But not to him.
Three-quarters of his time are spent sleeping. And rightly so...
zzz
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A Dose of Vitamin D
He looks for a patch of sunshine, and plonks himself down to bask in the warmth.
:)
Friday, January 16, 2009
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
It's awfully embarrassing.
But also damn funny at the same time! haha
Sunday, January 11, 2009
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....?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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!!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
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.
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.
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