Never write off a tough little terrier

Gail here:

So the year I didn't expect Bertie to see began with the two of us enjoying a brisk six mile walk in 'exhilarating' conditions along the southern shores of Loch Torridon. 

Not far shy of his twelfth birthday, deaf as a post, and a year and a half after he first showed signs of bladder cancer (for which he's still on palliative medication), you might imagine my dear little dog would have been happy to curl up in front of the log fire and doze contentedly listening to the stormy weather outside the Torridon cottage this weekend. 

Not a bit of it! I'm not going to deny that inside the house Bertie does spend most of his time at rest, preferably lying across my lap on the sofa. But when offered the opportunity for an outing in our glorious Highland landscape, he grabs it with both paws, undeterred by mud, rain and gale force winds.

I have no idea how long Bertie will retain his zest for life. I do know that, after a bad patch with 'bladder control issues' last August, I had a serious discussion with his vet about euthanasia. Then things settled down, and I learned better how to manage the problem. These past couple of months Bertie's condition has been stable and over Christmas we both had fun with our wee poodle guest Ella before she went home and we came across to Torridon for New Year. 

And I've given up making predictions about my tough little terrier!

PS Our New Year's Day walk was the 10 km 'Balgy Trail', the red line on the map below:

Analogies

So it all began nearly a year and a half ago when I was observed sometimes to squat, rather than perform my customary balletic leg cocking routine.  Gail wondered why I was peeing like a girl dog. 

Then there was the occasional puddle appearing on the carpet, and Gail started thinking I was reverting to my puppyhood.

A trip to the vet in July 2020, and then another two months later. Blood and urine tests and an ultrasound scan, and afterwards, between the tears, Gail declares I have a ticking time bomb inside my bladder.  

A new routine of tablets wrapped in yummy cheese commences, and over winter I'm almost as good as new, although what formerly came out gushing like a Highland burn in spate has dwindled to a slow and time consuming trickle.

I'm still full of bounce, enjoying my food, my walks, my cuddles.  

Gail is now thinking the time bomb clock might be running slow. But then peeing becomes yet more difficult, accidents are happening again in the house and more tablets are added to the daily regime. 

My bladder action is now likened to a tap with a worn washer. One can still turn it on and off, but between times it drips a little.

Gail searches the internet for "male dog incontinence products" and the belly band is purchased for night time wear. I think of it as my Championship Belt. 

Peeing and now also pooping increasingly demand acts worthy of a contortionist.

But in all other respects, I'm still going strong.

Gail says I have reached the Cristiano Ronaldo phase of my career*. An analogy which I think suits me rather well.

*Gail says: the reference to Mr Ronaldo in no way is meant to imply that the ageing but still super-fit (and, er, ever so slightly vain) footballer recently re-hired by Manchester United has incontinence problems, rather to draw attention to the fact that dear Bertie retains an amazing level of physical stamina given his advancing years!

Not doing so great...

Friends, I want you to know how it's going with me.

Well I'm still going, but things aren't so great.

It takes me longer than it used to, to squeeze out those last drops of pee. And that sometimes my front leg shakes a bit with the effort of it. (I'm still taking the Previcox tablets.)

Over the past few months my hearing has deteriorated, and what once was selective deafness is now involuntary. 

Peripheral vision never really was my thing, and it certainly isn't these days.

I do believe I have a touch of arthritis in my right hip joint, but I still trot along on my walks (even quite long ones) happily, if a touch unevenly. Perhaps there's not so much bouncing as once was. And much more stopping to try to pee.

My appetite is just the same as ever, although I did have a bout of 'the runs' earlier this week.  

But I feel a little vulnerable now, and like to spend more time cuddling close to Gail.

PS from Gail: The sad truth is that after several months in which Bertie's bladder cancer symptoms first eased (after being prescribed Previcox) and then stabilised, there's been a marked deterioration very recently. He's stopping ever more frequently on walks, seemingly to try to force out more pee and looking distinctly uncomfortable, and a noticeable amount of  blood has been appearing in his urine from time to time in the last week or so. I am taking Bertie to the vet later today.  I fear it might soon be time for a difficult decision.