Yesterday I took little Spike to the doggy doctor and learned he has congestive heart failure and some other issues, and since he is at least 15 years old, this is to be expected. But there's a lot of life in him still, so I opted for a bit of medication to make him comfortable. He isn't miserable, and as long as he isn't, I intend to love him awhile longer.
He follows me everywhere still, although he was so angry about the doctor visit yesterday he threatened to bite me as I tried to put him in the car, and again when we got home. It took awhile before he forgave me and wagged his tail at me tentatively about an hour later. He did not like the x-rays yesterday apparently, in addition to the full comprehensive exam. His arthritis is his main discomfort, and there is medication for that.
He should not try to climb stairs anymore and I carry him up with me if I am going to stay any length of time, such as at bedtime.
This morning he's not eating much, probably because I ground up his medication and added it to the ground-up chicken bones that he loves, and he can tell I guess. Obviously his sense of smell hasn't lessened any.
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