illness – Dexter

The silence of the Beagle

The quiet one will be me. Those who know me, and who have met me, will be aware that I am rarely quiet but that’s another story.

So, I have been quiet on here as well as on other unnamed platforms, for a while now. With the help of my assistants we have been dealing with a few symptoms of old age creeping up on me and I have been neglecting my duties on here. Also I am not yet ready to hand over the editorial reins to my young vampiric assistant Lenny.

Since around last November I have spent most of my waking hours along with those of slumber, in a piece of torture equipment that is known by us furry fiends as the Cone of Shame.

I have been biting my paws, gnawing my legs, scratching my ears and itching my chin pretty much relentlessly. Through numerous visits to the vet I have been on many potions and lotions to try and alleviate my inability to avoid scratching and biting my various extremities to such a degree that my ears became infected, the ears were also scratched raw, I was chewing my legs to the extent that I was pulling the fur out and finally, my chin was red raw as a result of me incessantly scratching the itch. I have been tortured by my itchy demons until quite recently when I visited the vet and was seen by a person I had not encountered before. Swabs were taken of my ear infection, the source was identified, lotion administered and the ear problem subsided. Then it was onto the paws and chin which needed an injection to be given in my rump to settle down the symptoms. I got the injection on 29th September and the problem started to calm down within a few days. I was still in the Cone of Shame as my feet couldn’t resist trying to make their merry way toward my ears and chin until last Friday 10th October. I was snuggled up on the sofa next to my favourite assistant and she removed the Cone. I snoozed quietly. After we had been into the garden for our final business trip of the day I was expecting to see the Cone making its evil way back toward my neck, but it strangely stayed away. I slept without the fiendish device on Friday, found myself without the Cone all day Saturday including my sleeping time. Yesterday I was once more allowed to be outside of the Cone. I haven’t scratched, I’m not itchy and I don’t feel the need to rake my chin and ears, with my toes.

There is a general feeling of relief around the house that I am on the path toward a happier retirement from my duties and that I can live out my days pretty much without the infernal item being attached to me. There is some way to go, my assistants watch me like hawks and I often get warning glares if I become too frantic with my scratching. I may be writing on here a bit more often, you never know. Moral of my tail is, I suppose, that even us beagles have to listen to other people now and then as it seems to be in our best interests. Getting old isn’t necessarily fun or all its cracked up to be. Hopefully I can age disgracefully now, without the Cone being used too frequently.

The travails of the age

As regular readers will know, I am not one to grumble about things. I like to try and be positive, don’t you know.

I woke up eight days ago and wondered why I felt a bit yucky and then thought “I need to make a trip to the garden quickly”. Thankfully a parent assisted in clearing the way for my emergency dash. Lenny just looked out of his giant clam shell cave bed, yawned and went back to sleep.

An hour or so later I needed to repeat the trip and, again, a parent made sure I was in the garden in time. Over the next four days or so nobody apart from Lenny got much sleep whilst I went on a restricted diet, starved for a day in case it was something nasty, was fed my worming tablet and then went onto bland chicken and rice. I have no idea how it can be considered “bland” when you haven’t eaten anything for four days. Anyway, on Monday I was off to the vet in the company of my dad who proceeded to inform the vet of all of my inner most secrets. I didn’t authorise release of the information but apparently they are worried about me so it was justified. Having been prodded, poked, squeezed and had the stethoscope applied I then had to endure the dreaded “furmometer”. Apart from being ill, I was told I was in fine fettle for a dog of my age. The diagnosis was that I may have become intolerant to a food that I have been eating. At this stage I thought it best not to admit to the dirty puddle I had licked or the various other non edible stuff that I had sniffed, licked and digested on my walks. The vet had ruled those out however, so I was in the clear.

The chicken and rice continued to appear in tiny portions in my food bowl and the biscuits have all but disappeared from the menu. There was a strangely tasty paste applied to my meagre breakfasts and dinners. Subsequent nights have passed wherein the parents have been kept awake by a tummy that gurgles like a pan on the stove. I have also been restless throughout the nights whilst during the day I have enlisted the help of Lenny so we can use a double dose of the begging eyes when we are starving hungry. As beagles we are always starving hungry even if we have eaten ten minutes ago but this is by the by.

Last night my tummy didn’t gurgle. Today I did something for the first time in nine days, that made my parents happy. I shall not go into the gory details. I am still listless, tired and starving hungry. It seems that as an older fur it will take longer for me to recover from ailments which means more sleepless nights for those who look after me. Even Lenny backed off from playing bitey face with me as he can tell that I am not quite right. I actually caught him oozing out of his bed, with his head on my bed, early this morning. I will let it pass for the time being though.

I must remember that things take longer the older you become. I have to remind myself to slow down which is something I have never understood before. Take time to smell the roses, sniff the breeze and feel the sun on your face. But don’t drink dirty water or eat awful stuff on your walk.

I’m off to bed for a snooze.

The eyes have it

I am a beagle, you may have noticed. This will be my eighth Christmas with my parents so I have had plenty of practice in extracting love and food from them. Or so you would think. Beagles are renowned for having bottomless stomachs, hollow legs and probably the most expressive and irresistible eye contact. I am no different and I am certainly trying to teach Lenny to be equally as persuasive with his peepers.

I’ve been a bit unwell recently and there have been days and nights where a number of trips to the garden have been needed to avoid indoor accidents with significant clean up required. The parents were concerned over the food I was eating and wondering if it was one thing or a combination so dad was taken with taking me outside in the garden whenever I needed to. He felt a bit foolish when, on the only occasion I wasn’t attached to the lead at 03.30, I forgot what I was supposed to be in the garden for and started baying at the top of my lungs at all the lovely scents. Seeing him chase me around trying to quieten me was amusing.

Metabolism. That’s a long word to stomach.

The worst thing was having all treats removed from my diet. The best thing was that I went onto a chicken, rice and potato diet. I love chicken. Anyway the guilty food source appears to have been located and removed from my diet. It seems simply that as I am getting older my metabolism is changing and I cannot accommodate certain foods in the same way as when I was younger. Also I am not quite sure how the parents have managed it, however I am being fed delicious chicken at the same time as Lenny is being fed his normal food. He does cast the odd envious look at my food bowl but I ignore him as my face is usually busy and he cannot get his muzzle near my food. Anyway dad usually stands guard when we are eating so Lenny will be growled at if he makes a sideways movement toward me. Having said all of that Lenny eats his food like he’s never going to get any more. He inhales his food. He’s not quite up to Labrador speed of consumption but he’s nimble even for a beagle. I haven’t had any emergency trips to the garden over the past few days so it seems I have settled down again. Lenny seems to have become more aware of my desire to exist in a quieter place sometimes. We still practice our bitey face shenanigans but we break off and then shake at each other more readily.

The change of food on my part as well as my beagleness have allowed me to practice the use of “the eyes” on the parents. They are aware of the visual pleading tendencies. They have also cheated by telling one another that Lenny and I have had breakfast, treats, dinner or supper biscuits. This is grossly unfair as we cannot take advantage of one parent over the other.

I mean, who could resist these eyes?