March/April 2002 Living Now
Kodie in Autumn

by Christy Caballero

In quiet moments I pause, just to look at Kodie. The telltale white of age defines his muzzle more clearly each day. Sleep has edged its way in as the number one priority. Sometimes, when he sleeps so very soundly, I can't look away until I see the familiar rise and fall of his great chest, and reassure myself that he is, in fact, breathing.

All things considered, Kodie has matured gracefully. Being classed by his size as a giant breed goes hand in hand with aging faster than small dogs. Some giant breeds show their age in as few as seven years.

Kodie was on the brink of turning twelve. At Valley Veterinary Clinic, he's a legend. They've seen him through ills and injuries over the years. He's had his share of "bumps in the road" but handled them all with quiet patience. On the fringes of healing from cruciate ligament surgery, he became ill, fretful, and painful. The clinic politely squeezed him into their hectic Saturday schedule. Poor Kodie barely had a five o'clock shadow on his last surgical shave area.

During his exam, I mentioned that Monday would be his twelfth birthday. Before I could say "thank you," Kodie was scheduled for a Monday recheck and a birthday bath, courtesy of his clinic pals. A new assistant walked Kodie and me to the car, saying how special he is, how kind and sweet to work with. Yes, that's Kodie.

His pain eased over the weekend, and the recheck gave a good prognosis. When I went to pick him up after his birthday bath, I couldn't believe my eyes. He was wearing two new bandannas around his neck - one bright teal with cowboy boots, the other a red and white Science Diet bandanna, with adhesive tape messages all over it. "Way to go Kodie", "Happy B-Day", "We Love You, Kodie," and on and on.

Cards filled with affection and a gift came out of hiding. The birthday boy got some of his favorite treats, Kennel No. 5 cologne, and a birthday cake with his picture on it. On the way home, memories jockeyed for position. I realized it isn't typical for a canine to always be escorted from clinic to car by two or more friends. It isn't typical for a dog to spark so many phone calls from vets and support staff, just checking on the old guy. It isn't typical for a huge dog to be so kind in the midst of his own sickness or pain. But then, Kodie isn't typical.

What do we do when our loving pets face the last leg of the race? We do all we can to help them finish well, of course. We pause, and read the unspoken needs of the friends we've come to know so well. We give the simple reassurance of a loving touch when the old boy seems confused for no reason. We groom them faithfully, but more gently, as age brings muscle wasting, and the arthritic bones aren't so well padded. We learn to slow down for their sake, and let them enjoy the scent of the wind, or track a visitors trail across their yard.

We expect to be inconvenienced, and aren’t angry when it happens. We watch for pain and treat it, watch for changes in vision and hearing and do what we can to help preserve those precious senses for as long as possible. We take care of their teeth, and make sure their food is a manageable texture. We take them for potty walks when they seem to forget. We remember the little rewards, we scratch the graying ears, and go for car rides together.

When the pet we love has an unexplained need for comfort, we give it - freely. When infirmities bring a sense of vulnerability, we become the protector of our old guardian. We watch their deepest slumbers, when dreams take them running across long-forgotten fields, and we remember those fields too.

When they cannot stand alone, we lift them. When their steps are uncertain, we steady them. And if their health fails, it falls to us to make the choice that will gently put them to rest.

But until that is absolutely necessary, we pause to let the autumn sun warm our old friend’s bones. And we realize autumn is not a bad time of year at all. Old age is not a disease, or a reason to give up. It is a stage of life that brings its own changes. Autumn can be a beautiful time of harvest. And, sometimes, the harvest is love.

(Christy Caballero, all rights reserved)