Heavens to Betsy

In a recent conversation with my husband, I was lamenting over the laundry list of issues that our dog, Betsy, currently contends with. She has a variety of health and emotional concerns that we cannot really trace back to any particular event. Just the allergies alone require daily medicine. If she does not get this medicine, she licks her back leg until an open sore develops, usually accompanied by an infection, requiring antibiotics. In her 4 short years with us, we have done numerous rounds of antibiotics. She also has seasonal allergies which create red, itchy paws that she licks raw in the spring and late summer. Those allergies mean allergy shots. Recently, we changed her food and gave away all of her meat based dog treats to try and get this allergy thing under control. This resulted in me trying my hand at making sweet potato jerky treats that ended up being more like sweet potato chips.

            “I don’t remember dogs having all of these problems when I was a kid,” I told Tom. I mean, my dog, Sheeba, ate Gaines Burgers and Moist and Meaty packets with ingredients like, “meat and meat byproducts.” Her dog treats were Milk Bones and she never had an allergy or a behavior problem and lived to be 15 years old. Tom’s dog, Patches didn’t have one medical condition either and lived to the ripe old age of 12. Her food was a little better, like Science Diet. But seriously. Easy. Dogs didn’t need meat free, grain free, gluten free, vegetable free food. They got Gravy Train and slept on an old towel in the garage.  Back in those days, when someone watched our dog while we went on vacation, the note said, “Feed the dog. Let the dog out. Make sure she has water,” (if there even was a note). I leave 3 pages worth of “sub plans” and then I still call or text 3 times because there was something I forgot. Maybe when I was a kid people just didn’t have the time or patience for special dogs like Betsy. Perhaps they “went-home-to-the-farm” as my husband sometimes says. Because back then dogs were just animals. Now dogs are fur-babies that get dressed in Halloween costumes. To be completely honest, I kind of enjoy looking up recipes for hypoallergenic dog treats on Pinterest. I don’t know why dogs are so different now than I remember, but one thing is for sure, if that sweet, fuzzy, black and white face will sit up pretty for her homemade organic sweet potato jerky treats, she’ll get one.

When is it Time to Say Goodbye?

            I don't return home to a loud bark or a wagging tail anymore. These days I go into the house with bated breath, wondering if the curled up ball of orange fur is going to open her eyes and gingerly arise so that I can lead her to the door to go out. I know there will come a day when her eyes won't open; when she won't get up. Actually we are hoping that will be the case. Neither Tom nor I have it in us to make the decision to end another pet's life. We did that with our cat and it was simply too traumatic for both of us. In fact, we swear he is haunting us because of it, but I'll save that story for another time.

Molly, our 14 year old Golden retriever/beagle mix has had several near-death episodes and yet death eludes her. One was nine years ago when she ate enough indoor-outdoor carpet to snake through her entire intestines and leave a loaf of bread sized ball of it in her stomach. But she was only 5 then and we couldn't end the life of a good dog just because of a little carpet-eating habit. Major surgery and about $900 later she was home and on the mend. In 2007 she had a severe injury in to her back that had us thinking "this could be the end" and yet again, with a little bit of doggy Motrin, she was back to her old self. About two years ago we started finding her standing in front of walls just staring, unresponsive. A trip to the vet came back with a diagnosis of dementia (we didn't know dogs got dementia either). The prognosis was 6-8 months and we sadly went home with another prescription to help manage pain. Once again she miraculously recovered. About a year ago she began leaving us presents of the most unpleasant kind. It wasn’t a life-ending problem. We just needed to be more diligent about letting her out and insisting she leave the porch. But you know when they start losing their ability to "hold it" the end is usually approaching.

             "We're nearing the end boys, (again), and you should start preparing yourselves to say goodbye to Molly-Moll" we sadly said. That was a year ago. I even started a little Facebook album called "Mondays with Molly" in which I'd post cute or funny pictures of her, thinking it would only go on for a few weeks. I finally quit after about 8 months. Earlier in the summer she had to be carried down the stairs. “This must be it,” we thought. I asked for prayers from friends. She hasn't been carried down since. She has arthritis and getting up and down is a bit of a struggle for her, but with her medicine she still manages to run laps around the yard like a dog half her age. Every bag of dog food I think to myself "This will probably be the last bag." The same is true with each new bottle of medicine. 

For Tom and I, the hardest part is knowing when is the time to say goodbye. Everyone we talk to tells us that we will just know when it's time. I'm pretty sure that Molly knows it's ultimately up to her and based on the past, I think she's just decided that she isn't going anywhere. And that's ok with me.