It's a Good Day to be Alive

"It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake.” 

Geoffrey Chaucer, Troilus and Criseuda, circa 1380

Garage Slumber Party

It has been a year since John received that awful phone call from Dr. Rogowski; when, having mastered the art of keeping her emotions in check, she stated matter of factly, "Maizey has cancer." John listened intently but I’m sure all he heard was the “C” word, or maybe "aggressive" and "amputation" or maybe all three together. I didn’t see his heart break, but I saw my tough-as-a-Navy-SEAL son’s red-rimmed eyes and knew something the news was not good.

So imagine our delight every morning when he says to Maizey, “Its a good day to be alive” and she rallies from a restless slumber to meet that day head on. The tumor on her shoulder  has grown to the size of a baseball. She is lame in her right leg. She is noticeably in pain. She’s learned how to hop on three legs and tell us as accurately as any Timex watch that it’s time for another Tramadol. 

Yet, like that Timex she keeps on ticking. The same dog seemingly in a sound sleep can still rouse herself in seconds if she hears me whisper “walk.” She can still beat Buddy out the door when she hears John’s truck pull in the driveway.  She can still eat, pee and poop on a regular basis. She can still body slam Buddy out of the way of her desired chew bone. And she can still sit on the pool steps and catch a ball tossed in her direction like a frog nabbing a passing fly.

While we are grateful for all the extra time the Divine Dog Whisperer has graced us with, it’s hard not to want more. It’s become obvious that Maizey’s good days are numbered. We are on alert for any sign that it’s time to call Dr. Katie. To make up for no longer being able to ride in the truck, go to the beach or do the "big" walk around the neighborhood, we’re doing everything we can to enrich her final days. We almost never leave Maizey alone. At the slightest jingle of car keys her anxiety kicks in so we’ve been known to sneak out the front door.  Quesadilla Ellington’s meds are given wrapped in cheese. We’ve moved from processed American, to sharp cheddar to deli sliced mozzarella. If she lives long enough she’ll probably balk at Italian cheese and prefer creamy French chevre, a Bûcheron, perhaps or Chabichou, anything to mask the bitterness of the hidden pharmaceuticals. Every day, as the charcoal heats up, John rakes and molds Maizey’s favorite hole to perfection. Just when he thinks the throne is manicured to perfection, Queen Maizey digs it all up and plops her self down ("plops" being the operative word). Surrounded by a hoard of wet and chewed tennis balls, a pail of ice water and the smell of barbecued chicken legs wafting past her nose, Maizey dozes through her dog day afternoons.

There's a "boom boom coming.

In fact, sleeping is what our once active Doodle Dog does best. To accommodate her, our house resembles a canine hostel, without the cages. There is a blanket-covered orthopedic bed or pillow in every room, plus all the human furniture she can still mount. Each bed is cooled by its own fan. It is not uncommon to find a human sleeping beside her. Maizey recently started napping in the garage so there it also contains a down comforter pallet where she can a) sleep b) hear what Buddy and John are doing in the backyard or c) watch the rain. It’s sad that the dog who used to run as far and as fast as she could, usually into an unsuspecting neighbor's house, when the garage door was raised is now content to let Buddy do the running. However, I do not doubt for one minute if a dog walker passed by that she’d be up and gone in a flash.  

There were 3 in the bed until Maizey
decided it was to crowded and went to her hole

John tells me "She’s always listening." So am I. I hear her peg-leg footfalls in the middle of the night moving from one bed to another. I hear her panting next to me when she needs a midnight potty run.  I smile when I hear her snoring. I've even gotten to the place where I am grateful when she barks, because as long as she’s making noise it’s a good day to be alive.