Scary name, isn’t it? But as far as I can tell — as far as my google-fu can take me anyway — it means “something’s wrong with your dog but we’re not sure what.” Ironically — and really oddly — one of the possibilities is an over-abundance of copper in the liver. (Ironic, because that was a major plot point in A Lonely Magic. It will be very sad and extremely weird if my dog dies the way Fen’s mother did.) However, since B is behaving normally, eats like a cheerful piglet, enjoys walks and swimming, and in no way acts like a sick dog, I’ve decided not to worry about it. Well, after several hours spent worrying about it and trying to decipher vet materials that are extremely way far over my head I’ve decided not to worry about it.
Given that I’m writing about it, I’m actually probably still worrying about it.
But I’m going to stop. I’m going to use the ACT technique and every time I start to dwell on it, I will remind myself that I’m worrying and try to identify the emotion that goes with the worry. It’s an easy call on the emotion — fear. I dread the thought of losing either dog.
Last night, I hung out with a friend who is a believer in the law of attraction. I … well, sort of think it’s a silly concept. I don’t think thoughts have energy. But as we talked about it, I could see ways that it’s worked for me in my life, even though I didn’t know I was using it. Especially with parenting — I think it’s enormously more powerful as a parent to notice and appreciate the behavior that you like and dismiss the behavior that you don’t. You get the behavior you focus on. I’m not actually convinced that it works, but I intend to start thinking of Bartleby as a healthy dog who’s overcome lots of problems instead of dwelling on all of his issues. He’s a terrific little guy, strong and tough and a survivor. My new mantra. I’m going to make a sign and post it on my wall and remind myself to say that every day.
Also to be said every day — writing good words is fun. 🙂
tehachap said:
Wow… what a strange twist that diagnosis is. So sorry for your little guy. If he acts well, he must feel well, and that would be enough for me. (said with a lot of hope that it will not affect his longevity)
sarahwynde said:
I suppose one of the great things about him being a stray is that I have no idea how old he is. When he first showed up, I thought he was an old, old dog — he moved like an old dog, plus there were the goopy eyes, the bare patches of skin, the scabs. I would have guessed 10? So he could be 12 now and his liver could be failing just because he’s older. But he doesn’t move like an old dog anymore or act like one, so I think he’s maybe more like five or six. Either way, I’m just going to be grateful for all the time I do have with him and I’m sure he’s grateful for the same, given that his time would have been up a couple of years ago if he hadn’t picked my yard to wander into!
Judy,Judy,Judy said:
Hope B is ok. I like your mantra. Was not inspired to write a paradelle today. Maybe tomorrow.
sarahwynde said:
Thanks, Judy! I’ve enjoyed your paradelles so I look forward to reading your next one, whenever you write it!