My Dog Has Fleas!

My husband and I are so ready for our dog, Murry to die.  Does that sound too harsh?  How about, to go to a “farm”? Kick the bucket? Bite the dust? Go to that place where all dogs presumably go?  I know it sounds horrible, but now that we have a new baby in addition to our 2nd grader, our 13 year-old, deaf, incontinent, overly needy, newly flea-bitten friend is not quite the treasure she once was. The fleas, which popped up  about two weeks ago were kind of the last straw. Until yesterday, when I finally decided to spend the big bucks on Frontline, I fought fleas by bathing the dog, washing the bedding and vacuuming the floors each day. It didn’t work. My advice: at the first sign of fleas, don’t be cheap, buy the good shit.

Murry was the light of my life for  years until I had my first child.  I remember actually saying to my mother when I was pregnant, “I don’t know how I will be able to love anything more than I love that dog.”  My mom laughed out loud. Of course, once I had my son, Murry immediately was no longer top dog.  That being said, she adjusted well and we continued to love her as much as we could.  She handled her new role as babysitter, rather than baby, quite well for many years.

Right around the time Murry turned 10, we began to notice some  changes.  First, she became exceedinly anxious. She had always been a little pitiful, but now her anxiety was such that the vet put her on the same anti-anxiety medication that pets affected by Hurricane Katrina were  on.  Unfortunately, she quickly developed a tolerance for the drugs and a half pill was replaced by a full pill, which was then replaced by 1 1/2 pills. This made her quite loopy, so we stopped altogether and decided to only give her the drugs when we predict an overly anxious time. That means that her normal state of being is now what one would consider moderately anxious; annoyingly in your face at all times or crying when not.

Another thing that happened was that Murry began to bark. The dog we got from the pound BECAUSE she did NOT bark, now barks all the time, at everyone and everything outside the livingroom window.

She also began to sleep so soundly that she started peeing during her sleep.  To be fair, she’s always had a little issue with trickling while sleeping; but now, she full out pees on her bed, our bed, the couch, and the floor.  (We have wood floors, thank goodness). Before we leave the house, if she must be inside while we are gone, we have to put bubble wrap on the couch and chair in the living room and close all doors upstairs so she doesn’t jump on any beds, or sleep on any rugs.

Finally, her breath is now horrendous.  It stinks of death, and there is no way to rid her mouth of the stench. We smell it across the room when we are sitting on the couch watching TV.  We’ve tried a new food, dentabones and biscuits. Nothing helps. And we are not brushing her teeth. It seems like a torturous thing to begin to do after 13 years of not doing it.

So each night when Murry decides she has to go out, RIGHT NOW, after we just brought her in, or when a residual flea jumps on my leg, or when she sees her reflection in a window and starts barking uncontrollably, my husband and I both sigh and think, “My GOD, when is that dog going to die?”  Then we feel guilty for thinking it. Then on our way up the stairs as we head off to bed, we step into a big puddle of pee and think it again, guilt-free.