Murray, my dog, went in for his annual check up this weekend. I was very nervous. Over the last few months, he’s visibly changed. He’s slowed down. He stares at walls. He barks at nothing when he’s outside. He gets lost in the house. He has accidents.
I was certain they were going to tell us to put him on all sorts of medication and to stop giving him treats and that he doesn’t have much time left. But they didn’t. They did say he most likely has early dementia. Brain age. They told us not to punish him when he goes to the bathroom in the house, because he honestly doesn’t know he’s doing it. They told us to make sure to walk him at least twice a day in order to get his bowels emptied somewhere other than the house. They are doing blood work to make sure his kidneys and liver are still good. They are supposed to call us today if they are not and I haven’t heard anything yet. But, if they are good, then we are supposed to put him on a high protein diet to help his brain. This means he gets eggs, or chicken, or hamburger with his dinner. So tonight we are making a scrambled egg dinner and he gets to have his very own scrambled egg. He’s going to be the happiest dog in the world and I cannot wait.
I just think it’s so funny that he hates the vet. I hate taking him to the vet. Yet, what I thought would be the most devastating trip yet turned out to be great for Murray. I mean, he’s been pooping on the floor and what are we told to do? Take him for more walks, feed him more, and feed him eggs, chicken, or hamburger with his dinner. How did he get away with that?
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