When one hears that phrase - 'When the shit hits the fan', you know something isn't too pretty. What happens, 'When the shit hits the floor'? It has happened at our house quite often lately.
The old girl is 18, senile, half blind, can't hear, has constant eye infections, her body has become some kind of wart factory and she paces aimlessly as if in pain. Her back legs are stiffened with arthritis and no longer bend where they should bend. She has difficulty standing and frequently falls over. When outside she seems to be searching for something and tends to wander off, always in the road. I can't take my eyes off her for a second. She will only do her business in the driveway. 18x7=126.
I have doggie pee pads placed in two places in the house. She's has approximately a 90 % chance of hitting the pads. Since she can't see I'm thinking they must have a secret smell to attract piddlin. I don't mind the doggie pads.
Recently the number two issue has raised its ugly head. I have been feeding her soft dog food so her need to defecate has increased. I do this because she has lost quite a few teeth.
Yesterday she was playing hide the poop and she did hide half of it under the doggie pee pad. The remaining portion was in the middle of the kitchen floor.
I slip out of bed in the darkness of the morning and trudge for the kitchen. NEED coffee, need coffee. I neglect to turn on any lights - my reasons are warped.
1. Trying to save on the electric bill. LOL.
2. The kitchen light shines in the bedroom and hubby is still in lala land.
3. The kitchen window faces the street and there I stand in my ratting old nightgown.
So as I walk silently, in the dark, across the kitchen floor to get the coffee - it happens. Something soft, squishy and odorous squeezes between my toes. I walk back to the bedroom leaving a trail of poop across the tile and into the bedroom. Another one of abilities she has lost.
As the shit hits the fan and is blown through my world I think the unthinkable. Is she suffering? Has her quality of life slipped below that level? She doesn't seem happy. Should I - her caregiver/mommy for all these years step up and turn off the fan? There appears to be a sadness in her face and I believe she at times is embarrassed for her lack of control.
Some friends have said, 'you'll know when it's time.' Do I know? Is it time? Euthanasia?