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when I fell in love with Spike, I didn't onlyfall in love with him as an individual. I fell in love with he entire breed. I didn't, and still really don't, ever want to have a dog that isn't a border collie again.
Except. It's not just the creeping deathfatigue, or perhaps it's a side effect of it, I don't know. Every time I use a muscle for more than a minute or so it behaves like I worked it into the ground for days at a stretch. I played tug with Spike yesterday and today my wrist and forearm are painful enough that I can only hold leashes lefthanded. Same thing with hip joints and lower back every time I walk anywhere or stay upright more than ten minutes.
fortunately Spike is nine now, and while he doesn't LIKE it, he's at least capable of living with reduced amounts of play and exrcise without going completely hosebeast, more or less. But I'm forced to accept that there's no way I could be fair to a younger BC, not now, not any more. My next dog's going to have to be my old lady dog; a papillon or the nearest equivalent the shelter can find me.
I'm so lucky to have Spike. I'm still heartbroken that he's going to be the only one, not the first of many like I planned. (Unless I look for geriatric border collies. Which I very well might. But that's its own kind of guaranteed heartbreak and really hard to handle without a younger dog around as a counterpoint.)
Except. It's not just the creeping deathfatigue, or perhaps it's a side effect of it, I don't know. Every time I use a muscle for more than a minute or so it behaves like I worked it into the ground for days at a stretch. I played tug with Spike yesterday and today my wrist and forearm are painful enough that I can only hold leashes lefthanded. Same thing with hip joints and lower back every time I walk anywhere or stay upright more than ten minutes.
fortunately Spike is nine now, and while he doesn't LIKE it, he's at least capable of living with reduced amounts of play and exrcise without going completely hosebeast, more or less. But I'm forced to accept that there's no way I could be fair to a younger BC, not now, not any more. My next dog's going to have to be my old lady dog; a papillon or the nearest equivalent the shelter can find me.
I'm so lucky to have Spike. I'm still heartbroken that he's going to be the only one, not the first of many like I planned. (Unless I look for geriatric border collies. Which I very well might. But that's its own kind of guaranteed heartbreak and really hard to handle without a younger dog around as a counterpoint.)
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He saved my life. I truly wouldn't have lived to meet Spike if he hadn't kept me together. I've got a monthly donation going to the Dogs Trust old dog sanctuary house in his memory and I've always planned to do it again. Old dogs are so lovely to have around. But I don't think I have the emotional resilience any more to deal with an old, possibly infirm dog being all the dog I've got.
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*hugs*
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stop throwing wrenches in all my grand plans!
dammit!
i love puppy with all my might, but i'm not sure i could survive another puppyhood. and he was already 7-8 months old when i got him. so! much! energy! omg. but i wonder if i could love an easy dog the way i love puppy. either way, no more dogs under 3 years old for me i think. gotta save my sanity somehow!
i'm sorry you're having so much trouble with fatigue and overexertion from seemingly normal tasks. thats a huge challenge to deal with!
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Oh well. Thank fuck tiny dogs exist. Can you imagine having to have no dog at all?
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but yeah i know exactly what you mean about the guilt and anger and frustration of being so damn exhausted. i'm grateful i have my moments where i can still get shit done. for some stupid reason i dont understand, i keep expecting this to pass somehow. like i'm gonna just wake up someday and be normal again. functional again. and then every day i keep waking up and i'm not. pbbbft.
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We've got the space, and the livestock, to help with a young BC. Not to mention that would help us. Yet I am still wondering, remembering Houdini and Smudge as pups... O. Mai. Yes.
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Yeaah. Spike was eleven months old when I adopted him, and HOLY SHIT. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this perfect dog storm. I remember once trying an experiment to see how long he would keep playing fetch under ideal circumstances (a handy river to cool off in). I gave up after five hours and couldn't use my arm properly for a couple of days afterwards. Him? Fresh as a goddamn daisy.
*kisses for the Bros*
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I'd never seen a papillon before, though, and they are kind of bizarrely adorable with those big ears- they look fun.