A Mercy Check

This post feels like something right out of 2013 as I formulate it in my head. No point, no overuse of headings, and no concern for proper sentence length needed for engagement in our increasingly disengaged world. This one is just for me, but you’re welcome to read it, too.

I’m watching Pots get older. By Pots I mean Potsy, short for Spot, short for Spoticus Son of Bitsy … if you’re nasty. He was born three months before Hurricane Ike made landfall in Texas. (Storms are literally how we kept track of dates for a good ten years while living near the Texas Gulf Coast.) That makes him 15 years old — 105 in dog years! Over this last year, he has been showing his age.

Ever-Faithful and Ever-Diligent

His ever-diligent sense of duty to follow me from room to room has become his main form of exercise. It is to a point where I am relieved he is losing his hearing and can’t hear me get up so that he doesn’t have to go through the stilted, stiff process of rising, stretching, and slowly gaining his footing. I know my quick trip to the bathroom will mean he will take forever to lower himself onto the floor again.

Thankfully, he has finally started using some of the dog beds, and, boy, do we have a selection for him. Our living room is littered with every type of dog bed you can imagine in the hopes that there will be one near him at just the moment he needs it.

Before the last couple of years, he seemed to hold the idea of a dog bed in disdain, much like older men I knew growing up (all of whom had hearing loss from working in refineries) would eschew hearing aids in favor of everyone just screaming at each other. But even Pots realizes he needs a soft bed and opts, at times, to stay where he is. This is hard for a dutiful good boy who believes his job is to be there for you.

My struggle is to guess if he is in pain or just really stiff. I try a daily “walk” which makes him so happy as he has anointed himself my best friend (and he has lived up to the title), earning him seniority and the first solo walk each day. Our walks are very much a pretension. He can’t do a full block, much less the 40-minute hike Ella seems to need. The only thing difficult about this mini walk is getting the slip lead over Spot’s head and getting out the door without our both being trampled by that big galoot, Ella, in her exuberance.

We Take It Slow, No Expectations

This walk is little more than a walk to the mailbox, so I have to remind myself to go slow and make it as rich as possible for a dog that sees and hears very little. Whereas I used to keep the dogs on-task to maintain a semblance of discipline, Potsy is now free to stop and sniff the cat dung, falling leaves, and telephone poles to his heart’s content. Though he was always good about following me, he is enjoying this indulgence. Smell is one of his few fully-functioning senses and it is also a way to exercise his brain. Even oldies need amusement.

The front steps are taken with care, preferably with me stepping first so he remembers where the step is. If you’ve ever had an older dog you know that once they lose depth perception, they tend to make bold and daring leaps of faith in the general area where they believe steps to be. That doesn’t always end well. So I try to slap my foot on the first one as he is taking it.

As we make our way down the driveway and a bit of sidewalk, I lead him away from bushes that might poke him and yards with stickers. I actively slow him down with measured steps I hope he can hear or at least feel, because if he starts fast, he may not finish. Gone are the days when he would run for miles with me and still want to play afterward. Gone are his acts of bravery, which was basically barking at any other dog he thinks he sees when we are out.

We turn at the end of the block, and I walk right beside him on the way back as the slope of driveways sometimes affects his balance as he tires. He knows my leg is right there to lean against.

Do I Do This With Everyone?

Why am I recounting a step-by-step of a micro dog walk for you? Because I have been thinking on these small walks, of how willing I am to go through quite a process for something that doesn’t benefit me and is basically just support for a pet past his prime.

I’ve discussed how the aging and death of our beloved pets prepare us for the end of loved one’s lives. I have let that fully take effect in my life, multiple times. I have been wondering, however, if I am mirroring that same patient support to others around me (not necessarily aging people, just struggling people) that I do with a terrier whose steps are ridiculously slow.

Do I set aside the time in my busy life for an exercise that may seem pointless to me, but really pleases someone else? Am I providing a wall of support for them as they tremble the way I do for Spot, with my leg? And do I reserve the strength, and plan, for the possibility that they may need to be carried home?

I don’t want to fall into that trap I’ve seen that irks me: being someone who adores their pets but remains indifferent to relatives and neighbors. I get that few people in my life have been as faithful and loyal as this dog … but they are people. They don’t always give anything and may even be difficult or hostile at times.

While I don’t think it’s my job to be a doormat, I do make room in life to be in relationships that aren’t always equally transactional or even-handed. I’ve been a bit heavy to others at times and I am immensely grateful for how they listened and stayed in my life when I had little to offer. I want to be able to carry people I know the same way when needed.

I don’t think I fall into the category of indifference to others, but I’ve just been considering if I am as supportive of other people, particularly people I did not give birth to, as I have been of this little guy.

That’s all. No big revelations. Well, I guess I can say this: If I think about what people will remember me for when I am gone (and I don’t mean a weird funeral home fantasy of sobbing and wailing) but just… will people remember me as someone who really saw them and really loved them in whatever way was most needed for them?

So, yeah, that’s what’s been on my mind. Any thoughts?