I didn’t walk Cody much over the winter. He may be 17 years
old but he pulls full out on the leash and trips me up on the ice. Now that
it’s spring, I figured it was time to take old Grandpa out for a stroll. He
certainly loves a walk. Gets all excited as soon as he sees that leash. He
skips and pulls and jumps and runs all the way down the driveway. Out on the
road, he crosses back and forth across the gravel, sniffing and investigating
like a good ol’ huntin’ dog.
We made it about 500 yards when the back left leg went. Then
the right. They just buckled under him and he collapsed. He struggled back up
to standing.
“Whoa, old man,” I said, turning him back toward home. As we
reached our driveway, he started to gain some pep. So I let him keep walking.
Another 500 yards, and the back legs went again. Poor Cody. His legs won’t do
what his brain is telling them to. So we went home. That was a pretty short
walk. And for the rest of the day he slept in a sunbeam as if he had run a
marathon.
Cody is an outdoor dog. He runs away, so he has to be on a
chain. And he sleeps in a doghouse lined with hay, all year round. I have tried
to put dog beds in his house for extra padding against the wood. He tears them
to shreds. Thirty above and he sleeps in a hole that he digs under the shade of
the cedar tree. Thirty below, he is happiest burrowed into a tunnel in the hay
of his wooden doghouse. But at least once a day, he likes to come inside to lie
on his indoor bed, in front of the TV. Beside the wood stove. He can’t handle
it for long if the fire is burning, because he has grown a heavy fur coat. But
he does love to come in and groom himself for a few minutes, before having a snooze.
Sometimes he is in here for hours. We just can’t leave him unattended, because
in 17 years he has never been successfully housetrained or learned not to steal
food.
Normally Cody naps inside on a king-sized fleece blanket
that has been folded in four. I figured his old bones would appreciate a
pillow, so about a year ago I bought him a nice corduroy dog pillow. The Farmer
took one look at it and said, “What are you giving that to the dog for? I want
it.” And it has been on the couch under the Farmer ever since.
Last month I found another dog pillow, this one with memory
foam and fake sheepskin. It was so soft. I brought it home to Cody and threw it
on the floor. The Farmer walks in.
“You bought a new pillow.”
“Yes, I did.”
“What’s it doin’ on the floor?” The man is oblivious. So I
gave him the sheepskin pillow and took the year-old corduroy one and threw it
on the floor. Cody gave it a sniff and then he literally shoved it to the side
with his paw.
“Hey. Aren’t you going to sleep on your pillow?” I asked
him. He put his chin on the pillow, the rest of him on the usual blanket. Then
I realized, it probably didn’t smell right. So last night when he came in for
his visit / nap, I shoved the pillow under his blanket. He turned around three
times (less than the usual nine) and settled in. I could just hear his bones
sighing with relief.
I don’t know whether it’s a case of ‘use it or lose it’ and
I should be walking Cody more often or not. I don’t want to exhaust him. Now
when he goes for a short walk, his legs give out and it seems to take him two
days to recover. But then, he is 17 x 7 = 119 in dog years. The Farmer got him
at age 2; he had been kicked out of obedience school and the family that had
him couldn’t keep him anymore in their tiny apartment. I have no idea what they
were thinking. Who keeps a huge Gordon Setter in an apartment?
I think he has had a good life here on the Fisher Farm. And
we love him, even if he steals food out of the garbage and runs downstairs to
pee in the basement.
Email: dianafisher1@gmail.com
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