Hillbilly Resurrection

Last week, Indiana made the decision to stop underwater treadmill therapy. Well, actually, Jim and I made the decision, but she was telling us loud and clear that it's what she wants.

We've been doing underwater treadmill with Indy since 2007. She's always loved it and loves the staff even more. (We do too) Suddenly, about a month ago, she stopped cooperating in the treadmill. She freaks out and can barely walk. Though it appears that she's struggling physically (and she probably is, a little), I think a large part of the problem is mental. It's getting harder, and she's frustrated. I think the long commute is hard on her too (and we do it twice a week).

So as hard as it is to do, we're stopping underwater treadmill for the time-being. My initial reaction to all of this was to freak out. Treadmill could be the one thing that's allowing her to even walk at this point. What if, by stopping it, she goes downhill rapidly? This thought was quite fleeting though, as the even more important thought came to my mind: "She is telling us, unequivocally, that she's done with this." I cannot, and will not, force this dog to do something she doesn't want to do.

In the past four years, this dog has been to hell and back. Major surgery, involving 5 nights in the hospital and a 13" incision. Chemotherapy. Test after test for hypothyroidism and Cushing's disease. Two nights in the hospital for acute kidney failure. Sub-q fluids for her kidneys every day for the past year. Monthly acupuncture and chiropractic care. Underwater treadmill. Recurring skin infections and UTIs. Surgical biopsy without anaesthesia or sedation. Vet visit after vet visit. Pills upon pills. And with nary a complaint.

If she's telling me so clearly now to stop, how can I not listen? It terrifies me, but I love her too much not to. I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I think about it all, but I know in my heart that I'm doing what's right for her. I owe her that much.

That said, Jim and I got the crazy idea to build a therapy pool for her in our basement back in 2008. We used it for a while and then stopped, because of her skin infections. Now that she's done with treadmill, we're resurrecting what I like to call "the hillbilly pool." It's made of 2x4s, about 40 billion screws, carpet padding, and a pond liner. But it also has fancy things like a real pool pump, a heater, and an ozonator. Still, it ain't pretty. But it works. We're currently working to get it cleaned out, refilled, and ready to run. It'll probably take a few weeks to get it ready, but we're hoping Indiana will use it and that it will be at least a modest substitution for the treadmill. There are still some kinks to work out. For instance, how to get her down the flight of stairs and into the basement, along with how to get her into the pool itself (which wasn't easy back in 2008, when she had more mobility and confidence).

But if Jim and I can figure out how to build a pool in our basement, then surely we can figure out how to get a dog into it. There may be some complications, but love sure is a strong motivator.

A Day Off For Some

Indy had a decent day on the treadmill yesterday. In our previous session, she wouldn't walk, which freaked us all out. So yesterday I brought along her life jacket, thinking that would help. We changed up her routine though, which I think only succeeded in making her mad. She hates the life jacket. I know this. She is whip smart and picks up routine like that. So why did I think she'd be ok, after three-plus years of doing it one way, suddenly be ok with doing it a different way. I basically can't win. But Mary, her PT, went into the water with her and got her through 15 minutes of treadmill, which is a start. Maybe Saturday will be better?

Mary, our aforementioned PT, thought that Indiana might benefit from some more chiropractic ASAP. (She typically gets it once a month) So this required a call to the vet to see if we could add in chiropractic to her acupuncture appointment at our vet's office next week. Luckily the answer was yes, saving us a trip to her #1 chiropractor, who lives an hour and ten minutes away. It'd be great if Indiana's staff was consolidated into one area, but alas, they are not. Therefore, I feel like her personal assistant most of the time, coordinating doctors and appointments, and trying to remember where she needs to be, and when, and what for.

Indiana's been eating well lately. I'm almost afraid to say it, in case I jinx it. I feel a certain amount of pride in this, because it means I have figured her out! She has complicated rules, and Jim and I have finally learned what they are. Yes! I can't get to cocky though, because she's been known to change the rules mid-game before. Cheater.

Today is a day off for Indy. I, however, am working to bring home the bacon. Almost literally. I work a handful of hours a month at our local awesome pet food store, Razzle-Dazzle Doggie Bow-tique. It gets me out of the house, and I get to interact with and, sometimes, educate enthusiastic pet owners, which I love. Plus I get lots of kisses from the grooming customers. The dogs, not the people.

Introducing The Princess

On most mornings, when time allows and Jim is on the day shift, I get up at 5:00am with Jim, eat breakfast, feed the dogs, and go back to bed for a while. Sometimes it's the highlight of my day, having the warm bed all to myself. But today I woke up before my alarm, unable to sleep. I felt panicked, with a heavy weight on my chest. I feel the weight of what lies ahead of me, of getting through this in the most positive manner, of not writing my dog off as dead already. I have to learn to look at every day as a gift, and at my dog as, well, a dog. Not a patient. That's kind of the point of all I'm doing. I want her to enjoy every day. I want her to still remain a dog, and not be fussed over every second. Her mental wellbeing is as fragile as her joints at this point, and I have to find the balance of protecting the two. It seems like a huge task, but I've been preparing for it my whole life. I think I'm just afraid of it.

So today is Tuesday, which means it's underwater treadmill day. We do underwater treadmill twice a week. We've been doing it for over 3 years now. We started off at twice a week in the beginning then went down to once a week after about six months. Then about six months ago, when Indy started having trouble getting up, we went back to twice a week. We drive an hour and ten minutes each way to a wonderful place called Chicago Animal Rehab, in Chicago Ridge. The therapists there have become our friends, as have the staff at the facility CARE shares space with. Indiana really loves everyone there, because they treat her like a princess and feed her treats. Indy gets loaded into the treadmill and does 25 minutes, uphill, with the resistance jets on.

Last week didn't go well. When the treadmill started, she took a header into the water, which I think freaked her out. She never got her groove, and kind of refused to walk. So today I'm bringing her life jacket along, hoping it will provide a little extra security and buoyancy for her, if not a handle for us to guide her along if we get desperate.

I think I'll give her a massage and do some joint manipulation before we go too, to see if it loosens her up.

She's been eating well lately, now that we've learned all of her "rules" (which are strict, indeed). Her not eating is always a concern, and it's almost a barometer to how she's feeling. We can get her to eat every meal these days, though sometimes we have to hand feed her with a spoon; The Princess doesn't like to get her snout covered in food. I figure she's earned the right to be picky, and if spoon feeding is what The Princess wants, it's spoon feeding The Princess will get. At your service, Your Highness.