Mar 20

 Athena is still here. Stay of execution.

In the week run up to the crunch date of Monday I flip flopped between, we are going to fight this, she is fighting, to, she is done, I have to let her go. Her condition would vary day to day, hour to hour, sometimes better, sometimes worse. There is nothing like a little hope to truly slam home hopelessness on that flip of the coin. Because it doesn't let you progress with closure. Always stuck on that edge of indecision.

In my more calmer moments, I fully accept that Athena has to go at some point. For all that I rail against it, I can't do shit about it. And. I get it. And I am "ok" with that. But this is only in my more calm moments. In my less peak calm moments. I don't accept it at all. Fuck you. Fuck life. Fuck science for not having solved this. Fuck evolution to setup this cruel bullshit. Fuck people who say it's natural. Poor eyesight is natural. We do something about that. Heart disease is natural. We do something about that too. Everyday in everyway we reject "natural" and tinker, organ transplants, limb replacement, anti biotics, insulin, paracetamol, the entire medical industry is a giant Non Acceptance of Natural. Fuck those people who say it's natural. Fuck any would be deities who designed it that way. Fuck the universe. Fuck everything. 

Anyway.

Monday. Athena has seemed to be, not fixed, not great, but, coping a bit better. Into a new routine perhaps. Bored. That glimmer of hope.

We went for a super short walk on Sunday. Overdid it. Hazel got it wrong. I had to put my foot down - not the greatest of things to do with Hazel - no, we're turning around, this is too far. Hazel didn't want to. Rejected what I was seeing. She's no worse she said. But by the time we had gone 10 yards back to the car it was very clear. Too far. The walk back to the car got increasingly difficult. I don't take it out on Hazel. But at these times I find it very frustrating. Internally I want to kick her up the ass. Stop being a difficult pain in the ass and making somethings harder. Ordinarily I let her do as she likes, very rarely do I offer a differing opinion. But sometimes I have to do it. If something like Athena's well being is on the line or something else super critical. I will risk a Hazel meltdown.

I kept a very close eye on Athena on the way back. Hazel kept quiet. I was militant. Too far. It wasn't said. But the implication was there. You fucked up. And now Athena hurts.

Shit happens. Everyone makes mistakes. So many. It is life. In Hazel's case the difficulty is the rage that follows questioning a mistake. It can so often trigger that response of attack first rather than have to face being wrong. It triggers that whole victimhood thing. It's everyone else. Not her. Trauma. This is why her dad called her a shitty person at Christmas, and her mom in law flat out kicked her out of the house.

Tricky.

Getting the right amount of excercise for an aging dog is as much art as it is science. It's not easy. Judging what is too little or too much. It's difficult, too little and they seize up, lose condition faster, arthritis kicks in harder. Too much .. and they seize up. Over do it. Pull things, strain others. Pain. Leaving them to decide what they want is no answer either. Smart or not, they are not the wisest of creatures. And in the moment of adrenaline and enthusiasm for being out they can overdo it. Athena has done this before in the past. Run around and around and around at an advanced age. Then got home. Seized up. And pee'd herself trying to get out of bed. Yeah. Too much dumbass. But that was a good few years ago now. She has got wiser. Or perhaps her body tells her more clearly to stop. But in any case. Judging the right thing to do with an aging dog is not easy. If you give a shit. Making mistakes is going to be par for the course.

I very much wanted the vets opinion on Monday. Because. I could hardly tell left from right. Give me your professional opinion on how she's doing. I thought she was doing better. Hazel would say no. Am I going mad ? Do I need to let her go ? The vet was key to this. 

Athena seemed better at the vets. Last time she was lying on a blanket, not moving, done. This time she was standing. Got bored. Wandered off around the vets to have a sniff and an explore. Limping. Tired. But. Wanting to see what was around the next corner. What are you doing ? Who is this.

To me. This is a dog who's still here. Has things still to do.

The vet agreed. Doing better. Still lame. Still probably the same problem. Still staring down the barrel of a death sentence. He said something I didn't super want to hear. That I was going to have to judge when it was time to put her to sleep. We talked about it a little. Difficult. But for the moment. Everyone was happy to continue on with her armfulls of painkillers and drugs. And take it one week at a time.

So here we are.

Athena is absolutely in end of life stage. She can't run anymore. So sudden. Feb she was running. March she is not. But she has not given up. She does not seem ready to go.

On Tuesday I had a doc appointment. Follow up asthma appointment. Athena was adamant she was coming with me. She pushed her head hard past my leg and the door. Get. Out. Of. The. Way. She waited in the porch. Let's go. You can't come with me gorgeous. She didn't want to hear that. I opened the front door, she was off. Let's go. Up to the front gate. Hazel was annoyed. She tried bodily moving Athena back round. Everytime she twisted away. No. Going out.

She has life and stubbornness in her yet. I laughed. Athena being Athena. Even at the worst of times. The spirit is feisty and willing. The body has collapsed. It makes it hard. She will always be this way I think. I wish I could preserve her spirit forever. I cannot. She is better than me. More deserving of life than me. But I cannot change this aspect of the universe as much as I want to.

I am not working again this week. Third week. I am in a lot of pain. Just a flare up of pain everywhere. It can be a thing apparently with CFS. With B12 deficiency. With fuck knows what I have. My back seems to have got worse again - probably because of the pain flare up. And to add insult to injury, right foot has had a sudden flare up of gout. And I am having to sleep even more. I can be active for a few hours, then slump hard, feeling ill and exhausted.

Life. Is a wonder.

Hazel has been doing - by and large - really good with Athena. Looking after most of her meds. Dinner times. Making sure she's comfortable. The best nursemaid for Athena. This week has been harder for her. Severe cramping. Something she has been trying to sort out at her docs. Her volatile personality can be harder at such times. Everything becomes a snarl. Understandable. Yesterday she came with me to the docs - she needed to pick up her prescription. Everything was critical. I took it in good humour. Going too fast in the car. Too bumpy a road. Too fast around a corner. Why am I wearing a hat. It's summer. Stop wearing a hat. I had asked her at the start of the journey if she was having a grumpy day ( she was clearly having a grumpy day ). No she said, grumpily. By the time she started attacking my hat, I asked her if she was sure she wasn't having a grumpy day, I laughed at her assault on my hat, and took it off, and she began to see what I was talking about, and laughed as she insulted my hat.

Uh huh.

Greggs and Costa for lunch flipped her mood from grumpy to excited. Happy. Three cakes. Two sausage rolls. A pastie. And a fancy coffee.

I told her that perhaps the secret to eliminating her grumpy days was just to fill her bag with cake.

She agreed.

Then admonished me for her having bought a small coffee. Why did she not get the large one.

I have an established tactic for this transferrance of fault. My response is the same. That she needs to talk to management about the problem. IE. Herself. She then bemoans that management is the problem, and I should do something about that. Uh huh. Management, I make clear, is definitely her responsibility.

She was happier in the afternoon for her goodies.

I will take avoiding suffering, pain, drama et al for the sake of spending £20 out on lunch every single time.