Reposting it because first, it's her anniversary the week before Thanksgiving. And she just became very sick, suddenly off balance and unable to walk without falling over or to hold anything down, which is rare for a hound dog that has enhanced smell and thus an interest in all things food. At the emergency room the day after the snow storm, when roads were clear to get her there, we receive the diagnosis of canine vestibular disease, which is like miniere's disease/vertigo (also known as old dog disease : ( The other possibility is a brain tumor, but we are not going there until after we first pursue the more curable option.
The treatment is pretty straightforward: Dramamine - what I remember taking on my first flights abroad (I recall wonderful long windows of sleep on trips to Beunos Aires and Rio, which are fantastic places to visit because they are among the world's most beautiful cities with the added bonus of no jet lag). And time. Two days after her hospital stay she is definitely still off her feet but seems to be making some progress. She's eating, which is a good sign. She wants to be outside sniffing, which is an essential activity for a hound dog. But she still has to be carried up and down the stairs, gets wobbly after walking half a block, and tilts her head sideways due to being so off balance.
Going out for a walk sans my girlfiend feels weird. So much in 9 years that she has helped us through, a grown-up therapy dog bringing unconditional love and endless reasons to laugh at her idiosyncrasies, which tend to be less chaotic or labor intensive than her brother's. And in those 9 years 2 boys have grown up. For Ruby, as for the rest of us, growing older is tinged with anxiety for the future. Her eyes are getting cataracts and she has trouble going up and down the stairs and her breathing seems heavier. Yet for both of us I try not to dwell too much on the slowing or weakening of systems, always grateful for aging given the alternative...
Most of my difficulty with looking over the past 9 years is how different this time has been than I ever could have imagined: far more spent on the nouns and jobs I haven't been able to quit: constant caregiver, unpaid project manager, barely adequate housekeeper (our motto: presentable, not perfection) and not enough on the verbs, the doing: writing, performing, facilitating, community building, cooking, connecting... I'm in my late 50s in a culture that constantly talks about nurturing fresh young voices and it pisses me off that there's no interest in nurturing all the voices that have been put on hiatus or downsized due to extenuating circumstances when we have so much to say and teach. And why do old dogs need to learn new tricks? What if they're really good at what they do, and they're doing just fine? Ruby is just as loving and fun and endearing as the first day I met her.. Age is nothing to fear or disdain, we still want and need the same things. Fresh air and good food and other beings who care about us, a sense of purpose even if it's just to sniff and explore, solving unseen mysteries.
I'm rooting for Ruby, one old gal to another. For now, she still is carried up and down the stairs to go out and pee and equally importantly, to smell the grass and trees and the leaves sprawled over the ground mingling with the remnants of snow, the lingering scent of many animals before her. Those still young and scurrying by, those like us just starting to struggle, to show our age in ways completely natural in the cycle of life. I sit by her side and tell her we love her no matter what, as she's told us the same thing thousands of times. What a good girl. Here's hoping she's going to be fine. But no matter what we're there for her.
https://jth522.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/je-ne-sais-quoi/
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