Today is my sweet Indiana's birthday. She has achieved the thing our vets (and even us, at times) thought impossible--reached the tender age of twelve years old.
Having an aging dog is rough. Don't we all wish we could freeze them at five years old? Stay a happy, healthy age forever? We unfortunately can't do that. It's been hard the past four years, watching Indiana turn into a senior dog. Along with being a cancer survivor, she has become a hypothyroid-, Atypical Cushingoid-, kidney diseased-, arthritic-dog. Each of those diseases has added to the sting of cancer. Shouldn't one major disease exempt her from anything else?
In those dark days, when nothing seems to be going right, when a little part of my heart breaks each time I stick her with a needle to provide kidney-refreshing fluids, when I watch her hobble down the hallway, stiff from arthritis, I remember that she was supposed to have been taken from me at 8 years old. Frozen forever at that young age. I'm not being punished by all these diseases; no, I've been given a blessing. Because I still have a dog who can age.
And while every painful step, every sad look as we walk into the vet's office, and every stick of a needle still breaks my heart, I look into her eyes and see so much life. She has so much fight left in her, and so do I. Every smile in her eyes, every wag of her tail, every excited bark that comes straight from her soul, every meal that she devours with immense gusto...that is what keeps us both going. My girl is a fighter, and every day with her is a gift. Age isn't a curse, it's a blessing.
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