Dog Dementia

Ellie arrived to live with us a few months before I started this blog, which makes her 15, a good age for a dog.

Ellie at one year old

Physically - apart from deafness, cloudy eyes and wonky back legs - she’s doing pretty well. We still walk a couple of hours a day. She still chases rabbits. She still beats the bounds every evening, marching round the garden barking. She still enjoys her food.

Ellie and me contemplating the bluebells, spring 2024

Mentally, however, it’s a different story.

About a month ago she started barking through the night. I tried everything I could think of that might help – ignoring her/going down to see her, letting her out for a run round the garden, putting an unwashed t-shirt in her bed so that the scent comforted her (something we did when she was a puppy), light on/lights off, in her crate/out of her crate, crate covered/crate uncovered.

Then one morning before breakfast, she vomited her supper undigested and later on in the car had a funny turn, retching, howling and shaking. I took her straight to the vet and they tested her blood, x-rayed her and scanned her. They couldn’t find anything wrong. 'Has anything traumatic happened to her recently? they asked, but I couldn't think of anything. 'Probably a touch of dementia then,' they said, prescribing both painkillers and a sedative to be on the safe side. Nothing changed. Then they prescribed sleeping pills. Still no change. 

And now, weeks later, we’re both exhausted and still she barks. I wish I could talk to her. I wish I could find out what’s wrong. But sometimes I think there is no rhyme or reason to it all. It’s just her brain breaking down. It’s heart-rending.

She follows me around during the day and barks when I go upstairs and leave her behind. (She’s too weak to climb the stairs now and too heavy for me to carry.)  I could sleep downstairs so that she can be near me during the night but it would be a huge disruption for me and, selfishly, I’m resisting. I'm experimenting with the ramp she uses to climb into the car.

I wish Frog was here to help.

Frog, with Ellie as a puppy

It's not time for Ellie to go yet, but when she does go, it’ll be another huge chunk out of my life. Who knows where I’ll go or what I’ll do then.

A quiet moment in March last year