As Time Goes By

Darcy had an accident last week. I let her out in the late afternoon while I got her dinner ready. When I went to the door to call her in she did not respond. I looked in the backyard and saw her at the base of the deck stairs sitting with her back legs askew.  

I grabbed my shoes and ran out. Using her front paws she tried to move and cried in pain. She trembled, looked confused and could not get up.

While I called the veterinarian’s office to arrange an emergency visit, my husband carried her into the house. Writhing in pain, she bit him on the hand, enough to break the skin.

Gradually, she gained some mobility but when she stood her back had an arch like a fisher cat. She continued to tremble, a sign of pain. At 10 years old, I feared we may have to put her down and I was not ready. I just entered her photo in a Top Dog competition and felt certain she would win. How could she get that honor posthumously? It made no sense.

The vet diagnosed a slipped disk in her back, probably from a fall down the stairs due to icy weather. He put her on painkillers and non-steroid anti-inflammatory meds. A week has passed and her recovery progresses. By week’s end she will be off the meds and hopefully, fine without them.

Tomorrow, I will take her for a short walk, the first in over a week. I will try to build her back up to three miles a day but as the vet explained, she has a back injury and is more prone to re-injury. We need to take it slow and careful, as my young dog has grown old.

How quickly life can change. In the time it took to fill Darcy’s food bowl, our world turned upside down and I felt smacked with the reality of our mortal lives.

Oh What A Night

Last night, around 11:30 pm as I was finishing up the second episode of The Killing, Darcy expressed an urgent need to go out. Little did I know that a skunk lurked nearby.

Anyway, she picked a fight, got skunked and smells awful...so does my house, garage and about an acre and a half of the area where I live. I think I smell too.

When the incident occurred, I woke my husband from his peaceful sleep. He did the search for the skunk, assuming Darcy had killed it. So far, even in the morning light, no sign of the skunk, only some white fur and a tad of black -- evidence of the scuffle. I feel pretty confident that the skunk survived. 

I just hope it does not strike again. I know Darcy is dumb enough to take the skunk on if they should encounter one another. In fact, this is the second time Darcy has been skunked. The last time was two years ago and the smell stayed with her for over a year, becoming particularly pungent when it rained and moisture hung in the air.

After the skunking occurred I jumped into action. Armed with water, peroxide and baking soda, I washed Darcy. (I heard this recipe works better than tomato juice. I am now convinced nothing works).

Years ago, when our German Shepherd, Bartholomew, got skunked, we did not know what happened. The scent was like nothing we had ever smelled before and we thought Barth had been attacked with mace. We called Poison Control and the attendant asked if we ever smelled fresh skunk. They told us the next day we would smell the familiar skunk stink but when it first happens it is more of a musky, incredibly unpleasant, nasty smell. Now I know the smell only too well.

With Barth we did not have any tomato juice and did not know about peroxide/baking soda. We used what we had, at the time, chunky Ragu tomato sauce. I can still see those little chunks of onion, pepper and carrot on Barth’s fur as we struggled, to no avail, to get rid of that God-awful smell. (Ragu sauce never looked the same after that).

When I finished the midnight bath for Darcy, we retreated to the bed. I had a bad night sleeping. Even with all the windows wide open and the fan blasting Darcy stank, my room stank and, my sheets stank. I barely slept.

When I got up in the morning, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea -- Peppermint Soap. I figure Dr. Bronner lists a zillion uses for his soap on the packaging so why not removing skunk smell from a dog. I washed Darcy again, this time in a diluted peppermint soap bath. Now the stench has a nice, minty tinge to it. 

By the way, last night Darcy hated the hose off, but this morning she seemed to rather enjoy it. When I brushed her, she was in heaven and even set her haunches down to allow herself to be coiffed. Then I brushed her teeth and she smiled.

So the long and short of this story -- 1. I wonder why I love dogs. 2. I am glad no one is coming to visit me (except my daughter who will unfortunately have to bear the smell), and 3. I am glad I am not hosting a wedding at my house.

P.S. I never did get to see the end of the second episode of The Killing. Maybe tonight.

My Pal Darcy

On my walk with Darcy this morning I started thinking about friends and why I enjoy my dog’s company so much. There is much truth to the adage that dogs are man’s (and woman’s) best friend.

Here’s what I love about my BFF Darcy:

1. She is a great listener – non-judgmental, never interrupting, and always allowing me to choose the subject and go on for as long as I want.
2. Other than walk me, water me, feed me and love me, she demands little.
3. She keeps me company and they say she is good for lowering my blood pressure.
4. She is always happy to see me and greets me with her cock-eyed, somewhat scary, smile whether 5 minutes, 5 hours or 5 days have passed.
5. She is always up for taking a walk.
6. She feels great to pet and helps calm me down when I feel frazzled.
7.  She loves the dog treats I make and convinces me that I can cook.
8. She pays attention to me.
9.  She cheers me up when I feel blue.
10.  She loves me.

So when I think of friends, I can’t help but think of Darcy. She behaves in a consistent way. I always know what I can expect from her. And, she never lets me down.

The Dark Side of Dog Walking

I carry the garbage bag like a badge of honor, dangling it in my right hand so all can see it. I want to make sure that any passing neighbors or window witches staring as I walk my dog, Darcy, have no doubt whatsoever that I cleanup after her.

Through the grapevine, I heard that a dog owner, just a few doors down from where I live, never cleans up after her pooch. I can’t blame her. Bagging dog shit ranks up there with colonoscopies and anal exams. In short, I find it gross and disgusting.

But it goes with being a dog owner. In my town, they passed a law requiring dog walkers to pick up after their dog. If you don’t and you get caught, the town will fine you $100 for each incident.

Cleaning up after your dog makes sense if she poops in front of someone’s mailbox or in the middle of a driveway. Who wants to walk into that by accident? However, given that I live in the boonies, I think the crap can safely rest in peace in some spots, alongside the moose, bear and deer droppings. And that is where I draw the line. 

If Darcy craps in a secluded space, well off the road and not near any homes…and if no one sees her (other than me), I let the poop lie and allow nature to takes its course in the disintegration process. Now I have to figure out how to train her to poop only in those hidden spots.

So for now, I swing that garbage bag, scoop up the poop and literally hold my nose. 

Me and My Shadow Follow The Same Path

They say people and their dogs often resemble one another. Think of the tall man with the tiny Chihuahua – a likeness of sorts.

Darcy definitely acts like my dog, gravitating to me even when others are around. I don’t think we look alike, although her eyes have a familiarity. But as time progresses I have noticed similarities.

One night, as I lay in bed and Darcy lay on her bed nearby, she sneezed. A few seconds later, I sneezed. Hmmm, I thought. Weird.

Then the other night as I lay on the couch watching TV with Darcy laying on the floor next to me, I stretched and made an ahhh sound. A couple seconds later Darcy stretched and made an ahhh sound.  Double weird, I thought.

Darcy follows me around the house, like my daemon. When I go upstairs she goes upstairs. As I work on the computer, she lies by my desk.

What I now notice, though, is that in those rare instances when she does not follow me, I pause, look around perplexed and call her name. Balance to my world returns when she comes by my side.

I just hope we don’t start howling at the moon.

Adios Mi Amigo

We had to say good-by to our big boy, Jasper. He started having seizures that began increasing in frequency. After the third seizure, we knew the time had come to have him euthanized.

At age 15, he had lived a long, good life and exceeded the age expectations for a dog his size by three years. But, we struggled with making the final decision.

That morning we took him for the regular 2-mile trek. He did great: walking, playing in the snow, enjoying his treats, and providing his adopted sister, Darcy, with a buddy whose ears she could chew on.   

When we arrived at the vet’s office, we questioned our decision even in those last moments. But in our gut, we knew it needed to be done. The vet sedated him to calm him down before euthanizing him. As if Jasper knew our hesitation, he had his final seizure while under sedation, giving us more evidence of his illness and showing us the compassion of our decision. He received the lethal injection in the midst of the seizure. 

The vet told us he probably had a brain tumor and that we made the right decision. What can I say other than we all miss him. For 15 years, he played a major role in our family and we loved him. I keep looking for ways to say good-by.