Old Dogs

  What is it about dogs? They really know how to wrap themselves around your heart. In this case the dog is a highly OCD, anxiety ridden, Doberman Pinscher, Stella.

  I rescued Stella at the height of the Great Recession in 2010. It seems that someone had abandoned her, just dumped her off somewhere. The thing about Doberman Pinschers is that they are protection dogs.  Their sole responsibility is being 24/7 security for the premises that they live on. They aren't hunting dogs, or scrounging dogs, which is why when one abandons a Doberman Pinscher it is pretty much a death sentence. They don't know how to hunt to sustain themselves. Nor do they have thick coats to survive in winter.  One December day in 2009 Stella was picked up by a Good Samaritan, she was also in a family way. No one obviously knows how long she had been straying, but her condition was so poor that when it came time for the puppies, only three out of nine survived. I turned up when her pups (save one) had been adopted and she had just been spayed. My daughter favored the puppy. Since I was the one who would be on clean-up duty, I took Stella. The old dog I had at the time was failing, and I wanted his successor to be well indoctrinated with the routine of the household by the time he expired.

  She worked out better than I expected. All but one of my other dogs had been puppies when I acquired them. While there is nothing cuter than a puppy, older dogs have their own charm, chief among them being mature bladders as well as having aged out of the urge to chew. The down side of an older dog is you have less time with them. And so it is with Stella.

  She has achieved the ripe old age of twelve which is ancient in Doberman years. Apparently it is common that their heart gets them in the end. This is true of Stella. A heart mummer diagnosed in February had turned into full blow congestive heart failure by May. I am more than sad about the situation. She's been a very good dog, sounding the alarm when a squirrel sneezes in the backyard, or the kids down the block have the audacity to ride their bikes by the house. Even with a bad heart she is still on duty-though maybe not as alert as she used to be.

  She sleeps most of the time now, though she can still get pretty worked up about her daily walk. She  prances out like an old parade pony, until she becomes breathless.  Her preferred food these days is baked chicken, the idea of mere dog food no longer tempts her. She is a grand old dog, who am I to deny her that simple pleasure.

  Her vet is amazed she has lasted this long. Typical life expectancy from diagnoses to death in these cases is two weeks. She's been holding steady for almost two months. They've given me medicine to ease the work her heart now has to do. This has ushered in a whole new method of treats-hotdogs with pills stuffed into the middle. She likes her hotdogs almost as much as the chicken though she's figured out how to eat around the pills. I spend a part of every day searching the carpet for the pitooied medication. Needless to say, the jury is still out on how effective the medication is.

She's been there for over eight years to great me every morning when I get up, and every evening when I come home. Each day I wonder, will she still be there?  She's a noble dog, with the heart of a champion that pushes her on. She isn't ready to leave yet, but it will be soon, and it will break my heart. Old dogs, it's so hard to let go.