Love Archives - Smart Dog University

Tango

July 26, 2018

I had planned to write this on January 17 while I was on a cross-country flight to the West coast. I was ready to write it. I had recovered enough that I could form coherent sentences and I’d finally reached the point where I smiled when I thought about Tango.

But then a thing happened that put this post off until now. I am not ready yet to write about that thing, but it’s coming. One thing at a time.

Tango C. Mango

Fifteen years ago today, the best dog ever, Tango (aka Fig) came into our lives. Tango was the third service puppy we raised. He was our first yellow and he was a fun addition to our dog family.

Tango was a surprise. I had gone to the service dog organization for a scheduled check-in and progress update with Lily (our second service dog-in-training) and afterwards, we went to evaluate a potential puppy at a nearby farm.

The kennel knew that at nine weeks old Tango wasn’t going to be a good fit for them (hunting and conformation showing), so they called the service dog agency. He was a steady, solid pup and passed the initial temperament tests so we popped him in the car and brought him back. The director asked if I wanted another pup and without even asking my husband, I agreed.

I was staying the weekend with my parents and when I walked in the door with Lily and this new pup, it was quite a surprise. It also happened to be my dad’s 66th birthday and I walked into the house carrying this little yellow bundle and said “Happy Birthday, Dad!” There were a lot of things my dad might have wanted for his birthday, but a puppy wasn’t one of them. I laughed and, much to my dad’s relief, explained who this new little guy was.

Early training

Tango was one of the easiest dogs to train. Because I already had Lily at work as a service dog-in-training, Tango had to stay home for a couple of months. We worked long days, so I set up a big sort of playpen for Tango complete with sleeping area, water, and a bathroom area. We had a neighborhood girl come in to let him out when she got off the bus, but for the most part, he was alone all day. Aside from the time when he had a stomach bug, he never went to the bathroom in the house.

I started bringing Tango to work fairly early because he was house trained so early. Going to work with Tango was like going to work with a celebrity. He was the third dog to go to work with me, but he made friends wherever he went.

I worked at a government agency and there were about 3,000 employees scattered across a campus of about 20 buildings. Ours was a close-knit community and while I didn’t know everyone who worked there, each face was recognizable. You knew they worked there even if you didn’t know their name. Our Director was a presidential appointee and while I’d gotten approval to bring the service dog-in-training to work, I felt like we were still walking on eggshells. The thought of a new Director terrified me — what if he quashed this trial program and refused to allow dogs-in-training at work?

One day a man got on the elevator with us. He didn’t look familiar, but we made small talk until I got to my floor. I didn’t see him again for a few weeks when he was introduced to the campus as the new Director.

I had always tried to blend in with the dog at work. I was the “trial case” and I really didn’t want to cause waves or draw any more attention to myself than walking around a government building with a dog. One day while we were getting lunch in the cafeteria, someone stops me as Tango and I are walking out. It was the Director, sitting at a table with other executives. He stopped his working lunch to pet the dog and then let us go on our way. So much for blending in.

Tango’s service dog career and the Director’s appointment ended at roughly the same time. Before they both left, however, we had many surprise visits when the Director just dropped into my office (thank goodness those were the days before social media took off, so I was almost always doing legitimate work!). There was one December when he invited us up to his office for a holiday party — with his dog! That was certainly a December I’ll always remember.

Tango was disqualified from service work about halfway through his training due to an elbow abnormality that would likely shorten his working career. I was elated to get the news.

He and me

For the next fourteen years or so, Tango was by my side in both adventure, education, and business.

He was my “KPA dog”—the dog who was a partner in my dog trainer education. It was an intense 6-month program in which we both had to do our part in order to graduate.

The transition from service dog to pet dog was tough for Tango. He delighted in going places with me and had a really hard time understanding why I left him behind when I went out. To give him a taste of his former life that he loved so much, Tango and I were certified as a therapy dog team.

We spent time in nursing homes, hospice facilities, and, Tango’s favorite, elementary schools. By far, his favorite place to go was the local elementary school (where, coincidentally, I went to school 31 years before Tango was born.

We spent many years at my old elementary school with kids who had developmental disabilities. He loved those kids so much and really delighted in our weekly trips. They read to him and he hung on every single word.

For about ten years, we were sure the radiographs that got him dismissed from service work had been incorrect. He was fit, he’d swim all day, retrieve until he was exhausted. He was an athlete!

And then we noticed a very slight limp. Every now and then. Maybe we were imagining it. A year or so later and the limp was still slight, but it was there more often. And then it was there all the time. And before we knew it, there was a ramp to get into the car, a ramp to get into the house, and a ramp to get up just one step within the house.

The medication started, too. Initially just one pill and only when needed. But before it was all over, there were so many drugs, so many times a day. There were joint injections, acupuncture, massage, and laser. We did everything we could for as long as we could.

Tango loved tomatoes, just like I did. I loved tomatoes, but I loved him more and he always got the very first tomato of the season.

One of his favorite things was going to the garden with me and picking ripe tomatoes from the vine. I knew he’d have trouble getting to the garden last year, so I planted three tomatoes in the yard for him. Even when his arthritis was at it’s worst, he wanted to go out and pick some tomatoes.

I made a little toast to Tango as I ate that first tomato this year.

Us

I won’t recount every single thing we did together, there are too many. And it’s not really what we did that was special, it’s that we did it together.

We were a team. He was mine and I was his. My favorite dog, no matter which dog we had in training, Tango always got the best sleeping spot, the best leftovers, the best toy. I was my best when I was with him.

I know I’ll love other dogs. Of course I will. They’re dogs after all. But there won’t be another like this one.

Tango C Mango
May 18, 2003 – December 11, 2017
The Best Dog Ever

Knocked Down. And Then Again.

February 5, 2018

I’ve had “write blog post” on my daily schedule for the last six days. I keep moving it.

Regular readers (ha, as if I’ve been a regular writer) know that for the past thirteen or so months, my life has been more personal and less business.

It started when our 11-year old “healthy” dog, Nemo, died suddenly as he was walking into the house one afternoon.

That rocked me back on my heels and sort of set the whole family adrift.

Then, I took Tango to the veterinary hospital for drinking too much water and we wound up with same-day splenectomy surgery and an eventual two-cancer diagnosis.

Tango’s health was up and down for a few months, then things evened out.

We had a good summer until Lily took a turn for the worse.

Lily's still beautiful. We’d been dealing with canine cognitive dysfunction for over a year and with, I think degenerative myelopathy. She was a trooper and didn’t quit until she finally couldn’t stand on her own. It happened suddenly and we called the veterinarian to come that very day. She had a great 15.5 years, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to that sweet girl.

Two dogs in seven months.

That was tough. Especially knowing that Tango was up against severe osteoarthritis and two different types of cancer. Thank goodness Schooner was in good health.

Tango stayed steady into the fall.

He was on medication four times a day, was still getting massage and laser to help with the osteoarthritis, and seemed to be coasting along, with an occasional off-day (which I watched like a hawk). He was doing well enough that we felt comfortable enough to go on vacation and leave Tango and Schooner with a wonderful house sitter and a friend who took excellent care of both the dogs.

In mid-November, Schooner was lethargic and had a slight cough.

I thought he had the dog flu. I took him to the veterinary hospital hoping to get some antibiotics to help him feel better. Imagine my shock when I was told he had an arrhythmia and was given a referral to a cardiologist. The diagnosis dealt another blow: dilated cardiomyopathy.

The cardiologist wouldn’t give us a prognosis but said sudden death was possible.

We started an intense medication regimen for Schooner, hoping to buy some time.

In December, Tango started a slow, but steady decline.

yellow lab, Labrador, yellow labrador — The handsomest.

He was less able to maneuver through the house. I added a ramp so he could go outside more easily. I bought orthopedic beds. Still, he was moving less. His tail still wagged, but even that was becoming less frequent. One evening he didn’t want his dinner.

We said goodbye to Tango on December 13 at home.

Tango was my favorite, he was my business partner, and my best friend. I felt as if I’d been run over by a semi-truck.

We made it through Christmas with just Schooner.

To be honest, we started our holiday celebration early after Schooner’s diagnosis because we didn’t know how long we’d have him. The medication seemed to be making Schooner feel normal again. And, like Tango, we dropped into a steady “new normal” routine.

Things seemed to be going so well, I had let myself forget that he had a fatal heart diagnosis.

I had to travel to ClickerExpo to present some talks and we didn’t want Schooner home alone during the day for so many hours, plus he needed mid-day medication. On January 16, I took Schoons to my parent’s place on Lake Anna and came home the next day to fly out to California.

As I was boarding the plane, I got a call from my dad telling me Schooner had just collapsed.

Great Dane

I didn’t know it then, but Schooner died immediately. And there I was, boarding a flight that would take me 3,000 miles away for the next eight days. It was, without a doubt, one of the worst days of my life. Helpless, lost, heartbroken, numb — all those words described my state of mind.

I plan to write something special for both Tango and for Schooner.

In fact, I finally felt ready to write about Tango and had planned to write on the long flight to California. As circumstances were, I had two glasses of wine and concentrated on not collapsing in a heap on the plane.

I strongly believe Tango and Schooner need a tribute.

And I’ll get to those later this week.

Remembering Lily

July 25, 2017

Remembering Lily

Tiger Lily
January 16, 2002 – July 7, 2017

It’s taken me some time to write Lily’s obituary post.

I don’t know if I’ve been avoiding it because it’s just too hard to write it or if I think it needs to be perfect. But enough is enough. So here goes, imperfections and all…

black Labrador, black Lab, service dog, service dog in training — Baby Lily working in public in her service dog cape

Lily was our matriarch.

The second service dog we raised (the first one to stay forever), Lily had a clear set of rules by which she lived her life. Feisty and fearless, Lily was a force. She was serious. She had a work ethic I wish I had. She’d do just about anything and never wanted a training session to end.

She was a Labrador, but she didn’t really like to retrieve and she wasn’t really into swimming.

She would retrieve if it was part of her job (if we were in a training session and I asked her to get her leash, for instance), but she was not the Labrador who would chase the ball for hours on end. And while she didn’t think too much of swimming, we couldn’t keep her out of Lake Anna where she’d fish all day long. Back and forth, head cocked to the side looking for minnows and blue gill, she’d be up to her belly in the lake from 9a until dark if we didn’t make her get out and rest.

She was one (of the three) reasons we went to the lake every year for vacation.

black Labradors, black Lab, service dog, service dog in training — Lily (~8 months) with her service dog pal, Rocky

(The other two reasons were Nemo and Tango.) We built a ramp so the dogs could get out of the water more efficiently and Lily navigated the ramp like a seasoned sailor. Her balance and love of all things unstable served her well at the lake where she loved jumping on the Jet Ski with us and tooling around the lake for as long as we’d let her. She jumped on the wake board and would hang out on it all day with us. If we moved toward the boathouse, she was the first in (and the last out). She was also notorious for taking a flying leap into the wheelbarrow whenever we had it out — she delighted in the challenge of keeping her balance in the wheelbarrow whether it was empty or filled with dirt. The more unstable the surface, the more she loved it.

While she wasn’t the retriever of the family (Tango held that title), she delighted in running interference after we threw Tango’s bumper into the lake. She’d bark, jump, grab the ruff of his neck and do everything she could to cause mischief for Tango, who lived to retrieve. Interfering in Tango’s retrieving was one of the few instances of silliness that Lily allowed herself.

We joked that Lily was the stereotypical librarian who wore her hair in a severe bun and shushed everyone else all the time.

Lily's still beautiful. — Photo by MaryKate Battles

She was the rule creator and enforcer. Playing was almost beneath her on any regular day. Playing was for dogs and Lily obviously didn’t group herself among “those things.” Her disdain for playing was almost comical.

Two or maybe three times a year, though, Lily would let her hair down, change out of her conservative suit, and let it rip.

And watch out! She was a WILD woman! We loved seeing that side of her come out, even though we knew “Wild Lily” would disappear almost as quickly as she arrived. She would solicit play from the others, she’d blatantly steal something just to get our attention, or she’d just straight up jump on Tango or Nemo to get them to notice her and her craziness. Her “hair down” moments were short, but intense, and then she’d be back to Librarian Lily.

Lily got along with all the dogs that came through our house, but she had a special affinity for Tango, particularly as she got older.

It wasn’t uncommon for me to find her curled up with Tango in his bed, tucked in as tight as a little bug in a rug. She began to follow Tango and looked for him for clues as to what was going on as her hearing and vision deteriorated in her senior years. She was clearly comforted by his presence.

black Labrador, black Lab, dog training, dog walking

Lily was an athlete. She could keep up with the boys, often outrunning and outmaneuvering them whenever they got too close and she was in danger of “being captured.” For many years, she was my walking partner. She pushed me hard, too! It wasn’t uncommon for me to jog just to keep up with her fast pace. She kept up her walks until she was about 15, although her speed did diminish a bit the last six months of her life.

We loved all her different personalities and enjoyed her growing old with us.

A few years ago, we noticed her hearing was diminished. A year or two later, it was clear that her eyesight was fading, too. I was amused when Lily started “getting into trouble” by standing on the dishwasher door to lick the plates or when she’d shop from the recycle bin. “Look at her, learning to live a little,” I’d say.

It became clear about a year later that what we were seeing was the beginning of canine cognitive dysfunction.

Her “living a little” turned into staring at the wall, going to the wrong side of the door (going to the hinged side instead of the open side to go out, for example), walking endless circles, loss of house training, and other little slips that were clearly more than normal aging. We made accommodations for her. We put the mattresses directly on the floor so she could get into and out of bed easily (she began to fall out of bed frequently as her eyesight got worse, and I was afraid she’d seriously hurt herself). I got her a raised feeder when she lost her balance putting her head down to drink or eat. We developed an alternative form of communication that didn’t rely on her hearing. (I’d tap her lightly on her back, which caused her to turn in my direction, and then I could direct her to move where I needed her to go.)

She also had what I think was degenerative myelopathy.

So while she wasn’t in any pain, she gradually lost the ability to control her hind end. Lily hated our help and so I tried to let her do as much on her own as she could. We knew, though, that there’d come a day when she wouldn’t be able to function without our help. We tried lots of things to help her (sticky spray for her feet, rug runners on all our hardwood or tile floors, sticky treads for the floor, etc.) and those helped for about a year, but on her last day with us, she couldn’t stand up even with our assistance.

She didn’t languish. One day she could walk, the next day she couldn’t.

And while she wasn’t in pain, she also wasn’t able to do anything for herself so we made the decision to let her go.

Our fabulous veterinarian came to our house and we all gathered ’round, feeding Lily bacon as she was sedated and finally euthanized. It was peaceful, it was quick, it was merciful. And that’s what she deserved. She gave life every single day she had. We laugh and say we think she and Nemo must have struck a bargain at some point and he gave her some of his days — he died at barely 11 years old while Lily lived to a fabulous 15.5 years.

We took her the very next morning to be cremated. We waited there for her and she was back home with us less than 18 hours after she died.

She was a tiny little Labrador, but man, did she have a large personality.

We will miss that little sprite for the rest of our days.

Living with Old Dogs: Lily’s Cliffhanger

April 20, 2017

Living with old dogs…it’s an adventure, to put it kindly.

A rollercoaster, even.

I’ve been sharing more of my old dog stories lately.

It’s what my life is like these days. I’m thankful for Schooner because while he’s middle aged (4 is getting up there for some Great Danes), he’s still playful and agile.

So my old girl, Lily, is 15 and 3 months.

Lily, old dog, black lab, Labrador, clicker training, Frederick. Smart Dog University Yes, at age 15, she gets credit for every month — when she’s 15 and a half, I may even start giving her credit for the weeks. Her canine cognitive dysfunction is in high gear. Her eyesight is getting worse, and I fear her hearing has completely abandoned her. I have self-diagnosed her with degenerative myelopathy, too. [I’m a dog trainer, not a veterinarian, so obviously, don’t rely on me or this blog for veterinary advice. Consult with your veterinarian for veterinary advice.] I’ll write another blog post about all these issues later, I just want to give you a glimpse into my crazy life and my crazy brain.

Early in the morning, around 5:15a, Lily fell out of bed.

No worries, the mattresses are directly on the floor to ensure she can still sleep on the bed and to be sure that when she does get out of bed (onto the carpeted floor) she doesn’t hurt herself. I heard her and I waited for her to get up and walk into the hallway, which is my cue to get up, follow her, and let her out to go to the bathroom.

But there was no noise. No movement.

I throw the covers off, flip the light on, and there she is, lying just as she fell. I go over to her, put my arms under her shoulders (at which point she usually rights herself and I then help her up). Nothing.

She still doesn’t move.

She’s breathing, she’ll even blink if I move my hand toward her face. But no movement. I call for my husband who is getting ready to leave for work. He gets on one end, I’m on the other and we lift her up. I’m sure she’ll start to move, stiffen her body, or somehow show some sort of indication that she’s aware of what’s happening and will try to help.

Nothing.

living with old dogs, Lab, labrador, black lab, Smart Dog University She’s breathing regularly, her gums are nice and pink, she blinks as I move my hand toward her eye. I watch her for another 15 minutes before the other dogs come in and tell me it’s their breakfast time. Confident I’m going to be calling my husband later in the day to tell him Lily has died, I reluctantly take care of the other dogs and get their breakfast ready.

Before I’m finished getting their breakfast ready, here comes Lily, be-bopping into the kitchen looking well-rested and ready for the day.

I laughed and laughed. That’s Lily. We joke that she’s like a Timex — takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’. She’s a tank: she’s not fast, but there’s nothing that can stop her. We know her time is coming, and it’s not too far in the future. But I believe that right up until that very minute, she’ll be trucking on — over and through anything that’s in her way.

So until that time comes, I’ll still check her breathing (at least) five times a day while she’s sleeping to make sure she’s still alive, I’ll clean up after her (the degenerative myelopathy contributes to her incontinence), and our house will look like a wayward home for throw rugs and runners (to help her keep her footing on our hardwood and tile floors).

Are you living with an old dog? Leave a comment with your adventures and roller coaster rides. I’d love to empathize with you.

Loving and Living with Old Dogs

February 27, 2017

These old dogs.

It’s a roller coaster ride daily, this loving and living with old dogs.

My life is getting a little closer to normal…for now. I feel like I have to add that qualifier because the whole thing could collapse at any moment.

We had a rough month right after Tango’s unplanned splenectomy and subsequent cancer diagnosis.

We made a couple unscheduled veterinary visits and one emergency vet visit that netted Tango a night in said emergency hospital. For the last 10 days or so, though, things have hit a blissful patch of boring normalcy.

Tango even got to get his joint injections yesterday.

Those were scheduled for a month ago, but then his spleen had to grow a gigantic mass and mess up all our plans. Damned spleen, so inconsiderate.

In the meantime, I’ve had my hands full with our other old dog, Lily, the one with significant cognitive deficiencies.

I haven’t written about her much because, well, Tango’s spleen wanted the spotlight.

The advances in veterinary medicine are truly great.

Dogs are living longer than ever before. Lily had cancer at age 13. We removed it and returned to our regularly scheduled lives. Even ten years ago, I don’t think it would’ve ended that well for Lily. The downside to old dogs living longer is that, well, our dogs are now experiencing different difficulties.
Lily’s dementia is getting worse. She forgets to lie down. She doesn’t know where she is sometimes. She’s losing the ability to know when she has to go to the bathroom. She walks in circles. She sleeps so long I check to make sure she’s breathing.

Lily’s still engaged in her world frequently, however.

Lily Helping Pick the Christmas Tree
When Schooner barrels outside, she’s following right behind to see what’s caught his attention. She eats her meals with gusto, still likes her daily Kongs, likes to be with us, and is mostly a bright-eyed girl.

She’s lost most of her hearing and her vision is definitely compromised.

I have to gently tap her on the back to get her attention. Thank goodness we taught hand signals as well as words when we trained her years ago. Those hand signals are all we have left now.

Lily’s interaction preferences have changed significantly.

When we want to pet her (which isn’t often, as she finds touch more aversive as she ages), it’s best if we go for Lily’s chin as opposed to over her head. Otherwise, her faulty vision must make it look like we’re coming at her hard and fast as she blinks her eyes and dodges her head as if to avoid being struck.

Labradors, old dogs, senior dogs, yellow Labrador, black Labrador She is still engaged with us most of the time, though, and seems to enjoy being one of the three dogs in the house — wherever they are, you’re sure to find Lily with them, hanging out, sniffing, doing perimeter patrol around the fence every day.

When Tango was away for many hours and for his overnight veterinary emergency, I was intrigued to see Lily — who doesn’t really seem to care very deeply about Schooner or Nemo (when he was alive) — greet Tango warmly by sniffing his face and wagging her tail earnestly when he arrived back home.

I look for little signs like that, signs that let me know some of the original Lily personality is alive and well.

She didn’t even greet me that warmly when I got back from my 10-day business trip in December! Tango was away for a day and she checked him out from head to toe, as if to ask “Where have you been? And now that you’re back, are you ok?”

Both Tango and Lily are experiencing the more severe “old age” maladies — cancer for Tango, dementia for Lily. It’s a lot of work for us, yes. Ministering to the very different needs of two old dogs is expensive in money, patience, and time. But having these old dogs around really is priceless.

There will be difficult decisions in our future, we know that.

But right now, for this very instant, living with these two old dogs is pretty darn special.

Do you love and live with old dogs? What are your experiences? Tricks and tips?

Personal Life. Business Life. It All Blends Together Sometimes.

January 26, 2017

Personal life. Business life. It all blends together sometimes.

Most readers of the Smart Dog U blog know that I own Smart Dog University, a one-woman dog training business. Like most micro business owners, I do it all: accounting, marketing, admin, teaching, email, blogging, training, well, you get the picture.

In addition to the business, I have my personal life which includes (now) three dogs.

Two of which are seniors (13.75 years old and 15 years old), and the other is a 160 pound giant of a dog, Schooner the Great Dane. In the last 45 days, one of my dogs died, two of the three remaining have had surgery, and all three have been to the veterinarian in the last seven days.

vet, veterinarian, Great Dane, Labrador, yellow lab, black lab — Three dogs at the vet at the same time

Sometimes my personal life bleeds into and affects my business life.

When Nemo died, not only did my personal life go off the rails, but I had to cancel class that night, which I know put my clients out through no fault of their own. No one complained, of course, they were understanding of my situation and my distress, but still — personal affected business.

Just this week, I took my 13.75 year old Labrador, Tango, in for an ultrasound (we were trying to get to the bottom of some abnormal blood and urine results).

The week before, his chest x-rays showed no abnormalities, so I was fairly confident the ultrasound would be equally unremarkable.

Imagine my anguish when I was told he had a mass on his spleen.

That led to same-day surgery to remove the 7 cm mass.

yellow Labrador, lab, yellow lab, splenectomy, — Tango recovers from a splenectomy

Surgery is tough on an old dog. I’ve worked on my laptop from my couch since Monday (which is where I’m writing this blog post) — and slept here, too, so I can take care of this sweet old dog as he recovers with me at home.

yellow Labrador, yellow Lab, splenectomy — Nothing like a comfy chair at home to make you feel better after surgery.

I’ve turned down clients this week who wanted to schedule in-home training appointments.

I’m loathe to leave Tango alone while he’s recuperating and still woozy from the anesthesia and the subsequent daily pain medication. My husband has modified his schedule, giving up his time after work at the gym, to ensure that when I leave to teach my group dog training classes, that he’s able to be home with Tango.

Again, personal life affects business life.

While I’ve kept up with email (email is so easy — I can answer email from almost anywhere), I’ve fallen behind on returning phone calls. Today, I need to carve out an hour or so devoted solely to returning calls.

I know I’m likely to lose some business due to the personal life/business life crossover.

And that’s stressful. I want to be responsive. However, with two old dogs, I know I can’t be the best in both my professional and personal life. So for now, personal life takes priority.

I don’t know how long I’ll have these oldsters.

I can’t reschedule time with them — we have only a finite amount of time together. I have a robust net of qualified trainers to whom I can refer clients who can’t wait. And for that I’m thankful. And I’m especially thankful to those clients who understand that a phone call might be returned a day or two later, and would prefer it that way as they love their dogs just as much as I do mine.

To all my fellow micro business owners, we may feel scattered and strung-out, especially when our home lives intersect and cause disruptions in our business lives.

But with support from family and friends — and those fabulous clients who understand our dilemma — we’ll get through it. Those folks allow us to tip the balance occasionally to whichever side needs us the most. For that I’m eternally grateful.

To those who do business with one-person businesses, understand that we’re doing our absolute best and often are running two lives at the same time — our personal life and our business life.

And there’s often no line separating the two. That’s both the upside and the downside of running your own micro business. Sometimes my business gets more of me than my family does. Sometimes I have to pull back from the business because my family needs me. It’s a balancing act that, for the most part, pretty much balances out. Except when it doesn’t.

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Love

Tango C. Mango

Early training

He and me

Us

I’ve had “write blog post” on my daily schedule for the last six days. I keep moving it.

It started when our 11-year old “healthy” dog, Nemo, died suddenly as he was walking into the house one afternoon.

Then, I took Tango to the veterinary hospital for drinking too much water and we wound up with same-day splenectomy surgery and an eventual two-cancer diagnosis.

We had a good summer until Lily took a turn for the worse.

Two dogs in seven months.

Tango stayed steady into the fall.

In mid-November, Schooner was lethargic and had a slight cough.

The cardiologist wouldn’t give us a prognosis but said sudden death was possible.

In December, Tango started a slow, but steady decline.

We said goodbye to Tango on December 13 at home.

We made it through Christmas with just Schooner.

Things seemed to be going so well, I had let myself forget that he had a fatal heart diagnosis.

As I was boarding the plane, I got a call from my dad telling me Schooner had just collapsed.

I plan to write something special for both Tango and for Schooner.

I strongly believe Tango and Schooner need a tribute.

Remembering Lily

Tiger Lily January 16, 2002 – July 7, 2017

It’s taken me some time to write Lily’s obituary post.

Lily was our matriarch.

She was a Labrador, but she didn’t really like to retrieve and she wasn’t really into swimming.

She was one (of the three) reasons we went to the lake every year for vacation.

We joked that Lily was the stereotypical librarian who wore her hair in a severe bun and shushed everyone else all the time.

Two or maybe three times a year, though, Lily would let her hair down, change out of her conservative suit, and let it rip.

Lily got along with all the dogs that came through our house, but she had a special affinity for Tango, particularly as she got older.

We loved all her different personalities and enjoyed her growing old with us.

It became clear about a year later that what we were seeing was the beginning of canine cognitive dysfunction.

She also had what I think was degenerative myelopathy.

And while she wasn’t in pain, she also wasn’t able to do anything for herself so we made the decision to let her go.

Living with old dogs…it’s an adventure, to put it kindly.

I’ve been sharing more of my old dog stories lately.

So my old girl, Lily, is 15 and 3 months.

Early in the morning, around 5:15a, Lily fell out of bed.

But there was no noise. No movement.

She still doesn’t move.

Nothing.

Before I’m finished getting their breakfast ready, here comes Lily, be-bopping into the kitchen looking well-rested and ready for the day.

Are you living with an old dog? Leave a comment with your adventures and roller coaster rides. I’d love to empathize with you.

These old dogs.

We had a rough month right after Tango’s unplanned splenectomy and subsequent cancer diagnosis.

Tango even got to get his joint injections yesterday.

In the meantime, I’ve had my hands full with our other old dog, Lily, the one with significant cognitive deficiencies.

The advances in veterinary medicine are truly great.

Lily’s still engaged in her world frequently, however.

She’s lost most of her hearing and her vision is definitely compromised.

Lily’s interaction preferences have changed significantly.

I look for little signs like that, signs that let me know some of the original Lily personality is alive and well.

There will be difficult decisions in our future, we know that.

Do you love and live with old dogs? What are your experiences? Tricks and tips?

Personal life. Business life. It all blends together sometimes.

In addition to the business, I have my personal life which includes (now) three dogs.

Sometimes my personal life bleeds into and affects my business life.

Just this week, I took my 13.75 year old Labrador, Tango, in for an ultrasound (we were trying to get to the bottom of some abnormal blood and urine results).

Imagine my anguish when I was told he had a mass on his spleen.

I’ve turned down clients this week who wanted to schedule in-home training appointments.

Again, personal life affects business life.

I know I’m likely to lose some business due to the personal life/business life crossover.

I don’t know how long I’ll have these oldsters.

To all my fellow micro business owners, we may feel scattered and strung-out, especially when our home lives intersect and cause disruptions in our business lives.

To those who do business with one-person businesses, understand that we’re doing our absolute best and often are running two lives at the same time — our personal life and our business life.

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Tiger Lily
January 16, 2002 – July 7, 2017