"When A Much-Loved Pet Begins To Fail. Part I of '?'..."

“When a Much-Loved Pet Begins To Fail.  Part I of ‘?’: One Plans For The Present”

 

 

09/09/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always constant, loyal readers,

 

While I may have but briefly made mention of it, for the past several months—now—my dear canine companion, “Daisy”, has, I think, begun to fail, and to witness, must reluctantly, her health decline quite beyond anything that I can possibly do for her.

 

While I cannot turn the clock backwards for either of us, fully as much as I would like to; although I can—with medication—treat her symptoms, and perhaps much lessen her pain, no power on earth can stop the clock, nor prevent the invariable illnesses, and failings that come with advancing age.

 

If you will but kindly refer to my profile here at MDJunction, you will find among the photographs placed there, a couple of Daisy, “The Best Dog On The Planet.”

 

These pictures taken almost four years ago, show a younger, healthier, ‘full-of-life’ Daisy, who now is so very changed, and diminished from those long-ago portraits.

 

Actually, my dearest friends, it has only been within the last six months, that Daisy’s energy and strength have been much changed.

 

Since I do not have a car, nor could I even drive one if I had, I’ve had the ‘mobile’ vet come out to the house in one of those large R.V.s that seem longer than the front of my front yard.  And costs about $347.00 for each visit; this includes examination, any shots daisy needs or medication that Daisy may need.

 

When Daisy last needed her yearly shots, I think the tab came to $457.00, all of which I simply slap on the credit card.

 

In the past, when I have paid a neighbor to drop Daisy off at a local animal hospital ( even if it were for grooming, only ), the neighbor would drop Daisy off early in the morning, and then pick her up at five or six o’clock at night.  When I found out that after Daisy’s visit, while waiting for a ride home, she would be put in a close cage out back in the kennel, to wait, and wait, for hours, until her would be picked up.

 

I decided I did want Daisy to have to wait, stuffed in a cage, without guarantee of food, water, or company.  This I found to be intolerable, and nothing like what I wanted for my dog.

 

And so, dearest friends, I engage now both the mobile vet, and the mobile groomer; in that fashion, the vet and her assistant examine Daisy in her home, and I have seen them sitting on the carpet in the Study, petting, and talking to Daisy; I figured that the examinations—while not—perhaps—as accurate, were still must less of a trail for her, plus I could evaluate their approach to Daisy, and her response to them.  And I have to say that Dr. Wheaston and her associate are wonderfully kind, and caring individuals.

 

And then, any medication that the good doctor might prescribe can be mailed to me, again charged to my credit card.

 

Since May, I believe I have had Dr. Wheaston come out to the house four or five times.  The medication is expensive, too, but…in my heart, I can do nothing less for Daisy, who has been a loving, canine companion—now—for nearly thirteen years.

 

Every morning, and evening, I have to ready Daisy’s medicines, breaking the pills, and capsule up, and adding them ( and the liquid medications ) into a large syringe (without the needle at the end), adding some warm water to help the pills dissolve, and some garlic powder, to help disguise some of the medications nasty, bitter taste.

 

Then, leaving a little air in the syringe, I shake it up to fully integrate the powdered medications into the liquid, and when ready, push the plunger on the syringe to remove any extra air inside.

 

Then comes the battle royalle.  I almost have to sit on Daisy ( as if she were a horse!), to hold her collar, lift her head, and open her mouth with my left hand, as I quickly dispense the contents of the syringe into her mouth, making doubly sure that she is not aspirating any of it.  All the time I am crooning to her, apologizing for hurting her in any way, that the medication will help her, and to swallow, swallow, swallow and not spit up the medications; I tell her over and over again that I love her so much, and would never knowingly hurt her.

 

Of course, she gets it all over her, me, my glasses, and I’ve learned to keep a couple of moist, paper towels to hand, to clean up both dog and man!

 

The very second I let go, she’s off like a rocket, and even as unsteady as she is sometimes, she will bolt to hide in the Study, or back in the bedroom.

 

Immediately after I give her her meds, I follow it up with three of four soft-chew treats (at $9.50 a small bag!), to reward her for taking her medication so admirably, and that ‘Daddy’ still loves her.

 

And…not long thereafter, I will hear her little claws against the laminate floor getting louder, as she finally comes out to where I am, and lies down on the rug near where I am sitting.

 

She also like to lie on her stomach, with right paw curled under her, chin resting on the rug, as she thrashes it back and forth, and wags her tail…typically ‘happy dog’.  Of course, I stop whatever I may be doing to get down on the floor next to her, to scratch her head and ears, calling her all kinds of little pet names.

 

Sometimes, she will roll on her back, lifting up her front paws, so I can scratch her stomach.  She especially loves to be told what a good, good girl she is, and that she’s my buddy and my pal.

 

However…Dr. Wheaston believes that Daisy has an enlarged heart, with a possible mitral valve leak—about which nothing can be done, and some possible fluid retention on the lungs which we are treating prophylactically with Lasix and potassium, and a pill to help regulate her heart beat.

 

Daisy is now quite blind in her left eye from unaddressed cataracts; for as much as I would like to help to possibly restore her vision (and, there is a chance of it developing it in her right eye as well), please forgive me friends, but, the operation to have both eyes done would cost $3,500.00, and, one eye—alone—would cost $2,400.00. I just don’t have that kind of money; $3,500.00 would be more than three and a half months of my S.S.D.I. income!  I’m already—if you will kindly excuse me—‘quite chasing my tail’ with my credit card now.

 

And Daisy has a number of bare areas on her from scratching dry, and itchy skin, being also allergic to fleas, and any number of pollens, grasses, etc. I am giving Daisy medication for her allergies, and have topical, anti-itch, Benadryl cream that I apply to those areas that have become inflamed and reddened; she is also getting Omega-nine fish oil, and garlic to help with her coat, and to help fight the fleas, besides the monthly use of a flea medication.  And Heart guard, given monthly to protect against heart worms.

 

Of course, my dearest friends, what cannot be treated is Daisy’s age, and predisposition to disease, and the humid climate here.  Except for brief forays outside to pee, and etc., Daisy mostly stays inside, in the air-conditioning.  And she now takes more frequent, and longer naps.

 

And because Daisy will NOT go outside if it is raining, or thundering ( well, come to think of it, I avoid it as well !), sometimes then, or during the night if she has to go, she will pee on the floor; I cannot get angry with her for that.  She pees in mostly the same place; when I did have money, and could do some repairs to the house, I purposely had a piece of linoleum inset in the bamboo laminate out in the living room, so it could be her ‘bathroom, should she need it! I also put down several ‘puppy incontinent’ pads which have an attractant to draw Daisy to where they are, and are good until she wets them.  I know when she has done this, as she also gathers the pads up in a pile.  What is funny is that I’ve received a number of compliments on how nice that inset, and framed piece of linoleum looks in the living room…as if it were an intended design element.  Everyone always laughs when I tell them that it is Daisy’s bathroom!

 

It is altogether too ‘gloomy and doomy’ outside, with intermittent thunderstorms making dark and foreboding the sky.  It is definitely a ‘stay in’/’play in’/sleep in’/’eat in’ day.

 

My own pain level—if it can be rated with any fidelity—is hovering somewhere around 6.5 on a 1—10 point scale.

 

Having been ‘medded up’, Daisy is presently asleep on the rug in the Study, where I am currently writing this entry.

 

So far, Dr. Wheaston is scheduled to come out this Wednesday to see Daisy; frankly, I am not a good judge of how Daisy is progressing, or…failing.  Maybe the good doctor will be able with some greater facility to assess Daisy’s health, maybe—though in my heart I absolutely dread it—some kind of at least speculated timetable as to Daisy’s complete failure.

 

About all I can ( or want) to have to consider is that I love my Daisy so very, very much; she’s been a major part of my life for almost thirteen years, and that I would never hurt her, or see her do without.

 

I also know I do not want her to suffer, needlessly, regardless of my dependence upon her as a loving companion, and my absolute, chilling fear of—perhaps—having to make ‘that’ decision.

 

Yet, while it is already breaking my heart to even have to think of this, should it inescapably have to be done, it can be done here, at home where Daisy is comfortable, and where I can sit on the floor beside her, holding her, kissing her, petting, and talking to her as she would be made to gently drift off to a permanent sleep.

 

As you may imagine, I’ve prayed, and prayed—perhaps, asking for miracles, for deliverance, for healing—praying, too, for pain relief, and rest…frankly, for us both.

 

But, friends, every time I let my mind briefly play over what—in fact—may have to be done, I just sit there and cry and cry and cry until my eyes are gluey, and nose is full of crap, and I feel so empty, so completely sad, and alone; and yet—not three feet away from me—Daisy is relaxed, sleeping, quite unaware of ‘Daddy’s great distress.

 

For I have had Daisy with me for so long, I now have difficulty remembering a time when I didn’t have her.

 

Does any of this make any sense?  Am I being overly sentimental, or too selfish?  Do I fear an empty house, and loneliness that much?

 

I look to you, my dearest friends, and loyal readers for your help, your wisdom, your strength, your compassion, and your experiences.  For surely so many of you have pets.  Or have had to make decisions about their care, and well-being.

 

Kindly, please leave your comments, below.

 

I wish for you a quiet—yet wonderful—weekend, in no pain or distress, and in full surrounded by friends and family who love you, and care for you.

 

I wish plenty for you tables, and a safe and comfortable environment.  I wish extra funds for you to be able—should you so want—to go out, but always, to enjoy life.

 

At end of day, I wish for you a dreamy, soft, and warm sense of tiredness.  And, a restorative, and blissful rest, as always kept safe, and surrounded by angels.

 

And please, please know I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles