacki, and I with Oliver. The two old guys are moving slow, but, moving, nonetheless.

Once we hit the barn, there is an overflow of sniffing. Ollie and Casey are on a mission to smell every thing they can, tails wagging, intent on their jobs. Luckily, Oliver seems to remember when I snap the button on the extendable leash, its a message to follow my lead. Blind, deaf, no matter, he feels that snap and we are in sync. Jacki, who accompanies us regularly to the barn, is already in a stall, looking for leftover grain.

When we get inside the barn, I made sure Oliver has help navigating in any precarious spots, but, the moment comes when, voila, he perks up!! His head popps up, his tail goes straight in the air, and off he goes towards the paddock. When we get outside, I pick him up to carry him over to the horses. Immediately, his feet start peddling, demanding to be put down. He sniffs around, following me as best he can towards where the three horses are hanging out. When we get close, I pick him up so he can say hello to Tango, our alpha gelding and second love of my life. Oliver and Tango are buddies. Tango extends his nose out, sniffing softly, and Ollie gives him, then me, and excited quick doggie kiss. Heaven.

We hang out for a few minutes, take some pictures, then head back to the house. Ollie and Casey both need to be carried in a few spots, but all in all, our walk to the barn is blissful. Everyone is happy, and snuggles on the couch for a nap.  Again, heaven.

That evening, Bob and I put our feet up and breathe a sigh of relief. We made it through, came out the other side of  the less-than-perfect part of pet owning and running a farm. We seem to have dodged a very painful bullet. We toast each other with a beer, sit back and relax, happy to be rid of the grip of dread, seeing all our animals settled in, content and in no danger. All is well at DunRoamin Farm. Tonight.

The next morning, Marcus does not finish his breakfast.  I make a note, give him an extra rub and scan him for longer than usual, silently praying, and get on with my day. It is unpredictable, emotional, often draining, but always rewarding to be living this lifestyle we have chosen for this stage of our lives. I am hoping that the next few days remain uneventful.

Following Oliver

I started this blog long ago, and have never been able to keep up with it. Which is sad because I formulate "blogs" in my head on a daily basis. Now, I am faced with a situation that I am forced to chronicle. And I may as well do it here, because it is related to our farm life.

Our little dog Oliver has been with us for 16 of his 17 years. He is a West Highland Terrier, and one of the greatest loves of my life. We joke and say I married my husband because of him. Ollie was his ex-wife's dog, until she had to move where dogs weren't allowed. He did not want his daughter experiencing another loss after their divorce, so he took Oliver in. I met both of them a couple months later, babysat Mr. Oliver while Bob was away, and formed a special bond right away (Oliver and I...). It was Oliver that tipped the scales in enticing me to pursue a relationship with my now second (and final) husband.

He is a big dog in a little dog body. He is opinionated, animated, loving, and loyal beyond words. His eyes see further into my soul than any human; he truly "knows" me. He used to be a not-so-well disciplined dog, running fter anything that moved, ignoring my pleas to "COME." He would bark all day long (notes on the door from neighbors), chase my cats, even when they retaliated open-clawed, relentlessly. If it weren't for his adorable face and fun loving nature, he'd have driven me out of my mind. But, over time, we got closer and closer. I realized most of his "nonsense" was really a desire just to be with me. That's when I started letting him go off leash while I would garden in our old Massachusetts home.

I will never forget those days. He would wander around the yard, staying relatively close by. He'd follow me from garden bed to garden bed, often laying in the sun to catch a quick nap or sun bathe. He'd come to attention when a car or person walked by, but my low, soothing requests to stay were happily obeyed. I will never forget the day a rabbit ran out from under a bush and streaked towards the woods in the back yard. Oliver took off after it instinctively and speedily, but one quick "OLIVER" from me, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around, and came happily trotting back. From that moment on, I realized he wanted to be with me, and he went off leash with me just about everywhere except our long walks around the block (too many distractions and actual big dogs!).

He would always be sitting in my lap at the end of the day as hubby and I sat outside soaking up the last hour of daylight. We have countless pictures of him on our laps. This was his end of day reward, much like our frosty beers. He would sit, mouth wide open with teeth shining, panting softly, looking around at his important, fabulous home and family. We were his job to take care of, and boy, was he proud.

Now, with so many years and memories passed, Oliver has turned the dreaded corner of old age. He is 17. His eyesight is just about completely gone as is his hearing. His once nimble and strong legs that would roughhouse and play til we were out of breath, endlessly chasing balls and toys down the halls, no longer hold him up steadily. He regularly takes an off step here and there, and needs to be carried over one of the sets of stairs outside. The set that he can still do independently, he has to be watched on, just in case. He's had some gastrointestinal upsets, but, all in all, is a "healthy 17 year old." His blood work is marveled at by vets that see him. His appetite is still very strong, and he still wants to be part of the action. He has, over time, needed to be on mild medication; wandering and pacing caused us to give him aspirin, and then Tramadol, to alleviate any discomfort. Once he got on these low doses, his comfort level markedly improved.

He's shared a home the past 5 years on our 14 acre hobby farm with two other dogs. One is another elderly dog we took in when the family lost their home and had no place for him. He is a small dog also; an obstinate Tibetan spaniel named Casey. They aren't exactly buddies; Casey tries to misplace him regularly, but, obviously, we don't allow that. They get along just fine, but there is no love loss with them. Oliver will snuggle up to Casey sometimes on the couch, and Casey has finally succumbed and accepted his company.

The second is our black lab mix rescue, 6 year old Jacki. She is our miracle girl, another heart melter with a "story." Although she and Oliver had a bit of a rocky start 5.5 years ago, they are now the best of buddies. I have videos of them playing up to just over a year ago, rough housing and whooping it up. Now, Jacki watches out for him. She waits patiently for him to go up the stairs before her. She'll sniff around him if he gets a little lost, til he follows her back to where he needs to be. I know she will be heartbroken when his time comes.

Oliver still jumps up and gets in the mix when the other 2 dogs get excited over something. He still comes trotting, or at least walking purposefully, to his food in the am and pm. He was, up til the snow came, still happily walking around outside with us when we'd put his harness on, trotting up the driveway, sniffing all over, having a ball. Even though his sight is mostly gone and he has a hard time orienting on his own, he was loving his walks, even trying to play when someone would get excited and grab a toy. He loved chewing on his bones, treats, and kongs.

Since the snow has set in however, things have turned a corner. The brightness must do something to his cataracts and eyes as he doesn't seem to find his way very well. And over the past few weeks, his walking has become less stable. He bounces off the sides of the paths we snow blowed, sometimes sticking his nose in a snowbank trying to turn a corner. I carry him over the front stairs that are 4 in number, but he can still get over the set of 2 in the back of the house. I have to watch him, though, because he has misjudged a few times and needed help.

At first with the snow, I would go out, and he would follow me around. Now, he seems to either not be sure of where I am, or not care.

He had a gastro upset recently, but, to be honest, I changed the grain in their homemade dog food. That was one of the priceless lessons this dog has taught me. Many health concerns in his middle years caused me to discover homemade dog food diets, and I am now a self taught guru of homeopathy, holistic and natural care. This has crossed over into my own life, as well as the care of our horses. It has been life changing, to say the least.

His gastro upset had us rush him to an after hours local vet where they did an xray and blood tests. Everything looked normal, and actually, the vet marveled at his blood work "for his age." They put him on gastro meds, we backed off the Tramadol and aspirin, but, his pacing picked up again, so, we upped the Tramadol again. He is now on a relatively low dose of the two meds, and seems to be doing fine, despite these questionable daily changes I am beginning to see.

So, today, during one of our outside breaks, as I called, and called, begging him to follow me around the snow flanked yard, it was seeing his reluctance that brought me to my keyboard. Perhaps, if I journal my journey with him in these difficult days, it will enable me to see, more clearly, just what his day to day quality of life is.

Of course, we all wish and pray that the Good Lord take our four legged loved ones peacefully in their sleep. That is the ultimate wish and gift. But, the reality is, we have, through modern medicine, love, and caring, been able to extend our canine's lives much further than they would go in the natural world. It is, in  my opinion, for this reason that we are obligated, out of love, to recognize when that life has gone past their canine comfort level, and to end it peacefully for them.

 I say that, knowing it full well cognitively. I am having a hard time convincing my heart of it, however. I see Oliver run for his dinner, sniff around outside, inside, with the other dogs, sleep comfortably in his bed or on the sofa, listen to his groans of delight when I scratch his ears, feel his warm pink tongue lap at my hand or face in affection, or rest his head on my shoulder when I pick him up to cradle him. Then, I watch him struggle outside in the bright snow lit yard, bounce off snow banks, stop and start as I call and stomp for him to follow me. I see him tentatively touch on the stairs before he takes a reluctant first hop up to come into the house. I see him trip over shoes left on the floor, or stumble a little here and there as he goes about his day. Every day.

I look at the snow covered ground, feel a trace of warmth among the cold New England winter air, and wonder, what will the day be like when I hold him for the last time and give him back to the earth? I know for sure that day is not today. But I pray that I do know the right day for HIM, and that I don't let my anguish keep me from bringing him peace.