Old Dogs

            Mickey is an old dog about whom I’ve written more than once, usually in concert with other family dogs. He is a miniature American Eskimo, a huge white 14 year old hairball.  He weighs in at 23 pounds which, as you will see, has become a problem.  Age has affected Mickey in some physical ways but has not affected his personality. Basically he hates people, especially people in his backyard. The ankles of the guy who cleans the pool and the gardener are both targets for his vicious attacks. He has attacked the ankles of friends of ours despite our pleas to stay in the house, don’t turn your back on him, and never try to pet him.

            But here’s the thing about Mick today, he is now mostly blind and deaf and weirdly doesn’t always recognize us which is a little odd considering we’re the only people he’s ever liked. He’s also pretty gimpy with arthritis. Walking, running, and going up and down stairs requires some concentration. Regardless, he still gives the pool guy a run for his money when he enters and leaves the yard threatening to bite holes in his net since he can’t quite get a bead on his ankles anymore.

He can’t find his dog food unless it’s right in front of him but he can sense the squirrel cavorting on the back wall and scare it up a tree. In the house he doesn’t know where I am even if I’m talking to him, unless I wave my hand in front of his nose  but somehow “sees” me through the window  when I come down in the morning to feed him. He even tells time, beginning his ‘feed me’ yips precisely at 4 pm every day.  

Open the front door and Mickey won’t venture outside. I think there are two reasons for that. The first is that it requires negotiating 3 steps to get there and other is that he can’t see what’s out there. Just like lots of old people his world has become very circumscribed. He cruises the backyard and the downstairs of the house. Beyond that he’s not taking any chances.

Worst of all Mickey is crazy, demented, senile, nuts, whatever you call it when an old dog loses his mind. I’ve had a few old dogs but never one that was senile. My vet says there are supplements to try, but forcing pills down the throat of a 100 year old dog seems a little harsh. It’s hard enough to find ways to get his daily pain pills down.

Mickey lives outside. He likes it that way. He comes in the house to see if he can cadge some food but if none is forthcoming stands at the slider waiting to be let out. Out is where he is most comfortable in his fur coat and also where the trouble starts.  Our yard includes a pool, some grass, concrete, and most importantly a raised deck at the shallow end of the pool. Two shallow steps lead up to the deck  which is also framed with a short wrought iron fence. 

Bear in mind that Mickey has lived in this yard his entire life.  We haven’t changed anything. But suddenly, for no particular reason I can discern he has become flummoxed by the two steps and the deck. He gets up on the deck, I don’t know how, and can’t get down! I look out the kitchen window and there he is running back and forth along the fence and around the deck unable to get down.

            I come out of the house and call to him and even go over to the steps but nope, he’s not coming down.  Those are steps to the great unknown and he’s not about to set even one paw on them.  I try to convince him to come close enough that I can grab his collar and gently pull him down the first step. But he’s on to me now that I’ve done it a couple of times and  backs away when I come toward him. My only recourse is to pick him up, one arm around his rear, the other around his chest, and set him gently below the steps.  He is then deliriously happy and runs off to the water bowl to celebrate his freedom.

However, he is heavy and bulky and not always cooperative. So between his girth and my own arthritic knee it’s a chore getting him up and down and set down gently. I wish I could teach him how to walk around the pool to get back to the patio but this is one old dog who’s not learning any new tricks.