For months I have been living in a small, quiet, relentless gloom, certain that Cooper was dying. But now I have a sense that this isn't so, not yet. Cooper is living, living with old age and arthritis and near-blindness and a late-onset heart murmur, as well as whatever degree of heart disease one sees in elders of his breed. But there is no question that he's alive. A shred of pepperoni proved that last night.
Last night, with his pain medication pretty well depleted, he made his way across the house to the three-quarter point, where his back legs slipped out from under him (with the right leg, as usual, going first). I carried him into the bedroom, gave him his meds, and settled him into his bassinet. It's interesting to see how he sleeps all night, no longer whimpering, since we increased his Rimadyl by a third. I suspect that our Vet did this as much for me as for Cooper, in adding the third half-tablet to the bedtime dose.
There was a time when I resisted giving him Rimadyl for fear of long-term side effects. But as our definition of "long-term" shortened -- realizing that few of his breed live this long at all -- we decided to stop worrying about prolonging his life and to begin instead making him as comfortable and happy as possible. My husband, whose medical reg has followed a path similar to Cooper's, declared, "Let him eat cheese!"
So we let him eat cheese and pepperoni now and then, in very small bits, so small I hesistate to call them "quantities." A deli-thin slice of pepperoni is cut into eighths, a sliver of mozzarella pinched in half, a bit of crust crumbled to the size of my smallest fingernail.
----------
Partly to counteract the stew of sorrow and happiness I feel every day, I have been making a mental gratitude list. High on the list is always Cooper's breeder, to whom I owe so many years of unabated happiness. Also near the top, his Vets over the years and their wonderful Techs who have provided so much hands-on care and once, in fact, saved his sister's life. Then too, there are his many friends and admirers on the Hoflin Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mailing list, who have provided us with so much education, compassion, cameraderie, and -- most of all -- patience. It takes a village to raise a Cavalier. Our village is partly hands-on, but also electronic. And we are grateful citizens of that special place.
Last night, with his pain medication pretty well depleted, he made his way across the house to the three-quarter point, where his back legs slipped out from under him (with the right leg, as usual, going first). I carried him into the bedroom, gave him his meds, and settled him into his bassinet. It's interesting to see how he sleeps all night, no longer whimpering, since we increased his Rimadyl by a third. I suspect that our Vet did this as much for me as for Cooper, in adding the third half-tablet to the bedtime dose.
There was a time when I resisted giving him Rimadyl for fear of long-term side effects. But as our definition of "long-term" shortened -- realizing that few of his breed live this long at all -- we decided to stop worrying about prolonging his life and to begin instead making him as comfortable and happy as possible. My husband, whose medical reg has followed a path similar to Cooper's, declared, "Let him eat cheese!"
So we let him eat cheese and pepperoni now and then, in very small bits, so small I hesistate to call them "quantities." A deli-thin slice of pepperoni is cut into eighths, a sliver of mozzarella pinched in half, a bit of crust crumbled to the size of my smallest fingernail.
----------
Partly to counteract the stew of sorrow and happiness I feel every day, I have been making a mental gratitude list. High on the list is always Cooper's breeder, to whom I owe so many years of unabated happiness. Also near the top, his Vets over the years and their wonderful Techs who have provided so much hands-on care and once, in fact, saved his sister's life. Then too, there are his many friends and admirers on the Hoflin Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mailing list, who have provided us with so much education, compassion, cameraderie, and -- most of all -- patience. It takes a village to raise a Cavalier. Our village is partly hands-on, but also electronic. And we are grateful citizens of that special place.
posted by Dorothy | 4:48 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home