Not yet.

That thought kept running through my mind as I watched our 15-year-old dog yelping in pain, unable to move.

She came to us as a temporary dog. One rainy night, our son and his family heard a sound outside their home. They looked and found a puppy struggling in the ditch, close to drowning.

They rescued and took care of her until she was about 8 months old. An opportunity to go to school out of state meant they’d have to give their dog away. They tried to find a home for Channell, but in the end, I told them I’d keep her until they got back.

I’ll admit, I’m not a pet person. I used to tell my boys they could have a picture of a goldfish for a pet, but eventually, they wore me down.

I told my husband I’d take care of the dog, but she won him over in a matter of days.

It wasn’t hard because Channell is a great dog.

She doesn’t jump up on the furniture, has never torn anything up and only barks if someone’s at the door.

When the grandchildren were young, she never bit or nipped at them as they often pulled on her tail or ears. She whines if my husband – her alpha mate – leaves without her, and he enjoys taking her places with him.

We know she’s getting older – she sleeps a good bit of the time and she lost her hearing a year or so ago.

When she gets up, she slowly stretches each leg out before tentatively moving forward. We don’t notice her aging because it’s been gradual over the past couple of years.

Two weeks ago, I noticed she wasn’t eating and had a few accidents inside, a rarity for her. I took her to the vet who diagnosed a bladder infection.

After a few days on an antibiotic, Channell rebounded, so my husband took her out to the country where she loves to run and play, even at her age.

He came home with Channell in a sling, the whimpering dog unable to walk or move. We think she fell but we’re not exactly sure what happened.

An X-ray showed no broken bones, but she has arthritis all down her back and it’s a wonder she’s as agile as she normally is.

The night after her injury, I kept getting up to check on her. The only parts of her that moved were a slight wagging of her tail and her big brown eyes looking at me, almost questioning what was happening.

I had no answers, but I touched the top of her head – the one place where she didn’t yelp when touched there – and told her what a good dog she was and how much we loved her.

Even though she couldn’t hear me, the words comforted me, and I hope she somehow could sense my caring and sorrow that she was in so much pain.

When I left to go to my mom’s birthday party in Louisiana, I quietly told my husband I supported whatever decision he might have to make about her future, and I was sorry if he had to make the hard one all alone.

But the next day, the old gal was actually moving around. She wasn’t running but she did manage to walk to the door and go outside. By the time I got home, she was almost back to her old self, and I thanked God for helping her recover.

Channell’s an important part of our family. When the time comes for her to cross the Rainbow Bridge, I hope we’re with her in those last moments so we can give her the caring goodbye she deserves.

But not yet.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.