Chloë Bids Fond Farewells

A daily grooming with her personal hairdresser.

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I’ve been putting off sharing all my sad news until after the New Year, but it’s finally come time to get some things off my chest.

First, I must bid adieu to a couple of longtime neighborhood dog pals, Copo and April. I have known both all the way back to my puppyhood, when I stayed in a pen at the top of the driveway, and they would often walk by with their owners, Dave and Greg, respectively, on the way to the park. The owners would stop to pet me stop to pet me and let their dogs say hello. During my early socialization period, I was much more curious about other dogs than I am now. Ever since, Copo and April were always among the few dogs who actually get a welcoming tail wag and a fast-paced trot when I see them coming my way.

Copo was about my age, an American Eskimo, short with a beautiful, bushy white coat. But when we ran into his owner Dave in the park last fall, Dave had a different little white dog. Dave told us that while we were away, his daughter was walking with Copo one day when a Great Dane pounced on him, and his injuries were too much to overcome. Yikes, what an awful story. Now Dave has adopted Iris, a Shiba,  also small and white but much younger and friskier than Copo. Iris is fun, but she is all about play, and I’m just too old for it. I’m willing to put up with her sniffing as long as Mike keeps plying me with Charlee Bears, but she’s too active for me.

April. a border collie, lived down the street from us, and she died just before Christmas after what Greg said was just a brief illness. She lived to 16, a ripe old age for a dog, and everyone could see she was slowing down. Plus, she lived in the same house as cats, which was no doubt especially stressful. While her death was not unexpected, April’s family is understandably sad regardless, so I hope they get another dog soon. (Hopefully not a puppy, from my selfish point of view.)

Perfectly Frank, 2020

I had other bad news. At my December appointment with Dr. Aimee Kimmel, my personal physician, to follow up on my heart murmur testing in Tacoma, she said my brother Frank (the furry one) had died, and smooth Stanley, who is is built like a tank, was having mobility problems but improved after back surgery. While I haven’t seen either brother since summer 2020, the news still hit me like a ton of bricks, especially with our birthday looming. I hope their owners are doing OK.

She’ll sleep with one eye open from now on. January 2023.

And, unfortunately, that was not the only bad news from that session with Dr. Kimmel. Besides going over my heart murmur exam (another is already scheduled for next October), Dr. Kimmel checked my left eye because of some recent gook discharge and redness. Instead of a run-of-the-mill eye infection, it turned out to be far worse: acute glaucoma was causing severe pressure in my left eye. Within a few days, a referral and visit to the Animal Vision Clinic (AVC) in Mountlake Terrace confirmed the diagnosis, and additional testing confirmed  the optic nerve in my left eye was already “dead,” and that I probably had no vision in that eye for some time. Since I had not exhibited any vision problems, such as bumping into furniture or not being able to find my Berry Ball, it was  lucky that I saw Dr. Kimmel when I did.

So during December and early January, I got drops in both my eyes two or three times a day, which was OK with me because it meant many extra treats and more chances to lie on Heather’s lap in bed. But at a follow-up appointment two weeks later, the eye pressure in my left eye was 60 mmHg despite the eye drops, well above the upper limit of normal (25 mmHg). Eye pressure that high is painful (akin to a bad migraine, the doctor said), so after considering the various alternatives, Mike and Heather decided surgery to remove my eye and sew the eyelid shut was the best option. 

I went in to the AVC in the morning, meaning no breakfast, which didn’t sit well with me. Other than that, I took it like a champ, or so they told me. When Mike and Heather picked me up at 4 p.m., I was still a bit loopy from the anethesia, and there was a lot of swelling and bruising around the surgery site. But I could walk OK, except for this awful plastic cone around my neck 24 hours a day. For the first few days, I kept bumping into things, and it was hard to eat. Not that easy to poop, for that matter.

Post surgery: Get this damn thing off me!

But in the days since, the loopiness went away, the swelling/bruising markedly diminished, and the hair around my shaved eye is already growing back. I don’t look as much like Spuds MacKenzie, but it’s still not clear how long it will take for my long and bushy eyebrow to regenerate. That’s a key element of my look!

Thankfully, during all of this testing, the pressure in my right eye has been normal (10 mmHg; normal range is 10-25 mmHg), and so eye drops twice a day in that eye will continue to ward off glaucoma in that eye. That’s good news. And between my gradual recovery from surgery and the thyroid supplement pills that were just prescribed, I’m feeling more normal every day. Energetic even. We’re back to walking an hour in the park and letting a select few dogs to sniff me along the way.

I am looking forward to ditching the Elizabethan collar, of course. They don’t call it the the Collar of Shame for nothing. But I learn new ways to deal with it every day, so it isn’t nearly as awkward and bothersome as it was the first few days.  I’ve got at least another week to go, however, so I’ll need a steady supply of ear rubs and treats between now and then to retain my sanity.