06/09/2025
A few words on unwell pet parent frustration, and a personal story:
Caring for an old pet with health issues is taxing. Venting your frustrations if you’re having a particularly tough time, is allowed. It doesn’t mean that you love your pet any less, and it certainly doesn’t mean that you won’t continue to go above and beyond, to do whatever you have to do for your fur baby, for as long as you have to do it. I’ve had to remind myself of that today.
Smoky, my heart and soul dog is 12. That’s fairly old for a big dog. He’s got arthritis and hip dysplasia, and his mobility isn’t the greatest. We’re spending a small fortune doing all we can medically, to try to improve and maintain his quality of life. He’s been having acupuncture, and last Monday, after another round of perfect bloodwork and urinalysis, he had his first Librela shot. I was very afraid to do it, because in rare cases, that treatment can go sideways in a very bad way. If it works, it can be a game changer for pain management and consequently, his mobility. We may not know for two or three weeks whether it’s going to work or not, but we both agreed that the time had come for us to roll the dice. I’ve not mentioned it in my breed group because there are people (not just there but anywhere really), whose stock and trade seems to be doom and gloom, and will take that opportunity to ratchet up my already high anxiety with horror stories. I can’t deal with that.
Smoky definitely has better ease of movement in the mornings, and as we get toward mid to late afternoon, it’s not as good.
This afternoon he got very antsy, and I thought maybe he needed to go out. I started to put the other piece of his harness on (we put the chest harness on in the morning and leave it on all day), and he laid down before I could get it all snapped on. I was annoyed, but okay. I took it off and walked away. He got antsy again almost immediately afterward. I came back and tried to put the harness on again. He kept walking in circles and I couldn’t get it snapped on. Then he laid down and I kind of lost it a little bit, and I loudly vocalized my frustration. I know this because D, whom I didn’t realize was sitting on the porch, heard and informed me of it after I came out. I went back into the house, closed myself up in the bathroom and took a few minutes to cry it out. I don’t know that I felt a whole lot better afterward, but I was able to decompress just enough to be able to get Smoky and me through to another day of medications and grilling food at seven a.m. that i likely will end up having to turn to mush two or three times a day to spoon into his mouth three or *four* times a day, then get him outside and back in, two or three times without injuring either of us, while D’s at work.
I am physically and emotionally exhausted, and if I need to open the relief valve once in a while, I’m giving myself permission to do that, and in the event that the neighbors hear any loudly uttered colorful language, I’m sure they’ll forgive me.
If any of you have or are dealing with a pet with challenges, know that you are not alone. Please give yourself permission to vent your frustrations, your heartache and your fears, so that you *can* pick yourselves back up and “do it all again tomorrow”.
And keep in mind that this is a safe space if you need someone who will listen.
