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The Adventure of Growing Old...(with memories of ZenMaster Max)
Posted by: "Ruth Nielsen" rnielsen@nielsenlaw.com mazamadog2
This is a story of growing old with a Berner and the unexpected joy that can be found with a partner in the twilight of life.
My Winter-boy has been a great teacher for me. Winter was pick of the
litter, a conformation puppy who earned his championships easily. But I
wanted a performance dog, while Winter was soft and insecure – not the ideal
temperament for a competitor. I thought about giving up on his performance career more than once, but Winter taught me to be patient, to be positive, and to celebrate achievements that were perhaps not so impressive on paper, but represented a huge effort and achievement for Winter. Neither obedience nor agility came easily for him, but he competed successfully in both because I asked him to, and accomplished even more than I expected.
The one place that Winter truly seemed at home was in the mountains.
Spending time in the wilderness is important to me, and my dogs have been
out in the mountains from their early days as puppies. He accompanied me on many week -long backpacking and winter ski camping trips, climbing peaks like a goat and following us to whatever wild secret spots we chose to explore.
This past year as Winter reached a decade and is now almost 11 years old, I found myself on a new path as Winter’s age brought with it the ravages of degenerative myelopathy (DM). I have lost dogs to cancer, and I know the pain of illness and chemotherapy that comes with various forms of that deadly disease. But DM is a trickster that takes a healthy dog and destroys his body gradually yet relentlessly as the dog’s nervous system deteriorates, and the rear end becomes weaker and weaker until the dog is no longer able to stand and walk on four legs.
But Winter’s inner toughness surprised me once again. When I first thought about leaving him home as I started out to ski with the other dogs, Winter’s plaintive cries persuaded me to take him along. He was not about to be left behind, and I was far happier to take him with me and perhaps go for a shorter ski trip just so he could come along. Winter quickly learned how to get up after falling by using his better rear leg to support himself, and he never stopped as we skied along familiar trails.
But sadly by the end of ski season, Winter’s disease had robbed him of both
rear legs, and he could no longer walk or even stand on his own. I had
heard about dogs being fitted with wheels to use for the rear end for both
support and mobility, and I decided it was worth a try. A company that
had been making canine mobility wheels for almost 40 years was just half a
day away, and I drove there with Winter one day in March to see what they
could do for us. In just a few hours Winter was fitted with a set of
bright red wheels in a light weight aluminum frame and harness that
supported his lower body. I thought about all the struggles Winter and I
had with carting, and I wasn’t sure what he would think of his new red
wheels.
Although the wheels made it possible for Winter to be mobile, he was very
serious when I put him in wheels and harness. He had the same determined
look he would get when we went carting -- this was a job, and he would do
it because I had asked him to, but there was no joy in using wheels as a
substitute for his own rear legs. We used the wheels to allow Winter to
continue his routine of walking half a mile to work with me - but it was
not a happy journey.
I put Winter in his wheels and started down a favorite trail to the river near our house. His serious expression remained at first as mountain bikers and hikers passed us on the trail and asked about Winter’s wheels. But finally we reached the river, and our other dogs Tonka and Brook the Newfie ran down the bank to play in the water. Winter followed cautiously behind his doggie housemates as the
fat wheels were like the wheels of a mountain bike and traversed the river
bank with ease. As Winter wheeled himself into the shallows of the river
to drink, I saw his whole expression change from one of serious
determination, to one of joyful celebration. Winter suddenly realized
that the wheels were not a “job” – they were wheels that would take him
where he wanted to go – to the river, to the mountains, along the paths he
had always loved to travel. He threw back his head and started to bark
with excitement, shouting his joy at just being out in the world. I was
amazed at the transformation - the red wheels were truly his legs now and
he was ready to go where ever the wheels would take him.
We hiked with our packs along a gradual trail to a lake – about a 2 ½ mile
hike. Everyone wanted to stop and pet Winter and ask about his wheels, and
Winter was proud to have the attention and wheeled himself over to say hi
to the people who admired him. At one point a huge downed tree blocked the
trail, and while the other dogs jumped over the tree, my husband Chris and
our friends simply lifted Winter -- wheels and all – and carried him over
the log.
The last part of the trail was covered in snow, and Chris had to help Winter
as the wheels got stuck in the snow. But with assistance from Chris,
Winter successfully made it to the spot we planned to camp – near the
still-frozen lake with snow all around us. I took Winter out of the
wheels and harness, and he collapsed on the snow to sleep soundly while we
put up our tent, made a fire and cooked dinner under the stars. Brook,
Tonka and Oso played in the snow while Winter slept, and when we finally
decided it was time to go to sleep in the tent, I thought Winter would be
just fine as he continued to sleep outside under the stars. But before I
could get in the tent myself, Winter had pulled himself across the snow
with his two good front legs to get in the tent -- he would not be left
out! I helped him in the tent and he curled up in his accustomed spot in
the tent - asleep at my feet.
I thought more than once how incredibly grateful I was to have spent the time
with Winter to keep him carting in spite of his fears. Now -- when his
life literally depended on it -- he was able to wheel himself to the
wilderness – and the joy of adventure we had always shared could continue.
I know that his love of life and true toughness of spirit has been a more wonderful gift than I could have dreamed of. I hope Winter’s wheels continue to roll – whereever our hearts desire. This adventure is a new one, and I’m deeply grateful for the journey.
Cheers from Ruth Nielsen and the Berner boys in Seattle and Mazama, too --
13.1.
Posted by: "Pat Long" pat@bmdinfo.com vestalong1
Tue Jul 7, 2009 2:08 am (PDT)
Dadblastit all! Ruth gave me two great photos, and I couldn't choose. So I
put them both in the photo folder, and I closed my eyes and picked one for
the home page!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Berner-l
Pat Long & Brew,
Berwyn PA
The Adventure of Growing Old...(with memories of ZenMaster Max)
Posted by: "Ruth Nielsen" rnielsen@nielsenlaw.com mazamadog2
This is a story of growing old with a Berner and the unexpected joy that can be found with a partner in the twilight of life.
My Winter-boy has been a great teacher for me. Winter was pick of the
litter, a conformation puppy who earned his championships easily. But I
wanted a performance dog, while Winter was soft and insecure – not the ideal
temperament for a competitor. I thought about giving up on his performance career more than once, but Winter taught me to be patient, to be positive, and to celebrate achievements that were perhaps not so impressive on paper, but represented a huge effort and achievement for Winter. Neither obedience nor agility came easily for him, but he competed successfully in both because I asked him to, and accomplished even more than I expected.
The one place that Winter truly seemed at home was in the mountains.
Spending time in the wilderness is important to me, and my dogs have been
out in the mountains from their early days as puppies. He accompanied me on many week -long backpacking and winter ski camping trips, climbing peaks like a goat and following us to whatever wild secret spots we chose to explore.
This past year as Winter reached a decade and is now almost 11 years old, I found myself on a new path as Winter’s age brought with it the ravages of degenerative myelopathy (DM). I have lost dogs to cancer, and I know the pain of illness and chemotherapy that comes with various forms of that deadly disease. But DM is a trickster that takes a healthy dog and destroys his body gradually yet relentlessly as the dog’s nervous system deteriorates, and the rear end becomes weaker and weaker until the dog is no longer able to stand and walk on four legs.
But Winter’s inner toughness surprised me once again. When I first thought about leaving him home as I started out to ski with the other dogs, Winter’s plaintive cries persuaded me to take him along. He was not about to be left behind, and I was far happier to take him with me and perhaps go for a shorter ski trip just so he could come along. Winter quickly learned how to get up after falling by using his better rear leg to support himself, and he never stopped as we skied along familiar trails.
But sadly by the end of ski season, Winter’s disease had robbed him of both
rear legs, and he could no longer walk or even stand on his own. I had
heard about dogs being fitted with wheels to use for the rear end for both
support and mobility, and I decided it was worth a try. A company that
had been making canine mobility wheels for almost 40 years was just half a
day away, and I drove there with Winter one day in March to see what they
could do for us. In just a few hours Winter was fitted with a set of
bright red wheels in a light weight aluminum frame and harness that
supported his lower body. I thought about all the struggles Winter and I
had with carting, and I wasn’t sure what he would think of his new red
wheels.
Although the wheels made it possible for Winter to be mobile, he was very
serious when I put him in wheels and harness. He had the same determined
look he would get when we went carting -- this was a job, and he would do
it because I had asked him to, but there was no joy in using wheels as a
substitute for his own rear legs. We used the wheels to allow Winter to
continue his routine of walking half a mile to work with me - but it was
not a happy journey.
I put Winter in his wheels and started down a favorite trail to the river near our house. His serious expression remained at first as mountain bikers and hikers passed us on the trail and asked about Winter’s wheels. But finally we reached the river, and our other dogs Tonka and Brook the Newfie ran down the bank to play in the water. Winter followed cautiously behind his doggie housemates as the
fat wheels were like the wheels of a mountain bike and traversed the river
bank with ease. As Winter wheeled himself into the shallows of the river
to drink, I saw his whole expression change from one of serious
determination, to one of joyful celebration. Winter suddenly realized
that the wheels were not a “job” – they were wheels that would take him
where he wanted to go – to the river, to the mountains, along the paths he
had always loved to travel. He threw back his head and started to bark
with excitement, shouting his joy at just being out in the world. I was
amazed at the transformation - the red wheels were truly his legs now and
he was ready to go where ever the wheels would take him.
We hiked with our packs along a gradual trail to a lake – about a 2 ½ mile
hike. Everyone wanted to stop and pet Winter and ask about his wheels, and
Winter was proud to have the attention and wheeled himself over to say hi
to the people who admired him. At one point a huge downed tree blocked the
trail, and while the other dogs jumped over the tree, my husband Chris and
our friends simply lifted Winter -- wheels and all – and carried him over
the log.
The last part of the trail was covered in snow, and Chris had to help Winter
as the wheels got stuck in the snow. But with assistance from Chris,
Winter successfully made it to the spot we planned to camp – near the
still-frozen lake with snow all around us. I took Winter out of the
wheels and harness, and he collapsed on the snow to sleep soundly while we
put up our tent, made a fire and cooked dinner under the stars. Brook,
Tonka and Oso played in the snow while Winter slept, and when we finally
decided it was time to go to sleep in the tent, I thought Winter would be
just fine as he continued to sleep outside under the stars. But before I
could get in the tent myself, Winter had pulled himself across the snow
with his two good front legs to get in the tent -- he would not be left
out! I helped him in the tent and he curled up in his accustomed spot in
the tent - asleep at my feet.
I thought more than once how incredibly grateful I was to have spent the time
with Winter to keep him carting in spite of his fears. Now -- when his
life literally depended on it -- he was able to wheel himself to the
wilderness – and the joy of adventure we had always shared could continue.
I know that his love of life and true toughness of spirit has been a more wonderful gift than I could have dreamed of. I hope Winter’s wheels continue to roll – whereever our hearts desire. This adventure is a new one, and I’m deeply grateful for the journey.
Cheers from Ruth Nielsen and the Berner boys in Seattle and Mazama, too --
13.1.
Posted by: "Pat Long" pat@bmdinfo.com vestalong1
Tue Jul 7, 2009 2:08 am (PDT)
Dadblastit all! Ruth gave me two great photos, and I couldn't choose. So I
put them both in the photo folder, and I closed my eyes and picked one for
the home page!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Berner-l
Pat Long & Brew,
Berwyn PA
