My Little Old Man

My feelings have been hurt for a couple of weeks now.

Max, my 14 year old cocker, is my life. He has helped me through some pretty bad times. When I was recovering from surgery to have my right inner ear removed he stayed by my side 24 hours a day even though I had to crawl for the first two weeks that I was home (I had to learn to balance with only one inner ear).

Well, for a couple of weeks now, when I would go to tousle his little top knot, he would shy away from my hand for a moment. It was really like he was afraid I was going to strike him. Since he has never been hit in his life I was wondering what it was that I could have done.

Then yesterday I was looking deep into his eyes (yes, I do that) and I realized something. Although his eyes have been cloudy with age for some time now I suddenly saw just how bad they really are. So now I move more slowly when I go to pet him on the top of his head and he has no problem. I feel bad, thinking that I was scaring him. My heart hurts knowing that he is going blind. I knew it would probably come as he got older but this is a lot for me to handle. I suffer from major depressive disorder and anxiety and he helps me with dealing with going outside and when I have panic attacks.

He is already going deaf. He no longer hears a soft knock at the door like he used to. I have been around older cocker spaniels before, so I knew this would be a part of his aging. But realizing his blindness in a flash like I did has left me so sad. It makes me love him even more, if that is possible, as now I realize that he will need me to be more careful with him.

That dog bed was the best $36.00 I ever spent! I miss him snuggling on the couch with me but he would no longer jump up by himself and, once I helped him up, I was afraid of him hurting himself by jumping down.

I will try to push the knowledge of his mortality out of my mind until it must be faced. I should still have a few years with him and I need to concentrate on making his life easier in his old age. He has been there for me, now it is my turn to be there for him.

Every Day Is National Pet Day

This morning I awoke in my usual position - one arm flung over my best buddy. He's a black cocker spaniel named Max. I thought that today would be a good day to write about dogs. Then later I was scrolling through Facebook and saw that it is National Pet Day. How apropos.

I have loved and had dogs all my life. In my childhood I ran the woods and fields with a black labrador retriever named B.C.. He showed up one summer day, and stayed. If I was outside, he was right with me. This was a long time ago and the neighborhood dogs ran loose. There were very few fences and even fewer people that kept their dogs chained. B.C. was the best dog a kid could have asked for. He could play fetch, chase after my bike, or just sit and listen as I poured out my secrets. When I was in high school a friend of mine said he was "a dog's dog" and the term fits.

One day there was a knock at the door. It was a neighbor asking if we still had "that black dog". For a moment my heart jumped into my throat. Was he going to tell us B.C. had been hurt or killed? But, no, he told us that he thought we might like to see something. Once at his house we saw that his golden retriever had just had puppies. Every one of them was black! Because my father held B.C. in high regard he agreed to us keeping one of the pups. I named him Ra. (I had just entered high school and had discovered Todd Rundgren.) Ra grew to be a 145 pound baby. He had a habit of lying in the dirt to the side of the front steps and surprising people with his deep, throaty bark when they came to the door in the dark. Of course they couldn't see him so it scared the crap out of them. But he wouldn't have hurt a fly.

There were other dogs in between then and now. Dogs we bought for the boys when they were small because every kid needs a dog.

But my Max is special. He was given to me 14 years ago, a tiny black ball of fluff. We have been through a lot, he and I. He's lived with kids and cats. My first grandson was a toddler when he was a puppy and the two would play and cuddle. When my ex-husband was drunk and took off with him in the car in order to hurt me, it was that that gave me the impetus to leave that relationship. The vet called me later that day to let me know that Max was there. My ex had let him get out of his van and get hit by a car. Max was very bruised but thank goodness it wasn't worse. But since then he has not cared for the vet one bit.

I developed Meniere's Disease. You get dizzy, fall down, and throw up. Leaning over could bring on an attack so Max learned to get up on the back of the couch for me to attach his leash for walkies. When I had to have one of my inner ears removed in order to quell that Meniere's he did not leave my side during my six week recovery. I had to move his food and water into the bedroom because I realized he would not leave my side to eat and drink.

I never let him develop the common cocker trait of barking his fool head off at every little thing. He has disliked only a handful of people, and it always turned out that he was right in his judgement. Everyone loves him. In my apartment complex there are people who initially said they hate dogs that now pet him and coo over him when we meet.

Time passes. I used to joke that my dog was my doorbell but now he often does not respond to knocks at the door. His once bright, glistening eyes are now getting cloudy. The vet says it is just age. Just age. He now uses stairs to get on and off the bed. And I recently bought him a dog bed with orthopedic foam and he enjoys it when we are in the living room. He used to be snuggled against me on the couch but he can't jump up there anymore and I am afraid of letting him jump down. But he is still like a young dog on our walks. He does enjoy going walkies.

So, to Max, happy National Pet Day. Thank you for being my dog, my love, my reason to get up in the morning. Thank you for being a good dog. Good boy.