Every Pet Deserves A Good Home…

Life in a Dog Pack: Old Age

by Dave Schuler on August 16, 2013  -  The Glittering Eye

When you live in a dog pack, eventually, if you are very lucky, you will experience life with an old dog. Tally, at 15 years four months, is the oldest dog it has been our good fortune to share our lives with.

Living with a geriatric dog means that every day is a new adventure. Not only are there the regular routine activities of meals, potty breaks, and medications, we try to remain sensitive to Tally’s limitations, adapting to them as new challenges arise, so that we can ensure that she is as happy and comfortable as we can keep her.

We’ve placed cheap runners and area rugs strategically so that Tally can move about without being forced to navigate bare wood floors. As she’s gotten weaker over the years her ability to manage bare floors has diminished and we’ve changed to take that into account.

Tally no longer sleeps with us. She gave up climbing stairs several years ago and since then we’ve left her on her own recognizance on the first floor. Generally, she’s just fine there—she’s always preferred her own company—but, occasionally, we’ll hear a yelp and rush downstairs to find she’s trapped herself beneath a chair, slipped off the rugs we’ve placed for her convenience and safety, or walked into a corner and is too befuddled to make her way out without assistance.

On rare occasions she’s had nighttime “accidents”. That’s just the cost of doing business. She’s always very embarrassed about it.

Walks have become increasingly rare. She wants to walk and sometimes demands a walk but we understand that she really doesn’t have as much ability to handle a long walk as she thinks she does. I’m not prepared to carry a tired fifty pound dog home in my arms so we limit her walks to three or four blocks, sometimes just a block depending on how she feels that particular day.

She wants to play ball but, sadly, her vision is failing so, if you throw the ball more than a few feet away from her, she won’t be able to find it. My wife is better at playing ball with Tally these days than I am.

Every night we have the same ritual. I’ll let her out the back door for her final nightly elimination and she won’t come back in until I’ve chased her one slow circumnavigation around our backyard, then helped her up the two stairs into the house. The joy in her eyes during these low speed chases is a delight to see. I’ve taken to calling her “the White Bronco”.

Last night we had something of a scare. When she rose from a nap she began a series of odd, hopping bounds. She wouldn’t stop. It was quite alarming.

We moved the other dogs elsewhere in the house and let her outside. She continued the hopping. My wife thought it was some sort of neurological malfunction. I thought she’d awoken with a stitch in her leg and, like an athlete with a leg cramp, was trying to run it out. She was unable to put weight on her left foreleg but wasn’t strong enough to maintain her balance and stand in one place. Hence the odd, forward-moving, hopping bound.

After a while she stopped and, although she was still hobbling a bit, she was behaving much more normally. I gave her an extra half Rimadyl before we went to sleep and this morning she’s shown no signs of a return to her previous condition.

It was, however, a reminder that Tally won’t be with us a great deal longer and we must savor every moment we have with her. We are resolved that Tally will enjoy her life as long as she lives. So far, so good.

The other dogs show Tally considerable deference, each in their own way. Will is extremely fond of her. Nola gives her a wide berth (although she’s not above stealing some of Tally’s food when she has the chance—stolen food always tastes better). Smidge, with typical Australian Shepherd temperament, is worried about her. She herds her, blocks her from moving into spaces she thinks are too dangerous for her (Smidge and Tally have different views on this subject), and sleeps curled up with her. It’s like having her own personal sheep.

I don’t know how our pack dynamics will change when Tally is no longer with us. It’s not something I look forward to. Although she’s always been highly independent, she and Jenny made us into a pack. Tally taught us all to howl.


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August 22, 2013 Posted by | Animal or Pet Related Stories, animals, Dogs, Dogs, If Animlas Could Talk..., Just One More Pet, Man's Best Friend, Pet Friendship and Love, Pets, responsible pet ownership | 10 Comments