Wagon wheels

 

 As Charly’s mobility decreases, my concern increases.  I worry that she is not physically able to experience enough smells.  I worry that she wants to go further and know what has recently happened through odors deposited by other canines, but she cannot.  My worries led me to purchase a dog wagon.  For a dog her size, particularly because she lays more as a rectangular shape than an oval these days, the dog wagon had to be spacious.  The wagon also had to have wheels to go over bumpy surfaces with sufficient shock absorbers. So, it turned out to be larger than expected.

Also unexpectedly, was Charly’s reaction.  I had pictured her eagerly entering the wagon to eat the favourite-cookie-bait inside.  I pictured her laying regally on one of her favourite blankets, sniffing through the mesh front window or even with the mesh rolled up – the air wafting her face.  I pictured her not wanting to leave the wagon.  None of this happened.

 

The inaugural journey in the wagon required me to lift her inside.  The mesh stayed down.  She vocalized.  She moved around.  Eventually she howled.  I was sweating profusely from pushing my 55-plus pound dog up inclines and hills…out of breath, calves burning.  We went home.  The second journey was similar, but with no howling.  There have been very few subsequent journeys.  The dog wagon is on the blocks…at least for now.

Water dog

 

 My dad and I picked up Charly from the breeder.  It was a solid day’s drive away.  Then, we stayed in a hotel overnight.  The first morning together, Charly cried and was a bit frantic when I entered the shower and closed the curtain.  She was in the bathroom, but she wanted to see me or be nearer to me.  I didn’t take her into the shower – maybe that would have quieted her and my shower could have been more than 90 seconds!  Once back home, I soon discovered she loved water.  A few weeks old, she would scamper into the ocean and snap at waves.  She fetched sticks – provided they were in shallow enough water that her paws wouldn’t suddenly leave the sand…she declared herself to be a non-swimming-water-lover.  She would drape the upper half of her body over the tub edge licking my bath bubbles, paws in my warm soapy retreat.  She was oblivious to the rain.  Once she started going on trail runs, she became a dredger in muddy water-filled ditches…repeatedly…for miles.  Her muscled haunches gleamed with wet.  No matter the weather, as a young dog, Charly remained fully vested in going outside.

Now, my senior Charly stands at the edge of the garage where the driveway begins, door open, and sniffs at the rain.  Scampering abandoned.  Enthusiasm dependent on the forecast.  She waits for her rain jacket to be fastened around her bony back and hips.  Water on her body is avoided.  She no longer has access to any bath tubs on the main floor, but even if she did, I would expect to see her body nestled in the dry rug beside it.  Baths for her now are infrequent, and occur only in the walk-in shower with me.  They take place hurriedly and out of necessity after a groom (see OldDogBlog March 7^th “Still wanted: Groomer for a senior dog (part two)”).  In those moments, her cries in the shower, remind me of that first morning together. It’s not a full circle, but I do wish we could go around it together again.

Surveillance

 

As a puppy, Charly loved being in the kitchen.  The place that creates great smells, and would be carpeted with crumbs and bits if she wasn’t watching.  In her young life, lazing in the kitchen was a near second favourite past-time, although it lacked in action compared to running outside.  I find myself reconsidering “action” and modifying the definition for my old dog.  Let’s consider this attached picture…of a thousand words.  And, here’s a few more! 

To New Readers, this old dog may look lethargic and lack interest in life.  But Old Readers will recall Charly’s superior sentry capabilities from OldDogBlog on October 3, 2023 “Sunset on surfing”.  This photo simply captures her biding her time.  She’s waiting for the big beef ribs that are simmering in the crock pot for about six hours.  She did avail herself of an opportunity to go outside to pee, she did eat her own early supper, and she did have a nap or two in this area rather than one of her many comfortable beds.  But, make no mistake, this is an action shot.  Charly’s excitement in this photo is a little more contained than when she was a young dog – this is a product of years of experience.  She’s seen the crock pot before and knows it takes hours to cook anything.  But, her attentive brown eyes watch intently as I baste.  Eyeing the crock pot cook pounds of meat is a different kind of marathon than she undertook in her younger years.  But as her old self, it’s exciting all the same.

 

(And by the way, those ribs were fantastic…!)

Off Switch

  Like most dog owners, we trained Charly as a puppy to respond to some hand signals – a snap for her to “sit”; a wave of the hand down for “off”; a flat hand held out and moved towards her for “wait”.  All of these accompanied the verbal commands.  When Charly lost her hearing, these gestures became very useful.  And more developed.  It’s surprising how many actions and touches we use to communicate with Charly in a day!

There are a few constants I use almost every morning.  In the kitchen before dawn, Charly sometimes vocalizes as breakfast is being served.  I have to put my finger to my lips as if to say “shush” while shaking my head – I don’t want her to wake everyone else up.  After she’s eaten and I’ve change out of pyjamas, a quick double-slap of my thigh for “follow me” moves us to the garage door.  In the garage while I lace my shoes, my index finger wag and overly furrowed brows indicate she should stop tearing parcels or stop licking soil from a plant awaiting care.  Sometimes I have to put my hands on my hips and scowl.  After our walk, she waits for the gentle double-tap on her bum to tell her she can go through the door and back inside the house.  

 

My favourite signal comes at day’s end.  Charly habitually goes outside on last time just before her bedtime.  She’s excellent at telling time, and routinely comes to myself or my spouse at around 8 pm or 8:30 at the latest.  She stares with a cocked head, or noses us.  After being taken outside, all of us in the family used to call it a night.  But, as my tween daughter morphs into a night owl, the three of us humans stay up later.  Charly doesn’t quite understand what is happening and she would prefer that we not stay up later.  (Frankly, I’m inclined to agree).  How do I explain to her that she should go to sleep?  I’m really not sure how this came to be:  I press her front chest gently but firmly with my four fingers – like a button.  And, Charly goes to her bed…switched off for the night…recharging for dawn.

Cock-a-doodle-doo, of sorts

  For the first couple years of Charly’s life, she enjoyed sleeping on the bed.  When I bought her, I had no intentions of letting her sleep on the bed – a little crate awaited her on the floor when she first arrived as a puppy.  The crate was placed on the bed the first night, then beside the bed thereafter.  I think it was the regularity of her wake-ups in the dark (usually to go out to pee, but sometimes just for reassurance) that convinced me to let her sleep on the bed one night – it would be easier for me to be woken up to take her out.  It was a very slippery slope…one night turned into every night.  And, Charly became accustomed to waking me up to go outside.  Eventually, she thought this was her job - to wake me up.

Charly proved to be great at this job – sometimes overly enthusiastic.  The wake-up calls would come too early – and I’m a morning-person.  They also became a bit unfriendly.  The cute puppy nips at my ears and wet nosing on my face morphed into kicks with her hind legs.  I would open my eyes afterward to see her still and looking out the nearby picture window, pretending she knew not who had done that.  

 

Now, Readers, you may expect that as an old dog, when Charly began to inhabit only the main floor (see OldDogBlog on November 3, 2023 “Bedroom Renovation”) that I slept like a princess-sans-pea.  After all, my bedroom is a whole floor above her, or a whole floor beneath her in the basement in the high heat of summer.  Let me dash both our expectations:  Charly the senior dog continues to execute her duties.  She is additionally motivated because breakfast precedes “walks”, and my service commences only after I’m awake and moving.  In spite of her deafness, she has learned that even from the main floor where she sleeps, she can wake me.  It’s not by barking (thankfully).  It’s not by howling (also, thankfully).  It’s by scratching at the floor by the staircase to the upper level.  The noise travels upstairs and is not blocked out by the bedroom door.  And, on those hot summer days, the scratching at the floor by the staircase to the lower level happens to be right above my head where I sleep in the basement.  Charly, even as an old rooster, refuses to retire.  (And I guess I will always get that worm!) 

(This blog is dedicated to Gracie who recently passed xoxo).

Practically perfect…even at Hallowe’en

Let’s ponder OldDogBlogs “Practically perfect” from March 13, 2024 and “Brazen” from December 8, 2023. Essentially, let’s just add them together and see what comes out....  

Hallowe’en is a Fall favourite at my house - spooky decorations, multiple costumes for each different gathering that day, and mini chocolate bars to hand out to trick-or-treaters.  Whether young human or old canine, everyone in my family loves Hallowe’en and candy treats.  Charly’s patience for human error expands that day.  Simultaneously, her brazen behaviour is enhanced.  She’s ready…to steal, search out, or snatch any item with chocolate content. 

 A few years ago, this stealth paid off when my daughter’s chubby clumsy child hands held too many mini chocolate bars.  They all spilled to the floor, and Charly – ever vigilant – seized the moment.  She gobbled down one KitKat bar, and had a second in her mouth by the time I could respond.  I pried the wrapper and some wafer hanging around her clenched teeth, but part of the second one went down the hatch too.  We were experienced by that point in knowing how much chocolate was too much for our stout dog, and did not concern ourselves!  It then became a science lesson for my little Grade Oner:  what’s our hypothesis about plastic wrap and dog stomach acid?  We made observations.  In about a day and a half, the experiment ended.  Contrary to predictions, the poo was practically perfect…and so was the wrapper!  

 

Happy summer, readers!  Rejoin OldDogBlog in Fall 2024.

Sunny days

  With an old dog, there are highs and lows.  For Charly, usually these are determined by her health rather than events, outings, or runs in fun places.  Bouts of good health are highs, and infection or illness are lows.  For the past few months, Charly has been in a high.  Our vet prescribed a new medication to assist with her arthritis, and she hasn’t had an infection for quite a while.  Thus, sometimes she goes farther on walks – albeit just a few metres, and she has a bit more spunk.  

But, the next low lurks around a corner.  In the past, it comes suddenly, or with gravity.  I thought a low was looming a week ago.  I was working from home, and Charly had been sunning herself on the deck.  I went to close the door after a while, and didn’t see her. I checked each of her four beds on the main floor of the house.  No dog.  I searched other less popular areas on the main floor.  Still no dog.  She couldn’t have gone upstairs, could she have?  No dog upstairs.  She didn’t go downstairs, did she?  No dog downstairs.  There was only one other place.  I ran outside into the backyard.  I found her staring at the backyard gate with soil circling her mouth.  After sunning herself on the deck, Charly had decided to venture down the outdoor stairs by herself…likely to lay in a grassy patch (specially planted for her) and eat some dirt (not meant for her).  She hasn’t tried the stairs in over a year, but I suspect she had been feeling a little spry in her high lately, and so she took them.  Then, tiring of the yard, she took the path to the backyard gate.  She stood there…either hoping it would open or sending me telepathic messages to open it, so she could get back into the house without having to go back up those outdoor stairs!  That evening, I noticed Charly was extremely slow and stumbled a bit.  I think she mustn’t have made it down those outdoor stairs without some tripping or slipping, but there was no lasting injury.  We had narrowly missed a loathsome low…and for now, happily, the high continues.