I caught Mister B half in and half out of his doggie bed yesterday and took a photo. Which at first I thought funny but now think disturbing.
He likes to lay in the warm rays coming through the patio door every morning. I think what happened here was that he started moving his head as the sunlight shifted, then fell asleep. It can’t have been comfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind. So … let sleeping dogs lie, right?
He’s wasting away, as you can see in the photo. Still eating well, still front & center at feeding time, still pooping well … but it’s as if his body has stopped absorbing nutrition. Up to now we’ve told each other he doesn’t seem to be feeling any pain, but then again dogs try not to show it when they are. And he has a hard time getting around. He totters around as if he’s on peg legs, and sometimes his rear limbs splay to either side and he needs help standing back up.
For the past month I’ve been plagued with constant arthritic pain in my shoulders, wrists, and hands. It’s hard to lift my arms, and because my hands are swollen my grip is weak … I have to use both of them to sip from my coffee cup, like old man Trump. The pain is particularly bad at night, and I’m not getting much sleep. After an especially rough night tossing and turning I don’t look much different than Mister B in this photo, save for being better padded. Knowing how I’ve been feeling lately, I wonder if our old boy is hurting too.
Is it time? I fear it is. Donna spent a girls’ night in Phoenix with her friend Millie and drives home this morning. We’ll have The Talk later today.
Well, that’s a bummer, innit? I’ll stop here.
Tough times. These are the worst decisions to have to make. You’ll be in my thoughts.
I’ll echo what Tom T said.