Rose's Cantina

In the end, Dr. Gordon J. Blackstone, professor of puppy philosophy, wasn't rocking Addison's Disease after all. It cost us a couple hundred bucks the other day to hear the news. We didn't care. We were just happy that Gordie would live a better life over the coming months. At twelve and half, he is a modern veterinary miracle. At age two, Gordie developed stones in his bladder which blew up his tummy like a hot air balloon. It took two operations to set him straight. The first one, the vet botched because she had trouble sewing up his fat tummy. We were grateful that she offered another vet to fix her handiwork. The second health crisis came a couple of years later when he developed pancreatitis. The resolution of this situation required us to make him homemade dog food with brown rice, vegetables and meat for years. The smell of shepherd's pie still makes me nauseous. He doesn't need that concoction any longer. Now he eats regular chow. I often wonder whe...

We've taken to calling Gordie the Jurassic Pug because he's starting to fossilize. He's all crusty around the eyes and ears and Scott spends a good hour every night cleaning out his facial orifices. He can barely walk, has trouble peeing and is half blind. I swear, at times, he's also demented. With two young dogs in the house, cavorting and chewing and fighting, it's hard not to view Gordie as part of the furniture. He gets up only to eat. He still loves eating. But the light has left his beady little eyes. It's about time to say goodbye. We made the decision last night to cease treatment and allow the little curmudgeon to go toward the light. I'd say he's going to walk the Green Mile, but he can't walk and will have to be carried. Poor little guy. We'll spend the next week or so letting him do all manner of bad things. We'll feed him bacon. He still loves bacon. But before he goes, a retrospective. I'd rather write this ...

On a wintery morning last November, I opened up my laptop and read the following post from the writer Jon Katz on his blog, Bedlam Farm: Rose died on Friday evening, euthanized after a long and severe wasting disease that left her in pain and without spirit. She died in ease and comfort...her head resting on my arm. I let out an unexpected and mournful sob which brought Scott running into my little office off the kitchen. Oh, no, I thought, not beautiful Rose, the nearly mythical Border Collie who inhabited many of Jon Katz' books. Not Rose of Washington County, defender of hearth and home, manager of sheep, donkeys and even geese. I thought Rose would live forever. She was a dog in a book. But, alas, Rose was not a fictional dog; she was Jon's very real companion, who was always by his side as he struggled to find himself in middle age, in the midst of personal crisis, as he tried to morph from city slicker to gentleman farmer. She died alright, just...