Our three dogs must have been really hungry. I only fill the dogs’ bowls once a day in the morning. When I went to the vet with Coco, she had lost over seven pounds. She was getting really chunky so that was a good thing. I went away for a week. My wife was not paying attention and left an open almost full bag of cat food in the kitchen. I usually store cat food in the garage. Then she noticed the dogs had a “picnic” and must have been really hungry. Half of it was gone.

Pumpkin is an extremely mild-mannered cat. We had to bring him to the vet. He is the easiest cat (of our seven) to catch. I put him in the carrier and he meowed plaintively. The vet even commented how docile he was. And how glad he was about that. The last two animals he examined were not. The vet had to give him three injections. He did not react to that. Not a sound out of him. Though, when he got home and we released him: he yowled for a minute or two as if to say, “It was bad enough I had to be confined to a carrier but I got stuck three times and that hurt. How could you do that to me?” He won’t forget about that for awhile.

One of my cats has adopted me. Just recently. We “meow” to each other and then he cozies up to me. China is his name–one exotically black and white marked cat. I never expected anything like this to happen. It happened when I started “meowing” back to him. I have no idea what I am saying but whatever it is he likes to snuggle up to me when we have a conversation. I never was cat person but recently I have become one. Each cat is different. Now only Cheyenne regards me warily. Of the seven cats we have, I had to catch him twice recently to take him to the vet. Cats do not forget.

We had to put Pax to sleep last night. My wife could not witness it. He was a great dog–fourteen years old. This did not make it any easier. He had a full life as a big dog. With much difficulty we got him into my car. I had to wait in the waiting room about fifteen minutes. Pax was in such bad pain. He could hardly move. He had two ripped knees and just got worse with his medication. He would not stop panting. I talked to him softly, stroked him lightly while we were waiting.

Finally we got into the room and he lay on the stainless steel. I did not stop stroking him lightly and talking to him. He lay there and I kept softly stroking him on ___ and talking softly to him. It was his last few minutes. The vet explained to me what was going to happen, shaved one of his legs and gave him his injection. I talked to him softly and lightly patted him as he went from one realm into another.

I burst into tears uncontrollably when he became still. I knew him for twelve of his fourteen years. He had such dignity. In the end no matter how difficult it was for him to exit into our yard and navigate the steps, he still went out into the yard to pee.

We did this for him not us. Now he can run freely, with no pain. Maybe, one time we will meet in heaven. He was a great dog. I loved him but I had to let him go. He is now in a better place.

Pax is part of our family. He is old for a large dog: fourteen years old. He once weighed ninety six pounds. He is down to eighty-two pounds and can barely get around. Both of his knees are torn and all his muscles in his back have atrophied. He has been taking pain medications twice a day and then we added an anti-inflammatory medication twice a day. Finally that was replaced by steroids which we just started yesterday. We talked
about putting him down.

He is pooping all over the house and now peeing all over the house. He is a plucky dog. He gets in and out of our house with much difficulty. I am hoping the prednisone helps him more. The vet said that outside of his knees he is in relatively good shape for a dog of his age and size. His advice was to make him as comfortable as possible. I told my wife if she was incontinent and even senile I would not abandon her. We both love Pax and will just clean up after him. We are not going to put him down unless he can not get around any longer and is in too much pain. He is part of our family.

I don’t know how much longer Pax will be with us.  Last night the dog came in and walked to the kitchen.  He was on his haunches and his hind legs were so weak that he could not get up right away.  He has two torn knees and get pain meds twice a day.  Our vet said on his last visit just make him as comfortable as you can.  There is no more he can do for him.  Pax is thirteen and an half–pretty old for a large dog.  The time will come when we will have to put him down.  Right now I will enjoy him as long as I can.  He won’t be around much longer.

Pax the elder of our pack of four dogs is getting old.  Both knees are torn and we started giving him pain meds.  It was just too painful for him to get around.  We were thrilled when we started giving him a second pain pill (in the morning) and he became more active.  No dog lives forever.  He is thirteen — old for a big dog (he must be eighty pounds) now.  His rear muscles have atrophied.  The vet said to make him as comfortable as possible.  He has been around forever.  He is the father of two of our dogs.  He is feisty.  Sometimes he will come into my room just to get one pat on the head and then he leaves.  He is one confident dog.  He literally prances up and down at the end of the day for after the last “out” for all the four dogs he will get some kind of treat.  And he knows that and gets all excited.  Now it is a slice of bread with some peanut butter dabbed on it to hide the pain pill.  He has always loved bread.

Tilla Loves Car Rides

Author: siggy

Tilla, my favorite dog (I have four) I discovered loves car rides. His nickname is “Tilly Willy”. Yesterday I was taking another to the vet and Tilla was quite insistent about going out. I thought he had business to do outside. That was not the case. He headed for my car. He just wanted another ride. So I said okay and he immediately hopped in the car and accompanied Pax to the vet. He loves being in the car and taking rides. And smiles and looks out the window.

Two days ago we went out and accidentally left Coco and Tilla out in the yard for hours.  They were eager to come in.  Tilla was limping on the foot he had knee surgery.  It gets sore and hurts him too much if he runs on it too much.  So he does not put any weight on it.  I checked his leg to make sure there was no apparent injury.  Today he is walking on it and only favoring slightly.  I am still going to call the vet’s office just to make sure that only happens occasionally and his knee is fine.

My seven cats and four dogs enrich my life.  I have to admit only one cat (Cool Hand Luke), a completely black scrawny cat, seeks me out and snuggles up to me occasionally.  Maybe, that is because she is the only pet I had before I met my wife over ten years ago.  I have always taken care of her.  She has a favorite spot in my room, where she curls up by the window on the books I have placed there.  When she is not there at night she sleeps on my bed catercorner from me.  She does not get along too well with the other cats.

My relationship with the other six cats are all different.  Cheyenne, a beautiful long haired cat, usually does not let me pet him.  In fact, if I approach him; he goes the opposite way and looks at me with the expression “how dare you go near me.”  Jasmine, a tiny delicate female, the mother of four of our cats, does not seek me out but does not object if I pet her.

China, a long haired exotically colored black and white cat is one cool cat, supremely confidently poised cat will, also, not seek me out but certainly not turn down an hug from me.  Tiger will also not turn me down.  He has the softest fur.  Even the vet commented how soft his fur was.

Pumpkin, the only cat from Jasmine’s first litter, is just a nice cat and gets along with all the other cats.  And then there is Buttons, somewhat similar in coloring to Tiger.  He was the last cat to enter this household.  He showed up at our front door.  He is about as wild as you can be and still be a domestic cat.  He hides under our bed.  And usually goes the other way if I dare approach him.  That takes care of the cats and now I will talk briefly about our four dogs.

There is Pax, the elder, who is a ninety pound scary dog but a real scaredy cat.  He likes the sound of his own voice and will demonstrate that if he runs into the yard and seeks out the furthest right corner of the fence barking every step of the way.  He comes up to me if he wants something for he knows I will not ignore him and act quicker than my wife.  He is getting up in age–now twelve.

Now there is the golden retriever appropriately named Sweetie.  She is very tactile, loves to have something in her mouth and just can not get enough attention.  In fact, she will demand it and sit there all day while you pet her.  She is the mom of the last two dogs (Pax is the Dad) Tilla and Coco.

Coco is a long haired female who is black with a touch of red in there.  She has the most adorable fluffy ears.  She likes her privacy.  She will often go into the bed room by herself and just stay there for hours.  She will lie down there front paws crossed so delicate like completely feminine like.

The last animal I have is Tilla originally called Atilla The Hun and The Olympian.  He is the only dog who could jump the fence we had built around a large section of the yard and necessitated us building it even higher.  He is lean, aggressive and completely black and the most athletic of our four dogs.

He keeps me company as I watch TV in the evening and then sleeps in the Lazy Boy I vacate when I go to bed.  I won his love by giving him a belly rub almost every time he wanted it.  He and I have a special relationship.  He is the only dog I have given walks.  That is a brief description of my relationships I have with my eleven animals.  Each one is different.

“Thump!  Thump!  Thump!”  I say that to my favorite dog.  And his tail just wags faster and harder.  Tilla has had other names in the past:  the loveable mutt was first called Atilla The Hun, now shortened to Tilla.  Then the Olympian.  He the was the only dog athletic enough to clear our fence forcing us to build it higher the next year.  He tried then right away to go over but bounced right off it and did not try again.  He is a lovable rogue. I am sure he will earn other names as time goes by.  He is the same dog that never forgot being chained to the table twice when we were punishing him.  You can not keep a leash near him:  he will simply chew through it so leashes are kept out of his reach.  He never forgets.  Right now I feel sorry for him for he is limping slightly.  The vet says he has a torn tendon.  I am hoping we can correct that in the future.  Anyway, he is my dog.  I won him over by giving belly rubs almost any time he wants one and he loves his sporadic walks I give him.  I love him with all my heart and soul.  I never thought any dog would replace Daisy–a black mutt I had since she was a puppy but he has.  Dogs don’t live forever so I will enjoy him now.  Everything is by grace.

Last night Tilla ran into the house from the furthest corner of the yard at full speed.  I was thrilled.  Saturday I brought him to the vet.  He was not putting any weight on his left front paw.  The vet gave us an anti-inflammatory pill and three pills later he was back running at full speed.  The vet said the pill would work fast.  And it did.  He is back to running and is no longer limping.