2013 Year in Review

This year had a lot of big events, with some mundane things thrown in. Here are some of my personal favourite posts from 2013. (Blogger and Google Analytics stats are kind of screwed up. For example, "August 2010" is one of the top pages for 2013. Clearly there are bots cruising my blog.)

January

Dear adverb, I miss you terribly, wherein I let loose my grammatical curmudgeon, with a side of wit.

February

Broken-hearthed, in which I lament that never-ending construction on our fireplace. (It was done, but then it cracked.)

March 

In Sweet Update, I shared that my diabetes control was going very well, with the help of Victoza and a new app that works on my iPad.

April

Things started getting busy in April. I dropped my iPad on my foot, which resulted in surprising misery. I also celebrated my mother's 85th birthday, and geared up for Steve's and my trip to Ireland (tip: it included bribes for our kids).

May

May was crazy! Beginning with our long-awaited trip to Ireland, then two weddings (Steve's nephew's, and my dear friend K.B.'s)

May was a crazily big month!

June

Most of my posts in June are actually about our trip to Ireland, but I did share the rather humiliating day when my brain stopped functioning and I drove too close to a solid object.

July

The most memorable event this July was the arrival of Scooter to our family.

August

August brought the birth of my first real foray into fiction with Methuselah, a piece of speculative fiction which may one day be a novel. Or not. It may just be a really long, multi-instalment short story.

September

In September, I rejoiced in the continuing bounty of our flower garden.

October

The highlight of October was our trip to Kingston to join Her Royal Majesty Princess Anne, the Princess Royal for dinner.

November

In November, I shared that I had decided to quit my job. After months of progressively worse health and some disturbing blood lab results, I came to the conclusion that I could not keep up the pace at work and allow myself to get better. It was a tough decision.

December

I finished working in early December and had the luxury of being able to make some of my Christmas presents.

But I also shared that our sweet dog, Scooter, was terminally ill with cancer. Scooter left us on Sunday, December 22.

Goodbye, Scooter

I realized that, although I've told my family and friends, I did not share here that our dog Scooter's struggle with cancer ended rather abruptly on Sunday, December 22.

As I shared before, Scooter was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer, called hemangiosarcoma. Although we could have spent thousands of dollars and put her through abdominal surgery, there was no assurance that she would recover. (At one point the vet said that if he opened her up and found the cancer on both her liver and spleen, he would recommend not waking her up.)

On Saturday, December 21, I gave Scooter the toys that her "aunt" Lori had sent her for Christmas. When Lori learned that Scooter was sick, she asked us to give Scoot the toys immediately, rather than wait. So I did.


That is a happy dog.

It was always a major achievement to remove the stuffing.

She enjoyed those toys for the rest of Saturday. On Sunday morning, December 22, I came down to see this.

Something had changed overnight. Steve was down before me and saw that Scooter had pooped on the carpet and was hiding in the sunroom (which was much colder than the living room). She held herself stiffly and shivered.

Steve cleaned up her mess, then brought her back into the living room, covered her with a blanket and lit a fire. When I came down, she seemed to be in pain, so I tried to feed her a pain pill; she refused it.

She tried to stand, but was wobbly on her legs. She was breathing loudly. Her gums were pale. A few minutes later, she suddenly stood up and vomited a virtually undigested meal (including the last pill we had given her the night before), then she flopped down right next to it.

I cleaned it up and covered her with the blankie again. I didn't try to move her.

Murphy's Law colluded to make the morning even more stressful: Steve had taken the small car to church (where I couldn't reach him) and it had snowed heavily overnight, blocking the van in the driveway. It was also a Sunday and our regular vet was closed.

But with help from my sons, I got the van free, turned the blanket into a stretcher and got her loaded up. A short drive later, we were at the emergency animal hospital and I explained what was going on.

They took Scooter immediately and inserted a catheter into her vein. They showed me to a room with a big, comfy couch and brought Scooter to me.


The vet explained that Scooter's abdomen was distended, probably filled with blood from a leaking spleen. She was in pain.

After injecting a mild anesthetic (to reduce Scooter's anxiety), the vet slowly injected the overdose of anesthesia. She stopped breathing. The vet told me I had made the right decision, then she told me to knock on the door when I was ready, and she left us alone so I could hold her and do the ugly cry in privacy.

I held her and cried for a while. I didn't want to let her go, but then I touched her ear and it was cold, and I thought: she's not here.

So I called in the vet and did the necessary paperwork. I opted to have Scooter cremated and to receive her ashes so that we could have some kind of memorial when Pat and Ross are back next summer. Most of the members of her first family had not been able to say goodbye to her, so I felt it was important to give them an opportunity for closure.

Grief is unique for each one of us, and it is helpful to remember that there is no "right" or "wrong" way to experience loss. I find that each new grief brings echoes of all the others I have loved and lost. There is a sort of recognition to the feeling now: ah, yes. Grief again.

Many people are reluctant to adopt a new pet again, at least in the short term. For me, however, I think I want a new dog sooner rather than later. Scooter really opened my eyes to the experience of being a dog owner -- it is a surprising and wonderful thing.

I still have Elly, of course -- and she is a wonderful cat. (I'm totally gaga over her!)

Phew! That was a hard nap!

But it's no secret that, no matter how much you think your cat loves you, dogs are the ones who really show attachment. It's an entirely different relationship as shown in this experiment.


So after the dust has settled from the Christmas-New Year's frenzy, I'll be scanning shelters and pet rescue websites for a new member for our family.

One Sick Puppy

Scooter. This picture was taken in her former home, with my sister Pat and her husband Ross.

This dog. Oh, my, how this dog just melts your heart. It's amazing how quickly you can fall in love with an animal.

She is shy, hiding behind our legs, like a toddler behind Mommy's skirts, when other dogs or people approach her at the off-leash dog park, rarely ever sniffing another dog's butt (though she tolerates having her own sniffed). I'm glad of that introversion, actually, because I'm not too keen on talking with the other dog-walkers. (They're STRANGERS!) I just explain that she's shy, and we move along.

She is (mostly) quiet. She only barks when someone is already in the house and someone else comes to the door or walks in. If I come home and no one is there, she doesn't bark.

She does growl and bark at the cat and, unfortunately, at Kyle's toddler daughter. The cat has made herself comfortable upstairs.

Kyle's daughter rarely visits, and we supervise her time with Scooter very closely, ensuring that Scooter never feels trapped. I make a point of telling those who approach that she is shy and tell them that she is really not good with children. It makes me a little sad that she can't receive the love that I know these youngsters would love to show her, but it scares her, so I respect that and protect her and the children.

She loves her comfy bed but even more than that, she loves us. She will tuck herself between the chair and the footstool just to be close to Steve or, if he's not around, me. (She doesn't come up on the furniture since we bought her her own comfy bed.)

Her favourite place

Her favourite thing to do is to rip a toy to shreds, preferably as a cooperative game with one of the humans in the house. She adores squeakers and will actually eat the stuffing from stuffed animals (so we prefer toys with no stuffing). She has broken several teeth with her tearing activity. Some of those teeth have had to be removed.

Scooter disembowelling an early Christmas present from her Aunt Lori.

Actually, I'll amend that: I think her favourite thing would be to capture a squirrel. Fortunately for us, her vision is weak, so if the squirrels aren't moving, we can walk past them with no bad behaviour on Scooter's part.

As with many purebreds, especially those of a certain age, she has bad hips. She is 13 years old, which, in dog years, makes her 68 years old. She's a senior citizen. (I use her discount card for cheap bus fare. Heh heh.)

Recently, she's had a spate of ill health.

It started with a few days where she just lacked energy. She seemed to rebound, but then developed a bed-wetting problem.

All tuckered out after a romp in the park last summer.

Then we brought her in for some minor surgery: removal of a growth on her eyelid and cleaning of her teeth. As the vet put her under, she let loose what the vet described as the most vile-smelling urine you can imagine. He called me immediately and told me he was concerned about her kidneys and bladder. He did some basic blood work and sent her home with antibiotics.

A week or so later, she had another bad spell: no energy, quiet. Licking herself obsessively. I brought her back to the vet who did a "geriatric lab" on her and it turned up some bad news: her liver enzymes were high and she was slightly anemic. Sound familiar? I had the same lab results around the same time. I, however, had the option of cutting out alcohol; Scooter doesn't drink anything stronger than water (and lots of it).

Because her blood results were abnormal, they sent it to pathology. The pathologist said the red blood cells were oddly shaped and it looked like one of two things:

• Hemangiosarcoma - "a rapidly growing, highly invasive variety of cancer occurring almost exclusively in dogs," according to Wikipedia. It is a cancer of the cells lining the blood vessels and typically starts in the spleen or liver.
• Autoimmune hemolytic anemia -  which "occurs when antibodies directed against the person's own red blood cells cause them to burst, leading to insufficient plasma concentration," also according to Wikipedia.

We were faced with every pet-owner's nightmare. What to do next?

Ross with his best girl.

We had already spoken with Pat and Ross, who were her parents for most of her life and whose hearts have broken as they've had to leave her behind when they moved overseas. We agreed that we would not take "heroic measures" to save Scooter's life. We agreed that, so long as she was loved (and knew it) and was not in pain, we would keep her going.

If it was cancer, then we would move to palliative measures. If it was the anemia, we would treat her with prednisone which, by the way, would be one of the palliative treatments for cancer.

Today, I brought her in to the vet because she shivers almost all the time now. The vet explained that this could be caused by cancer-related anemia (making her feel cold) or from pain. He felt Scooter's abdomen and found a mass about the size of his fist.

This pretty much confirms the cancer diagnosis. With this kind of cancer, it could lead to sudden death if the spleen ruptures. (This kind of tumor is very jelly-like and ruptures easily.) She might jump off a couch or roll over, and she would die. Or the spleen might develop a small tear and leak slowly, resulting in a slower, inevitable death.

Here. We all need a little "upper' right now. Look at this silly dog.



So she's on prednisone now and will be switching to a different medication that helps with pain - it's on order. The vet has prescribed a month's worth, which gives us an idea of timeframe. (I couldn't bring myself to ask.)

She still loves to play and laps up all the abundant affection we have to give. She wears her coat much of the time now and we keep her in the warmest room in the house. I really pray she's not in pain. If she starts "guarding" her abdomen, if her shivering gets worse, or if she goes off her food or water, we will choose euthanasia.

(I can't tell you how hard it was to write that last sentence. The euphemisms were inadequate: ending her suffering, putting her out of her misery. Both true, of course, but none of them call it what it is. It is an active choice we would be making.)

I'm glad I'm able to be home with her right now. Steve also has the next two weeks off, so we can spend some loving time with her.

I wish Scooter could talk and tell me if she's in pain. And I wish Ross and Pat could teleport over from Switzerland to say goodbye.

This sucks.

A Handmade Christmas: More Time than Money

This is our tree-topper angel. The tree is not up yet at our house.

Quitting my job just before Christmas was probably not a great idea if I planned to spoil my loved ones. However, it does mean I actually have time and enough spare energy so I can make at least part of our gifts.

Walkies

I forgot to post this last weekend!

Scooter at the Arboretum

Ottawa has many, many places worth visiting. I've written several times about how much I enjoy my commute along the Ottawa River Parkway (recently renamed the Sir John A. Macdonald Parkway, but it'll always be the Ottawa River Parkway to me).

The Arboretum is another one of those unique spaces in Ottawa, part of the Experimental Farm. I had heard of it many times, but had never been there before this Labour Day Weekend. It's lovely.

We only meandered a small part of it, and the weather was mostly overcast, so it wasn't as spectacular as it might have been, but it was a nice little ramble nevertheless.

This duck was so still that Scooter did not even notice her.

It was end of summer, so many of the trees bore ripe fruit.

And the leaves were just starting to turn.

This was the hugest apple tree I've ever seen!

Oh, how I love willow trees. I just wish they weren't so hard on foundations.

I was fascinated by this tree, so I took a closer look.

It's a larch. Love those feathery branches.

One of my hopes, in becoming a dog owner, was that it would get me out walking more. So far, it's working. I don't walk with her every day, but I do walk more frequently than I have done since the kids were little.

(This isn't a tree, but it was such a perfect thistle specimen that I had to snap a picture.)

Today we're off to the Bruce Pit, an off-leash dog park. Scooter's very good about her "here!" command, so I don't anticipate any problems. In fact, there were plenty of dogs off-leash at the Arboretum, and she was very well behaved with them, so this should not be a problem. 

Who's a good doggy?

You are! Oh, yes, you are!

Isn't she sweet? Scooter has really bonded with Stephen, and, when he got home today, she demanded to be taken for a walk. She's not usually a very vocal dog, (though she does bark when someone comes to the door - but only if there's someone already at home), but this evening, she was eager to go for another W.A.L.K.

So Steve took off his bicycling shoes and slipped on his sandals and we three went to the park.

Eager, but well trained.

Pat and Ross did such a great job training Scooter that we feel like we are the ones who need training.

Here's Steve performing the "Here" command and gesture.

Patience

She's doesn't like to let go of her toys at the best of times, but when she's tired, she just refuses. She stops running around and just holds it in her mouth so you won't throw it again.

Then we know it's time to head home for a drink of water and a rest.

Happy, tired dog.

Expanding Our Family

Scooter

No, I'm not pregnant! (That joke never gets old. I'll probably be telling it on my death-bed. Heck, I'd probably still tell it if my shriveled-up womb were in a bowl beside me. Ick. Sorry. Look at the picture of the adorable doggy.)

My sister, Pat, and her husband, Ross, are moving to Switzerland (lucky them!) and have reluctantly realized that their geriatric dog will not be making the move with them. There are quarantine requirements and she has a docked tail, which Switzerland does not allow. (I should note that Pat & Ross did not have her docked. She came to them that way.) She has arthritis and takes estrogen supplements.

Scooter is a lovely, and much-loved, dog. We have offered her a home with our family. For now, she is with us for a week. This is actually her second visit - she came for three days in early July.

At that visit, she and our cat, Elly, circled around each other -- no growling or hackles, just cautious observation.

Cautious kitty

Today, they looked at each other with a "Oh, you again" nod, then went on with their lives. Steve and I went out for a show. (Cirque du soleil!!!) When we came home, they were both asleep in the living room.

It humours me how similar they are:

• arthritic
• white with brown-and-black spots
• submissive
• quiet

Ross, who has been Scooter's "Alpha" for her entire life, is heartbroken at leaving her, and I feel so sad for him. I suspect that, quite aside from his own sense of loss, he worries that Scooter may not be loved by us as much as she is by him. But she will. She's just that kind of dog.

She's already attached herself to Stephen (she really likes men), and I'm pretty sure that, in six months or so, the cat and dog will be licking each other and lying by the fire.

So that's the big change in our household. No babies. Just a menopausal old bitch welcoming a lovely dog to her home.