Dignity

 Dignity. It's what I always promised by boy Harvey. He was a big dude with bad knees and a bum shoulder. Mobility became harder for him as he aged. Getting up and down was hard on him and our walks had to be shortened some times. He was great at telling me if he wanted to walk or not. Sometimes he had all the energy n the world but I had a limit his enthusiasm sometimes. We always had to get back home. I started driving him to the places we used to walk to so he could still enjoy his favorite places. I never wanted his world to shink. I wanted him to continue to enjoy sunsets, Red Collar, beaches and brunches. 

When he originally tore his ACL I had the same issue. I didn't want him to be house-bound and get drepressed. I would drive to the park by the river and carry him to area where he could lay and look at the river and see people. He was so great about it. Luckily we didn't have too much time between his injury and surgery. 

As he got older he became a kinder and gentler. His reactivnesss eeemd to idsapte as if he knew that he didn't need to be that dog anymore. He greated dogs on the street and soaked up all of the attention he could. As we walked slowly, people would come up and say hi as everyone loves old dogs. Many would recount their stories of their dogs aging and passing and we would end up hugging and crying together. Seeing that they were able tohandle their geif gave me hope as I was deep into a state of anticipatory grief myself. 

I always said that my dogs would have a dignified life. They would not be left alone or feel unloved. Keeping him engaged as he aged was important. He loved laying on my bed, but the height was too great for him to jump up on unassited anymore. So, I bought a new, lower bed. One that he could jump up on all alone. He still liked to be helped - just so I would sit and cuddle him once he settled on the bad. He knew how to manitpulate me. I would get his favorite stuffed chicken and we would play as he layed there. While I was making dinner, and his excitement about the coming food grew, he would squeek his chicken and bait me into playing wiyth him. I loved the way he could manipulate me. He was so smart. 

He went through periods of decreased mobility and I had to help him up and down more often. Sometimes he would go through weeks of feeling good and was entirely mobile on his own. I don't know what it feels like to have cancer. How it changes your overall feeling, mental and physical. I knew that he knew he was sick. You could see it in his eyes and they way he liked to be close and be comforted. We began have quiet evenings on my bed. I played stupid games on my iPad, or read, and he would lay with his back against me. This is a postion he never chose to be in, but the closeness and me rubbing him helpped his overall feeling I am sure. It helped my mental state as well. Knowing he was always my little puppy and he needed me.  

I would spend countless hours with him on the front deck in the evenings. I would lay beside him, or with my head on him as if he were a big pillow, and would read or just talk to him. I would sometimes fall alseep on him. It was a dry and warm autumn and winter which allowed him to spend most of the time out on the deck. It kept him engaged with his neighborhood and he got to see dogs and his friends. I think the cooler air felt good on his lungs as well. He was having more trouble breathing and I know the cool helped. I could not get him to come inside at noght but worried about him gertting cold. That didn't seems to be an issue. 

I would leave him out with his beds and two smaller pads that a freind had given me, and would go to bed. I would wake after a few hours and go and check on him. Sometimes he had to pee, sometimes he would come in and lay on the tile floor. One night he had peed on the deck and wad embarassed. I comforted him and gave him some treats to make it all ok and show him I did not care. 

I did everything I could to make the changes in his life as small as possible and make him feel as loved as possible.