I love Dogs. My whole family does, and I've grown up with a couple of them over the years. We currently have 3 dogs, a chocolate lab named Sonny who we've had since he was 4 months old, got him almost 5 years ago. And this past Febuary we adopted two old timers, Ceasar and Cleo (patra), two 9 year old Basset Hounds. I love each one to pieces, but if I were 100% honest, I think I just might love Caesar a tinsy winsy tiny bit more. Why?
I'll tell ya, it isn't because he's the cutest, or the smartest, in fact, out of all three he's the 'ugliest' and by far the smelliest with a killer dog breath. Not to mention his front legs are bent crooked (a bone problem overweight basset hounds tend to suffer from) like two brakets sticking out --> )( . But he's my baby.
Now, lately their health is become fragile, both Cleo and Caesar. And since the foster girls are in charge of walking them and feeding them afterschool, unfortunately, they don't give them water when they do and the dogs have became dehydrated very fast, and sick. Up until the point where neither of them would eat (now if you had seen these guys a few months back, they fought with each other sometimes to get more food) until we realized that they haven't been drinking in a few days. That along with some digestive problems, Caesar went very bone thin (when we first got them they were both very overwieght and could have died already, but with us they becaue very fit and healthy) and for reasons we don't know, his nose was stuffy and he had trouble breathing. Last night Caesar and Cleo wouldn't touch their food so my dad gave them water again, Cleo felt better, but Ceasar didn't. We let them sleep in the mudroom rather than in their 'bunkbed shelter' in the garage. This morning we thought we were going to loose him.
He was having horrible shakings, he couldn't control his body and peed, pooped and puked all around himself and on Cleo. It was like he was having seizures, he was crying and in pain. I went to church not expecting him to be alive or better when I got back. My dad stayed with him all morning, while I just cried and sobbed at church, thinking about how much I was going to miss his rough, scratchy nose, his stinky breath, and his sad brown, blood-shot droopy eyes. I had a dog who got sick from rat poison and suffered from seizures, his mental health declined, and he was miserable so we put him down. I wasn't expecting much else for this time. But, my dad came to pick us up with good news, Caesar was alive and is doing better. I nearly started craying from joy. When I came home he was no longer shaking and he could focus his eyes and be attentive. He still had trouble walking and perferred to lay down. My Maverik will live to see another day, and hopefully a Christmas with us, and the New Year. He's now stable and in a slow recovery, he needs to gain strength to eat and gain some meat on his bones before he can be my old baby Caesar again.
Today, when he was alone in the mudroom (because he still couldn't control his bladder and we already had to bathe poor Cleo) I petted and stroke his head, and scratched behind his ear (his sweet spot, he's the only dog I've had who makes a sound of absolute pleasure when you scratch just in the right spot, almost like a cat purring) and I told him that we loved him. That no matter what we might have said or done in the past, we loved him very much. I know he's just a dog, just a pet, and wouldn't understand what I'm saying. But Ceasar is not just a dog, not just a pet, he's family.
