Old Dog Vestibular Disease

Divot 14 Years

Divot 14 Years

Old Dog Vestibular Disease. Ever heard of it? Me neither.

I suppose it’s because few dogs get really old. Our vet said at our last check-up that she rarely sees Golden Retrievers older than ten or twelve years old.

Divot is 14.

A few days ago she suddenly turned into a mad cow. You’ve seen the images of those poor creatures stumbling and bobbing their heads. That’s what Divot looked like and it was heart-wrenching.

She had a good walk in the morning. In the afternoon Hubby pulled a slice of roast beef from the fridge. Her usual reaction would be to dash over and hope that a crumb would drop or Hubby would save a scrap for her. (He always does!)

She didn’t budge.

We left her, thinking it a temporary numbness, perhaps like when you lie on one side and your arm “falls asleep”.

Suppertime rolled around and she refused to get up. We helped her. She attempted to walk the five feet to her food dish.

It was then that she looked like the mad cow. The way she gingerly picked at her food like her mouth was frozen convinced me she had had a stroke.

The looming ugly decision tormented me. I knew the day would come. But I’m not ready to let go.

Next morning, at book club, the host made the mistake of asking me how I am and I couldn’t keep it together. Good thing: every member of my “tribe” hugged me and commiserated and told me of her own experiences losing her best “furiends”. That made it better.

One told me not to grieve yet, but to love Divot until the end. Then grieve. She said it could be my gift to Divot. I liked that.

So I cheered up and resolved to investigate Divot’s sudden ailment. That’s when I learned about Old Dog or Geriatric Vestibular Disease.

Vestibular refers to a nerve that connects the ear and the brain. It can be inflamed but there is no definitive cause for the condition.

The symptoms seem stroke-like. They include, a cocked head, instability in walking, tending to veer to one side, affecting appetite (hard to eat when you’re dizzy!)

I learned that pet owners often hastily euthanize, believing the dog has had a stroke, when the dog can recover from Old Dog Vestibular Disease.

Divot didn’t seem to have the severe effects of stroke, which are the same as Vestibular Disease, but can also include blindness and permanent paralysis. Apparently strokes are rare in dogs.

After a few days, we visited the vet. Amazingly, Divot was considerably better that morning. She still wobbled but she seemed more stable. By the time we got to the clinic she was walking only slightly off-kilter. The vet marveled. She said three days was very fast to show such recovery; it can take weeks.

The vet said we can expect Divot to recover except for having a cocked head, a perpetually inquisitive stance, which does add to her charm.

The vet also suggested that many people do MRI but in her opinion it wouldn’t benefit Divot. We appreciated that.

Divot in  2007

Divot in 2007

She prescribed good care.

“Including walks?”

Divot LOVES her walks more than anything. I know that not walking would surely hasten the aging process. I was relieved when the vet agreed short walks are fine.

We took a stroll that afternoon. Divot wobbled only a few times in three blocks. She had a good snow bath (rolling with glee on a patch of snow) and even trotted a couple times.

It seems she is recovering. We will have to face the ugly decision one day, but not today.

I am more determined to cherish each moment and fully drink in the splendor of our walks together so she will never really be gone.

 

Sources: Google: “Dog stroke” or “Vestibular Disease”

Running with the Bulls

Black Angus Bull photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Black Angus Bull
photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Not Quite Pamplona but Thrilling Enough!

One of my summer adventures was helping my farmer friend remove her bulls from their harems. Naturally, they’d rather not move to months of bachelorhood with the other bulls.

My farmer could sort them herself when she had a good herding dog, but alas, she lost him and she’s alone. So I agreed to come and be her “dog”.

A dog would do much better than I did. I haven’t done jumping jacks for cows for over 40 years! All my farmed–raised friends know exactly what I mean by that. It’s a technique used by cow chasers to divert the herd in the desired direction.

At one point I let a calf squeeze by, out popped its mama from the crowd and the rest mad-dashed for the opening. We had to regroup, technically, re-herd!

Some of the lovely ladies photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Some of the lovely ladies
photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

A dog would not have let that happen.

We were chasing the curly-haired-faced red brute. I was cautious, which again allowed the creature to choose his own direction.

My farmer chastised me. “He won’t hurt you”. My inner alarm sounded. My Grandpa constantly warned us to steer clear of the bulls. Of course that was before I was 11.

Then again, 45 years later, do I really want to take the chance that I can outrun a bull to the nearest fence? A bull that is more than a little agitated at being separated from all his lovely ladies?

Common sense prevailed.

Hereford Bull photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Hereford Bull
photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

A good herd dog is not afraid of a one-ton animal. A herd dog has years of herding history firmly lodged in the strands of his DNA. And the agility to perform the last-second escape from a hoof or horn. Clearly, I am not a dog.

I eventually got the hang of positioning my quad behind and slightly left of Curly, my farmer tucking in on the right. We got the bull to the desired paddock. An old dog like me can still learn new tricks!

I enjoyed running with the bulls in Maple Creek, SK. Not quite as thrilling as Pamplona but more my style. Our bull run had purpose: herd management, ensuring no calves are born later than a reasonable date next spring. Two bulls were sold as they have too many offspring of calf-bearing age: their “wild success” has made them redundant.

"Curly" photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

“Curly”
photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

In Pamplona they run for the heck of it. To brush with death.

I don’t feel the need to tease death. It will get me soon enough. In the meantime I enjoy everyday I have whether I’m picking beans or running with the bulls.

Seeing the cows enjoying their green pastures, being outdoors, soaking in the sunshine, fresh air, and exercise, and a couple days of good belly laughs with my farmer friend, added to my joy for life.

I wonder if that’s what they get out of it in Pamplona, too! Laughing with their buddies over drinks about their heroic moves and near misses. Running with the bulls might just be medicine!

Back to Bachelorhood until spring!  photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Back to Bachelorhood until spring!
photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine

Divot eyes her traditional “rice cake with peanut butter” birthday cake Photo owned by www.shelleygoldbeck.com

The 1970’s Tom T Hall song Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine runs through my head frequently lately.

I expect that’s because our Golden Retriever, Divot turned 13 yesterday, an amazing feat for her breed.

She is very healthy and active but her age has most recently declared itself.

The vet has warned us her cataracts continue to cloud her vision. She doesnt always see her hand signals for Sit Speak Down Side.

Her formerly fine-tuned hair-trigger hearing has faded gradually these past six months, resulting in more instances where she’s startled when we walk into a room.

A few months ago, she started having what looked like petit mals (mini epileptic seizures). She shuddered for no apparent reason, for less than a second. She was having six or more each day. After two weeks of adding coconut oil to her food the seizures are almost gone.

But it’s a reminder that she’s not immortal.

She has started having difficulty getting up from lying down on our slippery laminated floors so we bought six cheap ugly mats to put in all her places on the floor. It seems to help. The vet recommended glucosamine. Not sure if it helps but it can’t hurt.

Where she used to bound into and out of vehicles she’s now unsure about exiting and often waits for a boost into the truck.

Our walks deteriorate to mere strolls. My attempts to hurry her are often met with stubborn resistance that makes me smile rather than annoys me. I respect her right to be a bit crotchety. She has paid her dues. She deserves to have her own way here and there. Some days she moves along at a nice clip.

Divot’s naps grow longer. She seems to sleep 23 hours a day. She has more trouble sleeping through the night, not atypical, I think considering her human-equivalent age of 91 years.

Bladders seem to be among the first organs to lose functionality. Getting up in the night to let her out used to bug me but now I often have to get up myself so I can’t really grouse about her condition, can I?

Sometimes she doesn’t need to go. She just wants to be outside taking in the wonder of the early early morning with its cool air and soft light. I don’t blame her. It is peaceful.

In the song, Tom says, “Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes/God bless little children while they’re still too young to hate.”

Great wisdom in both lines.

There is nothing so pure as a dog’s knack to love unconditionally.

When I come home Divot acts as though I am the most important person in the world. She can’t get close enough, smile widely enough or “sing” loudly enough.

It’s not just me. She treats every guest in our home with exuberant attention, leaving no doubt she’s thrilled to see them, even if they come everyday.

Divot is a sure cure for feeling blue. It’s impossible not to laugh at her antics and marvel at her undying devotion to her pack.

Divot is content to just be. She doesn’t need to do or have anything. She quite happily lies for hours at my feet or just outside my office door.

If I go outside to putter in the garden, she’s out there with me. If I sit inside to read, she sleeps on the floor or on her leather loveseat.

I find myself cherishing my time with Divot. She has no pain and still fools people with bursts of puppy-energy but in my heart I know she can’t live forever.

I am tempted to begin grieving, at least preparing for the day I don’t have my hiking partner poking through the long grass and wildflowers with me at the bark park.

But then I remind myself to enjoy the present. She could live another year or two. As long as she has no pain.

I hope she dies in her sleep in her favorite dugout near the house foundation like my childhood family dog, Lassie did one warm summer day.

Will you get another dog? I wave off the well-meaning question. I am not going to borrow worry.

I am going to be like an old dog and just be. And make everybody believe they are the most important person in the world.

Happy Birthday, Divot!

Thanks for teaching me the secret to your perpetual smile.

See more about Divot: http://divotthedog.wordpress.com/

August 22: I dedicate this post to my mom’s dog Muffin, who gave Mom 14 years and seven months of joy. She passed on this week.

read related article here: One dog owner’s feelings about her dog’s last days.