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.