Tuesday, March 14, 2017

3/13: Slice of Life (Backache and Heartache)

I love my dog so much.  Oh-so-much.  Too much?  Never.
This past week was our school's spring break (despite Mother Nature, protesting that winter isn't quite over yet!)  Luckily, our family had no big plans, as our schedule was thrown for a loop!

Early in the week, I was awakened by whimpers, shudders, and a cold wet nose.  The clock read 2:00am.  Usually it's the baby that wakes me.  This time, it was my sweet, but still spunky, 13 year old Doberman Chloe.  Immediately I knew she was in pain, but I wasn't sure why.  Heartache.  My "best friend" was in pain and I couldn't help.  

Chloe's been with me almost all of her life.  When I moved to Virginia in 2004, she was my only friend.  As I started my first "real" job, she was there to greet me every day when I returned.  I was told that she would play, play, play on the farm which I lived, and when 3pm would roll around, she'd head home and wait by the driveway until my return.  She slept in the bed with me, (or should I say, I slept in the bed with her?)  One time the power went out to my house during a chilly evening.  I, buried under the covers with my four-legged-heater, was oblivious until my uncle came a knocking on me.  She'd travel in the car with me, insistent upon sticking her head out the sunroof, like a pointy-eared para-scope.  Obviously, she's my bud.  My number one, old-lady gal, bud.

So, seeing her in pain, I immediately took her to the vet.  He reports that he's nearly sure she's somehow managed to herniate a disk in her back.  Yowch.  The second night, she's on pain meds, but clearly the pain is surpassing the medication.  Night three seems a bit better, but still tough.  Each time she wakes me with that cold snout, I begin to feel that surge of frustration of being awoken at the wee hours of the night, but then see her confused, cataract-opaque eyes, and melt.  It breaks my heart that I can't tell her, "I'm trying, Chloe girl.  I'm trying to take away your hurt."  She just wants to tell me, "Ouch.  Still, ouch."

I'm grateful for the moments I have with her.  She doesn't do much besides sleep, cuddle, sleep, walk, sleep, eat, sleep anymore.  Nevertheless, she's still my best friend.  She's been there through thick and thin, lonely days and sad days, busy days and wild romps in the woods.

While her backaches, my heartaches.  I'm trying to help, girl.  Hang in there.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, my heart aches for Chloe and for you. It must be hard to see her in such pain. I am sure she feels your love! I am so glad to see you writing again.