Dog Trainer's Log

I drove three and half hours through snow that turned into a blizzard to go look at the promising nine week old red puppy.

He rode home with me in the #100 kennel, belted into the front seat of my truck. The first thing he did when we got home was say hello to my 12+y.o. springer, Jazz, and my 6y.o. gordon setter Bard. Then he claimed a tennis ball, chased it for almost an hour before collapsing in a heap on my bed, and slept all night.

Mary Frances had been right – it was an awful time for me to be starting a puppy. We had three feet of snow, and this tiny puppy just disappeared into it until I shoveled out a small exercise area for him between the drifts in the back yard. On the bright side, he learned ‘ex-on-command’ in about two days flat – so he could go back inside – and turned into a mudder who simply LOVED anything done in the rain and the snow.

I was working 12-hour shifts, 12 days on and 2 days off, in the middle of some critical studies at work. I’d be on that schedule for another two months – so Casey rode in to work with me every day. When I couldn’t leave the study rooms because I was dosing, someone else in my department would go out and exercise my puppy and/or give him lunch. He stayed in that little 100 kennel on the front seat of my truck, covered up in a blanket – a blanket outside the crate, because the little brat couldn’t have a crate blanket until he was almost six! But somehow, we got through it those first winter days.

Casey has seen his career go into full gear, showing in open obedience and agility at the same time – and stop abruptly when I had a stroke. He shifted gears from show dog to chief cuddler while I was sick, and then scaled back up into show-dog mode when I recovered. I retired him at seven due to a back injury – then rehabbed him and discovered two years later that playing with Rally was getting him back into shape. Then, with Rally titling approval just 10 months away, I got cancer. Casey and I went back to the couch.

But on my good weekends, Casey earned his rally titles (RN, RA and RE – Novice, Advanced and Excellent) in nine straight shows. Then we took a year off while I recovered from another surgery. Finally I strung enough good weekends together so that he could finish his RAE (Rally Advanced-Excellent title) at 11. We kept showing, went back to Open obedience and earned a leg on his CDX when he was 12.

Unfortunately, all that time nursing me on the couch meant that when I finally got better, Casey was mentally running out of time. Old dogs get dementia, too, and Casey began to show signs of confusion when we travelled off our home turf. I showed him for the last time at Spaniel Club in 2008. He was 13, and he earned the second leg on his RAE2. But I knew from his reactions during the show that he’d had enough, and it was time to let him settle in on that couch again.

Over the years, Casey lost his mentor Jazz the English Springer spaniel to bloat, and his best bud Bard the Gordon setter to hemangiosarcoma. He lost all of his early cats – Ashlyn, Rocket and Rani – to varius old age cat ailments. He welcomed in Gordon setter Reu, who I rehomed after my cancer diagnosis. Three years ago when I first went into remission, he delighted in his new best friend, blue roan English cocker Madison. Two years ago around his birthday I added Churro the cat to our household – but this time Casey didn’t quite understand why we had another creature in the house.

No longer the demon puppy who hoards all the tennis balls, lacrosse balls and Kongs, at 15 Casey mostly doesn’t remember why these stupid toys are always underfoot. His vision is failing, his hearing is almost gone, and some days, he has a tough time remembering where he is, who I am and what comes next in the day.

He’s having a stretch of good days right now, days when he’s actively engaged in our daily routines – but I know that can fade at any moment. Yesterday he stumbled over one of his tennis balls and actually played with it for a few minutes, bringing it to me for a little game of catch. Usually he will only chase a rediscovered ball once,  forgetting as he runs what he’s looking for – a far cry from the dog who would hunt for a tossed ball for an hour or play catch until I stopped the game. On our walks, M. guides him and gently nudges him in the right direction. When we walk alone, he sticks to me like glue.

Casey seems to function very well in routines (up at 6, eat, outside for a walk, on the couch for a cuddle, go back to sleep for 10 hours, repeat.) For years we ‘celebrated’ his birthday at the November shows in Syracuse and Springfield, sharing liver cookies with all of his dog friends. But he doesn’t travel so well anymore these days. His last ‘show’ trip was in April 2009 to the English Cocker Spaniel Club of America national specialty in OH – and in September, 2009 we went camping at Wine Country. But he thought of Wine Country as a camping trip, not so much a dog show. Unless it’s a situation where I know I can get him outside quickly, he goes to the kennel now while M. and I go to a show. He doesn’t come to class with me anymore. He’s the head home dog. And most nights he sleeps crated, because when M. or I move during the night, we wake him up and he’s very disoriented if woken up suddenly.

But he’s in good physical shape aside from partial blindness and partial deafness. He moves pretty freely for an old man. He never misses a meal. He still knows when I have cookies in my pocket. The only difference is that these days he seldom tries to horn in for attention when I’m working with M.

Meanwhile, today Casey turns 15. I made a small batch of liver cookies last night – and he was bugging me all night because his sense of smell is still working overtime! I wanted to share this 15th birthday with a happy post – rather than the unhappy post that I’ve lost him, which will come long before I’m ready. Casey sends virtual liver brownies and tennis balls to all of his Verstile ECS dog friends. Oh – and hi to the humans, too!

The day before his last day, the intermittent weakness in Casey’s rear legs and lower back got worse. He struggled to get up from a sit, to jump up onto the couch, to walk farther than the grassy area just outside the back door. He was restless and fretted all day, unable to sleep for more than a couple hours. A week earlier, he’d suffered a small seizure on the now-hated grooming table while I tried to do out his feet. M. bumped into him and he cried out – whether in pain or in fear because he didn’t know she was there was too hard to tell. The short story is that he stopped coping, and it was time for me to help him move on. I had to carry him into the vet’s office for his last visit, where my long-time vet Ken Dodge and one of his technicians let me hold him and administered the last shot.

I’m forever grateful to Mary Frances Beardsley, Briarpatch English Cockers, for sharing with me our crazy redheaded boy. Sleep well, mi viejo.