Baby was half-asleep when I went over to disturb him (by disturb I mean stroking his leg with my fingers). He awoke with a startle and immediately bit my thumb and refused to let go. Instead of being pissed off with the pain and his lousy attitude, I laughed. The SOB (pun totally intended) has still got that mean fighting spirit. :)

Each day...

...of living is a blessing to me, but to my mum, each day is a suffering for Ricky (and her).

Her talk of "taking him away" and "giving him an injection" is depressing, frustrating and nerve-grating.

===

he's not been well. he lets loose his bowels at different spots of the house. he barely eats. he staggers along. he whines. he no longer barks. and he seldom wags his tail.

but. he is still breathing. his bowels are functioning. he eats. he drinks. he can still walk. he still wags his tail when i brushes his coat.

and that to me, is a blessing everyday.

As death approaches

In a moment of morbidness, I googled for "Signs that a dog is dying". He has been showing many of the symptoms including:

1. Slowing down

2. Sleeping more

3. Not wanting to eat much, then not wanting to eat at all

4. Staying in one spot drowsing, not active.

5. As death approaches, extremities get chilly. I noticed he has been shivering/shaking quite a lot

6. Restless spells, confusion, 'seeing things.'

:( I'm scared.

Full-time dogsitter

I took leave for Friday and tomorrow to be at home as my mum wasn't around to take care of Ricky. Not that anyone's interested, but here's how mundane but PACKED my life at home can be:

Friday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (breaking pandan bread into tiny pieces and feeding him piece by piece)
• Clean his poo + pee
• Vacuum floor
• Give Ricky a bath
• Blow dry Ricky and wash his towels
• Mop the floor
• Cook lunch

PM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Read the papers
• Check work email
• Buy winter stuff
• Grocery shopping (more bread and food for Ricky)
• Coffee with fren
• Prep dinner for Ricky (Rice + chicken + canned carrots)
• Water the plants
• Clean poo + pee
• Dinner with fren
• Movie (but first, I went home to feed Ricky PEELED apple slices)

Saturday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Wardrobe spring cleaning
• Pack for trip
• Clean his poo + pee
• Cook lunch

PM:

• Read the papers
• Feed Ricky (bread)
• Run errands (buy boots + dingdingdongdong)
• Prep dinner for Ricky (same old)
• Dinner
• Forgot to water the plants. Dammit.
• Clean poo + pee
• Feed Ricky apple

Sunday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Read the papers
• Guitar lesson
• Run errands
• Buy lunch

PM:

• Feed Ricky (rice + chicken + dow gay)
• Clean poo + pee
• OD on Desperate Housewives Season 2
• Watered the plants (Realised I forgot we have plants OUTSIDE and hence went out. Ricky followed me out and decided to poop at the lift lobby! Shit. I rushed to bag it and as I was cleaning up, Ricky wandered off to the STAIRCASE and decided to take a step down. And because his legs are very, very weak, I watched him tumbled down half a flight of stairs and there was no way I could have rushed over in time. FARK FARK FARK. I ran, my heart thumping too fast and bundled him up and placed him back on his feet. I was in a great state of shock but he seemed fine and followed me back inside. FARK. Sigh. I'm never letting him go near the staircase again )
• Back to Desperate Housewives and Ricky came for sayang and laid with me on big cushion on floor.
• Prep dinner for Ricky
• Clear work email
• Feed Ricky apples
• Sayang him to sleep...

There. My days of being a housewife. And I'm not even doing that much housework but already I'm packed everyday! Taking care of Ricky is a full-time job and I'm sorry I didn't realise how tiring it must have been for my mum...

Ricky has been panting very heavily and rapidly tonight. One minute he's awake, panting and standing aimlessly in the middle of the living room; and the next, he's lying on his mat and panting in exhaustion and rapidly falling asleep.

I am so afraid... that he will go to sleep and never wake up; not giving us a chance to say goodbye.

In the Bad Dream...

I received a call from a number which I had designated as an emergency number for Ricky. It was from my brother who told me that I needed to rush to the vet as something had happened to Ricky. He couldn't be there as he was flying off for a biz trip to Indon and asked if my colleague was going to send me there. I looked frantically at the said colleague, hung up, and ran over to him, pleading for him to go to the vet with me. He agreed immediately but I couldn't remember the address or location or driving instructions to our vet. And because my colleague is bad with roads, I remember googling for the address with shaky hands and a thumping heart, worrying that I was going to be too late... I cried because I had left house that morning without sayanging him... and then I was awoken by a sms. Thank God....

It was such a bad dream...

I lay awake a long time after and thought:

1) i have very long, detailed dreams
2) my dreams capture my worries so accurate
3) i need to hv james tan's address at the tip of my finger
4) i need to leave house each day with ricky knowing that i sayang him
5) i trust my colleague enough to turn to him for help and comfort

2:13am. I need to sleep. But the dream is still fresh in my mind....

:(

There Are Some Nights....

when the household is asleep and I'm the only one still up and working (happens a lot these days). Ricky would walk into my room, hang around my study desk and start whining softly. I would hold sit on the floor, hug him and he would lean his entire weight on me. The whining would stop and there would be a moment of peace. And love. And tenderness. Then I would go for a drink in the kitchen and Ricky would follow, staring intently at the fridge. And then I figured out why he was whining - he had woken up too late and missed his nightly snack of apples provided by my mum. Once fed, he would immediately go back to sleep.

So much for thinking he wanted my hugs.

Haha.

It Was a Good Dream

Sound asleep, Ricky distinctly wagged his tail three times.

He was probably dreaming about the land of apples or chicken.

:)

Portraits

You Are So Beautiful

...to me.

:)

My Ablutomania Dog

My mummy went away for the weekend. Before she left, she pre-cooked Ricky's dinners and reminded us to feed him breakfast and dinner. All was well for Friday and he remained well fed (though I almost left the house without feeding breakfast). I woke up startled on Saturday morning to the sound of Ricky's whining. When I opened my door, I saw he had stopped whining and was peeing in the middle of the living room. I looked around and saw his poo poo around the house.

Sigh.

We had forgetten to clean his "toilet" the night before.

Ricky had acquired "ablutomania" in his later years where he would violently refuse to pee and poop if the "toilet" is dirty. He would rather pee in the house and risk our scoldings than to be confronted with his stale poop and pee. Cute huh.

Anyway, new pics of Rick! =)

He still sleeps with his ears at attention even though he can't hear a thing. =)

Conversations with the Vaccuum Cleaner

each time we vaccuum the floor, Ricky would bark his head off at the vaccuum cleaner. he would follow it around the house, keeping close at all times, barking, skipping and wagging his tail the whole time. 

*woof woof woof woof woof!!!!*

he could possibly mean: 

"play with me! play with me!"

or 

"shut up! shut up!"

or 

"vaccuum me! vaccuum me too!"  (which we sometimes do, just to tease him)

on the other hand, he never bothers the mop and steers clear of it all all times. 

no barking, no wagging, no madness. 

he enjoys talking to the vaccuum cleaner. 

An Introduction

Ricky came into the family on 5 May 1996, a few months after our cat leaped out of our 11th storey flat. We decided to keep a dog instead, as the likelihood of another jump was quite unlikely.

At the pet shop, we decided on this boy because he was the only dog sitting quietly in his cage whilst the rest of the puppies were barking the place down. Like an angel. When we brought him home and he continued his silence, we worried that he was a mute. It was only when he was watching TV did he start barking (at the screen).

Ricky barks at everything. The newspaper man. Thunder. A whistling kettle. The Air. The Sky. Me. Ma. Kor. Pa. Everyone. For dinner. For breakfast. For lunch. For the Apple. Everything. Except little animals and insects. :) He simply drowns the insects with his drool.

He used to be a sweetheart and loved having guests at our home, until one day, my cheeky piano teacher hid behind a chair and BOO-ed him, scaring the hell out of him. Since then, he has acquired this deep hatred for strangers in our house and will bark at the intruder with every step he or she takes. He is only at peace if he sees you sitting down with no big movements.

Like the family, he enjoys food a lot and cannot do without his nightly apple snack. We used to be careful with what he eats because of his skin allergy. But now that he has a huge tumor/cancer and we know he won't be around much longer, really, we let him have all the yummies he desires.

He's 13 years old now. Old, balding, down with a huge tumour, unable to control his bladder and bowels sometimes... but still possesses the cheeky (nice word for naughty) and curious (read: kaypoh) spirit since puppy hood.

I know he won't be around much longer and one day, in a sudden moment of great panic, I decided I shall blog and capture his life before he fades away too quickly.

A Big Baby

It's funny how we love this dog so much but still find caring for him such a great chore at times. 

Showering him. 

Feeding him. 

Walking him. 

Cleaning up his mess. 

Clipping his nails. 

Cleansing his ears. 

Blah blah blah. 

We whine. We complain. We push it onto each other. We point fingers. 

But we still do it. Maybe grudingly so but still we do. For a simple reason that we love him and if we don't do all those things, he will be one smelly, hungry and grouchy dog.  

I think people with dogs (and to a certain extent, cats) who actually take care of them will be good baby-carers in future. No, I don't mean good parents. I only mean the person will be patient and good at taking care of the baby's basic needs and hygiene. Because a dog is like a baby who never grows up throughout his entire time with you. 

13 years and counting... 

I'll Be

...the greatest fan of your life. 

My Dog Is More Handsome Than Yours!

I bought this poster from IKEA yesterday.

But seriously, why did I bother when there's a poster dog at home??? 

Not cute meh?! 

:D 

The 'Clearance' Puppy, Mum and Me

I can't recall the last time I went to the movies with my mum.

I do remember watching 'The Land Before Time' (1988!) in that dingy cinema in Bedok (the most happening place in the east in the 1980s) with mum, her friends and their kids before primary school. Then came a vaccuum. Then came primary school where she trusted me enough to go for movies with my friends. Then came the 'boyfriends era' during which going to GV was a weekly pilgrimage. Then came 'sisterhood of the singles' where I started watching movies with my single girls and boys.

The bottom line is this: I've probably not been to the movies with my mum for over 20 years.

Being a huge fan of the book 'Marley & Me', I hyperventilated the first time I saw the movie poster in Novemeber 2008. I'd probably coerced a dozen people to read the book and to promise to watch it with me but I finally decided the best person to watch it with would be mum. She loves dogs. We have a dog. This movie is about a dog's journey with his owners from puppyhood to senior years. We will be able to relate to it perfectly.

I was secretly hoping that mum would cry watching it. Haha. In fact, I thought I saw her wiping tears away but she insisted she didn't cry. Naturally, I cried a lot towards the end of the movie and she was poking fun at me. Hmmph! But really, I think we can appreciate what the author said of Marley and dogs in general:

Was it possible for a dog - any dog, but especially a nutty, wildly uncontrollable one like ours - to point humans to the things that really mattered in life? I believed it was. Loyalty. Courage. Devotion. Simplicity. Joy. And the things that did not matter, too. A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbols mean nothing to him. A water-logged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his.

When we came home from the movie, we couldn't find Ricky at his usual spot in the living room. We eventually found him lying on the floor right in the middle of my room awake and waiting. He didn't hear our chattering and only noticed us when he turned his head towards the door. Ricky scrambled to his feet and greeted us. A classic example of how a dog will always welcome you home no matter how long you go away... <3

To Love Again

Many friends have asked if I would ever keep a dog after Ricky. I always say no because I can't bear to go through all that love, pain and eventual sense of loss again. Ever.

But that being said, I guess it's human nature to want to love and be loved again, even though it will most probably hurt again somehow, someday.

So, yes maybe I will keep one again in the future but that will only happen after I've properly mourned the loss of Ricky and I'm ready to care for another dog.

My baby's fine, btw. =) Ricky's eating (A LOT), barking (A LOT) and sleeping well. He really is a walking example of cognitive dissonance.

When Push Comes to Shove

Mum's angsty question of the month is "What's going to happen when Ricky is no longer able to walk (as a result of the large tumour & his weak legs)?" 

We know the implications. He won't be able to get to his drinking bowl and the feeding dish; won't be able to get to the balcony for his peeing and pooing; won't be able to kaypoh around anymore. 

To mum's question, my response is always "We'll decide when we get there." 

Because honestly, there is no point in worrying now. 

We will somehow know what to do when the day comes;

when a decision has to be made. 

I hope. 

A Hand to Feed Him

Ricky was walking away from his feeding bowl, his breakfast (bread) untouched when he saw me going towards him and the bowl. He stopped in his tracks, u-turned and watched me examining the bowl. 

"Come over," I signalled, sat myself down next to his bowl and started feeding him, a small piece at a time.

Slowly and purposefully, he nibbled and chewed the bread. When we had a momentum going, I stopped feeding and signalled him to eat on his own. He kept staring at my hand, continuing to wait for the next piece that was to come; completely ignoring the bowl of bread below my hand. With feigned exasperation, I continued feeding him until he abruptly stopped eating and turned away. The king is full. :) 

Sometimes, all he needs is someone to sit next to him and sayang him. 

:) 

Awake Is the New Sleep

Sleep is a luxury to you ... and me.

But not to him.

Three-quarters of his time are spent sleeping. And rightly so...

zzz

A Dose of Vitamin D

He looks for a patch of sunshine, and plonks himself down to bask in the warmth.

Baby loves the sun.

:)

Ricky & Dicky

It's 12:17am now and Ricky had just woken up and realised I'm home already. So he's now on the floor of my bedroom, chewing on his itchy feet and guess what? His dick is all out. *makes face* The vet says that as he grows older, he will not be able to control his dick. So he lets it hang out when he's very excited, nervous, anxious or feeling very shiok (like chewing on his feet).

It's awfully embarrassing.

But also damn funny at the same time! haha

Still Breathing

These days, whenever I see Ricky lying on his mat, not moving, my heart will skip a beat and I will hold my breath... until I see him breathing visibly, his body rising and falling with each breath. 

I find myself doing that with my parents, too.

It's morbid and I'm being overly paranoid, but with an 84 year old dog, a 75 year old pa and a 65 year old ma in the household, the worry is inevitable and duly. No....? 

Too Late

I always like to ask the doctor friend medical questions whenever we meet. So today, I brought up my doggy's condition and since he's a doctor and not a vet, I jokingly asked him what I should do about it, not expecting real advice to be dispensed. But in his usual serious doctor tone, he reminded me what the vet had already told us many months ago - that given the size of the tumour, the cancer would most likely have spread to other parts of the body. And that he would only have a few months left and it would be lucky if he made it past a year...

Have you ever felt your heart grow cold? How does it feel when it grows cold? I don't exactly know how to describe that feeling to you, but that was exactly what it was when I heard the words "only a few months left".

When we first discovered the lump and told our vet about it, she informed us it was just fats and to monitor the lump until it turns hard. When I felt the first sign of hardness, we went back to her and she told us that it was most likely cancerous. With Ricky's cough, it might have already spread to the lungs. She gave us 2 options: quantity of life versus quality of life.

Quantity of life: If we want to prolong his life, he needs to go for a surgery but given his age, he might not be able to survive the op. Even if he does, the recovery period is long and again, he might not make it through. Further more, to put him through an op and subsequent chemo is to induce a lot of pain in his weak and old body.

Quality of life: Not to go for surgery and let things be. Just keep him happy. Especially since Ricky is not scratching at the lump - meaning, he is not overly bothered with it. He does have his bad days, but he is generally his usual self - still moving, still eating, still mischievous and still loving.

We chose quality of life for him because we were too afraid of losing him too soon. The risks of an op scared us. And we just wanted him to be happy and not go through any further pain.

But now, as the tumour continues to grow in size, we wonder if we had made the wrong decision... My mum is clearly heart-broken to see Ricky lumbering around with his huge burden and looks for someone to be the target of her grief. Conveniently, she blames the vet for not advising to remove the lump immediately when we first discovered it. I blame myself for not insisting on an op at the very beginning...

The doctor friend asked if our decision was what Ricky really wanted? How do we know he's not in pain now? How do we know he doesn't want an op? I don't know. I will never know. The decision has been made and we'll just have to live with our decision. It is too late to decide otherwise.

My sweet Ricky. I don't want you to go.

The Sheepish Look

Ricky pooped all over the place again and I knew it even before I stepped out of my room to survey the mess. How did I know that? Because it's 10:20pm and instead of sleeping, Ricky suddenly trotted into my room with a sheepish look. That's right. A sheepish look. Everytime he gets into trouble, he will come into my room. It's as if he cannot stand the sight of his own poop in the living room or he's telling me I need to go clean up his mess or he wants a sayang and pretends he's forgiven before I see the mess. Urgh!!  

An Introduction

Ricky came into the family on 5 May 1996, a few months after our cat leaped out of our 11th storey flat. We decided to keep a dog instead, as the likelihood of another jump was quite unlikely.

At the pet shop, we decided on this boy because he was the only dog sitting quietly in his cage whilst the rest of the puppies were barking the place down. Like an angel. When we brought him home and he continued his silence, we worried that he was a mute. It was only when he was watching TV did he start barking (at the screen).

Ricky barks at everything. The newspaper man. Thunder. A whistling kettle. The Air. The Sky. Me. Ma. Kor. Pa. Everyone. For dinner. For breakfast. For lunch. For the Apple. Everything. Except little animals and insects. :) He simply drowns the insects with his drool.

He used to be a sweetheart and loved having guests at our home, until one day, my cheeky piano teacher hid behind a chair and BOO-ed him, scaring the hell out of him. Since then, he has acquired this deep hatred for strangers in our house and will bark at the intruder with every step he or she takes. He is only at peace if he sees you sitting down with no big movements.

Like the family, he enjoys food a lot and cannot do without his nightly apple snack. We used to be careful with what he eats because of his skin allergy. But now that he has a huge tumor/cancer and we know he won't be around much longer, really, we let him have all the yummies he desires.

He's 13 years old now. Old, balding, down with a huge tumour, unable to control his bladder and bowels sometimes... but still possesses the cheeky (nice word for naughty) and curious (read: kaypoh) spirit since puppy hood.

I know he won't be around much longer and one day, in a sudden moment of great panic, I decided I shall blog and capture his life before he fades away too quickly.