First, I’ll preface this by saying, we had a great weekend. The girls went to the beach and had a terrific time in Santa Cruz. But, I’m gonna start with the bad, and end on a high note.
Patchy is starting to deteriorate further. Starting last night at about ~8:30pm, she started peeing in her beds. Normally, she’ll get up and pace until either I notice her or she gives up and pees, avoiding where she sleeps. But last night, she didn’t. I think she was either sleeping so deeply that she peed in her sleep, or it snuck up on her, and she didn’t have time to even get up and walk away. It seems she did get up during part of it, as there was a trail, starting where she had been sleeping, and ending on a nearby blanket.
After laundering things, assuming it was a one-time accident, we went to bed. I was awoken at ~1:30am when I heard her pacing, and I opened the door for her. When I looked around the room by the dim LED night-light, I saw dark splotches on her beds, and sure enough, she’d had another accident on her bed and nearby blanket. I cleaned up what i could, and diapered her when she came back in. At 6am, she woke me again. This time I left the door open (it was light out by then) and left her diaper off. Her diaper had caught another accident.
It appears that I’ll be diapering her at night now too, or risk washing her beds daily. This saddens me more than just generally having accidents, because dogs, like people, prefer not to sully their sleeping areas. (I know I would hate if I wet the bed, only to have nowhere to sleep the rest of the night). For her to be wetting her bed, multiple times, means she has lost another level of control. She no longer even has the chance to get up before having an accident.
I’m worried for the future. I’m gone to three different weddings in the fall, the first one in mid August. I’ve lined up friends to dog sit, but if Patchy continues to require more and more constant supervision and assistance, I may be losing those friendly volunteers. I don’t mind changing her diapers and cleaning up after her, she’s my baby. But if I were cat sitting for someone, and the cat just kept peeing on everything, I guarantee I would lose my patience and get really angry at the cat. I’m just hoping my friends will understand the delicate situation, and try to do the best they can.
Okay, happier things.
Clover, Patch and I all went to Santa Cruz area for the long weekend. We met my parents there, and enjoyed the weather and space. We spent some time in the yard, and on the deck, and Clover basically lived in the ivy until meal time. We kept throwing her ball into it, and she would go digging around stubbornly, until finally, she would emerge from the sea of green, ball in her mouth, eyes glinting with triumph.
Both dogs did great during the fireworks too. Patchy lost a chunk of her hearing a couple years ago, and on firework nights, its been a blessing. She slept peacefully through the whole thing. Clover, since she gets annoyed at the smallest little sounds, I expected to go ballistic. She barks when the neighbor makes too much noise, and growls when someone enters the garage unexpectedly. As loud and consistent as the fireworks were, she didn’t care one bit. She hung out with my dad and me, completely carefree, the entire time.
Sunday we took both girls to one of the dog friendly beaches in the area. I’m not sure Clover had ever seen the ocean before. Patchy used to love it. It was the only water she didn’t hate.
Clover thought the ocean was alive, sending out its cold wet limbs to catch her feet unawares, then sneak away when she noticed. She ran up and down (the length of her extendo leash) chasing the tides and yipping at the waves. She didn’t care one bit about the cold water, or the sand caked all over her.
We forgot to bring a ball (my bad), but partway down the beach, we found a small piece of driftwood and broke off a moderately sized stick. I threw it into the tide, and Clover would chase it down, gleefully returning with her prize. A couple times, she didn’t quite clear the tide before it would pull away, dragging the stick with it. Again, she thought the ocean was alive, trying to steal her precious toy. A few times she yipped and purposefully took it high into the dry sand, as if to say “My toy! You can’t have it!” It was adorable.
Patchy tired very quickly, seemingly not even noticing she was at the beach. She enjoyed watching Clover, and enjoyed the walk with people she knew, but the joy of “Oh boy, the ocean!” wasn’t there. It saddened me that something she used to love had no apparent affect on her. Another sign of how far her doggie dementia had progressed.
Clover could have walked and run up and down the beach without tiring. But with me throwing her stick every few seconds, she tired about four times as fast. By the time we walked back to the car, she was ready to be done. (But give her an hour, and she would have been back at full energy)
Photos from this weekend at the beach: