When senility strikes
I brought Penny to the vet yesterday.
This is not the straightforward operation it may seem.
Penny has learned two things – putting her harness on now means a trip to the vet [it used to mean a trip to the coffee shop], and she knows she can’t jump in or out of the car any more. So putting on the harness has become a tricky operation where she squirms like mad, unlike times past when she would stand still in anticipation. I then have to drag her [literally] out to the car.
Getting into the car is the next phase. She will look at the car doorway in disdain and have nothing to do with it. The only solution is to lift her in. This also is a mite tricky as she hates being lifted and again will squirm violently. The trick is to grab her with both hands and just fling her in the general direction of the back seat, before she can escape or attack me. She them untangles herself up from whatever undignified position she has landed in and gives me a look of utter contempt.
Arriving at the vet poses the next problem. She can no longer hop out of the car as she used to. It’s now a case of shuffling towards the open door before slipping and landing with a crash, usually on her back. I have learned not to park near puddles.
The visit was relatively uneventful. More new tablets. A repeat of the old tablets. The monthly injection. A confirmation that the arthritis is worse and that she has dementia to add to her woes. Another large hole in the bank account.
The journey home was an identical repeat of procedures, so that by the time we got home I was Penny’s greatest enemy. Luckily, with the dementia she quickly forgets that fact and I am back to being her greatest friend again.
Today we’re both knackered.
The worst is to deal with the feelings of guilt about how we sometimes have to treat our old and failing dogs, no?
Old age is the time for payback of all the love and fun we got from them … but it’s not easy to bear.
She is spoiled rotten. There again, she has always been spoiled rotten to try to make up for the life she had before meeting us.
How do they diagnose dementia in a dog? With humans they usually ask the name of the current prime minister/president or some such, but that won’t work with animals. Vets need to be so much smarter than doctors, maybe that’s why it costs so much.
Who is the currant prime monster?
I know who it was a few weeks ago, but there must have been a general election that I have forgotten about.
When dealing with the terminally frail we all know that that we are all on the same path.
As you are now, so once was I. As I am now so you must be.
You are not alone young fellah.
Have a Christian measure of Jamieson’s.
A “Christian measure” is the de facto standard measure in this house.
Poor Penny, and poor you.
You could try building her a ramp to get her in and out of the car? That’s more difficult if you have an SUV of course because of the height. A few favourite treats should get her used to using it. That worked for Tilly right up to the end.
It’s a terrible thing when our beloved pets get old. They still trust us so much, and yet, we have some awful decisions to make at some point. 🙁
Cas
She has trouble jumping into the car or onto my bed. The latter is by far the worst as it’s a nightly occurrence. I tried making a step for her to step onto before stepping onto the bed. She refused point blank and insists on doing a jump. She is an absolute stickler for routine and a step or ramp wouldn’t be tolerated as they would be new.