As I read TT’s comment I was enjoying my morning omelette with Dusty sitting a few feet, awaiting a handout. “Sorry Dust no toast today” - I save the carbs where I can. I was up early, real early, the old gal scratched at 4:45AM. I was awake anyway, I am my Dad at least in sleeping habits. I dont enjoy going out into the cold creepy gloom that is late January in Pennsylvania. Even the walking zombies that look for open cars stay home. The Mrs. wants to take the water away after 6PM but, I am reluctant. This whimp loves dogs and has a hard time saying no to her.
Her desire to go it every couple of hours may stem from 2 of us being home. It also could mean diabetes (this 65lb dog lost 2 pounds).
On Thursday we took the old gal to vet, her condition has an official medical name essentially thing are hanging and throats is closing. The vet says it often doesn’t get worse. The Dr. that diagnosed the condition said it will be better in the cold weather. Hence I dread the thought of spring. To repair it would be $4,500 but she wouldn’t have vocal cords after and couldn’t bark. Ive asked the old gal about one of those “No extreme measures” but she just looks at me, like dogs do.
Bottom line- we will see.
When we arrived at the vet there was an older couple with a big beautiful silver gray mastiff. I struck up a conversation and learned the dog had been abandoned with phenomena. The $2,500 dollar treatment was above their means. Their adult kids ‘pitched in’ and covered the cost. That beautiful faced, sweet, clam dog abandoned? A sad story with a happy ending.
We will be traveling to Florida and old gal will come with us. It will be late spring like weather that will be kind of a test.
I am reminded of Jimmy Steward’s poem about his dog..
Here’s the text of the poem:
He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.
He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.
On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.
He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.
But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.
We are early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.
And before very long He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.
And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.
And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.
Good luck with your old pooch Im sure she/he has enjoyed a life of being loved.
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. But life is not good without a friendly companion (besides DW).
