For the past 13 years, I have been the proud mum of a pint-sized furball I adopted from an animal shelter. I'm not sure how old he was when he was adopted. The vet that checked him during the adoption process said he was at least one.
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What I do know is that the first year or so (prior to adoption) appears to have been a bit tough, based on the few details and some behavioural patterns he showed in those early days with my family. He was extremely anxious, very thin, had what appeared to be an untreated skin allergy, and he cringed at loud noises.
It broke my heart to think that he could have been exposed to any sort of trauma, and so I have spent the past 13 years doing everything to ensure he knows he is loved and safe.
I think he has the message loud and clear. He is my shadow and adores everyone in our family. He is especially protective of the grandchildren.
I can't imagine a day without him around.
But sadly, he is getting old. He has had a couple of major health issues in recent years, which have been treated. His eyesight and hearing are failing, and his back legs are becoming very weak from arthritis. He tends to fall over fairly regularly, and I sometimes find him just standing and staring blankly.
For much of his life, he has gone on daily walks, which he has done with great excitement, loving to sniff everything and meet the other dogs along the path. This has all but stopped as he is showing little interest, and each time I have taken him out recently, I have had to carry him for most of the way. I think this has a lot to do with his weak hind legs.
I get him checked regularly to monitor his wellbeing, but it saddens me that I know he is getting ever closer to the end.
I have now shifted my attention to making sure he is comfortable and loved, with plenty of cuddles. My focus is firmly on ensuring his quality of life rather than quantity. But I ponder daily whether or not I am getting it right.
For much of the day, he sleeps, and I am, for the most part, well aware that the end is nigh. But every now and then, he will get a little pep in his step, and I start to think there is more time left.
Without a doubt, it is an emotional rollercoaster as I monitor closely and strive to ensure I do the right thing for my loyal little buddy. I often wonder if that look in his eyes is love and devotion, or a plea for help.
Right now, I would welcome any advice from those who have been through this about what I should do to ensure I do the best for him.
