Things I've Learned From My One-Eyed Dog

I have only one eye.  Can you even tell?

As I discussed in my last post, my dog had to have his eye removed a few weeks ago.  This surgery was unexpected and left us, his people, pretty sad and distraught.   But Teddy, well, he took it all in stride.   Here are some things I have learned in the last few weeks from my one-eyed dog:

1.   You can wake up to a totally different reality.  Go with it.

Teddy basically went to sleep with two eyes and woke up with one.  The vet said he was almost completely blind in the bad eye so we don't even know if he noticed it was gone.  In any case, he woke up and was like, "huh, okay, I guess this is how it is now."   I mean, Teddy can't verbally complain, so we don't know if he was upset about this new reality but he also didn't crawl under the covers and eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's either so there's that.

or is he?

2.   Don't get hung up on what you don't have, be grateful for what you've got.

Again, Teddy can't talk so we don't know what's really going on in his head but we have reason to believe he is grateful.   When my husband picked him up just hours after surgery, Teddy ran to him with a frantically wagging tail.    We wouldn't have blamed him if his coned head had been hanging in shame and his tail was down with the thought bubble hovering over his head said something like, "Don't look at me!  I'm hideous!"  But, nope, he wagged his tail and the thought bubble clearly said, "You're here!  I'm here!  I still have one eye!  This is all fabulous!"

3.  Old dogs can learn new tricks.

Teddy had a cone on his head.  This was probably the thing that annoyed him the most about losing an eye.   It meant that eating, drinking and finding a proper place to "do his business" were all more difficult.   We taught him how to approach his food bowl in a new way so that the cone wouldn't act like a shovel and leave scattered kibble all over the kitchen.  It took him several failed attempts to learn, and many turned over bowls of kibble and water.  It might have been easier to just spoon feed and bottle feed him, but by learning a new way he could eat and drink when he wanted and didn't have to rely on us. I think this was a good motivator for him.   It might have been even more difficult to find a place to "do his business" outside since at the time we had lots of snow and his cone acted like a shovel that would quickly fill with snow as he sniffed.  Then he'd shake his head to get rid of the snow and just end up with a sad face full of snow.   His solution to this problem was to abandon all sniffing and just pee as soon as he was placed on the ground.   This brings me to the next point:

4.  Shit happens.

Figuratively and literally.   When Teddy had back surgery six years ago, I was worried about his ability to, for lack of another way to put it, poop.   The vet assured me that poop will eventually come out whether he "tries" or not.   "It will just come out" he said, "Maybe not at the best time or place, but that's the way it works".   I won't indulge you with details, but the vet was right.

In a more figurative sense, we had gone to the vet thinking Teddy was having back problems again and ended up with a one eyed dog.
If I had a dime for every time that happened!  JK
But, I do know that sometimes one problem leads to another, potentially bigger problem, and we can't make problems, or shit, go away by ignoring it.
Just as the vet said, "Shit happens."

5.  Being here with one eye is better than not being here at all.

We had about five minutes to decide if he was going to have surgery.   The choice was clear, "Take out his eye, or take him out altogether."  It was a pretty clear choice.

I think sometimes when I'm making a tough decision I should consider that whatever I'm doing, and no matter how difficult it may be, it is better to be here with one eye or (fill in the blank) than not here at all.  Always choose here.

6.  Always shower and get a hair cut before any major surgery.

Okay this is a silly one but still important.  Teddy needed to be groomed BEFORE his surgery and we just didn't have the time to factor that in before his very necessary surgery.  Now, he can't have a bath or a haircut for weeks, and to be quite honest, he stinks.

Never underestimate the importance of good grooming before surgery.  Smell good.

7.  Every day you are here is special

When Teddy went into surgery there was a chance he would not survive and my husband and I had made the difficult decision to sign a DNR (see number 8) because life saving measures can be traumatic to an almost twelve year old dog.   As I drove home in an empty car I thought about how everything had happened so quickly we didn't have a chance to do some of his favorite things with him, such as a romp in his favorite park, share a burger with him, or have a snuggle on the couch.  I found myself wishing that we had snuck him a McDonalds hamburger before his surgery, so if he didn't make it, he would at least die with a happy belly (I know, McDonalds rarely leads to a happy belly, but still).    I was worried we would never get the chance to spoil him again.   When he came home, we all instinctively doted on him.   He had lots of snuggles and lots of treats.  And now I carry a hamburger with me in my purse at all times in case of another emergency, possibly deadly surgery.  You just never know.   Every day that you are here is special, treat it as such.

8.   Don't ever sign a DNR with your child in the room.  It doesn't matter how old they are.

If your pet was the childhood pet of your children it's probably best to not have them in the room when, and if, you sign your pet's DNR, it doesn't matter how old they are at the current moment.  After all, this could be the pet who was dressed in tutus for their family living room ballet performances, or put in a cape for daring feats, this could be the pet that listened to the latest drama in their social circle and ALWAYS sided with your child, this could be the pet was their friend when they felt very lonely.   It's a very sad thing that childhood pets can not stay with us throughout are entire lives.  So, perhaps when a vet starts talking about a DNR while your twenty year old is in the room it might be best to say,  "Wouldn't you like to get a snack from the vending machine?"   Or, like us, you could just let your child remain and let them leave the room sobbing with the words, "I don't think I should be here for this!!" trailing after them.

  

Later, after we got the call that Teddy had survived the surgery my husband and I both expressed relief that the DNR didn't have to be used.   Our daughter yelled at us, "You mean you signed it?!?!?!"
"Um.  Yes.  He's almost twelve and recuscitation could be very hard on his old body." we said.
"I had assumed this whole time that you would tell the vet that we aren't those kind of people, that we want him saved no matter what!  I can't believe you signed it!  You are horrible people" she screamed and with that she stormed out of the room.

Perhaps now is not the time to tell her that Grandma has a DNR too?

9.  Every challenge life gives us is an opportunity for a new wardrobe.

Pirate costume.  Need I say more?

10.  Ever challenge life gives us is an opportunity for a new career.

Pirate.  Enough said.

11.   Survival instinct is real.

Teddy has had two surgeries in his life.  When he was six he had major back surgery and now, at almost twelve, he had an eye removed.   I'm sure that Teddy knows that we will take care of him but his instincts tell him something else.   Hours after surgery he pulled himself up to standing position so he could go eat, drink, and pee.   We could help him I suppose but we know it's better for him to do these things himself, because ultimately, all any of us can truly rely on is ourselves.
I suppose if Teddy had the option to lay in a hospital bed with a catheter and someone delivering him steak, chicken and burgers on a cafeteria tray while watching the Mandalorian he might not be so inclined to get himself moving.   Perhaps it is better that he does not know that is an option.

Mandalorian?  Is that Baby Yoda on the TV?

12.  Don't plan too much for an unknown future.

My husband and I agreed long ago that we would not pay any more big hospital bills for our elderly dog.   And yet, the decision was easy for both of us when push came to shove.  Rationality doesn't come into play when a beloved pet is involved.  Or a grandma I suppose 😜


Also, who knows what the future holds for any of us?   As stated earlier, eat the steak, go for the romp in the woods, snuggle.

13.   Don't fret so much about how you look.  The ones who truly love you see beyond the surface, and they are the only ones that matter.

First post-surgery pic

If I'm being honest, Teddy is not the best looking dog at this point.    He is quite overweight - okay he's fat - and he limps when he walks, he has one eye, and as I've pointed out earlier he needs a good grooming.   Yup.  He's that smelly kid that no one wants to sit next to on the bus.   But, it really doesn't matter to any of us, his people, because he is still absolutely 100% our beloved Teddy.  That's all he'll ever be.

I will end this blog with this very fitting quote by Margery Williams from the Velveteen Rabbit.  I used to believe that this quote only applied to stuffed animals and other inanimate, but beloved, objects but now I know better.

"You become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.  Bet these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Who's a good boy?