Holiday shopping started this past weekend, and I am already worn out. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I love winter, and I can feel that it is on its way. Despite my anticipation of the cold weather and fun to come, a guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach constantly holds me back. At first I thought it was some turkey-induced acid reflux, but when it started coming back year after year, I knew it was something else. After some investigating, I realized I was busy fretting over my dog.
My dog, Amber, is a cocker spaniel with a fierce appreciation for bones, an intimate knowledge of the neighborhood and a newsworthy sense of smell. And did I mention that she is over 15 years old?
She has had cancer for four years. The vet didn't think she would make it past Christmas... of 2000. Little did she know that Amber has no intention of dying. In fact, her condition seemed to improve without taking the cancer medication. There is an idea for all of you: Maybe instead of \living strong"" and trying chemo and radiation, people should try to use the Amber Canty ""walk it off"" method. (Just a thought. Consult a physician with that one.)
To make things worse, we got a second dog when we thought Amber was near the end of her life. I figured it would ease the transition if we had to be brave for a puppy. So the new dog came and spread her youthfulness around like smallpox. It made Amber run again; she had been renewed, at least temporarily. So now, when she does eventually pass, it will be especially difficult for the currently 3-year-old Jackson, who has grown fond of her, and the extra food bowl.
As you can already tell, this winter is no exception to the norm, and thoughts of Amber have pervaded my mind. Should we put her down? She's not whimpering and she can still walk, but she sleeps all the time. She can't hear and she barks at nothing out of angst. Is it fair to keep her around to live a bitter, jealous but well-rested existence? Am I being selfish or just a good dog owner?
My brother has been leading the campaign for a one-way trip to the vet's office. For the past four years he has been angry when I have to stomp to get Amber's attention or when he sees me help her up the steps. He is convinced that if a dog isn't outside playing, catching Frisbees and going on walks, she isn't living. My philosophy is that Amber is an extension of the family. What are we going to do when our parents get old, put them out of their misery once they retire? If he had it his way, senior citizens would be a thing of the past.
Maybe I shouldn't take my time worrying about it. Life is not something to ponder over and fret about. I don't want to spend my last few months (years?) that I have with her being depressed. Amber has illustrated to the family that she isn't going anywhere until she is good and ready. So until she communicates otherwise, I am going to take my time to plan the sweet 16.
