The Autumn of his Years

Haggis, at 15 and a half years old is definitely starting to show his age. He is a thinning, rather gaunt framed old chap now, slow and stiff, given to sleeping a lot and getting a bit confused over his where-abouts, especially as we keep moving between Silverwood, the caravan and now the new house. He is also rather weak and doddery, given to staggers at front or rear end (or both) so that he looks a bit drunk as he weaves his way about. Occasionally he gives us all a real scare, such as he did after the last weekend, going off his food across Sunday and Monday, being sick a few times (just yellow foamy emptiness) and seeming very very weak and depressed. Mum, Dad and Sparks all wondered whether this was it for him, not so much the Autumn of his years, more like December and even post-Christmas. On both Monday and Tuesday morning everyone woke and looked anxiously at poor Haggis stretched out on the caravan bed just to check he was still breathing, or lay there in the dark waiting for him to do one of his groans just so we'd know he was still with us. On one of the mornings (Tuesday?) Mum actually woke up, checked him and found him still weak and apparently unable to eat or poo and would have phoned Aoife-Rhymes-With-Deefer (the Vet) about making that hard decision, only it was too early to phone her. Then on Tuesday, Mum cooked some sloppy chicken soup for him and he took a couple of pieces of the chicken from Dad's hand. On Wednesday he took a few more and to everyone's relief managed a rather forced poo. On Thursday the house build project came to its close (this time round), Sparks departed, and Dad decided one of the first jobs was to give all us dogs a blooming good haircut. Haggis was first up, and treated gently by Dad out of resoect for his years and weakness, but cut him thoroughly anyway, rather horrified by the gaunt shape he had become under all the winter fur, a bit like an ancient bony Jersey cow with pronounced pelvic girdle, thin neck, sticky-up spine processes and ribs almost visible through his coat. BUT, something extra-ordinary happened. We don't know if it was the relief of being freed of all that fur, or just a timely co-incidence which would have happened anyway, but he was like a new man. He started eating properly again and (for him) striding about the place purposefully, walking to doors and scratching to be let out, 'demanding' sweeties when he came back in, eating all his breakfast and supper, nay, even queuing up and asking for them at the old times. It is like having the old H-Man back, all be it still a bit gaunt looking and a bit stiff of a morning. Good Man, H Like the creaky gate, you'll see us all out! Deefs