Decline in Steep Steps

I’ve been avoiding talking about Mrs. Wigglebottom since the ceiling incident, in part because I was trying to convince myself that she was fine, and in part because saying it here is admitting that she’s not fine. I guess those are almost the same thing. I just like to order the world into this and that.

But I knew, almost the second the dust cleared and she stood there, uncertain whether she should come to us, that it was too much for her.

And she’s been antsy. She wants to be with us, but she doesn’t want to be away from home. She turns back on walks. If you won’t let her turn back, she just stops. And waits for you to be convinced that she’s not going any farther.

And she sleeps, almost all the time. Even in the car, rather than staring out the window, she’s stretching out on the back seat and snoring away almost before you get out of the driveway.

And today, when the guys were here working, I just knew she’d bark and be in the way and be upset that they were here. And she did bark some, when she remembered to. And she did like it when the contractor scratched her butt. But mostly, she just laid on the floor and slept or laid on the couch and slept. Even with strangers willing to scratch her butt in the house.

It broke my heart. It breaks my heart to tell you.

She gets old in big steps. It’s not a gradual decline. It’s like one day she minds if strange men are being noisy in the house and the next day? She just can’t be bothered.

I hope she goes easy. Not yet, though. Not yet.

7 thoughts on “Decline in Steep Steps

  1. It’s so hard to see them get old. I have a 15 year old Lab who is declining- slowly at times and sometimes a big step. Hugs, Betsy to you and Mrs. W.

  2. It breaks my heart to hear this. Have been there so many times over the last several years, but when I think about it & think how many “elderlies” I have lost in recent years, I have to remind myself how fortunate I was to have so many for so long, especially the ones who lived into their mid- to late teens. Will be sending special doggie karma your/her way indefinitely (and will be reminded to think of her whenever I get irritated with my current four youngish brats).

  3. I hate it when they get old. My 16 year old cat went blind 1.5 years ago. He’s mostly deaf. He’s mostly himself, despite all that, except when he is not. And then I just cry.

    Hugs to you, butt-scratches to Mrs. W.

  4. Happily, she has a playdate with the Professor this afternoon while the guy is here sanding, which will lift both our spirits, because the Professor is one of her absolute favorite people and I am ready to see her unabashedly happy. Plus, hurray! I get to see the Professor.

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