So, the Geriatric Poodle has been on anti-senility drugs for about two weeks now. Anti-senility drugs that run $99 a month.
He weighs 12 pounds. So, that figures to a little less than 28 cents per pound of not crazy dog per day.
See? I’m totally justifying the $99 monthly bill. Twenty-eight cents is the money you’d throw in the bottom of your purse and forget about! Isn’t a life partner’s sanity worth the change in the bottom of your purse?
So, he seems to be a little more with-it as of late. He still wanders around somewhat aimlessly, but he has managed to do new things like find his way off the deck.
Score one for the expensive drugs. Having a poo-free deck is a value-add.
Geriatric Poodle wanders around the yard, and he seems to be happy doing it. Usually, he runs the perimeter, following the fence line and getting about 27 leaves caught in his fur. Good times.
This morning, however, I looked out the kitchen window to find my sweet boy walking in a circle – a circle of about two feet in diameter.
He wasn’t chasing his tail. He was walking. Exploring, really. In a two-foot circle.
He made himself dizzy and he fell down.
He got right back up and started walking in a circle again.
I called out to Mr. Wonderful to come have a look. “Do you think he had a stroke?”
About that time, Geriatric Poodle walked straight into the one tree in the yard.
Mr. Wonderful guffawed.
And then, the poodle was up and running again. Circle, circle, circle. The size of the circle varied a bit. That made me feel better. We decided that his tail was up and he was happy, so we’d just let him be.
I felt guilty for laughing. Really, really guilty. And then I laughed some more.
And then? About 20 minutes later, Lil’ Fluff found his way back up on the deck and to the door, where he barked and demanded to be granted entrée. Just like old times.
He’s happy. He’s confused, but he’s not hurting. And he finds joy in exploring outside. He finds comfort sitting on my lap.
My mom told me I need to face the music and realize that it’s time to help him go.
And then, I ran over her with my car.
Ok, not really. But part of me does want to reply that she should be thankful that I won’t put her down when she goes blind.
Please, God, may I be doing the right thing. With the dog, I mean.