My Fire Hydrant

Tyler had surgery on Thursday. His anal glands were removed.

Tyler with his e-collar "donut"

Tyler has been on and off antibiotics for the past several months because his anal glands keep getting infected. To treat this, our dogtor has to pack the glands with antibiotic ointment. This treatment is not without dangers–for instance, the possibility of tearing the gland opening when the ointment is inserted. So after much discussion and thought, we decided the best thing for Tyler is to remove the glands.

So, he had laser surgery on Thursday and now has 6 tiny stitches around his butt. And his butt had to be shaved. You know those baboons that have the really pink butts? Tyler’s butt looks remarkably like a baboon butt!

Tyler's favorite place to lay--on my chest!

I’ve spent the past 3 days  (I took Friday off from work) coddling and petting and stroking him. And he’s milked it for all it’s worth. I know he’s milking it because one of our neighbors was over last night and Tyler was totally his normal stinker self, until she left. Then he reverted back to this needy little sorrowful soul who had to be held and loved on. I’m cutting him some slack, though, because I know the stitches are uncomfortable (even though he’s on pain meds) and the fact that his butt is hairless has got to be freaky-feeling.

He’s been in an e-collar, until today, to keep him from chewing on his butt. When I found out he would have surgery, I purchased an e-collar that looks a lot like an inflatable life-preserver. It fits around his neck and keeps him from bending his neck to get to his butt. I even had time to get him used to it before the surgery. I took it off him today–and I know he’s happier without it. But that’s meant I’ve had to watch him like a hawk so that he doesn’t chew on his stitches.

So all the regular household stuff I wanted to get done this weekend has not happened. But at least my dog is happy. Well mostly happy. He’s not going to be totally happy until his hair grows back and his butt is no longer bare. Sucks to have baboon butt.

It is official. I’ve gone ’round the bend.

Tyler has been having some loose/soft stool issues for the past 3 weeks. No other symptoms–his appetite is good; he’s as playful as ever. And it’s not everyday that his stool is overly soft. Just every now and then.

I finally took him to the dogtor this past Saturday. After much discussion and a finger up the butt (the dogtor’s finger up Tyler’s butt!), we came to the conclusion that he’s having these poopy issues because he likes to eat the dead leaves that blow up onto our patio and into the little terrace of grass where he plays and goes potty. It would probably help matters if I would sweep and rake up the few leaves that had collected.

I didn’t have time to get to it over the weekend. So today during lunch I decided I would make a start and at least vacuum the patio rug. That worked out so well that I thought I would try vacuuming the brick border around the patio. Next thing you know, I’m vacuuming the grass. Three vacuum bags later I noticed my neighbor was looking out of her laundry room window, laughing at me.

Yes. The gossip has now been confirmed and I am officially the neighborhood crazy dog lady.

The things we do for love.

I look back now and realize that Bailey’s illness didn’t happen overnight. It’s been going on since before Thanksgiving.

On a normal evening, I’d lay down on the couch and read or watch TV or whatever and Bailey would always cuddle up with me. But several weeks ago her cuddle positioning changed. Though she tried to lay as she normally would, she could not seem to get comfortable and so would move to the end of the coach in a kind of a frustrated huff. A couple of times she even gave a very soft yelp, as if she hurt herself.

This also happened at bedtime. We had a routine–I’d put a couple of kibbles under her pillow, and after she ate them she would crawl under the covers, cuddle for a while, and then move back up to her pillow. But her cuddle position changed, again as if she couldn’t get comfy.

This never struck me as something major–in fact, I’m not even sure I conciously thought about it until Thursday night.

Watching her on Thursday, I realized that all week I had been seeing her gait degenerate, especially her back legs. As she walked, her butt was swaying left-and-right and her back legs seemed to swing outward and away from her body instead of just back-and-forth.

Over the week, her squats when she pottied had become more-and-more clumsy till she finally just wouldn’t squat anymore. By Wednesday I would carry her outside, she would look like she couldn’t figure out what to do, and then walk back to the door to be let in. Twice her bladder released its load just as we got inside the door. I know now she could no longer squat.

I gave up trying to get her outside to potty. I kept her gated in my room/office. She was welcome to pee on my carpet.  And for once she made no objection to being barred in the room. In fact, she didn’t seem to want to leave her bed. When she looked up at me, it was like she didn’t see me, as if she were in her own world. It might have been the drugs–I kept her pumped with pain meds–but I don’t think so. I’m not sure the pain meds were taking care of all her pain.

Thursday evening I again brought her out to the sofa to join us. The prior evenings she seemed to notice we were there and every time I got up she kept track of where I was. This time she had no interest. And she could not get comfortable. I finally carried her back into her bed in my bedroom.

And I started thinking about the times when she seemed to be experiencing what I thought was arthritis pains, and the light bulb went on–we’d been looking in the wrong places. The problem was in the area around her back legs. Over the past week, it was her hind end that had gotten progressively weaker and troubling.

I left her in her own bed. During the night I heard her get up and lay on the carpet. Around 3 she shifted again and I realized she had again had an involuntary bladder release while she slept. By 6 AM I think I had made the decision. I gathered her up, put her on my bed and lay down beside her to tell her it would soon be over. She allowed this to go on for maybe 10 minutes and then indicated that she wanted down. Up until Thursday she made an attempt to indulge my cuddles. Now she wanted none of it.

For the third morning, I called Dr. B to speak with her before her appointments started. I told her about my theory about Bailey’s hind end. She agreed that it made sense and we both wondered if perhaps the cancer was back.

Doing x-rays of the area would cause her needless pain because of the way her body would have to be twisted (we had been forced to do this a couple years ago and I had promised myself I would never put her through that again). Even if we did discover it was the cancer, we had already made the decision of no chemo/surgery.

And now that I knew where to look I could see that with all the treatments we had tried over the week there was no progress, only degeneration in her condition. She was not responding. She was in pain. So we made an appointment for the big sleep.

For the 3rd morning, Bailey was coaxed into her Sherpa bag and my mom and I drove to the clinic. We were met at the door by one of the techs and taken to an exam room. We talked through what was going to happen–all of us in tears. Bailey’s groomer, Aunt T came in to say goodbye. My little pooch touched so many hearts at the clinic! They took her back to the hospital area and put a catheter into the vein in her leg, then brought her back to us. My mom and I had spread one of Bailey’s blankets out on the table. Dr. B joined us. We said our goodbyes to her and as Dr. B gave her the final injection through the catheter she so peacefully hid her head in the folds of the blanket just like she used to do when we would go to bed at night. Eventually, Dr. B wrapped her in another blanket and took her away. She really looked like she was just having a good sleep.

As we left, we were hugged by the receptionists. Later that day I heard from Dr. T–he was not at the clinic on Friday, but her had called in for something and they told him that Bailey was gone. Friday evening T (Bailey’s groomer) called us to see how we were doing. She told me that everyone at the clinic was affected by Bailey’s passing. They are such wonderful people and took such good care of my girl.

So many people–friends, family, co-workers, neighbors–have reached out to me with kindness. It warms me to think that Bailey had such a large group of friends and fans, and I am so grateful for the thoughts and prayers that you all have shared. Thank you so much.

I look at her bed that still holds the indentation of where she lay only 48 hours ago, and I feel the empty loneliness of her absence. I miss her so much.

She slept pretty deeply overnight. Woke me around 3 am with a little vomiting, then at 6 am with a request to be set on the floor so she could get a drink. It’s been 2 and a half days since she ate–but Dr. B says that’s not a huge concern. As I watch her, I am more firmly convinced that her tummy is upset and she’s in some pain in her backend.

When I sat down at my desk today, she sat at my feet and kept looking at me and at her bed under the desk. She did not move to get into her bed, just gave me that “I’m miserable” look. Her bed is a nice orthopedic one–I got it specifically because of her tendency towards arthritis and back pain, from a mail order catalogue that claims veterinary expertise. But here’s the oxymoron: The bottom cushion of the bed is very thick, which means that any dog using the bed has to make a “jump” to get into it. The bed is marketed for dogs with arthritis issues. Wouldn’t you think that the creators of the bed would have thought about the fact that it might be painful for a dog with arthritis to “jump” into a bed?

So, I’ve removed her bed and put a couple of bed cushions under my desk. She was very happy with that, and seemed almost eager to curl up. Just goes to show you: Who needs the expensive new-fangled orthopedic stuff when you got 2 bed cushions?

Around 10:30 we made a trip to the clinic. More anti-nausea/anti-acid shots plus something for pain. And sub q fluids. When we got home, she vomited more water. It was like someone had hooked a hose up to her other end and the water spewed out. She looked surprised.

Still not eating. And we still don’t know for sure what the heck is causing her to be sick.

Not much change.

At lunch today we made another quick trip to the vet so that Bailey could get an injection for nausea. But she’s still not eating. She slept all day under my desk, then all evening next to me on the sofa. I wonder if she got any rest at all while she was hospitalized–Dr. B told me she’s not a good candidate for hospitalization. I have to smile about that–Bailey and I are so bonded I think that’s one of the reasons I argued against hospitalization in the first place. Dr. T told me that each time they tried to put food down for her she tried to wiggle out the cage door. And she was very noisy as they got ready for today’s surgeries–she wanted to go home! As tired as she was, she followed me around today–from the office, to the kitchen, to the bathroom, back to the office. She was frugal in her steps, but she kept me in her sight.

So now it’s bed time. I’m not going to bring her up on the bed with me unless she asks. I figure, if I leave her on the floor to sleep in her own bed she can get to the water easier. And right now she seems content to sleep in her own bed. I normally turn the heat down at night, but I’m gonna leave it up tonight. I HATE sleeping in a warm bedroom, but I worry about Bailey being warm enough.

Probably doesn’t matter because I doubt if I’m gonna get much sleep.

B.R. Vet Clinic called me this morning: come pick up Bailey, she’s making too much noise.

I guess Bailey was being very vocal about wanting to get out of the hospital cage she was in. Dr. T told me that they had to drape a towel over the door to the cage to try and keep her quiet. This is a good sign because yesterday she simply lay in the cage and watched the world go by. Today, she was ready to leave and letting everyone know.

She still hasn’t eaten anything.

I’ve been trying to get her to eat–canned food, biscuits, hamburger, pieces of my toast–she’s just not interested. She’s drinking water–though not at the rate she was drinking before–but I guess that’s a good sign. The last time she ate was Sunday around 6 pm. She looks at me and her eyes say, “Of course you know what it is that I need! Why won’t you give it to me??”  Only I’m just a stupid human and I can’t figure it out. ARGH!! I HATE THIS!!!

So she’s home now. But she’s still not well. And I’m still a basket-case.

I just finished speaking with Dr. T. He says that Bailey is “acting brighter” and “vocalizing more” and that she’s reacting well to treatment. This is good news! She hasn’t eaten anything yet–but I’m not surprised. She has always been reluctant to take biscuits at the vet. Dr. T will turn her care over to her usual dogtor, Dr. B, tomorrow and hopefully Bailey will come home. But she needs to start eating again. I’ll check in again with them this evening.

I counted it up: This will be only the 7th night that Bailey and I will have spent apart in nearly 14 years. I’m not sure if that’s a sad commentary on my personal life or acclaim to the human-animal bond.

First, let me say thank you for those of you who have left comments of support and those of you I’ve talked with. We all love our furbabies, and your kind words are treasured.

I hospitalized Bailey this morning.

Yesterday morning she had to be coaxed to eat her biscuits. She flat-out refused the MiniChunks. In the afternoon I noticed a slight change in her behavior. She was a little more confused than normal (she’s almost 14 and I’ve noticed signs of canine dementia for quite a while).  And she totally lost interest in her biscuits. We made her some lean hamburger for supper–she reluctantly ate it. By bedtime she only took a couple of laps of water. She didn’t wake me during the night to get her off the bed for a drink and potty–I woke her at 4 AM–she very reluctantly went out to potty and had absolutely no interest in water. I knew then that it was time.

So at 7 I got up and got dressed–normally Bailey would have moved from her pillow at the head of the bed to the foot of the bed in prep to getting down, but not today. She refused water, food, and she wouldn’t go out to potty. I called the clinic–both Dr. B (our usual dogtor) and Dr. C (our stand-in from Friday) are off today, but good fortune smiled because Dr. T was in. I used to work with Dr. T, so I knew we would be in very caring hands.

The folks who work at the BR clinic are so wonderful! The 2 receptionists were so caring and empathetic as we waited to see the vet tech. They made a point of coming out from behind the counter and giving Bailey a scratch and me a pat. They are such lovely people.

We met first with the vet tech who got Bailey’s vitals. Dr. T was actually scheduled for surgery–but he was able to put it off so he could meet with us first. He did a very thorough exam, asked me lots of questions, looked over Bailey’s records, and took lots of notes. He also did x rays of her lungs and her liver.

The lung xray was to make sure that there was no cancer in her lungs. They’re clear.

The liver x ray was to see if we could get any hint of what might be happening. Her liver is enlarged, but Dr. T also had an x ray of her liver from a year ago and her liver was enlarged then, too. So no significant change in the size of her liver over the past year. He also looked at her blood-work–again, we had the same panels from last year and there’s no significant change.

He called Bailey “our little enigma.” He said that between the blood-work and the x rays he cannot find a reason for her symptoms and maybe we’re looking at a combination of things. Some of the older dogs he treats have lately had more problems with arthritis because our weather has been so cold. Also, he confirmed something that my friend from work Dr. Amy said to me yesterday: Sometimes older dogs who have symptoms like this simply need some fluid support to snap out of it. I’ll call him later this afternoon to see how she’s doing.

One thing I know for certain: we will not do any “heroic” measures to prolong Bailey’s life. I will not put her through invasive surgery or chemo. Her comfort is my paramount concern–and I will not consent to causing her pain just so I can have her companionship for a few extra months. This is a decision I made 4 years ago when we discussed putting her through chemo and radiation. And please understand, what’s right for me and Bailey is not what I consider right for every pet owner. We each make our own decisions based on our own experiences and knowledge of our pets.

I will probably have the dogtors take care of the bad tooth that Dr. C found on Friday–but I need more information about it before I make a decision.

So Bailey is now in hospital, and I miss her like crazy. The house seems empty without her here. But I still feel confident that I’ve made the right decisions. Keeping her home over the weekend allowed her to rest comfortably, and made me feel better too. But today her condition is beyond my skill and she needs the help of professionals. I’m going to do my best to keep thinking positive and hang on the idea that many dogs snap out of these symptoms after fluid support at the vet’s.

But, oh Dog! the house is so quiet.

An example of Bailey supervising.

So, a little over 24 hours have gone by since Dr. C advised me to hospitalize Bailey. I still think I made the right decision not to do it.

We had a relatively quiet day yesterday. I FINALLY took down our Christmas tree–that was the last of the holiday decorations. Bailey watched from the comfort of her bed or from the sofa. She is definitely drinking and peeing more than normal. She ate something at all four meal times–twice she dined on biscuits, twice on MiniChunks. Dr. C said as long as she’s eating, staying hydrated, and not vomiting than she’s OK to stay home. I’m doing all I can to pump up her liquids–she finds the beef broth very tasty.

She had a good sleep though the night–woke me only once for a drink and a pee. She certainly slept better than I did! I left the light on all night and slept in my glasses in prep for any emergencies. All my memories of doggie health crisis incidents seem to take place in the middle of the night. And the anticipation of a possible crisis made my sleep fitful.

It’s hard for me to say if her condition has worsened. Her tail is more at half-mast than at full up–which is a sign that she’s not feeling well. She follows me when I move from room to room–which is normal. But she’s not making her normal demands for cuddles. She is content to lay beside me on the same sofa where normally she would be demanding that I lay down so she can curl up in my legs. She’s alert and barks at noises (real and imaginary). But today she seems more reluctant to eat. She sniffs the MiniChunks and won’t touch them. She was less-than-enthusiastic to eat biscuits for both breakfast and lunch. But  she definitely wanted to share our pancakes this morning.

But I still am convinced it was right to keep her home. At the hospital she would be confined to a cage with nothing to engage her interest. At home she can supervise what we’re doing, get cuddles is she wants, be socially stimulated. At home, she can go outside to potty. At the hospital she would be peeing/pooing in her cage. And she doesn’t have to listen to all the other dogs, cats, and animals who would be vocalizing at the hospital. I’ve seen how she reacts to that when we go to the vet–the noise is very stressful  for her.

So I’m playing the situation hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute. My stomach is in knots, I’m distracted, but I think a little less of a basket case then I was yesterday. This is all subject to change, though. I’m going to go find a distraction…

Four years ago today, Bailey had surgery to remove her left anal gland and 2 sub lumbar lymph nodes because of cancer.

Snoozing on the Sofa!

Yesterday, we had our monthly check up with Bailey’s dogtor, Dr. B. We’ve been doing a monthly check up for four years, just waiting for the cancer to come back. I don’t want to jinx it by actually saying that Bailey is in remission–but it sure looks that way to me!!

We now are dealing with the little illnesses that come with old age.

• Bailey already had arthritis in her back legs, it’s now spread to her left front leg.
• Her diabetes is under control, but I think it’s affecting her sense of smell (Dr. B. confirms this possibility). I find that I need to nuke her food more often in order to get her to eat–her sniffer is not picking up on the aroma.
• She’s down to 18.4 pounds–which is actually good. At her heaviest, she’s hit 21 pounds. For her size, she probably should be 17. Dr. B. says the weight loss is probably related to the diabetes, but not to worry because it’s leveled off.

I have so many things to be thankful for. A wonderful dogtor and vet clinic where Bailey gets great care and I get support and empathy. My family and good friends whose eyes don’t glaze over when I mention Bailey’s health for the gazillionth time. And time with my pooch–4 years so far, instead of only 6 months.

Oh, and I’ve got all my Christmas decorations up, lights lit, and presents wrapped. (It’s been a busy weekend!)

Life is good!