[stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks

[Brenda]

Hi Brad
I really enjoyed this.  You might put "sad" in the subject line though.  
I have a hard time with anything ungood happening to animals (and 
sometimes even people).  I'm glad I read it.  I like how it progressed 
and related back to humans at the end.
Brenda



On 1/18/2012 9:13 PM, Brad Dunsé wrote:
> This was a blog bit I wrote a year and a half ago. A friend is 
> experiencing similar, so I looked it up and re-read it today. I tossed 
> a couple fixes in it but it probably could use more. Nonetheless I 
> thought to post it here as is, despite its length of 1470 words. Don't 
> feel you need to scour over for detailed feedback. If something stands 
> out as your read, great.
>
> Old Dogs and Old Tricks
>
> The morning routine is commanded by a series of whimpers and whines 
> before I even get in a full cup of coffee. Standing before me with a 
> stubby tail jittering back and forth, rear end swaying left and right, 
> intense pupils staring out of brown eyes and a tongue dangling to the 
> right side of the mouth over huge teeth, is my old dog Buster.
>
> Now Buster, surprising to most, is a she, not a he. When I decided on 
> a liver and white English Springer spaniel pup so many years ago now, 
> I was determined to call him Buster Brown... you know as the old shoe 
> company? The fact that I prefer female pups was no barrier for my 
> naming conventions. So walking through the parks and neighborhoods 
> with my wife to my left and pup in-between, calling out shortened nick 
> names like, "Good Busty girl ... That's my Busty girl ... Come here 
> big busty girl," pretty much jerks the heads of passersby as they dart 
> widened eyes from wife to pup to wife to pup, wondering "Which one is 
> he talking to?"
>
> The morning visual and audible ceremony is reminder I need to give her 
> a morning dose of meds, or p I l l as I have to say, as to not evoke 
> canine hysteria. She likes the p I l ls because she gets them wrapped 
> in a small piece of bread followed by a small handful of little dog 
> bone treats I scatter on the floor, to which I call out "Scatter 
> treats... scatter treats" OK so I'm a total dorkster when it comes to 
> my pup.
>
> Now, Buster is nearly 14-years-old, has had a wonderful life having 
> gone camping, canoeing, goose chasing, long walks, sightseeing, bird 
> watching, and really has lived a good, full life. At fourteen however, 
> her beer barrel body is riddled with fatty tumors, for over a year now 
> has a fist-sized tumor in one lung, has tooth issues, takes one med to 
> keep the tumor from growing too fast, takes another med to prevent 
> coughing and wheezing attacks caused by fluid building up in the lung, 
> and takes yet more meds for joint medicine to help the arthritis. Her 
> back is swayed resembling an old 1900s barn soon to cave in from the 
> center. Her front-leg limp is getting more pronounced, and her hip 
> movement is very stiff. She doesn't always come when you call because 
> she is flat out tired. I question whether she actually hears half the 
> time, and she'll crash into your legs if there's not enough lights on. 
> But, she is able to scale up and down 13 steps each time she goes out 
> to do her job in the back yard. She still enjoys her special moments 
> on a short walk, or blackened teeth from a good dose of spring dirt 
> from rooting around for whatever she roots around for, as my wife and 
> I chat while swaying to and fro on our backyard swing. To our 
> surprise, as well as our veterinarian's ... as she puts it, "Buster 
> just doesn't know she is sick," and continues to plod on without too 
> much complaint.
>
> Now, Buster has had a long-time appetite for bread products. Giving it 
> to her as a medication corn dog doesn't help I'm sure, but I'm tired 
> of putting my fingers down a saliva filled mouth ..., if I'd wanted 
> that sort of excitement I'd have considered dentistry as a profession, 
> so bread is the preferred dispensation methodology.
>
> Before you get misty eyed over this pup's condition, she still is able 
> to pull off her Houdini routine. What do I mean? Well, her biggest 
> trick is her disappearing trick. No. She doesn't disappear, however 
> nice that might be at times of misbehaving, which seems to be 
> increasing with age; it is the bread products that she can make 
> disappear.
>
> After catching her standing at the counter top with her bowed 
> rear-legs stretched to the ground and nose to the air, sniffing out 
> items on the countertop, we began to be mindful of what was left on 
> the counter, as in when one comes home from grocery shopping for 
> instance?
>
> Having gone down stairs to do something, my wife had come down as well 
> to put something away. We heard a big clickety clack, clickety clack 
> on the floor upstairs. My wife and I simultaneously snapped heads 
> towards each other and dashed for the stairs yelling "BUSTER!! Get out 
> of there!" By the time we got up stairs the only thing we saw was a 
> lip smacking smile on my dog, and an empty plastic bag of freshly 
> bought hot dog buns on the floor, which disappeared in less than a 
> minute! Do you know what bread products tend to do to an elderly dogs 
> gastric activity? Let's just say there's no need to blame the dog; 
> everyone in the house knows it was the dog.
>
> Who is excused from the Houdini trick? Not grandma, no. At my parent's 
> place where Buster can do no wrong, my elderly mom had just gotten 
> home from shopping and I came up the stairs to find her in a Sherlock 
> Holmes hunch looking all around the kitchen and hallway for something.
>
> "You looking for something mom?" I said.
>
> "Yeah. I thought I had bought some hot dog buns..."
>
> Oh no! I thought. "Well, umm where were they?"
>
> "I thought they were in the bag next to the pantry," she mumbled as 
> she scoured the floor.
>
> "Look for an empty bag mom; I think Buster may have found them."
>
> "Hahahaha," she laughed... "I don't think so, I've been right here the 
> whole time. I must have put them away somewhere"."
>
> But nope. Sure enough, there lay the empty bag as evidence the 
> disappearing bun trickster struck again, in broad daylight with people 
> walking by!
>
> This happened again the day of my daughter's going away get together, 
> before she shipped off to Kyrgyz Republic for her Peace Corps 
> assignment. An hour or so before the party started, I heard my sweet 
> soft spoken daughter yelling, "Buster! No! Bad dog. What's wrong with 
> you! Get out of there. Let go of it! NOW!"
>
> Fortunately, our olfactories were spared by my daughter's save, but 
> the buns were yet a loss from toothy punctures.
>
> As I sat watching my pup this morning with head in bowl, lapping up 
> water in her traditional triplet manner ... slurp slurp slurp ... 
> slurp slurp slurp ... slurp slurp slurp ..., legs quivering under her 
> own body weight, back caving from weakening muscles, breathing through 
> her nose as she drank, hearing a snap of mucus in her nostrils now and 
> again as the effects of the tumor begins to become more evident; for 
> just a second the image of a much more youthful Buster stood at the 
> water bowl. I remembered all the wonderful times we've had together 
> playing hide-n-seek with the treats as she's sniff them out under me 
> as I lay on the floor, making her think she called up birds with her 
> barks as I pointed out a bird flying by saying "Call 'em up pal... 
> call up some birds!" and making her balance a treat on her nose, her 
> staring at it cross eyed until I'd say "OK pal," then snapping her 
> head in a circle and eat the treat out of thin air. Soon the shapely 
> muscular image of my pup was replaced with the current, swaggered 
> version, and I realize time is drawing near for us to say good bye to 
> a very good friend. As I watched and listened to her drink, somehow 
> all the mischievous antics and misbehavior didn't seem to matter much 
> anymore. I saluted her in my mind, honoring her maintenance of a good 
> disposition between the groans at night, trying to get comfortable as 
> she lays her tired self for a night's unrest, and struggling on the 
> 13th step on her way back up from her morning constitutional. .
>
> We can certainly learn from these canine life blessings we call 
> pets... all the things she's done over the years that have upset or 
> annoyed us seem to have little impact as the chances for her to repeat 
> those behaviors are reduced daily, and the end draws closer.
>
> Why then, can't we afford that right to family and friends now, 
> instead of waiting until it's too late? The trick my old dog Buster 
> has taught me living her life, really unselfishly, despite the natural 
> instinct to capitalize on opportunities when they present themselves, 
> is being there unconditionally for others when she felt every which 
> way but comfortable, and in her own trials, only wants to please and 
> spend time with others, all the while hiding any discomfort until it 
> is just not possible any longer.
>
>  Now... wouldn't that be an old trick for a few of us old dogs to learn?
>
>
>
>
> Brad Dunsé
>
> "Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other 
> person to die." --Unknown
>
> http://www.braddunsemusic.com
>
> http://www.facebook.com/braddunse
>
> http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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