A Path With Paws

Beautiful, strong and proud, he leaps across the field with graceful steps, able to turn on his heals in a second’s time if something fun to chase crosses his path. But slowly the gray hairs form on his muzzle and his step slows, his eyes are no longer as clear as in his youth and he no longer hears the door when it opens.

For many dogs, aging is a difficult transition from being able to take on the world to not being able to take on the steps. The fun things they used to do like going to the dog park, going for long walks on the beach, or just making it around the block or into the car become impossible. Many of the very active or herding dogs have an equally difficult time mentally accepting that they can no longer do what they see to be their job.

My own dog Jake recently went through a very difficult period which started when he reached the point of not being able to climb the stairs between the first and second story of our home. Jake had always been the protector and organizer of our family, following everyone around, many times backwards bumping into walls as he went, so that he would not have to take his eyes off of us. He even made it a job trying to herd our four cats, which as any of you with cats know is clearly impossible.

He became extremely anxious about his limitations and would walk around panting nervously until he fell over with exhaustion. This was very difficult because his anxiety was not only very uncomfortable for him but also for us, especially when there was little we could do about it. We quickly got into a pattern of Jake becoming extremely anxious, us leaving the room because he was so anxious, and him becoming more anxious because he wasn’t with us. This was compounded by his anxiety causing him to lose continence and end up walking around panting and peeing as he went or pooping on the living room rug. I became convinced that not only was he losing his footing but that he was also losing his mind.

I would get so frustrated with him that I would shout,” just stay there, can’t you just sit still and relax!” Of course I was not making things any better with my frustration. Jake was not accepting his condition and I certainly wasn’t either. This just made him more agitated because I was upset with him in addition to him not being able to do his job. And he had always tried so hard to be a good dog. Having a career working with older dogs you would think I would have realized right away that we were both stuck in a very bad pattern but it is always harder to see the things that are closest to home.

Gradually as a family we realized that there was a large problem with acceptance and the first thing to do was accept Jake for where he was at. We also made some changes to our home and routines to improve things. We changed our schedules so that we were able to let him out at the same times every day to poop and pee. One very important change was to put up a gate between our two floors so that Jake could not go up or down the stairs on his own. In the morning we would help him down the stairs and in the evening we would help him up so he could sleep in my son’s room and do his job of protecting him. Because the gate was there he knew that we were purposely stopping him from going on the stairs and he no longer felt that he had to follow us where he could not.

We let him know that we accepted him for who he was and that we valued his job of protecting us and watching over us but that his most important job now was to keep his strength and be our companion instead of our protector. He received more pets and we tried our best to make him understand that he was loved for being Jake and that was separate from what he could or could not do. We praised him when he was calm and sitting still and took more time to sit and talk to him.

In a short period of time he because more calm and stopped following us around everywhere. After about two weeks we were able to take the gate down and he no longer went on the stairs except in the morning and the evening. Now most of the time he doesn’t even need help to get up and down the stairs the two times a day he climbs them. His continence also improved and he no longer pees or poops in the house and can make it much longer without being let out.

Of all the things we did I think the most important was to accept and love him unconditionally. I have had other clients tell me as well that when they were able to truly accept and love their animal companions in the condition that they were in, there was improvement not just for their animals both mentally and physically but also for themselves. I had one client explain to me that when she was able to accept that her dog needed to go out multiple times in the evening and realize how happy she was just to have her here in her old age that she no longer found it so difficult to get up in the middle of the night. In addition I noticed a huge improvement in her dog’s physical condition, she was much more present and less painful.

When we have friends or family who truly accept us regardless of state it makes us feel very loved and protected. We no longer have to pretend to be something we are not. I think it is no different with our animal friends. Through accepting them we are sharing our love and letting them be what they are at that moment. After all with older animals every moment we have with them is precious.

Love me for who I am today
Tomorrow I will be someone different
Gray may shine through my hair
Like stars in the sky
My eyes may be cloudy
Like the far off sea
But we are together
Our hearts touch as one
I am forever your friend
You are the one I love

Photographs in this story from Jennifer Kogut

So often our animals remind us how it is to be free to play and enjoy the world. Today while on vacation in Pacific Beach I saw a couple dogs running across the sand, their feet flying off the ground with every step. So happy, so in the moment. Barking wildly at their people to throw sticks, running against the wind, and having the time of their lives.

Today I also received some beautiful photos of Lucca and Sadie playing in the snow, in their element, jumping in the air, biting at the snow. How does it feel to be so happy and excited about life? Through our dogs we get to experience some of this, what greater gift. Laughing as we play and toss sticks or throw snow in the air. Laughing as we run after them in their joy which we are allowed to share in.

Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
by Mary Oliver

Today while looking for photographs of cute animals on flickr I came across the story of Chris and Brandy. Somehow this seemed to tell the true meaning of Christmas and giving more than photos of cute animal under the Christmas tree. Here is their story as told my the photographer who took these pictures.

I found this homeless man with his dog, he was ever so gentle and loving with man’s best friend. Chris told me his dog, Brandy, was all he had in the world. His last dog was taken away from him by the police because he did not have tags or a licence for the dog. The dog was euthanized. Killed by law enforcement! This is how they protect and serve. How can anyone be so heartless to take the only thing that a homeless person has? For that matter, whether homeless or not, our pets are sometimes the only love any of us really have.

It’s ironic, but Chris saved this dog as a puppy when it received a beating in a hotel room by a man that just threw the dog to the streets. Chris, being homeless, heard the puppy dog crying and being beaten and repeatedly hit. For as a homeless man was in the nearby trees spending the night. Chris saved Brandy, and in turn Brandy has saved Chris.

Chris and Brandy have such beautifully soulful eyes. Through all the pictures I took, this man was smiling. I kept wondering what made him so happy? Maybe it boils down to being happy with the one you love. How simple is happiness.

But, then again, maybe Chris was just hiding his pain and suffering. We never know how much someone is hurting. Maybe if we treat everyone with compassion, assuming the worse has happened to them, then in the process we may save ourselves.

I did try to find Chris and Brandy again, without any luck. I had wanted to pay for the spaying of Brandy. I have heard horror stories of dogs going into heat and being attacked by the male dogs on the streets. I do hope the two of them are doing okay.

In the mind of kittens, the world is a constant source of excitement forever being full of new and amusing things. Anything that moves should be chased after and pounced on as hunting skills are developed. “I have slain the fuzzy catnip octopus! I am the mighty hunter!” our kitten Raven seems to say. Moving toes are fair game and anything that can be climbed should be. Plants are a natural source of entertainment and are a nice place to rest one’s bottom. Although the humans sure get upset when you knock them over.

Raven being an indoor only cat has a smaller choice of prime hunting. Lately his victims have been the Lego people that my son keeps in his room. One day he took out a large number of the clones in his star wars battle and just the other day I want down to feed the cats to find that the conductor of the Lego holiday train had been slain, carried down two flights of stairs and left by the food dish.

It has been almost nine years since I have had a baby animal in the house and the joy that this little guy gives me is immeasurable. In the evenings he goes crazy running around the living room, scaling the scratching post in one leap and trying his best to get the other old fogy animals to join in. He has a habit of jumping onto your shoulder in a single leap that can be quite shocking and also make it very hard to get any work done. Of course to him loving him is my most important work.

After my sixteen-year-old cat Ziggy passed away, I realized that all my animals were aging fast and I really wanted some young energy in the house. I however had to find a cat who would fit in with three other old cats, two old dogs, and an eleven-year-old son who often has other kids over. We slowly began looking for a kitten or young cat and I hoped that we would be able to recognize the right one.

A few months into our search we made a trip over to the Seattle Humane Society and spent some time looking at young cats. I had worked at the Humane Society at the beginning of my career and was happy to run into one of the volunteers I had known who was working in adoption that day. After looking in the cat rooms we made our way over to the kittens, which were in smaller cages in the lobby area. There was one kitten who another couple was looking at, and he grabbed our attention. He was batting through the cage bars and climbing up the sides of the cage trying to get attention and he was all alone. The other cages all had multiple kittens yet he did not have the benefit of having others to snuggle or play with. He was the most beautiful kitten with solid black fur, big amber eyes, and a white spot on the very tip of his tail. On his cage was a sign which read, this kitten is testing FIV positive and cannot go to a home with other cats. Because he was a little under six months there was still a slight possibility that he would convert back to being FIV negative.

The other couple decided that they could not adopt him because they had other cats in their house but we were still very interested. Part of me thought, this is a crazy idea taking on another cat who may have health problems, but I knew this was the one who would fit into our home. When I picked him up he climbed up my shoulder and purred and clung to it for dear life. When we put him back in the cage to fill out the paperwork to adopt him he went crazy batted and calling out and saying “Please, please take me home, don’t leave me here.” The poor little guy had been found as a stray two months ago wandering the streets and he was ready to finally have a home. Because I was a vet and I knew the risk of him passing FIV to my other cats they let me adopt him even though I had other cats in the house.

While my intention was to keep him in the bathroom separated from our other cats for the first week, within 24 hours he had full run of the house. Not only was he fearless but he also liked our other animals and they liked him. Our dog Mel would follow him around, fascinated by his every move, and our oldest cat Basil would take him under his arm and groom him. Our most playful and youngest cat Melody spent the whole first day playing with him and was so worn out by the end that she had to spend the whole next day in bed resting. We even had to bring her food because she wouldn’t leave to eat.

We are so happy and blessed to have Raven in our lives and he makes each day better with his excitement over life and his love of sitting on shoulders and purring loudly. I know that because of his FIV positive status that he will most likely have more health issues than another cat but like most FIV positive cats he will probably live a normal length life.

Feline Immunodeficiency Virus positive cats are more prone to dental problems, are more likely to get infections, and have a higher risk of cancer than normal cats. Traditionally most shelters have euthanized all FIV positive cats but now some shelters are trying to adopt them out. FIV is transmitted much like HIV although the most common transmission is from deep puncture wounds in fighting. Because of this it is most common in unaltered male cats. It can also be passed from sexual intercourse and from mother to kitten. Kittens born to a FIV positive mother will test positive for FIV for up to six months even if they are negative because the test is for antibody against the virus and not the virus itself. Because of this it is very hard to adopt kittens from FIV positive mothers.

Additionally there is a new vaccine for FIV and a huge controversy that surrounds it in the veterinary community, mostly against the vaccine. There is no way to distinguish a FIV vaccinated cat from a FIV positive cat with our current testing. A vaccinated cat and her kittens will test positive for FIV. Most shelters still euthanize for FIV so if a vaccinated cat comes in she/he will be killed. In addition most veterinarians feel that the vaccine is not highly effective, and since the disease is not highly contagious, it is not advisable to give it. If veterinarians do give the vaccine a cat should be microchipped so that they will not be euthanized if they end up at animal control. There is a slight possibility that Raven is from a vaccinated mother and is not truly positive but there is no way for us to know this.

Raven has become an ambassador for FIV positive cats among by family and friends who have also fallen in love with him. If you are considering adopting a cat please consider helping one with FIV. The Seattle Humane Society has a whole room of adult FIV positive cats and often kittens, as do many other rescue groups.
Here is a link to The Seattle Humane Society.

In my dream, she approached me with that sparkle she always had in her eyes. “Come to me and lay beside me and I will take away your fears,” she seemed to say. I lay down with my head against her soft golden fur and pressed deeply into her side feeling protected and safe. I could feel her love and warmth, hear her heart beating, feel how alive she was, yet I knew in the dream that she was ready to become a dog of the stars. I woke up knowing that Rooney had decided it was time to leave this world. Her beloved human companions called me soon after to tell me they thought it was time to let her go.

While I felt drowning in sorrow, I knew it was the end of a wonderful, miraculous life. Rooney had decided that she could not stay here any longer, this was her choice. Two and a half years earlier she had been diagnosed with bladder cancer and was given at most three months to live. Her human companions had done all they could for her, putting in a port to drain urine out of her body because she could no longer pee through the normal opening, starting her on chemotherapy, and waiting for the day soon that they would have to let her go. Rooney, however, had no intention to follow the prognosis she was given.

When I first met Rooney she had already been living with cancer for six months. As I approached the house, I saw two happy dogs peering out the window, two dog tails wagging. Syd was the first to greet me, jumping up and down and trying to inhale my arm – I must taste you! Rooney stood back and watched waiting patiently for her dog sister to find her mind again. A beautiful dog, she was part Chow, with long golden hair, a thick mane, and deep brown eyes which if you looked into showed her complex soul.

Rooney was unique in that she really wasn’t sick. Yes, after her monthly chemo she would feel a little off for a day or two but besides that she was really quite good. She wasn’t dying even though she had a fatal disease, in fact she would get quite upset if you talked about her dying or even about her being sick. I would come to give her acupuncture and we would start to talk about some little problem she was having and she would get up and leave – walk right out of the room and find somewhere else to be. She seemed to say, “Hey, I’m just fine please don’t dwell on my problems. I’m here, I’m me, and I’m not my illness. Love me for who I am today, at this moment. Will you please stop acting like there is something to be sad about here?”

When Rooney was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she became more free to live. We often said that Rooney had complete control over her cancer: not only did she live every day fully, enjoying her walks and the great love she received from her people, but everyone she touched lived more fully because of her. Every day with her became a gift and we took nothing for granted. When I made my weekly visit to treat Rooney, I never stopped being amazed at the grace of how she lived with her illness, and the joy that she gave to each moment. It was impossible to walk away from Rooney and not feel more present in my own existence.

Towards the end of her illness, Rooney reached a point where we knew she was dying. She once again lost the ability to urinate on her own, which she had regained shortly after staring her chemo, but to our amazement she started to be more like a puppy, regrowing her hair with a soft downy coat that she had only had when she was young and eating better than she had in a long time. I think Rooney finally accepted she was dying, knowing it before any of us did. It had been important to her to see the new twin children who were born to her people shortly before her death. They had arrived and she was free to go, she had lived over thirteen years, a good age for even a dog without cancer.

Even though Rooney was completely dependent on her people to drain her urine every 6 hours the last months of her illness, she was happy because she was among her family and at home. She was loved, well cared for but most importantly valued for her wisdom and what she gave to those who loved her. I think a large part of why Rooney was able to work with her illness with such grace and live so much longer than anyone expected was that her human companions did not see her care as a burden but as a gift given to a much-loved friend. In exchange she gave us all unconditional love and the gift of living each moment present and aware, feeling joy, feeling sorrow, seeing the movement of time as something to coast along on and not to fear.

The phone rang again and it was my best friend Cheryln calling to tell me that her labor had began. I remember eight months earlier finding out that Cheryln was pregnant and offering to be at the birth. For the past month I had been waiting with excitement for this call and now I wanted everything to wait. “Don’t worry the contractions are still far apart,” she told me, “no need to leave yet.” I was conflicted over my promise to her to be present at this birth and my need to be with Rooney at the end, neither could wait and Cheryln was a three hour drive from me. I silently hoped that I would be able to be present with them both and was also astonished that both would come on the same day.

Somehow it seemed more than coincidence that Rooney would pick the time to pass away to be the same day as the birth of a new life that I was also so involved with. She seemed to want to point out that death is not an end but just another step in the cycle of life we are all a part of. I think this was also why she waited for the twins to be born before choosing to depart.

Cheryln’s labor did wait, and I was able to be present with Rooney and her family when she passed away. Her death was very peaceful, and she passed away surrounded by her whole family of people and animals – those she loved most and who loved her most – by her side, in her home. While her passing was full of sorrow and left us with a hole in the space that she had filled for so long, there was something about being present when such a wise being leaves this existence, after living life so fully, that inspires us all to live our lives with more joy.

After returning home from Rooney’s passing, the phone rang again, and it was Cheryln asking me to began my drive down to Portland. I jumped in the car with our other friend, Jenn, who was also to help with the birth. I was overwhelmed with the sorrow I felt about Rooney and the joy and anticipation of a new life about to began. Lilliana’s birth was beautiful and amazing and she came into the world with a good set of lungs, at home surrounded by people who loved her family, the cat and three compassionate naturopaths who helped with the birth. I spend most of the labor holding Mr. Moo, their cat, so he could watch what was happening. He was very fascinated with the whole experience. Mixed with my sorrow there was great joy with the birth of this little perfect being. Ten fingers, ten toes and one very long and active tongue.

I will never forget how it felt to experience the sorrow of the passing of such a wise friend and teacher, who had lived her life how all of us wish we could, and the joy of the perfect birth of a baby who has just began in this world, all within a day. Through my work I have had many great animal teachers who do not speak with words but who guild us through the way they live, love, and accept. Rooney was one of these teachers and I hope that her wisdom on how to live can inspire us all.

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