Reflections on an Ageing Fox
Cassidy is 13 years old and is steadily losing her eyesight and hearing. Her youthful bounce has given way to a slower gait and a slight limp, her once vibrant ginger muzzle, like that of a fox, is shaded in with silver. She is old, which is a miracle.
To understand why, I need to take you back a few years to when Cassidy was just six weeks old. Lenja and I were volunteering at CLAW just before New Year's Eve in 2010 when the vet on duty plucked a puppy from the hoard on the floor and dropped her in our lap. The plan was to foster her over the New Year period and bring her back in one or two weeks. As you may have guessed, dear reader, that didn't happen.
Cassidy was a little bundle of joy, brimming with liveliness. She was small enough to fit snugly in my hands, her tiny mouth constantly chewing on my fingers (or the other dogs' tails), her feisty spirit finding expression in mischief. Her puppy antics and milky-sweet puppy smell melted my heart. She had a natural sassiness, a trait she's retained into her twilight years.
Barely two weeks into "fostering" her, she fell gravely ill, becoming lethargic and incontinent. Whether on the bed, the floor, or on me, her uncontrollable bowel movements knew no bounds, spraying everywhere, often waking us up in the middle of the night. I can say with conviction that waking up to poop on one's head is less than appealing, even from a cute puppy.
After months of stressful vet visits with no diagnosis, we finally figured it out - she had Addison's Disease, a disorder that affected her adrenal glands. Unable to produce enough cortisol, the disease compromised her immune system and disrupted her ability to manage stress. It is no exaggeration to say that she's highly strung.
The prognosis was bleak. We didn't think Cassidy would live past seven years due to her condition. She's a fighter, though, and now, with the help of the proper medication and a calm home environment, she is as sassy as ever at 13. Every day past her expected seven years has felt like a gift. We've experienced many losses in recent years: Albie died suddenly from heart complications in December 2022, Lua succumbed to old age and dementia in June of the same year, and Dinah lost a brief but fierce battle with cancer in May 2019. In the last few years, we also adopted seven rats. Rats don't live very long. We believed that Cassidy, with all of her complications, would precede all of them in death. Yet, she's still here, having experienced these losses alongside us - the last doggo standing.
There is no better teacher than experience; the losses I've experienced have taught me that life is transient. True peace comes from acknowledging this transience, accepting it (not resisting it) and being present with those we love while they are here: our pets, family, and friends. Our undivided attention is the greatest gift we can give them and ourselves.
Each morning that I wake up, the sound of Cassidy's tail wagging against her bed is a blessing. Every morning when I tuck her into her cosy bed, smooching her face while she growls at me, is a privilege. And all the precious moments in between, when she dances in excitement, begs for food or dreams during an afternoon nap, are experiences that I treasure. She's lived much longer than expected, but her time in this life is finite. All of ours is. I don't know when, but I know that one day I will no longer be able to snuggle against her magnificent fur coat.
For now, though, she's here, very much alive and well.
And this is a miracle.
Until next week,
Ric.
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