The Governor Called...

Exactly a month ago, I posted a blog entry about my old BRAT, Mr. Calvin. At 18 years old, I realize he is at the end of his years. He is skin and bones, has trouble holding it in between walks, and spends most of his time sleeping. Senility has set in, and he wanders around in circles when his legs don't fail him. Every day I debate - both in my mind, and with my husband - about whether or not to keep him going, or to help him over the bridge.


I guess I have been waiting for something in him to dramatically change, so that I can tell for sure that it's his time. But he seems to be generally the same.


Over the past month, he has been bumping into walls and furniture more and more. At one point, he cut his head on something, and has had a wound on his forehead. Despite general dressing, he opens it regularly by bumping into those walls.


This weekend, infection set in. Sadly, I figured that this was his time - that this might be the change I needed to see. So today I brought him into the vet's office, ready to make that decision.


Or so I thought.


Our vet looked him over, and looked me over, too. She said there was no real change, and the infection would just be treated with some antibiotics.


It was like the governor called, giving Mr. Calvin another shot.


How many of us get "another shot"?


I wish there was a way to reverse the aging process. I know he is not "getting better." And I know that at some point it will be his time.


I just dread going through the process another time, but I am relieved to see him sleeping his bed again tonight.