Monday, January 6, 2020.
With the new decade already a few days old, let me wish you “Happy New Year” before too much more time passes. Life has a way of melding one day into the next subtlety if we’re not paying attention.
As I write , it’s a little after 6 o’clock, Monday evening. Dave’s up at Pioneer’s rec center where the weekly “Burgers & Bingo” is just getting underway. The RV park isn’t filled to capacity yet, but even so, there are a fair number of “winter Texans” here—and many of us congregate every Monday to eat a meal together and play. It doesn’t cost much…$1/game and five games are played. Winning bingo pots range anywhere from $20-40, so a $5 is potentially a good investment. It’s cheap fun that attracts a certain segment of old people.
I’m typically up there, too, but both of our pups are seniors and have been having medical issues lately…and both had vet appointments today. All things considered, it was better that one of us stay home. I volunteered; Dave has really gotten into playing bingo, and I didn’t want to deny him the pleasure.
Victor, our rescue pup who’s at least 14 years old, had that many teeth extracted this morning, and he’s hurting bad. Poor little guy—his high-pitched whining is grating and sounds so pathetic. I hope the pain meds kick in soon.
Then there’s Biscuit, our 11 year old, 40-pound love, who’s has been having accidents at night. Supposedly this isn’t uncommon with girl dogs, and she’s our firs. Despite medication and doggie diapers, the problem wasn’t any getting better. I’d finally had it last Thursday when it happened again. It’s our fault that we’ve always allowed our dogs to sleep on our bed, and lately we’ve—actually, I’ve—been paying the price since I’m the one that runs off to the laundromat with all the bedding that’s been peed on. I had had enough.
I wish I had a picture of all of us at o’dark:30 Friday morning when I made the unsavory discovery that Biscuit’s doggie diaper had once again leaked majorly. While I was over-reacting and angrily ripping off all the bedding—layer by layer—in a race to save it from penetrating through to the mattress, Dave was sympathetically commiserating with the dog, petting her lovingly and whispering soothing words to her in an attempt to comfort her, I suppose.
I gave him a look that prompted him to ask innocently, “What do you want me to do?”
This incident so reminded me of our parenting styles: good cop/bad cop. You can probably guess which one I was.
“Get her out of bed!” I begged in a sarcastically demanding tone, trying hard not to sound mean. After all, it wasn’t Dave who peed on the bed. But it was 2:30 a.m. and I didn’t need this.
Realistically, I couldn’t be mad at the dog…she’s old. We’re old. I guess it was this realization that somehow led to one heck of a wake-up call.
I found myself being thankful.
Thankful that somehow I sensed what had happened and woke up immediately. Soberly and clear headed. Knew what I could do and what I couldn’t do. That instead of over-reacting foolishly, I could react sanely. That I had choices. I kept thinking thankful thoughts, and that changed everything.
Pretty soon I wasn’t ‘as crazy’ anymore. Even though I knew I’d have lots of bedding to launder later that morning, a sense of calmness replaced the chaos of just a few minutes before. It was almost miraculous. I did not react this way when Biscuit first began having problems late last summer.
…Tuesday morning, 12 hours later: Both pups are doing much better. In spite of being minus 14 teeth, Victor has been able to eat without too much trouble it seems, now that his appetite has returned. Biscuit is on stronger meds, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed.
I never thought much about getting older, but now that I’m Medicare-age, a certain sense of reality has come into my awareness. And this particular experience proves yet again that this, too, shall pass. Whatever ‘this’ happens to be. Because as long as we’re alive, it’s always going to be something. How we get through it is up to us.
Until one loves an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.
-Anatole France