Rizla
I stopped blogging a number of weeks ago. I decided not to blog again until I blogged about Riz. I procrastinated writing anything because I naturally resist thinking about him in too much depth.
Since my previous entry Riz took a turn for the worse and I spent a lot of time taking care of him. Little by little he started eating less, and I kept trying to come up with new concoctions to get him to eat - dishes mainly consisting of fish and rice, which I cooked myself.
He started having pain while going upstairs so his bed was moved downstairs. I left Radio 4 or the World Service chuntering away in the background to keep him company at night. Eventually he became increasingly incontinent and I tried my best to keep his fur and his bed clean.
I sleep fitfully at best anyway, so I made a point of going downstairs and letting him out at night or leaving the back door open when it was warm. Towards the end he often opted on sleeping outside rather than going up and down the back steps.
The Rosebys in Croydon declared a going-out-of-business sale and sold through their stock at fairly good prices including fleece blankets at 3 for £10. I kept a stock of fresh blankets. He objected to even a faint smell of fouled bedding so I did my best to keep his bedding freshly washed or brand new.
Through all this he bounded about with remarkable energy and playfulness so we frequently wandered about Waddon and Croydon or played in the parks and garden. Sadly we walked to the vets’ frequently too. They continued treating for e-coli infection until his vet recommended I go to the referral centre, a domestic animal treatment centre in deepest darkest Surrey, specialising in hard to diagnose and treat cases. This was a last ditch effort.
We spent nearly every waking minute together in those last weeks. When we were home I lost hours just sitting on the floor stroking him, and he often lay with his head on my knee until he fell asleep. I considered sleeping on the floor next to him in his last days, but decided that was a bit too weird. I cried frequently but tried to hide it from him. Both Riz, and my previous dog Lullaby, recognised crying and reacted with distress whenever I burst into tears. Nice to know someone cares but he needed me to be strong so I did my best to keep him comfortable and confident.
The day of the appointment I woke up around 6 am and went downstairs. The hallway in which Riz’s bed lay was oddly empty. I looked around for Riz — he was curled up next to a small freezer in a small patch of floor amidst a lot of odds and ends and general clutter in our “gadget room.” Odd behaviour for him. I helped him out of the room and grabbed the kitchen roll that was designated as his, warm water and a cream I had to apply in order to clean him up
In the hallway near his bed I noticed a smattering of maggots. I went to the kitchen where my MacBook sat and looked up “dog health maggots.” The first hit was “Myiasis (Maggots) in Dogs.” The maggots were coming from the fur under his tail, which was constantly warm and wet from his loose bowel movement.
He was very weak - he’d refused food all day Sunday. So I gently guided him outside and let him go through trying to evacuate himself. He struggled and groaned for a few minutes. My neighbour passed by and commented on how sad it was when they get to this stage. We went back in and I put down some fresh bedding and and sat next to him, stroking him gently and waited for Gina, the lady who makes her living taking pet owners without cars to their vet appointments.
When she arrived we gently picked up Riz and drove south and into the narrow roads past numerous Surrey villages. Who knew there was more to Surrey than the stockbroker belt?
When we reached the referral centre we helped him out of the back of her estate. A couple of maggots squirmed around the black plastic protective cover.
Gina came in and waited with me and tried to make soothing noises while I fretted and fought back tears. I ended up sitting on the waiting room floor stroking and re-assuring him. Eventually the vet called Riz and I into the office.
After a brief examination the vet told me the best thing was to have him put down immediately. He probably had cancer advancing rather quickly through his intestines and lungs. She took Riz away and told me to wait until they were ready.
A nurse called me into another room and lay a sheepskin blanket on the ground for us to sit on. Riz rest his chin on my knee while I stroked him softly behind his ears. I noticed a small, capped tube sticking out of his front leg. They left us alone for about 10-15 minutes, then the vet and the nurse came in. The vet injected a pink solution of Phenobarbital into the tube into his leg while the nurse checked his breathing. I continued stroking him and reassuring him he’d no longer be in pain soon. The nurse declared his heart had stopped beating. I kissed him gently on the top of the head and said goodbye.
Driving home Gina and I talked about dogs and how wonderful they are. I tweeted “Rest In Peace Rizla” from the car.
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Returning home I saw a few more maggots. I binned all the bedding, and hoovered angrily until I felt sure there were none left. For weeks afterward I killed all flies that crossed my path, instead of herding them outside as is my wont.
I needed to keep busy so I tidied up the back garden - threw out more old bedding, aggressively but neatly trimmed the trees and hedges and put the cut bits in pike right at the back of the garden. As long as I kept busy I was okay. My housemate came home and thought it was odd I’d trimmed the hedges with a single, small pair of secateurs and told me to use the electric trimmer. I argued I could do a much neater job this way but left it out of embarrassment.
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The next couple of weeks I tidied the house often, but spent even more time in the garden. I pottered around, kept the bird feeder and birdbath cleaned and filled, stared into the middle distance. I imagined Riz playing in the garden - chewing on his favourite rubber ball and occasionally bringing it over for me to throw. I daydreamed about him often, seeing him vividly in the bright light of the sunny garden. I sat on the steps leading out to the garden just watching, doing my best to let nothing disturb my daydreams.
I waged war on any fly unfortunate enough to be inside my house.
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A couple of weeks ago on a diffusely sunny Saturday morning, feeling a bit stir crazy, I decided to go for a wander around Croydon.
It was mid-morning and I wanted an excuse to go out. I stay in a lot lately. I love wandering about and don’t need an excuse or a place to go, but what I crave company.
Lullaby
My then-husband and I adopted Riz around ten years ago, maybe a year after my previous dog, Lullaby passed away, mostly to get me out of the house and out walking again. At least that was the plan.
Riz came standard with a strong will and even stronger body. I struggled to walk him at first. He pulled me along with so much torque I felt like a camper bouncing along behind a Land Rover. And he exhausted me quickly and at best the walks were frustrating nightmares. I bought various types of harnesses, most advertised as ways to train dogs to heel properly while on a leash. Most failed to impress him.
Riz being a bit willful
Eventually I stumbled across one made of a loose-woven nylon rope that went under his front legs and up around the front of his chest, through a special collar and eventually attached to a leash. It stopped him dead in his tracks as soon as any pressure was applied to the his chest. Add another couple of years and he was not only leash-trained but could walk to heal without one, though had to be reminded fairly often.
Add another couple of years and the marriage is no more and Riz and I are constant companions. I took him everywhere, left him tied outside shops when I had to get something. I brought on two Dorset holidays and countless day trips. Can you get a better walking companion than a big friendly dog?
Thing is, I prefer not being alone. I feel uncomfortable when I’m on my own - a sort of mild monophobia. Riz provided more than company, he provided constant comfort and so much more. His company imbued me with a sense of adventure, a need to go out, explore, get wet and muddy, the courage to go out almost anywhere at any time, day or night. A large, intelligent and fairly hard-looking German Shepherd Dog gives a tiny woman a different relationship with an often scary world.
Having a dog for company allows for a surprising amount of interactivity Besides frequently fishing balls out of streams or from under cars, giving a dog direction takes up surprising amounts of attention. If left uncorrected he forged ahead or lagged behind (depending on if we’re walking to somewhere or going back home, natch), so I spent much of our walks tossing out shouts like “Riz wait.” “Riz, now. I mean it — now!” “Riz this way” “Riz where’s your ball now?” and so forth. If I forgot to give him a toy (which was rare — he generally remembered when I didn’t) he made one out of plastic rubbish or old sticks, or, in a pinch, large stones. He didn’t easily take no for an answer when he wanted me to toss or kick the toy du jour.
Riz loses his ball on the ice
When I went out that Saturday to walk I noticed the difference. I took my camera in hopes I’d feel engaged, to little avail. Solo walking feels excruciatingly quiet, empty, stale.
Sometimes I remind myself of the positives. When I do go out, I no longer spend ten minutes trying to rid my clothes of dog hair. The hoover glides easily over the carpet now that it’s only covered in carpet. I don’t have to worry about what time I get home or if I need to arrange with my housemate to feed him. I can finally move house easily (it’s very difficult these days to find a rental that allows dogs). Being unemployed, I can really use that 100 quid a month I spent on food, treats and pet insurance. And I walk barefoot in the garden - I haven’t done that in many, many years.
In fact I still spend good chunks of my day staring into the garden. Sometimes I bring the MacBook, sometimes I try to photograph the birds. Other times I just think. But the vivid daydreams of Riz playing in the yard have nearly faded away. I realise how much poorer my life is for the absence.