What I Wasn't Expecting

I adopted Roxy in 2007 when she was 3 or 4 years old. At the time, they didn't know how old she was, so they based her age on her teeth which, I learned, is normal. What I asked for was a dog that a) didn't shed and b) didn't bark, since I lived in an apartment. What I got was Roxy, who melted my heart the minute I saw her. And then tried to  jump out of the car window on the way home.

No one said she was smart.

Obviously I knew she wasn't a puppy, but I am still completely surprised at how...well...old she's gotten lately. One day she was running with me and chasing sticks. Then when I wasn't running, she was still chasing sticks, running down walking paths and generally being a spry dog.

Over the past few months, I've noticed a marked difference. She's limping, for one, to the point that it bugs her so much that she pants till she chokes. Her and I spend night after night with me rubbing her limbs and generally getting no sleep. When we go for a walk, she walks behind me instead of in front, and loves to take breaks in the tall, cool grass more than she walks. Unless I pick up a stick; then she's right on point. The winter is completely different story -- she cannot get enough of the cold snow against her hips.

Not that she's turned geriatric. I mean really, she's only 9 or 10 years old for goodness sake. On the contrary, she sometimes acts like a puppy again, bouncing around and attacking my feet or playing with whatever dog toys she has available. But I know the days are coming when even those will be few and far between, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it.

A lot of time I spend nights up with her, rubbing her legs in an effort to ease the pain she feels. I've tried giving her shots, which sort of worked but not really. Recently, on the advice of a pharmacist (who knew after asking so many vets), I've started giving her certain pain meds from a dog store, and these seem to really be helping.

But still. In those moments in the morning, when it's just her and me lying in bed having our morning snuggle, face to face, and I see the white of her snout starting to spread, and her movements that tiny much stiffer, I can't help but wonder how much time I have left with my baby girl. She's more than a dog to me. She saved me from the lowest points of my life. She's been with me through the end of strange relationships and managed a move from Toronto to the bright wonderful north. She's seen other family dogs come and go, dealt with my ups and downs, comforted me and generally been my saving soul. I cringe at the thought of what is to come as she ages. She will always be my baby. Losing her is something I never thought I'd have to deal with.

My baby girl. I love her, period.