Life with Linus, a Momma's Perspective

 

When I started Linus’ Twitter account, it was to spread awareness of senior adoptions and to promote positivity.  Never did I imagine that there would be a worldwide pandemic or the crazy election here in the US, never could I have known how much Linus’ account would touch people’s lives and bring them a smile each day. We have celebrated really good days of Linus wanting to walk, being sassy, demanding attention and even making his way up the stairs with minimum help.  I choose to post these events to Twitter because I want people to feel the true happiness of a dog who was neglected and abused, learning, even in the late years of his life, how to love, how to be happy, how to trust again. I wanted the world to know this little man and how truly amazing he is.

A dear friend wrote something to me the other day that has resonated in my heart, about my willingness to bring Linus into our lives knowing he would not be around for a very long time, that he was a gift to show the world the beauty of adopting a senior dog. She told me this, because I was struggling that day, because not all days with a senior dog are easy.  There are tough days, there are days with pacing and panting, there are days where you wish your pup could speak so you could know what was wrong, and there are days you just want to hold them and cry because you are just not ready to see them get old; even though when they came to you, they were already old.

I don’t talk about the challenges often, only with a select group of people, because it is hard to say the words.  Saying the words, or writing the words, makes it real, takes it out into the world, but every day with a senior dog, you are watching for the smallest changes in behavior, in appetite, in appearance.  You are looking for both the good and the bad.  The good to see if changes you have made in diet, activity, or medications has helped.  The bad to see if anything you are doing is making it worse or if some new ailment is being added to the mix.  Not all senior dogs are riddled with ailments, but my little man is.

I have chosen to write, for anyone who wants to read it, an account of the past few months.  You have seen the good moments, those have been shared on Twitter, what you haven’t seen is the hard moments, because sharing them made them real, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. But it is time, so here we go, grab a tissue and join me if you like…

A little over a month ago, I noticed he was eating his food differently, towards the side of his mouth, and leaving food in his bowl that I would need to coax him to eat.  I looked in his mouth and his gums seemed swollen in the front, so booked a trip to the vet and went in.  It had only been six months since his last surgery, where they cleaned and pulled several teeth, did a lung biopsy, and corrected his nails that needed to be treated surgically because they had been so overgrown for most of his life. I wasn’t overly concerned because it had only been six months, and he had seen the vet every month in-between for check ups and prescription refills.  

We spent the day at the vet, getting there early, no food, immediately placed in a private room to wait.  Little man is treated like gold there, I am allowed to stay with him the whole time, they keep us isolated so as not to expose us to anyone or for us to expose their team.  They had several emergencies that day, so it was late in the day before he was taken back.  The doctor came out regularly to tell me how things were going, several more teeth needed to come out, one fang was cracked, so they would grind it down to fix it, and then the news, there was a growth in his mouth.  Don’t worry, we don’t know what it means yet, but let me take it out and we will go from there.  Little man is returned to me, he is coming out of the anesthesia but very groggy, not his normal self.  He is angry, crying, agitated.  He tries biting the vet tech; he is hurting.  I hold him closer; I talk to him even though he can’t hear me, when he is ready, we go home.  The healing takes longer this time, he is slow to recover, doesn’t want to walk, cries and doesn’t want to sleep, the pain meds aren’t keeping the pain away. My heart is ripping from me and I know that he cannot go through another surgery, it is too much for him.  This is his last one.  

The vet checks in every few days, and on the 10^th day she tells me the biopsy has come back, it is cancer, my sweet boy has cancer.  We didn’t get clear margins, as it would have required taking a good part of his upper pallet, his recovery was hard, we decide to just let him be for as long as he is comfortable.

Fast forward to last week, he is recovered. The growth is being watched, it is back, but it is slow growing, and it is not causing him pain right now, so we just continue to celebrate this beautiful life that Linus chooses to live.   Then, we notice that he is becoming more and more agitated.  He is not sleeping at night, he is panicking and behaving like he doesn’t know where he is.  We spend a night on the couch, he will not settle, the whole night.  We wait for the sun to come up, we wait for the vet to open, we wait for our appointment. 

The vet examines Linus.  She is so gentle with him, he isn’t afraid, his little curly tail wags.  She looks at me and tells me, he has gone blind.  100% in the left eye, 80% in the right eye. My eyes fill with tears and she says, “This poor little pup just can’t catch a break.”  She further goes on to say that he could also be experiencing what is called doggy dementia sundowning affect, which is similar to what happens in humans that have dementia.  She prescribes a sedative to help with the anxiety. We head home, I hold him tight all the way home, he falls asleep on my lap, he is finally sleeping, I hold him close.

This brings us to today, today is a mix of good and bad.  Little man was agitated this morning after breakfast, no reasoning, just wasn’t happy.  Finally, at lunch, he settled down after his afternoon pills for a four-hour nap.  He is awake now, but happy.  It will be dinner time soon, I will coax him for a walk if the rain stops, maybe we will see Freckles outside.  He has adjusted quickly to his new life, we think he sees something out of that right eye, because he turns towards us outside, we think he can see shapes and shadows. I have started working on touch signals instead of hand signals, he is learning quickly.  He uses my leg now as a gauge on his left side, bouncing off me as he walks so he stays out of the street and so that he is protected from curbs and other obstacles.

Linus is a survivor.  He has not been given an easy life.  He was not always loved. But he has survived and adapted and learned what it is like to be loved now.  He needs more reassurance that everything is ok, he needs extra snuggles and to feel your foot or your body up against him to relax. He cries out in the night if he wakes and worries that he is alone, so we gently touch his head and let him know we are there.  We are his family and we will love him and take care of him until he is ready to say goodbye.  As it was when he came to live with us, we don’t know how long he has, but we will give him the best life possible each day, for however long that is.

Someone asked me the other day, if I had it to do all over, would I have still adopted a senior dog and my answer was enthusiastically, YES! The only difference between adopting a puppy, an adult dog, or a senior dog, is that you have to fit a lifetime of love into a smaller window.  I love this little man with everything in my being and I wouldn’t trade this time with him for anything. He has taught me perseverance, he has taught me trust, and he has opened my heart to love.

Thank you for following my little man, thank you for loving this wonderful boy.  Now, on to more adventures.

IT'S A YEAR! GUYS! GUYS! IT'S BEEN A YEAR!!!

I cannot believe it has been a year since this little man has come into our lives. I still remember when Linus came to our house for the site visit.  He came out of the minivan and he was walking with such a pronounced limp on his right shoulder, I worried that he would not do well in our house. We have a two-story house and he would need to do stairs each night, we have hardwood floors and he would slip on them.  But there he was, that sweet little man with his wonky one up-one down ears, the blue tongue that is as long as his entire body, and that demeanor of, “I can take care of myself, I don’t need anyone” personality that I was so longing to break down. I was hooked.  Before he was getting ready to leave, Papa Andy and I agreed, he was our little man, so we said we wanted him and scheduled a time to pick him up.

Fast forward to picking him up.  We drive for an hour, well out of the city, down these long winding roads, onto a dirt road, thinking, “where are we going, and will we be able to find our way out again?!”  We finally come up on the house and see at least six dogs out in the yard and we are looking and looking for our Linus and he is nowhere to be seen.  We get out of the car and before we can shut the door a very impressive bulldog jumps in and proceeds to take over the driver’s seat and he isn’t going anywhere.  Papa Andy is working on getting the bulldog out of the car, as  I turn and Linus is at my back, acting shy, but I lift him up and put him in the back seat and whisper in his ear, “welcome to your new life my sweet boy, I promise you nothing but love and happiness from this point forward.”

The wonderful woman at the shelter who had cared for Linus since January of 2019, came out with a bag of pills for Linus and was explaining each one and that two more had been added as of today.  We swapped out collars, she gave me the information on his tracking chip, and we were off.  We were on the start of this new adventure.  Linus lasted less then ten minutes in the back seat, before he decided that he wanted in the front seat and on my lap for the remainder of the ride; so, this is how we made our way home and into our new lives together.

Our lives together started somewhat chaotically, as Linus had a reaction to one of the new meds on his first night. He didn’t sleep a wink, pacing, panting, crying.  I thought many times during that night that I had done the worst thing, taking him away from his dog pack family and bringing him to a house by himself.  The next few weeks went by in a blur, little man was getting used to us and his new home.  He had seen the vet and she went down the laundry list of ailments for this sweet pup that I had already grown to love.  He had a curved spine that was causing his hips to be out of alignment and to have arthritis.  His shoulder had arthritis and was swollen and tender to the touch.  His lungs were scarred and would not heal, from years of pneumonia and neglect.  He was deaf, had cataracts on his eyes, his teeth were bad and several would need to come out, and he had a thyroid condition; but on the plus side he was heartworm free and the vet and staff thought he was adorable and instantly fell in love with him like we did.

Andy and I prepared ourselves that this relationship with Linus could likely be for a short time, but in that short amount of time, we would fill it with love.  I read articles, discussed with the vet all sorts options to make his life better through medication, therapies, exercise; anything that I could think of to make his life the best it could be.  What we had to learn was that we were never going to fix Linus, but we had to strive for a quality of life where he was comfortable and happy. 

Over the last year, we have had days that Linus was able to walk and enjoy being outside, to days where he would barely move from his sleeping spot.  We have had vet visits where the vet was astounded with his progress, to visits where we simply cried and wished that life was fair. But what we can say for sure, is that our little man has grown into a pup who no longer needs to hide behind a wall to protect himself from the fears of his past. Linus proudly displays his sass to tell us what he wants and needs.  He is spoiled beyond words and that is ok, because after all that he has been through he deserves it.  He no longer has the personality of “I can take care of myself” it has become one of “come snuggle me Momma or Papa Andy, I need love and a snuggle blanket …NOW!”

We don’t know what the next year holds for us, we don’t know how much time we get with Linus; my goal is to be able to celebrate another gotcha day and another birthday with our sweet little man, but we take it one day at a time.  One thing we know for certain is there will never be enough time, there will never be enough love to give this sweet pup.

So today we celebrate Linus and the day he came into our lives.  Tomorrow, we celebrate the day we have decided to call his Birthday. I hope he knows in his heart how much he is loved, how much he has taught me about perseverance, and how much he has taught us, and the world around us, about the magical wonder of adopting a senior dog.

I love you my sweet boy, thank you for finding me and thank you for letting me love you

Momma Karen

Reflections from momma

What it has been like to be momma to this little man and to Panthor KitKat.

When we first adopted Linus, I referred to myself as Mum, because Linus seemed like my little old man and that he would refer to me as such. Today, instead of a little old man, he has become my little man. When he is happy, he looks over to find me so I can see his tail wag, so I can see his smile, and he lets out a little growl or bark to make sure I am paying attention.  When he is scared, he immediately runs to me so that I can reassure him it will be ok. When we are outside and he walks ahead of me and realizes I am not at his side, he immediately stops and sniffs the air to find where I am. I have become his momma.

In the last few weeks, this little man has awoken before our eyes. He came to us an older gentleman who needed a quiet place to sleep and be cared for. Today, he is the pup who tells us what he needs (ok demands what he needs), he is the pup that now goes to the front door and barks to let us know he needs to go out, the pup who chews bones and gets cheeky and tries to steal from the trash. He is the pup who will walk into the kitchen and tell me to hurry up with his dinner because I am taking too long to prepare it, he is the pup who stomps his front feet when he is frustrated that we don't know what he wants, and he is the pup that when he is tired and needs a snoozle curls up on Papa Andy's or my foot so that he can sleep knowing we are watching over him. He has become my little man and I love him more than words can explain. From the first week, he found his way into my heart, right to where his piece was waiting for him to find it, he showed me that patience and love  can conquer the world, and he made me a momma again.

I know on Mother's Day it is a time to give thanks to your moms, mums, mothers, or mommas; but today I would like to be the one to say thank you to this little man for letting me love him.

Ok, if you are still reading, I know I started by saying a momma to both Linus and Panthor KitKat. I haven't forgotten KitKat, he has shown me his love and appreciation in his own way today; by leaving me a giant turd on the floor of the laundry room, three feet from his litter box.  I love you too, Panthor KitKat, you little shit!!