“Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” Dylan Thomas

Here’s the interesting thing about old age, dear reader, it cannot be anticipated no matter how hard we try, nor can its form be controlled. As humans, you acquire your puppy and are charmed by its youthful antics, its high energy, and evident good health. As you cuddle your precious, sweet smelling baby pug, it is nearly impossible to imagine this amazingly vital creature as a blind, deaf, drooling, limping, leaking, foul-smelling vessel of canine DNA.

For those of you who have followed me on my journey into old age, you probably are very aware of all of my physical changes and limitations but unaware of the daily toll it takes on my parents. I think humans get stuck on their memories of us as we were and find it very difficult to move forward into our new reality. My parents face a daily struggle, involving elaborate “pilling” twice a day, changing diapers regularly, and adding the protection of a onesie. These are merely the physical requirements. Add to this regimen, my constant barking upon waking, sleeping, walking, standing, and between breathing, which drives everyone crazy for some reason. And because I am obsessed with any and all food, I cannot relax for any period of time, lest I miss a crumb or morsel. There are also the unwanted accidents that occur during the diaper changing and the occasional nighttime diarrhea events, requiring a butt bath, change of diapers, onesies, and bed linens. This life stage has the power of erasing the wonderful memories of the preceding youthful years. Sleep deprivation is a constant in our house.

The irony throughout all of these changes is that my energy level and vigor remain untarnished, and in fact, are probably even stronger than ever. I can, on rare occasions, even interact with other dogs, twitch my tail gaily, and prance about as a young pup (see my video on Mason and Lizzie’s page on Facebook). Mom and Dad puzzle over this phenomenon regularly and I try to tell them by cocking my head and panting wildly that I am not leaving this life quietly or passively. This pug is going out on a rocket ship, with an earth-shaking blast that I hope erases the memories of these last few years.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here am I, tearing into Little Bear as if he were my sworn enemy. Even in the onesie, I look fierce!

Ask Mason

Yours truly...a day in the park with a bone in my mouth...extreme quality of life

It is interesting to note, dear reader, how often people turn to me for advice or even just to share a concern or complaint. Now I don’t pretend to have any sort of expertise or training in this field but I do have a body of life experience, albeit from a dog’s perspective. In that vein, today I will respond to a query I often receive from readers, which is the age old question of “How will I know if and when it is time to end my dog’s suffering?” It is a valid question and one that I am honored to tackle.
First, there is no hard and fast rule for this, but as humans you must know that you have given yourselves an incredible license…choosing your pet’s ultimate fate is certainly a great privilege and not something to take lightly. You hold the power to end your beloved pet’s suffering when there is no hope for a future and no quality of life remaining. But with all power comes a grave responsibility (pardon my choice of adjective), and that responsibility weighs heavily on every pet owner’s mind. On this you must trust me…we will tell you when it is time. We will tell you because we know of your concern and we are grateful that you can do this last act of extreme love for us. There will be no doubt about the time, and even if you cling to us for an hour or a day past that time, we know you will ultimately do the right thing, which brings us peace of mind.
So, while our lives are brief in comparison to yours, we know with absolute faith that you will see us through our journey with love and compassion. If we could, we would do the same for you. Remember, it is not the length of the life lived, but rather its quality. You give us the ultimate gift of love by ending our suffering when it is time.
I apologize for the rather grim subject, dear reader, but it is one that every pet owner must face from the moment we enter your life to the day we leave it. Shakespeare said it best in The Merchant of Venice…
“The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Nothing to do with my blog but thought you'd enjoy seeing that fool Lizzie with a pizzle in the park

Downward Facing Pug, or I Chose Life

Every now and again I find it helpful to stop and take stock of my life. As midsummer approaches I am reminded of my various limitations. This is not a maudlin pity party, believe me, but rather an honest look at how my many physical conditions have not limited my zest for living.

It was discovered about four years ago that I have an under active thyroid, for which I must take Soloxine twice a day for the rest of my life. It also requires a yearly blood test to be sure the dosage remains correct. Around that same time, my vet informed me that the reason I coughed and gagged so frequently is due to a collapsed trachea, a condition for which there is no treatment. It becomes a problem when I ingest food because I naturally do this rapidly, due to my excitement…and so I make ghastly retching sounds after eating. It doesn’t bother me but I think it upsets the humans around me!

Around the time I was living in Dallas with my mom, I started having seizures. They happened about twice a year, were horrifying for Mom, and left me only a little tired but otherwise unaffected. Since they were not an isolated event I was put on Potassium Bromide about two years ago as a preventative course of treatment. This I take once a day and have blood drawn twice a year to check my levels. Now some of you, dear readers, may be saying to yourselves that this pug is being held together with duct tape, but my story is not over. Last summer a neurological issue developed, which necessitated emergency surgery (see Dec. 27 blog about this procedure) leaving me without the use of my gender distinguishing feature. I am having difficulty with my hindquarters this summer and my vet feels all of this is connected. I take ¼ tablet of Temaril P every other day to reduce inflammation.

You must wonder, why am I regaling you with my tales of woe? I do so only to point out that not one or all of these physical limitations have slowed me down or depressed me. They are not even an annoyance. Life is rich, beautiful, and full of incredible food. As Thoreau said, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…”

I am a pug living my life deliberately and well.  L’chaim!

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

I just happen to love this shot and Grandma says I look like an angel. No hint of health issues on this pug's face!