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.
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.
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