A SJAA volunteer shares her story of adopting a senior dog. An upcoming post will highlight some adoptable senior dogs who are searching for forever homes.
Marta: The Best Dog I Barely Knew
I recently read about an abandoned senior Siberian Husky waiting to be adopted at the shelter. The story reminded me of my Marta, the best dog I barely knew.
Marta had been featured in a newspaper ad. She was a beautiful eight-year-old German shepherd mix. I don’t know why I wanted her. I only knew that I did. Marta’s health was poor. A growth had been removed from the bridge of her nose and her teeth were a mess. She was short a few toes. Her blood work showed that her kidneys were in trouble. And she cried – a lot – but I knew I wanted her. All indications were that she would probably die soon. I didn’t want her to die alone in a kennel, waiting for someone to love her.
So, I brought her home. She met my two foolish dogs: a young-at-heart ten-year-old miniature poodle and an 18-month-old cattle dog. Marta slowly walked over to each and placed her head over their shoulders. Both dogs immediately sat down when she did this, and I felt as if Marta had explained that she was the queen. That same night she disappeared somewhere in the house. I finally found her behind the couch, where I had tried to coax her to sit beside me earlier. Instead, Marta made a den by dragging a blanket and a pillow to make a place where she felt safe.
Marta cried softly for weeks even though she did not seem to have any tender spots. A friend who studies Chinese Medicine suggested that she was ‘Yang deficient,’ and thus full of grief. I learned massage to try and improve her Yang, and worked on the meridians to balance her kidneys, and she began to cry less often. One day we drove near the creek where she had been found as a stray. She became excited as she sniffed the air, so I brought her back and we walked the neighborhood. She sniffed every man in a hat and blue jeans. We never found who she was looking for but something wonderful happened. Marta never cried again. She became playful. While my other dogs loved to run and tumble with each other, Marta wanted to run and chase with me.
The four of us took several camping trips that summer and became a pack. On one of our trips Marta refused to leave the car to go on the hike I had planned. While the other dogs splashed in a creek, I sat with Marta. After a while I hoped she might be willing to go on the hike when I heard the rumble of thunder and saw a crack of lightning flash over the rocky hillside near our planned route. Torrential rain quickly followed. We all bundled into the car, where we stayed dry and warm. If we had gone hiking as I had planned, we would have been miles along a rocky trail at 10,000 feet, caught in the storm.
Our happy summer reached a crescendo in early August. Marta’s blood work showed that her kidney function was improving. If she kept at the same level for another thirty days we could relax her special diet to include an occasional treat or a handful of regular kibble. And Marta finally accepted my invitation to lie on the couch. She let me rub her tummy and fell asleep in my arms, and I began to think that I’d be able to have her for a while. But that night at 4 a.m. she started to scream loudly in her sleep. Then she snored deeply and I could not wake her. An hour later she screamed again. This time I was able to wake her but she was disoriented and wobbly. The vet’s exam showed that Marta was having seizures. The vet believed her kidneys had shut down. Marta was given valium and an IV of phenobarbitol to suppress the seizures. I leaned close and told her that she could choose to go, even though I loved her and wanted her to stay. A few minutes later, Marta faded away.
Marta was with me for only five months, but she taught me so much. I am a better guardian because of her. Marta taught me that no dog-dog play time will replace the play time needed to create a strong human-dog bond. She taught me to be patient, to listen. What I interpreted as unwillingness the day we were supposed to take that hike was her way of warning me about dangerous conditions. I learned that dogs could have soft gentle mouths when they get treats. I hadn’t known it, but I had been living with sharks! Marta taught me that the couch is great, but that dogs are best served by a den of their own.
Most of all, Marta taught me that love transcends all of the things that we think are important but are really just artificial barriers, like age and health, baggage and history. Senior dogs wait in shelters everywhere, and they have a harder time finding a forever home. They wait for someone who can look beyond the grizzled muzzles and stiff joints, the bad kidneys and missing toes, the fear of high vet bills and shorter life spans, to see the love and joy they have to offer.
Adopting a dog that was older and sick did not make sense by any rational measure. But Marta was my best dog, even though I barely knew her.
Marta: The Best Dog I Barely Knew
I recently read about an abandoned senior Siberian Husky waiting to be adopted at the shelter. The story reminded me of my Marta, the best dog I barely knew.
Marta had been featured in a newspaper ad. She was a beautiful eight-year-old German shepherd mix. I don’t know why I wanted her. I only knew that I did. Marta’s health was poor. A growth had been removed from the bridge of her nose and her teeth were a mess. She was short a few toes. Her blood work showed that her kidneys were in trouble. And she cried – a lot – but I knew I wanted her. All indications were that she would probably die soon. I didn’t want her to die alone in a kennel, waiting for someone to love her.
So, I brought her home. She met my two foolish dogs: a young-at-heart ten-year-old miniature poodle and an 18-month-old cattle dog. Marta slowly walked over to each and placed her head over their shoulders. Both dogs immediately sat down when she did this, and I felt as if Marta had explained that she was the queen. That same night she disappeared somewhere in the house. I finally found her behind the couch, where I had tried to coax her to sit beside me earlier. Instead, Marta made a den by dragging a blanket and a pillow to make a place where she felt safe.
Marta cried softly for weeks even though she did not seem to have any tender spots. A friend who studies Chinese Medicine suggested that she was ‘Yang deficient,’ and thus full of grief. I learned massage to try and improve her Yang, and worked on the meridians to balance her kidneys, and she began to cry less often. One day we drove near the creek where she had been found as a stray. She became excited as she sniffed the air, so I brought her back and we walked the neighborhood. She sniffed every man in a hat and blue jeans. We never found who she was looking for but something wonderful happened. Marta never cried again. She became playful. While my other dogs loved to run and tumble with each other, Marta wanted to run and chase with me.
The four of us took several camping trips that summer and became a pack. On one of our trips Marta refused to leave the car to go on the hike I had planned. While the other dogs splashed in a creek, I sat with Marta. After a while I hoped she might be willing to go on the hike when I heard the rumble of thunder and saw a crack of lightning flash over the rocky hillside near our planned route. Torrential rain quickly followed. We all bundled into the car, where we stayed dry and warm. If we had gone hiking as I had planned, we would have been miles along a rocky trail at 10,000 feet, caught in the storm.
Our happy summer reached a crescendo in early August. Marta’s blood work showed that her kidney function was improving. If she kept at the same level for another thirty days we could relax her special diet to include an occasional treat or a handful of regular kibble. And Marta finally accepted my invitation to lie on the couch. She let me rub her tummy and fell asleep in my arms, and I began to think that I’d be able to have her for a while. But that night at 4 a.m. she started to scream loudly in her sleep. Then she snored deeply and I could not wake her. An hour later she screamed again. This time I was able to wake her but she was disoriented and wobbly. The vet’s exam showed that Marta was having seizures. The vet believed her kidneys had shut down. Marta was given valium and an IV of phenobarbitol to suppress the seizures. I leaned close and told her that she could choose to go, even though I loved her and wanted her to stay. A few minutes later, Marta faded away.
Marta was with me for only five months, but she taught me so much. I am a better guardian because of her. Marta taught me that no dog-dog play time will replace the play time needed to create a strong human-dog bond. She taught me to be patient, to listen. What I interpreted as unwillingness the day we were supposed to take that hike was her way of warning me about dangerous conditions. I learned that dogs could have soft gentle mouths when they get treats. I hadn’t known it, but I had been living with sharks! Marta taught me that the couch is great, but that dogs are best served by a den of their own.
Most of all, Marta taught me that love transcends all of the things that we think are important but are really just artificial barriers, like age and health, baggage and history. Senior dogs wait in shelters everywhere, and they have a harder time finding a forever home. They wait for someone who can look beyond the grizzled muzzles and stiff joints, the bad kidneys and missing toes, the fear of high vet bills and shorter life spans, to see the love and joy they have to offer.
Adopting a dog that was older and sick did not make sense by any rational measure. But Marta was my best dog, even though I barely knew her.
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