Talk Back: Senior Pets, Part 2

Last Friday I posted several of your responses to the story of Granny Annie, a venerable 3-legged Boston Terrier rescued by May Lattanzio. Right away I received another note from May, shedding more light into Annie's recovery. She writes:

I read all your comments to Granny Annie. She is very humbled to hear so many wonderful thoughts and stories and so am I. She didn't expect that and she hopes you will spread the word about how enchanting "mature" (she doesn't like the word, elderly) companions can be. What you did not know, and what I didn't put in my story about her, is that a week from the day I got her, I was horrified to find her feverish, with foam covering her nose in the early morning. She had a veterinary appointment the following day, but I was sure it was pneumonia complicated with heartworm infestation. I called for an appointment to have her euthanized. I could not let her suffer. I even dug her grave before I left for town. Well, she snuffled and foamed and had difficulty breathing right up to the parking lot and then decided to walk to the door under her own power. Dr. Gillespie looked at me and asked why I wanted her euthanized when she had just picked up an upper respiratory infection at the animal control facility. What a relief! I went home with a handful of pills, including wormer. I was amazed. I thought for sure I would return home in tears. The following week I had her tested for heartworm, and she was negative. Another victory! I have a feeling that Granny Annie isn't going anywhere soon. Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful sentiments. We appreciate them.

Your responses to Annie's story continue to roll in, with many of you sharing your own experiences with senior pets. Here are a few more of your comments:

I too have a warm place in my heart for any creature that is a little imperfect looking to the world. To me every animal is beautiful. Every animal is unique. And every animal is precious. Each animal, whether they are disabled, deformed, old, injured or sick, has so much love to give that any flaw that they might have would be quickly overlooked if we all could just open our hearts up to receive a blessing from them. —Barbara

For me, welcoming a senior dog into my life began with a single look. I had heard that there was an 8-year-old lab at the local shelter who was facing death because it is hard to place older guys. With no desire to get a dog, I went to the shelter to sponsor Noah, the pooch, and hopefully buy him some more time. When I arrived, the lovely staff said that he had not been walked yet that day and I should take him for a stroll. Noah was a sweet old man throughout the sojourn and enjoyed the brilliant sunshine. As I was returning him to his kennel, he turned around and looked straight at me. In those deep brown eyes I saw nothing but pure excitement. He was waiting for me, counting on me, pleading with me to take him home and share a wonderful lifetime adventure. How a dog could have such faith in a person that he barely knows is, in my opinion, what separates them from humans. Fast-forward one year and here I sit with my sweet Noah beside me. Every day we share a long walk, he is showered with kisses and praise, and he knows that he is loved. He knows that he was saved from an unknown fate and we are both thankful. Although his muzzle has more silver on it every day, his heart is pure gold. —Veronica Winterscheidt

Adopting an older dog was one of the most rewarding experiences for me. I feel so lucky that I adopted my 8-year-old dog, who feels just as lucky. I encourage everyone I know to look outside the puppy age. Only because here, the dogs who are older are the ones who don't get adopted. Older dogs will always remember where they were and will forever be thankful that you gave them a home. —Michelle Apeler

I, too, was extremely touched by the story of Granny Annie, because it really hit home for me. Three weeks ago, I lost my precious Border Collie mix Lottie, who I adopted in January 2007 from a no-kill shelter in Chicago. As a senior dog, she had been scheduled to be put to sleep at a shelter in Indiana, but because she was such a sweet, well-behaved girl, someone at that shelter thought she deserved a second chance, which is how she ended up at the no-kill facility. When I met her, I knew she was meant for me. Lottie enjoyed being outdoors, dinnertime, sleeping, begging, going for walks, looking cute for mommy, laying in the grass, cuddling, meeting new people, sniffing around the house for food, stealing food, and knocking over the garbage when I wasn’t looking. I didn't know when I adopted her that she had epilepsy, but fortunately, her seizures were controllable with medication. As the months passed, however, her seizures became more frequent and more severe. I made the decision to put her to rest after she went into status epilepticus (a seizure that won’t end). Having complete control over whether an animal lives or dies is a responsibility that I have found to be extremely conflicting and difficult to come to terms with. However, I can honestly say that I did everything that I could for her, and keeping her alive any longer would have been selfish of me. Despite the pain I experienced from losing her so soon, I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to make her last two years on Earth happy ones. After her lifetime of illness and neglect, I only hope that I was able to do enough for her. For anyone deciding whether to adopt a senior pet, you will not regret it; you may have to say goodbye to them sooner than you would like, but your love for them will enrich your life forever, and the depth of love and gratitude you will receive in return is truly indescribable. —Janine

What a great post. I love the story, too. My dog is a rescue pup and I wish with all of my heart that I could adopt more right now. I can't, but vow to in the future (young and old alike—I adore them all). —Kristen

And finally, I wanted to share my sympathy with Deedee D., whose comment about her 13-year-old greyhound was posted last week. She recently shared this update:

A follow-up to my post above: It is with profound grief and sadness that I mention that yesterday, Jan. 6, my sweet old greyhound, Caesar D., passed away. Not only did he have lumbosacral stenosis, but he also started limping recently and was diagnosed with osteosarcoma on Dec. 26. The disease progressed so rapidly that he could hardly bare to stand up or walk. My mother came to my house at dinnertime, and we made a small memorial for Caesar, then laid out his beds and blankets in different rooms trying to decide where to have him euthanized. Caesar picked the spot--the living room, which is where he spent 99 percent of his time. He fell asleep on his own at 6 p.m. on his dog bed (while my other oldie was sleeping on the couch), and we laid on the floor with him and kept stroking him. At 6:45 p.m., I put his sedatives in peanut butter, stuck it under his nose, and he lifted his head and swallowed it all in two rounds. Then we lit candles, got back on the floor with him and petted him 'til the knock on the door came at 7:20 p.m., when the vet had arrived. I introduced the vet to my mother, we talked about having a paw print made, the vet looked down at Caesar and said he was out, then I turned on the lights so the vet could see what she was about to do, and then I ran upstairs while my mom stayed with Caesar. I went into my guest bedroom where the radio was blaring a beautiful piece of classical music (reminded me of the wonderful book "Amazing Gracie: A Dog's Tale"), laid down on the bed, and plugged my ears. I could hear the music as Caesar crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 7:30 p.m. My mom came upstairs looking for me after the vet had left with Caesar, and she was crying. I was calm for some reason and thanked her for stepping in for me. Then we went downstairs, talked for awhile, and she drove back to her house shortly thereafter. Today, Caesar's death has hit me hard, but I am relieved knowing that my old guy's long struggle with arthritis and short battle with bone cancer are over. He was so valiant.