Tag Archives: quality time

Reflections on palliative care

My latest palliative care dog passed away about 2 weeks ago.  While it has been a busy couple of weeks for me, I do think about her.  I sometimes wonder if owners really believe me when I say that I think about their dogs not only when they are active clients but also after they have passed.

This old girl was 17 years old and came with a long file of veterinary records for me to review.   From the outset, I knew I wouldn’t be working with her for very long.   Her owner was very open when booking an appointment with me, “I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”

At the first consult, we talked about expectations, her vet’s advice, and quality of life.  I provided the owner with a quality of life checklist that I’ve developed specifically for older and palliative care dogs.

This old girl had fighting spirit, but she was also frail.  So the focus was on acupoints for immune system strengthening and endorphin release.  The first session went well and the feedback was great – “she’s been her old self….”

Having personal experience with this, I know that sometimes these dogs at the end of life have a final burst of life energy.  It rarely lasts.

We ended up having only one additional session.  Although we re-booked for a third session, it wasn’t to be.

I am grateful to all the people who entrust their dog to me, but especially honored by those who are facing critical and emotional decisions and are not afraid to share their distress.

Kathleen Crisley, specialist in dog massage, rehabilitation and nutrition/food therapy, The Balanced Dog, Christchurch, New Zealand

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My diary

I still use a paper diary despite having access to online calendars and tools. There’s a reason for that.

Diary photo

I successfully managed my time through the Auckland Power Crisis of 1998 without a hitch, thanks to my paper diary. My colleagues, who were already relying on electronic schedules, didn’t know where they were supposed to be for weeks.  Meetings had to be rescheduled; service delivery slowed.

My diary also helped me through the days and weeks following the Canterbury Earthquake of February 2011. During these trying times, I could still make and keep appointments, keep notes as reminders, and generally have something to hold onto that was part of ‘normal’ life.

Most pages include reminders of what I need to finish that day.

And reflecting on my diary over the weekend, I see that it includes Izzy’s social calendar.

Going forward over the next couple of months, Izzy has engagements for play dates, appearances at the Riccarton Market for Greyhounds as Pets, and dates for sleepovers when I have to travel for business.  She also has a birthday party date with her best mate (and boyfriend) Bergie.

I often say that the best thing we can give our dogs is quality time.  One way of ensuring you make time for your dog is to commit to them in writing.  I’m pretty confident that I’ve got the right priorities and tools to do just that.

Kathleen Crisley, specialist in dog massage, rehabilitation and nutrition/food therapy, The Balanced Dog Ltd, Christchurch, New Zealand

 

Sarah’s Something Special Day

This is a great idea for multi-dog households. Every fur baby needs one on one time!

Adventures at Run A Muck Ranch

Recently, we instituted mandatory Something Special Days.   Once a week, each dog is to be separated from The Hoard for 100% attention.  No cell phone, no distractions, just 100% attention focused on one dog.

Today was Sarah’s Something Special Day.

As an added bonus, she had both Crabby and me there to share it with her.

Does this look like a happy girl to you?

DSC_4719

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Putting your dog first

In one of my recent columns for the NZ Kennel Club, I wrote about making quality time for you and your dog.  It’s amazing to me as our Southern Hemisphere summer approaches that dog owners tell me they are having difficulty ‘finding the time’ for their dog.  Even with more daylight hours, the preparations for summer holidays and Christmas parties seem to take precedence.

The importance of putting your dog first was emphasised recently by American musician Fiona Apple.  She announced via her Facebook page in late November that she was postponing a tour of South America to stay at home with her elderly dog, Janet.  At 14, Janet (a rescued Pit Bull), is the priority in Ms Apple’s life.

I’m publishing her letter to fans here in its entirety because it expresses so clearly the importance of putting your dog first at key points in your life:

It’s 6 p.m. on Friday, and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here’s the thing.

I have a dog Janet, and she’s been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She’s almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then, an adult officially — and she was my child.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face. She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders. She’s almost 14 and I’ve never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She’s a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We’ve lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it’s always really been the two of us. She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head. She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album. The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she’s used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison’s Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death. Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She’s my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she’s the one who taught me what love is.

I can’t come to South America. Not now.

When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference. She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore. I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.

But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can’t leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed. But this decision is instant. These are the choices we make, which define us.

I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship. I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important. Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments. I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I’ve ever known. When she dies. So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.

And I am asking for your blessing.

Kathleen Crisley, Fear-Free certified professional and specialist in dog massage, rehabilitation and nutrition/food therapy, The Balanced DogChristchurch, New Zealand