So Says the Doctor

"It's severe arthritis," the doctor said.

We immediately were relieved, having feared a worse diagnosis.

"Look at the spinal column," the doctor explained. We studied the x-ray film closely. "The lumbar are supposed to be flush with each other, but see these raised areas between each vertebrae? That's what arthritis looks like."

It looked painful. "So what do we do?" we asked the doctor.

"Well, with medication, continued exercise and daily doses of Glucosamine, she should be able to walk normally, even run some," the doctor said reassuringly. But now I understood what I had noticed over the last few months. Long a faithful running partner, this year we walked more and ran less. Sometimes, at night, she preferred to stay downstairs rather than climb stairs. The signs of her declining physical abilities were obvious, I just overlooked them. But, earlier that morning, I feared a much worse outcome from our doctor's visit.

Shortly after waking up I found her in the kitchen where she had remained all night. She hadn't even gone to bed. When I tried to help her move, she winced in pain. Had she broken her hip? Was it a stroke? Was her life in danger?

But Carly is not yet ten years old. She suffered no apparent trauma. Yet, seemingly in one day she went from being a vibrant companion with a puppy's spirit to a cautious old dog. And I was concerned.

Carly is my first-ever dog. My parents didn't approve of pets and I carried that bias into my family as well. However, when a free Labrador Retriever puppy became available, even I succumbed to my children's pleadings. "But, if she ever starts costing me money," I warned the children, "I'll put her down in a heartbeat."

Now, almost 10 years later, I was willing to pay a veterinarian whatever it cost to make Carly comfortable. "How long do labs typically live?" I asked the vet. "Ten to twelve years," he replied.

I was astounded. "That's all? I thought dogs lived about fifteen years." "Not big dogs like labs," said the vet.

It felt like a slap in my face. In my heart I know Carly has only a few more years left in her, but the vet's words felt like a death sentence. "Yeah, if you're lucky she could reach fourteen," he added, seeing despair flash across my face. All of a sudden the ongoing conversation about getting a second dog flashed in my mind. I've joked that the same year Isaac, our youngest child, leaves for college, might be the year Carly dies. Talk about an empty nest! We should get another pet soon, BEFORE Carly passes.

I always said Clarisa needed a "pet in reserve," but honestly, hearing from the vet that Carly's demise really is imminent, put me in a panic. What would I do without my dog?

I never expected that I would become attached to an animal. And, I've inwardly chuckled at persons who express humanlike affection toward their animals. But, now that I know what it like to care about a pet, I understand those feelings.

Fortunately Carly is chowing down her meds like a champion and she's moving around now with seemingly less pain. She walked five miles today, and looks like she can do it again tomorrow.

The old girl has a few more years in her--but I'm aware now that the days are numbered and that difficult times await us as she wears down further. I hope Carly understands that her family will walk with her each and ever step until the day she passes.

Reading this I can't believe I feel this way about a dog!