- Owned by
- 1 cocker
Mr. Petrow reflects on the life of his happy-go-lucky 14yr old cocker spaniel.
Author: Steven Petrow
http://www.chapelhillnews.com/news/story/46187.html
3/15/2009
We were watching Brian Williams on NBC when he teased the next story: "10-Year-Old Spaniel Makes Comeback."
Of course, he was referring to Stump, the Sussex spaniel who had just won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Show. Not only was Stump the oldest dog to win in the 133-year history of the event, but the pooch had almost died five years ago. I immediately called out to Max, our 14-year-old cocker spaniel, to come watch with us. I'd forgotten that the old fellow is deaf and by 6:45 had already turned in for the night. Yes, let sleeping dogs lie.
Max has had more than his share of calamities, but we loved him from the very beginning, with his hanging tongue, wagging tail and carefree swagger. A rescue in the most literal sense. His owners had called in a fit: "If you don't take him, we're putting him down." Under the circumstances, how could we not?
Within the first year reborn with us, he -- ever the scavenger -- had scaled three shelves in the pantry to retrieve the 1-pound cellophane-wrapped box of See's chocolates, devouring them in minutes. I got home to find him in toxic shock, and after $1,000 worth of emergency treatment (including induced-vomiting and charcoal suppositories), he survived yet another day. Finally, well enough to come home, his clipped tail wagged happily as he rushed to the trashcan to pull out the empty box of chocolate to see if anything remained. It's fair to say he's no genius.
While on a walk in San Francisco a few months later, Max scarfed a tab or two of LSD he found in a neighborhood park. That led to new seizures and another costly vet stay. Let's not talk about canine flashbacks!
From day one with us, Max lived with enthusiasm. But having survived his youth, he's an old dog now, plagued by arthritis, some cervical issues, occasional incontinence, and a "touch" of dementia. But while I loved him as a pup, I find that old Max fills my heart in ways I couldn't have imagined. These days we carry him upstairs to his bed. On alternate weeks, we run over to the vet for his acupuncture, and we both lie there in the dark as he takes the needles and lets his chi run wild while I stroke his "third eye." He's never out of sorts -- in fact, he's always happy. Happy to go out, happy to come in. Ready for dinner. Ready for a nap.
We don't value old in this culture. It's all about youth, new fashion, cutting-edge technology. My friend, the good doctor Andrew Weil, wrote about aging in a recent book: "Aging can bring frailty and suffering, but it can also bring depth and richness of experience, complexity of being, serenity, wisdom, and its own kind of power and grace." How sad that we give short shrift to the elderly, pushing them out of sight while we try to place them out of mind.
Who made "old" a dirty word? We all did.
In dog years, Max is about to turn 100. We know that his time -- like all of our lives -- is limited. But he doesn't know that. Maybe if he were a genius he would, but for now I love watching him live every day with the same kind of spirit he's always had, tail wagging, nose twitching, and yes, tongue ever on the lookout for a new treat. If he could speak, no doubt it would be, "What will today bring?!"
Like Stump, the Westminster winner, Max is a champ. Let us now praise old dogs!
Author: Steven Petrow
http://www.chapelhillnews.com/news/story/46187.html
3/15/2009
We were watching Brian Williams on NBC when he teased the next story: "10-Year-Old Spaniel Makes Comeback."
Of course, he was referring to Stump, the Sussex spaniel who had just won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Show. Not only was Stump the oldest dog to win in the 133-year history of the event, but the pooch had almost died five years ago. I immediately called out to Max, our 14-year-old cocker spaniel, to come watch with us. I'd forgotten that the old fellow is deaf and by 6:45 had already turned in for the night. Yes, let sleeping dogs lie.
Max has had more than his share of calamities, but we loved him from the very beginning, with his hanging tongue, wagging tail and carefree swagger. A rescue in the most literal sense. His owners had called in a fit: "If you don't take him, we're putting him down." Under the circumstances, how could we not?
Within the first year reborn with us, he -- ever the scavenger -- had scaled three shelves in the pantry to retrieve the 1-pound cellophane-wrapped box of See's chocolates, devouring them in minutes. I got home to find him in toxic shock, and after $1,000 worth of emergency treatment (including induced-vomiting and charcoal suppositories), he survived yet another day. Finally, well enough to come home, his clipped tail wagged happily as he rushed to the trashcan to pull out the empty box of chocolate to see if anything remained. It's fair to say he's no genius.
While on a walk in San Francisco a few months later, Max scarfed a tab or two of LSD he found in a neighborhood park. That led to new seizures and another costly vet stay. Let's not talk about canine flashbacks!
From day one with us, Max lived with enthusiasm. But having survived his youth, he's an old dog now, plagued by arthritis, some cervical issues, occasional incontinence, and a "touch" of dementia. But while I loved him as a pup, I find that old Max fills my heart in ways I couldn't have imagined. These days we carry him upstairs to his bed. On alternate weeks, we run over to the vet for his acupuncture, and we both lie there in the dark as he takes the needles and lets his chi run wild while I stroke his "third eye." He's never out of sorts -- in fact, he's always happy. Happy to go out, happy to come in. Ready for dinner. Ready for a nap.
We don't value old in this culture. It's all about youth, new fashion, cutting-edge technology. My friend, the good doctor Andrew Weil, wrote about aging in a recent book: "Aging can bring frailty and suffering, but it can also bring depth and richness of experience, complexity of being, serenity, wisdom, and its own kind of power and grace." How sad that we give short shrift to the elderly, pushing them out of sight while we try to place them out of mind.
Who made "old" a dirty word? We all did.
In dog years, Max is about to turn 100. We know that his time -- like all of our lives -- is limited. But he doesn't know that. Maybe if he were a genius he would, but for now I love watching him live every day with the same kind of spirit he's always had, tail wagging, nose twitching, and yes, tongue ever on the lookout for a new treat. If he could speak, no doubt it would be, "What will today bring?!"
Like Stump, the Westminster winner, Max is a champ. Let us now praise old dogs!
