Both Jethro (left) and Dover, have health problems that require daily medications hidden in peanut butter and other treats.
Posted on 11/13/2004 10:50:35 PM PST by freedom44
My new husband, Frank, and I are both longtime dog lovers, which is one of the reasons we bonded in the first place. We've both had many canine companions through the years and always grieved when we lost them.
But neither of us has ever dealt with the grim possibility of having to euthanize an elderly dog.
Now, we're facing that decision in duplicate.
Frank brought his 17-year-old malamute, Jethro, to our marriage last year. Dover, a 14-year-old cross between a pit bull and a Carolina dog, was my contribution. We also have a 10-year-old Australian shepherd, Callie, who has a graying muzzle and a few more pounds than she carried in her youth but is otherwise a healthy girl.
The boys are another story. Jethro, a big blue-gray dog who, at 18, retains much of the dignified beauty of his prime, suffers from arthritis and probably a touch of senile dementia. Sometimes he cries at night. Frank sits on the floor beside his bed, stroking the dog's blocky head, his velvet ears and his bony hips until he falls asleep. Some nights Jethro wakes up and hobbles restlessly around the ground floor bedroom where we all sleep (dogs on floor beds; us higher up on the queen-size) before settling down again.
Frank, the designated doorman for the dogs (I'm the designated bather), gets up whenever Jethro signals he needs to go out. Jethro takes a few unsteady steps from the door, stands there a minute or two, then totters back inside. Rarely is business accomplished on these brief forays. That usually happens later in the bedroom, now carpeted in heavy plastic and layers of frequently laundered dog blankets.
Dover, a medium-sized white dog who looks like the dog in the old RCA Victor advertisements or the one on "Little Rascals" (I'm showing my own age here), sports a football-sized benign tumor that began rising like bread dough on his right side several years ago. His veterinarian recommended against surgery from the outset. When the tumor continued to expand, I got a second opinion and then a third. Those veterinarians agreed with the first. Dover was already an old dog, the operation and recovery would be lengthy and painful for him and expensive and inconvenient for me. It would involve (among other things) thrice-weekly trips from Atlanta to Athens for radiation treatments for at least a month. Each time, Dover would have to be anesthetized.
I don't think the vets made a bad call. But the upshot is that Dover, now pushing 15, is permanently off-balance. When he walks, he tries to compensate for the weighty tumor by turning his right foot in so sharply that his elbow sticks out at an odd angle. He's got arthritis and allergies. A few months ago, we learned he has bladder cancer.
For the most part, the dogs seem content with their current world, which has gradually shrunk to the confines of our bedroom. They can't get out and chase squirrels or cats anymore. It's been several years since Dover accompanied me to the beach and rolled joyfully in the redolent remains of a long-dead turtle. He always came back reeking of what my son, Karl, calls eau de tortuge.
We're convinced Jethro and Dover dream about their younger days. When they sleep, sometimes their legs make running movements, their ears perk up, their eyelids flutter. Jethro's muffled barks are a faint echo of his old cat-chasing days.
Their favorite waking activity nowadays is eating. They get more treats than ever because we tuck their daily array of pills into spoonfuls of peanut butter, chunks of cheese and smears of smelly braunschweiger. Sure, it probably isn't the ideal way to dispense medicines, but we're way beyond worrying about that. Callie demands and gets her smaller share of treats, sans pills, which explains her matronly figure of late.
The medicines seem to keep Jethro and Dover comfortable. When the weather changes, their arthritis flares. It happens about the same time Frank's joints ache, and I have to stretch long and hard before getting out of bed.
Frank and I don't talk much about what comes next with Jeth and the Dov, because it makes us sad. What goes unsaid is our joint commitment not to let our dogs suffer, no matter how hard it might be to bid them goodbye.
But how will we know when that time comes? What milestone will need to pass to alert us?
My sister-in-law, Shelley, believes we've already gone beyond that point. She points out the hours we spend washing beds and blankets for incontinent dogs. And the money we can't afford on veterinary visits and medicines. She doesn't need to remind us about sleep-interrupted nights. Of course we realize our dogs don't have what many dog owners would consider real quality of life anymore.
"Think about all the dogs in pounds and humane societies that need good homes," Shelley says. "Wouldn't it be better to spend your efforts rescuing young dogs that might otherwise go to the gas chamber?"
We know she means well but somehow that logic just doesn't work for us.
We've talked over the issue with a few veterinarians we trust. One said the time has come when a beloved dog no longer responds to us. Another said when attempts at pain control fail. The third said simply that we'd know.
Probably we will. These boys have been with us a long, long time. We don't intend to let them down.
Meanwhile, we'll hope for what everyone does with elderly or sick loved ones: that they'll go to sleep, peacefully and painlessly at home.
And in the case of Jethro and Dover, we hope they go dreaming of cats, braunschweiger and eau de tortuge.
I know how hard this must be for you. I lost one dog unexpectantly to cardiac arrhythmia in August. My other dog, 11 1/2, was diagnosed with a collapsing trachea. I'm awake right now so that I can keep an eye on him. I doubt he will make to through the holidays.
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My friend has a pet parrot that lives up to 90 years old. I don't understand why dogs can't live longer. It's not fair, dogs should get together - riot and call for equal rights. :)
Dogs are family members. I'm sorry to hear about your situation. I've been through it before... best wishes!
Your post brought tears to my eyes. We love all animals, and over the years have had two dogs and many cats in our lives. Several have had to be put to sleep because of illness and old age. Heartbreaking, but my only consolation is that they're not suffering anymore. We provided good care and lots of love for them, and that love was returned tenfold. I still miss all of them.
One of our sons would always "find" a cat who needed a home soon after one of ours departed, and this actually helped to ease the pain. There are SO many animals who need homes.
The Canine Caucus!
My family has gone to the dogs...
Woof
Love, Yoshi (8 yrs old)
Pretty Daschund
My Freep name comes from a dog my cousin had when I was young..A really smart dog....We have 2 dogs now:a Golden and a mutt....they are the best
Okay, bawling now. Have had to put two down in my lifetime. Hoping for the courage (or God's good grace to take her first) to do the right thing again.
(Where's the damned tissue. . .?)
This is so hard for me to read. I fear the day I have to make this kind of decision. I have a 9 year old Maltese who is my child, and I see him slowing down. He still looks like a pup, but as much as I like to pretend he is, I know better. He is the sweetest dog in the world, loves everyone and has given me unconditional love. I can't stand to think about him not being here.
Beautiful friends. I've had several friends with Maltese.
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