Thursday, July 29, 2021

THIS IS THE HARD PART

 This is the hard part.  

The watching as she falls in her own bowel movements.  The watching as she staggers around, trying to find her way.  The watching her fall over and over again and when her little legs give out on her.  Watching and waiting.  

Last night I made my bed on the floor, hoping she'd snuggle up to my feet like she does in bed.  But she's a creature of habit, and once I closed the door to the bedroom, where she typically climbs the ramp to join us in bed,  her routine had been interrupted, and she refused to lay at my feet.  I couldn't leave the door opened for her to climb the ramp to bed, she barely makes it, then she falls going down.

She slept sweetly though, through the night.  Up and down a number of times, and outside to potty, and then fall, not able to get back up.  I did not sleep, hardly at all.  

This is the hard part.  Waiting, while she spends the day at the vet's office.  Waiting for him to examine her in between his scheduled surgeries, to evaluate, how shall we move forward from here?

Is her time with us to end now?  Will we continue to fight to keep her comfortable?  I pray for discernment, as I wait for the vet's call.  I will likely go with his professional opinion - what now?    

This is not a very good post, but I just wanted to write something.

This is the hard part.

This morning, on our way to the vet


Saturday, July 24, 2021

A Day in The Life of a Senior Dog Mom

At 10 PM I begin the night shift.  This job requires, and/or is not limited to:  letting the dog out, bringing the dog in, watching that the dog is safe and does not wander into a corner and become lost, taking the dog out, bringing the dog back inside, moving my legs out of the way so the dog can sleep there when she wants to, cleaning up poop (in case I'm not pawed awake and she has no choice), cleaning up pee (same), taking the dog out, bringing the dog in, searching for the dog in the middle of the night to make sure I did not leave her out and fall asleep (haven't yet), making sure she does not fall off the bed, googling her issue of the day while trying to stay awake until I hear her bark to come back inside, cleaning up vomit, taking the dog out, bringing the dog in, etc. etc. etc. 

At 9:00 AM.  After coffee, God-time, and breakfast, I finish up my shift.  Kinda.  It takes 3 to 4 bags, and around the pool, I go looking for her night-time poops.  I examine them to make sure they are healthy-looking.  Then I dispose of them.  If worms are found, It's off to the vet we go for medications.  If her stool is funky-looking, I purpose to clean up her diet. 

Monday through Friday, 9 AM to 5PM, my job is not finished.  I need to monitor the dog.  If her eyes look weird and her head is tilted, it's time for another vet visit.  Note:  AC in the car does not stay cold after sitting for 2 1/2 hours in the hot sun.  (Covid restricts us from going inside)  So we wait.  Outside.  In the heat of the day.  When the AC wanes, it is my job to get the dog out of the car and take her to the nearby shade of a tree and don't forget the water.  Not for me, for her.  She needs to stay hydrated.  It's my job.  Oh, and I mustn't forget my debit card.  This one will be a whopper of an invoice.  It was.

Update:  After injections for some type of inner ear thing again, Gracie is doing much better.  She's hearing and seeing better, and her weird eyes look normal now.  She still needs her multiple outside visits from dusk till dawn, but, at least she can somewhat see me waving the flashlight for her to come in the right door.  

Today is a good day for her.  We never know though, what tomorrow may bring.  

#LoveMyDog


Wednesday, July 7, 2021

Rambling On...

Many ask, how are you enjoying retirement?  I am!  I loved my job, and especially when I ran my own business, but being retired is even better.  When I'm not busy shadowing Gracie and trying to make her comfortable in her old age, or doing other random things, I find the time to write.  I love to write, and I really miss blogging.  I have another blog going, but it's not a personal blog like this one.  I've even created another Facebook page using my maiden name, which I am keeping public while my other is private.  It's really weird.  I've hoped to discontinue my personal Facebook page and my personal (this) blog eventually.  But.  I just can't seem to bring myself to do it.  It's like,  you are my friends.   We've shared so many years.     

I've been coming back here, doing a little reading and a little blogging.  And it brings back a really great time in my life when I started connecting with you all.  I'd love to read about happenings in everyone's life.  I laughed and cried with you.  Some friends here have sadly, disappeared.   Some from dying, some just vanish.  It's the ones who vanished that I mourn the most.  I wonder, are they okay?  Where has life taken them?  Life is tough, are they doing alright?

*sigh*

I know I'm rambling.  These past several years have separated so many friends and family through politics and social media, and that is sad.   It's okay to think differently or believe differently.  After all, we're not robots,  right?  

God is love.  He commanded us to love one another.  Love is an action.  Everyone should just do it.  Be kind.  



Thursday, July 1, 2021

Bittersweet

A REPOST FROM 2015

My mom loved holidays.  She loved the food, the family get-togethers, the time with her kids, grandkids and grand-dogs.

 I can still hear her laughter.  Her complimenting the potato salad and asking for a piece of cake.  I can see her smile.

But with life comes the sting of death as well, and the 4th of July fireworks that were heard from her hospital room on the night she left this world will always echo in my mind and will be a reminder to me that our lives are simply a dash in time.

Our birth -  Our death.

Hidden beneath that tiny dash is the gift of life that God gave to us.  We can use that dash complaining and whining about our lives and the state of things or we can see every day as a new opportunity to move forward in a positive way.


Life can be tough.

 I think if we take "life" too seriously we can easily become depressed and withdrawn.  Yet...  If we don't take "life" seriously enough we can become stagnant in our growth as human beings.


Somewhere there's a happy medium.

Mom was fun.  She always had a smile and to my knowledge she didn't pay too much mind to current events or the state of the world.  She loved everyone and treated everyone equally.  She loved God and she loved Jesus.  What I admired most about her was that she would never say or do anything to hurt another person, not intentionally anyway.

I'm thinking it has been twenty-one years now.

I believe that when someone you love dies, a piece of your heart goes with them.


Tonight as I hear the sound of booms and bangs from the 4th of July fireworks in a distance,  I will be swept back in time...  standing in that quiet, hopeless hospital room, holding her hand and thinking about a hot summer's picnic beneath the willow tree in our yard as she asks me to pass the potato salad, please.