When I'm 84

As we took Jake in for his annual check-up, I wondered if I would hear something I didn’t want to hear that might confirm his geriatric position in life and cast doubts on his health.  When a dog gets to be 12, you know his years are limited.

His weight was good -- holding steady at 69.  Dr. Smith was extremely pleased to hear that his August allergies had not happened this summer, that all his fur and skin were still quite in tact.  

But then she spent what seemed like forever listening to his heart.  She finally said it was slow and steady -- like a strong athlete’s heart.  There was no murmur.  There was no arrhythmia.  But his heartbeat was muffled.  

She went on to look at his old dog eyes and pronounce them just that.  His ears (even if a little deaf) and teeth were just fine.  Even the many lumps and bumps, although noted, were of no concern.

We mentioned that he sometimes is slow in standing up, his back half that is.  She suggested we start giving glucosamine, but said he was far ahead of his age if he was still able to jump on the bed, which he does regularly.

And then back to that soft, muffled heartbeat.  We could do X-rays (at a considerable expense) to know if there is an enlargement or a tumor blocking his heart.  But what would we do with that information if it was to be learned?  Probably nothing.

So Dr. Smith drew some blood for a routine set of diagnostic blood tests, gave Jake a couple of dog treats, and sent us on our way.

When a dog gets to be 12, he deserves to live out his life without drastic measures, or so I think.  I hope my caretakers will be of the same mind when I’m 84.