RNS regulars know who Jake is. He’s the Vichy French Dachshund the Analog Wife adopted a almost two years ago. Here he is demanding, and getting, some KFC last summer. You might also remember him as Black Ceasar on the RNS Christmas e-Card.
For those who aren’t fully aquainted, here’s a little recap: He’s at least 16 years old, he is completely deaf and nearly blind, he also has had at least a third of his teeth removed due to the crappy treats his former owners constantly fed him. Also, his Thyroid has lost 75% of its function, making him 10lbs heavier than the standard weight of a tweenie Dachshund’s 12lbs.
Because of that and his slow, lumbering walk, he gets called a number of nicknames: Lighting used to be my favorite, but now, it’s ‘Jake Ciabatta’ (like Jake Lamotta, get it?).
He is, however, a true Dachshund. Meaning, he is in charge, no matter what. He, and only he, knows when it is dinnertime, when it is playtime and when it is laptime. If you don’t know, he’ll tell you. He does not like the vet’s office and gets to wear “The Happy Face” (aka: a muzzle) when he gets his Howard Hughes nails clipped at the groomer’s.
He is also the only dog to every lay teeth on me. Took a nice chunk out of the top of my right index finger when I tried to take him to the vet on a morning when the wife had to work late. He and I get along, but needless to say, some days are strained.
But that has changed as of a week or so ago. Jake started getting sick while outside, and hadn’t done his caterpillar style run for a week or so. The wife made an appointment at the vet for yesterday morning and the results are in.
Jake has developed a heart murmer that is a nine on a scale of one to ten, also, his kidneys are shutting off and on. But the worst part is that he needs to have more teeth removed. We’ve got new meds for him that should boost his kidneys and help the thyroid work a little better than the last perscription, but to have any quality of life he will need those teeth pulled.
Unfortunately, with the heart murmur, the dental surgery could kill him.
Jake is a football loving dog. Don’t ask me how he even knows it’s on the TV, what with his lack of senses, but he’ll sit on the wife’s lap for hours and watch every game, completely sated. The wife has made his dental appointment for the day after the Superbowl and hopefully he’ll make it through that so he can watch the Pro-Bowl too.
If I drop out around that time, I’m probably off making arrangements at the crematorium, getting Jake ready for his spot on the shelf above the fireplace next to June, our Boxer of six years and Shela, my cat of twelve.