His Dogness

It has been more than 12 years since my friend Mike found His Dogness standing by the side of the road in Stokes County. When His Dogness came to live with me, I took him to the vet. The vet thought he was a year to 18 months old already.

So His Dogness is now going on 14 years old. A year or so ago, he started needing to go out in the middle of the night from time to time. I understood. He had some age on him. I have some age on me. I get up during the night as well.

It seemed a small thing to do in return for all the companionship and pleasure he has given me over the years. More recently, he started wanting to go out more than once. Sometimes, once we were out there, it seemed as if he didn’t have anything in particular in mind.

Before the nights of the multiple excursions, I would have told you that His Dogness had enough reserves in the Bank of Goodwill to see him through anything. Standing outside for the third time in one night for no apparent good reason, I began to think otherwise.

More recently, he started having nights in which it seemed as if he was up for much of the night. I would take him out, and, as soon as we came back in, he wanted to go out again. If I tried to ignore him, he would stand by my bed and whimper.

I tried this. I tried that. Nothing worked. I became angry. At 3:15 in the night, I took it personally. Why was he doing this to me? Once you are angry, it’s difficult to go to sleep even after the commotion dies down.

He would have good nights. But we also had a couple of nights in which I don’t believe I slept more than 45 minutes in a row and no more than two or three hours total. I began to unravel. Friends at work who have children joked that now I knew what it was like to live with a newborn.

My friend Janice said that I needed to take him to the vet. I kept hoping the problem would go away. After the worst night yet, I took him in. The vet weighed him. Down 5 pounds – a loss of more than 10 percent of body weight for a dog that has weighed pretty much the same for all the years he has lived with me.

“That’s not good,” I said.

“That’s not good,” said the vet.

He did blood tests. Early stages of kidney failure, the tests said. That would explain the bad nights, the vet said. Because his body wasn’t eliminating properly, toxins would build up. Feeling achy, he would move around. He would get the idea that going out would help. Then he would find that he didn’t need to go after all.

The vet prescribed some medication to help eliminate toxins. It should, he said, also help His Dogness – and me – sleep better.

I’m sorry that yet another complication of age has come to His Dogness. Yet, the diagnosis also brought relief. He wasn’t trying to drive me insane – he was sick. It took me a few days to shake off the guilt that I felt at having become so angry in the middle of the night.

The medication has not provided a miracle cure. Clearly, though, it’s helping. We have had a couple of rocky nights. But when Mr. Whitfield and our other neighbors make inquiries, I have also been able to report nights in which His Dogness slept through until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m. Such a night provides a stretch of sleep long enough to feel as prepared as I ever do to face the day.

I’m glad to have my friend back. I’m sorry I ever thought for a moment that he had gone away.