Old Dog, New Tricks
What do you do when you don't know what to do?
I wrote this about a year ago, but felt the nudge to share it with you now. Shasta lives full-time in NC, and it’s going okay, though our next choices will be much more difficult.
Shasta the Wonderdog is getting older—she’ll be 15 this June. Roughly three years ago, we saw some changes in her behavior. She was doing weird things, like staring at the wall and incessantly barking. I took her to the vet.
Her eyesight’s going; I think this is anxiety.
He gave me some ideas on how to help her; I did them. It helped a little, not a lot. We saw specialists; her allergies were getting bad because of her advanced age, and her hips had arthritis. We treated (and continue to treat) those as best we could.
Still anxiety, still the barking.
I called a trainer who referred me to an animal behavior specialist.
She’s getting old and has a bit of doggie dementia. Additionally, I believe she’s experiencing a great deal of pain due to her hip issues.
Shasta has been a godsend to our family over the years. She is truly an angel sent from heaven. She helped my kids (and me) heal after I divorced their father. And has an uncanny ability to stay close to the person in the house who isn’t feeling their best, both physically and mentally. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the bed if you came down with the flu or to find her outside the closed door of a brooding teenager’s room.
So much had changed in her world—a new house and the absence of the kids that once filled it. Our routines had changed, and she struggled to adjust.
She wants to be of service and protect you all, but she also knows she cannot fully do that anymore. It’s causing her to be anxious, so she’s barking.
The animal specialist gave me some exercises for the dementia and the hips.
She’ll be fine if you all don’t move or anything…
Uh - Um…
Are you moving?
Uh - yes, my husband just got a new job, and it looks like we’ll be moving.
Oh, well, that will be hard for her, but she’ll be okay if it’s not somewhere like NYC…
Uh…
You’re moving to New York City??
Um - that’s the plan, yes.
This was a hard conversation. And I felt like the worst dog parent ever.
Shasta spent that summer with my mother in her favorite place, the mountains of North Carolina, so that we could better manage the transition. She played, she frolicked, she conquered mountains. When the time came, we made the two-day trek to NYC. I was nervous but hopeful for an easy transition.
It could go either way, the behaviorist told me.
On the one hand, you are her person, so it might be enough to be with you. But on the other hand…
I didn’t like what was on the other hand.
We got out of the car on 5th Avenue, and the city's din was all around. Shasta looked shell-shocked, and I hurried to reassure her. My heart was pounding; she was panting - both of us victims of the cacophony that is the streets of New York—her for the noise, me for her reaction to the noise.
Now, something you may or may not know about NYC— you’re expected to curb your dog. Do you know what this means? I didn’t either.
Basically, your dog is supposed to do its business on the sidewalk. You know all those wet spots you see when you walk down the streets? Those aren’t drips from the AC units above or remnants of someone watering the planters. I'm just saying.
The biggest question on my mind right then was, ‘How will she know where to use the bathroom?’ What if you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Shasta darted off (she was on the leash, don’t worry), and we made our way around the block. She seemed to enjoy all the new smells and adventures that lay before her. Tail wagging, in a prance.
OK! We’re off to a good start, I thought.
Then, as confirmation that all would be right in the world, she peed right on the sidewalk, no coercion needed (good girl!).
This is going to be great! And it was, for a few months, until it wasn’t.
Shasta sometimes eats socks (does anyone else have a dog that does this??), which is a tell-tale sign she’s anxious. She ate four recently, and a slew of veterinary trips ensued. She was exhausted, I was exhausted. It was a lot.
She’s now very attached to me and follows me around the apartment wherever I go (and it’s not a huge apartment). The barking has started up again. She seems a bit out of it a lot of the time. There is not much prancing, and she doesn’t pull us to walk to the park anymore.
The vet has assured me she’s all clear from a medical standpoint, and I’m concerned because she just doesn’t seem happy. Does that make sense?
The plan is to take her back to NC for the summer to see if she’ll do better there, and I’m really wrestling with the idea that it might be for good. (?!) It’s hard to know what to do when you don’t know what to do. And it seems that there is no good solution.
Life is not black and white, and sometimes there is no best choice, only the choice you can reasonably live with.
What are the tough choices you’re making right now? Have any of you dealt with this type of choice? How have you handled it?
Let me know in the comments below.
LYLAS -
S