We haven’t updated our blog lately, been doing a lot of facebook posting, but this is a little longer and more to think about than a couple lines and a picture.
Everyone knows Rocko is old – really old for a big dog. Based on his estimated age when we found him, he is 17 years and 10 months old. Very old.
And I’m not anywhere near ready to do without him.
We had quite a scare this week. He was having trouble just standing up, his back legs were weak and wouldn’t hold him up. This happens every now and then usually when Rocko is overactive. He plays with the cats, he wants to be out in the yard with me when I am working. There are days when I am working in the shop baking and I have to make him stay in the house because it gets too hot. I know on those days he’ll stand at the window watching for me to come in. But it always gets better in a day or two. Ice always helps (that’s what is wrapped in the yellow blanket in the picture below).
Rocko has grown to love the ice packs. I think that we’re into the placebo effect now because he will tell me when he wants one and it instantly relaxes him. I learned this trick from Dr Boswell – where there’s heat apply ice. I feel around on his back and hips and the warm spots are the ones that hurt. When he goes to bed he likes one wrapped in a bathroom towel. On a side note, I am now down to one good bath towel. There’s the one Phoebe lays on in one of the bathroom sinks, the one Rocko has on the shelf where he likes to lay his head to sleep, and now another for the ice – leaving one for me. The sacrifices we make for our pets!
But back to Rocko. This was different. He was walking crooked. He was restless, he’d be laying on his blanket almost asleep and all of a sudden he’d jump up. It started Thursday afternoon and by Monday night he laid down at the top of the steps and didn’t want to come to bed. Bedtime is a whole different story, I’ll post that next week. Let’s just say we ended up getting down but it wasn’t easy or fast – he weighs 70 pounds so its not like I can just carry him.
And I could tell he was in pain, something I have vowed to not let happen. I will give him everything he needs as his time goes on but I will never let him live in pain because I can’t let go. I look at him and I can’t breathe. Is it time?
We already had an appointment with Dr Boswell for Tuesday. For those new to our adventures, Dr Elizabeth Boswell practices alternative veterinary medicine. Rocko sees her every three weeks and absolutely loves her. Through a combination of ultrasound, laser and other therapies she takes care of what hurts him.
After careful examination (all very magical), Dr Boswell concluded that Rocko must have slipped and fallen, injuring his left shoulder and right hip along with pulling a muscle in his groin.
Let the treatment begin. Sitting on the floor for an hour, her holding one piece of equipment, me holding other things in place, treating inch by inch of the places that hurt. Rocko is very cooperative, changing positions when needed, tolerating stuff stuck all over him. Smiling.
When it was all done she asked him to get up. He hopped up, walked around the room and up and down the hall like nothing at all had been wrong.
And finally I can breathe again.
Every time something happens I think is this going to be it? Is this the thing I can’t fix? Am I doing what is best for Rocko, not what is best for me? And how can I even begin to think about life without him? I want more time. A lot more time.
When I first started making dog biscuits, my dream was to do that all day long with Rocko by my side. We’re almost there. I kept thinking we’re so close, don’t leave me now.
And finally I can breathe again.
In the after thoughts, I think about all the people who don’t have someone like Dr Boswell to turn to. Maybe it’s a matter of money, I make a lot of sacrifices to do this for him. Most people don’t know that treatment like this is available. If I wasn’t able to do this for him, if I didn’t know, if it hadn’t helped, this may have been the time.
It isn’t time. I can breathe again.
We took a potty break while I was writing this. Rocko wandered around the back yard, chewing on some of the crabgrass that has sprung up after the rain. He’s back inside now, sitting on his blanket in front of the door enjoying a sweet potato biscuits (his new favorite).
He’s smiling and back to his old self.
I have more time. I can breathe again.
Rocko enjoying one of our new sweet potato biscuits
17 years and 10 months old