Old dog

I went to pat Maggie on Friday and got a good look in her face. Her eyes are awfully cloudy. It's not a wonder she can get a little lost and confused when she's wandering around the house.

A couple weeks ago she got stuck under the kitchen table and I had to pull chairs out and physically guide her out from under there. She was confused and embarrassed. Fortunately, she's really old and forgets her embarrassment. :)

She's going to be 15 on her next birthday. Best guess is sometime in June.

We've said NO MORE DOGS when she is gone, and although my resolve is strong (hurts too much to lose them) I don't know if we'll be able to stick to it. Because having a dog to love is a good thing, too.

When we got her, she was about six months old. Still a puppy, all clumsy big feet and energetic, bumbling and silly.

Visited the local animal shelter on a Saturday morning and were home by noon with a new dog. Lyssa was three and a half years old, Matt nine and a half. Maggie and Lyssa were the same height when standing face to face, and we had two incidents of the dog nipping her. Both were handled by taking her down to the floor and letting her know who was dominant, and that her behavior wouldn't be tolerated. After the 2nd nip, I planned to take her back to the shelter on Monday. Obviously we didn't want a dog that was going to bite the kids.

The thing was, it wasn't an attack, it was a nip. Just a way for her to see who was the top dog. And after we showed her twice, we didn't have to show her again. So she stayed.

She was a strange dog, really. Not doggish at all. Didn't know how to play, as in chasing a ball or tugging on a sock or rope. She hadn't bonded with people at all. Did not pay attention when we talked to her. Didn't come when we called her. Didn't know how to sit or lie down on command. Unless her first language wasn't English, who knows?

It didn't take long for her to become attached and doglike, though. We took her in after about 18 days to be spayed, and she cried all the way back into the veterinary office as they pulled her by the leash. She was completely devastated that we were leaving her there. Poor baby. And even with the effects of the anesthesia and other drugs, she was ecstatic when we came to get her.

Then, she puked bright yellow stuff all over the house until the medications wore off. Payback.

She never peed in the house, though. She was housebroken. So whoever had her before us at least managed that. We figured out a few things about where she had come from, too.

There were other animals that she had to compete with for food. She would go to eat, and see one of her legs out of the corner of her eye and whip her head around and bite at herself, thinking it was another dog. Or cat. I dunno. So we taught her gradually to relax by taking her food while she was eating. Can't have a dog that will attack you over food, ya know? Now you can take something out of her mouth and she will let you without protest.

When our doorbell or a doorbell on television rang, she started barking like a maniac, but she quit doing it in a couple months, not sure why.

Before we got the sectional sofa, her view of the glass on the sliding door in the back was unobstructed, and when she saw her reflection, she barked in a challenging way, hackles up, stiff-legged.

She'd also been allowed to sleep on a bed, because she stood next to ours and whined, wagging her tail hopefully every time we got into it. We didn't allow her on the bed, and she finally settled on sleeping right next to Eric's side of the bed. She still sleeps there on a big rug, and has her own pillow. She puts her head on it. Sort of cute, really.

We have a theory that she was taken out somewhere by car and kicked out/abandoned. It's just a theory, but every time we've taken her in the car, she has become agitated and sets up this high-pitched keening that makes holes in the glass. It's horrendous. And she will do it up to five hours. That's the longest we've ever taken her on a journey, so heck, who knows, maybe she'd do it for nine or ten hours if we were crazy enough to take her anywhere.

She doesn't go with us anymore. She hurts all over (arthritis) and can't get into the car. If we lift her, it hurts her. And she struggles to get away, too.

So she hangs out here at home. When any member of the family comes home, she gets up from wherever she is and walks to the door, wagging her tail like crazy. She still hollers when Eric comes home (he is GOD to her) and until he's greeted her properly, she won't settle down. It's aggravating and endearing at the same time.

Like the annual portrait of dog butt at Christmas.
Okay, I will write more about her tomorrow. Or later. Or something. I have been sick for two damn weeks and have the opportunity to go to bed now. It would be stupid to waste that extra sleep.