Sunday 24 March 2013

Muppethood

A True Fact About Me:

I love the Muppets.

Seriously.

I'm a 41 year old executive.  I have good taste and style (if maybe a little quirky).  I drink decent wine.   I know a little bit about art.  I have cool friends.  I am in a serious and excellent relationship with a serious and excellent guy who has a good job.  I don't live with my parents and haven't for quite some time.  I own a home and a car (well, technically the bank owns them... but you know what I mean).  I wear 4 inch heels regularly and spend a fortune on nice clothes.  I'm not a weirdo.

But I can't get enough of Grover and Cookie and Kermit and the gang.  I was very excited one day to discover, on the magic of the inter web, this thing called Muppet Wiki.  On the Muppet Wiki, there's this feature called "Random Muppet".  You click and it generates (you guessed it) a Muppet character at total random.  The day I found it, I couldn't stop clicking on it and giggling my ass off for well over an hour.  Every now and again, the Boy, doing Serious Boy Things, would call out "ARE YOU STILL LOOKING AT THAT MUPPET THING?" Eventually he gave up.

For years I have thought that I missed my calling.  Should have been a Muppeteer.  Could anything possibly be more fun than the idea of living among the monsters and gigantic birds and imaginary friends at Sesame Street?  Singing and dancing your way through the alphabet or basic math?  Sometimes I like to PRETEND I'm on the Muppet Show and I break into song at home...and sometimes even at work.  I'll admit - some people stare or even look away, trying desperately to pretend it isn't happening.   And I will also admit that I take some glee in singing louder when that happens.

Sometimes I think I am getting younger as I get older.   Sometimes I think that's a problem.  But then, the Boy's kid says "Foxy laughs more than anyone I know!"  So, I think I must be doing something right.  If not, at least I am having fun doing it!

Tuesday 12 March 2013

Calvin... part two and out of sequence

Today, one of my worst fears came true.

My dog, my puppy, my sweet Calmonster, has Canine Cognitive Dysfunction.  Colloquially known as CCD or doggie alzheimer's.

Calvin is approximately 13 years old, give or take.  He has been with me eight short years and in those eight years he has given far more than anyone has any right to expect from anyone else, man or beast.  He is my best friend, my faithful companion, an oasis of acceptance and the purest love.  He is never disappointed, never upset, never even remotely annoyed with me.  It would never occur to him.  He has no malice in his great big furry heart.

My wonderful vet and friend calmly examined him and confirmed my fears around his behaviours.  The pacing.  The constant panting.  The getting stuck in corners.  The turning around to smell something and forgetting which way we were going.  The obsessive attachment to being exactly where I am and the anxiety when he can't find me.  The deepest of sleeps - so deep I spend 5-10 minutes every evening trying to rouse him so we can head upstairs to bed.  And that's all on top of the stiffness and weaknesses from the arthritis.

BUT.... But.  He still greets me every day at the door.  He still jumps around in excitement when I arrive home, no matter how long we've been apart.  He still grabs a toy and carries it around, triumphantly, in his mouth, whenever something SUPER exciting is happening ("ooh! the door! someone's at the door!""ooh! hey! that's a cookie! i like cookies!" "ooh! hey! you're here! i thought you were in the laundry room!").  His little stub of a tail still wags furiously at the sight of me and he still straightens himself up to his full height, at attention, putting his best foot forward, whenever he sees another dog.  Still trying to impress everyone.  He still assumes every random stranger is his best friend.  He still is completely unfazed by cars ("CALVIN! That's a TON of METAL. GET OUT OF THE DAMN WAY!") He still finds joy in the springtime weather, smelling all the smells there are to smell... and in the fresh snow, leaping through it like a gazelle (ok, a slightly overweight three foot tall fuzzbucket of a gazelle... more like Chewbacca on a good day, really...) My neighbour even just today commented on how frisky he was looking on our post-work walk.   He still chases the cats and is desperately fond of anything resembling food.  His heart, lungs, blood pressure all good.  More tests to come, and we will come up with a plan to try to protect his brain and his body for as long as we can and for as long as he wants us to.

I was too scared to inquire after prognosis.  We'll do that later.

I don't want to be thinking about this.  I want to play and cuddle with him and scratch his ears and not weep into his soft fur.  I don't want to define him by his age or what he can't do.  This beautiful, kind, soulful, sweet, gentle and big hearted dog was found alone in a barn and went through at least two shelters before being sprung by rescue and then adopting me.  I don't know what happened to him in his first 5 years of life.  It's immaterial to me, anyway, because I won't define him by experiences in my imagination and beyond his control, whatever they were.  We live in the present.  And in the present, he is loved, deeply. I want to keep defining him by what he CAN do and who he IS, the big turkey.  I think I owe him at least that.

So that is my promise to you, my Calmonkey.  I will have a little cry and then we will go on and cherish every moment we have without sorrow for what will certainly be, as it will for all of us, at some point.  Like Dr C says: Dogs live in the now.  And so we, Team Cal, will live in the now, together, and I will take your lead in finding joy in every minute.