Will's Hurting Today

He's home...right where he should be.

Will collapsed this morning.

 We were just starting out on a walk next to the Saco River and he was doing his old man shuffle, moving along easily enough, showing no signs of wear or tear, but taking his time.  I remember thinking how happy I was for him to finally start moving like a dog. When he first arrived and he had to go to the bathroom he took one long pee, perhaps he wasn't allowed to take his time in the past.  But today, finally, instead of only getting to go outside and taking one long squirt, he become more like he should be.  He stopped and sniffed and peed, then did it again, and again.  It's was a good sign. Then, probably 150 yards into our walk, he stumbled to one side and fell as a horse might, keeping his head up but having his legs betray him.  He struggled to get up, stumbled, and fell again.  I helped him up, but he fell again and this time he just lay on his side looking at me and groaning.
 

I carried him to the car and we brought him around the corner to Christine O'Connell, our local vet.
 

Atticus doesn't pay much attention to Will, or any other dog, and he's not a growler, but something interesting happened this morning when we were sitting in the waiting room at Christine's office: Atti beside me, and Will on my lap, his head rested in the crook of my elbow, just inches from Atti's face, and his full body weight - the weight of trust - leaning into me.  In walked a huge Italian mastiff.  Atticus looked at him, bared his teeth, and started growling.  The hackles on his neck raised and I tried to calm him down but he'd have none of it.
 

I won't pretend to know what dogs are thinking but I swear he was protecting Will and making sure the other dog knew to stay away.  The dog sat at the far end of the room with his family and only then did Atticus stop growling.

Christine thinks that Will has either had a stroke or something known as Old Dog's Vestibular Disease.  It masks a stroke but the dog gets better within a few days.  If it's O.D.V.D., he'll get better and there won't be much of a worry. But if it's a stroke and he doesn't improve. . . . well, a tough decision will have to be made.  There's no way of knowing which one it is at this time. So we'll just wait and see. 

Currently Will is where he belongs.  We brought him home to take care of him. He's sleeping soundly and we'll watch over him him.  Christine O'Connell is on call throughout the weekend and she's only minutes away should we need her. 

A couple of friends already know what's happened and they're heartbroken about it, especially since Will was doing so well.  Heck, this morning he wanted to play at 2:00 and then again at 5:30, but this is why we brought him here.  I wanted Will to live out his days in a place where he felt loved.  I wanted him to have a home.  I knew what we were getting into and whether the end comes within days, or years, we've already accomplished that.    He knows he is loved.  He knows he has a home. This much I know is true.

 

Of course none of this stops the tears from welling up while I hold him today.