Action Jackson, the half-starved shelter puppy we adopted last year from the high kill shelter, has made the leap from Shelter dog to farm dog like he was born for this life. He has a gravelly voice that could easily be misunderstood as aggressive if you didn’t know this is his sweet voice. My husband calls him Joe Grumblebub because he sounds like he’s complaining the entire time he’s giving him kisses. When we lived in the city, our king shepherd that crossed the rainbow bridge used to howl at police and fire whistles while Budward howled at train whistles. Once we moved to the country we thought we would never again hear the sweet howl of a bub but we were wrong. Lately Jack has taken up howling at the end music of the TV shows Sex in the City and Two and A Half Men. Except his howls don’t sound like the howls I remember from the past, his howls sound like he spent too much time at the tavern smoking too many cigarettes, a sound I vaguely remember from my many years past. In the evening we like to turn the TV timer on with the comedies playing as we fall asleep, yet there we are with our heads bobbing like prairie dogs as the music begins so we don’t miss anything because it is just too funny to not enjoy. There’s something about the sound he makes coming out of the little “ooooo” of lips you only see during a canine howl that is as addictive as anything I’ve ever experienced. Now when we have friends over we change channels on the TV just so they can enjoy the spectacle normally there for our enjoyment only. You remember the dread you feel when people get out home movies of their vacation? That’s us about our dogs. Not our kids and grandkids, although they have their day also, but mostly it’s the bubs. Budward, our crippled husky-mix, can no longer go down the three steps into the dog yard so we have a sling that goes around his belly to help him. As he navigates through the house looking more like a drunken sailor than the fine specimen of dog he is he sometimes leaves little presents in his wake. Years ago I worked with a guy whose wife worked for the Eukanuba, a rather pricey brand of dog food. I asked him what made the difference in price worth paying and he said it’s because the food has the right amount of fiber that leaves neat little packages rather than large messy ones, a distinct advantage at this stage of life. Some things are worth paying for, and firm, compact packages out of a 100 pound dog are one of them. He still insists on drinking only toilet water out of the guest bathroom toilet, the one that has the very slow leak so it’s always full of fresh, cold well water. I tried substituting water from the sink faucet but there was no fooling him. Whenever I fill his bowl he keeps an eye on me to insure I’m hand dipping from the toilet and not cheating him out of the special nectar that only toilet water provides. I know we’re getting to the end of time we have together so it’s a small price to pay for his companionship. Last week I spent three days in the hospital, leaving my husband to perform the tasks that I take care of. I guess Budward wasn’t sure he could be trusted because as Tim turned around with a fresh bowl of toilet water there was Budward, leaning so far over he looked as if he would topple over any second, making sure Tim was dipping from the toilet bowl. It’s funny when even your animals are looking over your shoulder to be sure you are performing tasks to their specifications. As it is with everything in life worth having, nothing is easy but the payback is enormous. Girlie Sue is our sweet, deaf girl that gives us no trouble at all. I don’t know whether male dogs are more gregarious by nature or if Girlie Sue is just especially sweet, but it seems as if my stories are all about the males. She spends her days quietly trying to please, right up until an unwanted critter gets into the yard and she turns into Girlie Sue, warrior princess, while the boys sit back and watch. She still takes care of business, insuring the area around the house is free from harm’s way. Girlie Sue and Budward are old for big dogs, and their time with us is short. We take special care to insure quality of their lives is good and that every day they play, have fun and take joy in their existence. When that no longer happens it will be time for us to put aside our selfishness but the decision is difficult with much second guessing. The Veterinary Medicine Guide offers these suggestions for when it is time to say goodbye to an old or terminally ill pet:
- Is my pet enjoying the activities that s/he used to? Eating, walking, playing, interested when you leave or come home?
- Is my pet able to eat and drink? If my pet needs to be assisted, is my pet getting adequate fluid and nutrition?
- Is my pet able to urinate and defecate ok?
- Is my pet in pain often? Is pain adequately controlled with medication?
- Is my pet part of the family, or alone most of the time?
- Does my pet now become stressed or afraid when left alone?
- Does my pet continue to recognize me?
- Does my pet seem to enjoy interaction with other pets and family members?
It will never be easy, but after all the years of joy they give us the least we can do is insure they don’t suffer at the end. Then we start the cycle all over again, opening our hearts to another even though we don’t think anything will fill the void we feel from our loss. The heart has an amazing capacity to love, and when your new friend comes into your life it completes the circle as we begin the cycle anew. If you are ready to bring a love monkey into your life to help fill the void that seems to permeate the world we live in please visit your local shelter. And never forget, it is only through you that the Randolph County Humane Society continues to save lives, one by one.
