Not many people know my dog's full name. Yes, he goes by Albert but his proper name is Albert Von Pupsley III. My husband and I came up with that gem shortly after we brought him home 15 years ago. He was just a little tan beagle, with sharp teeth and a lot of energy.
Albert was my 9/11 impulse. Right after that tragic day I started taking stock of my life. I was thinking of the things I wanted to do and just hadn't got to. I was a newlywed, two years into this thing called love, so at that time my thoughts included my husband's wants and desires too. He had talked about getting a dog, like the ones he had growing up. Since we were interested in starting a family, we wanted to see if first, we could take care of something of the canine variety.
I had the pleasure of meeting his final boyhood pet Dixie, a beagle mix. She was an old dog when we met and loved to bark. She was always trying to get food off of the table and did not pipe down when company came to call. I remember how annoying I thought she was but I also remember how cute she and my husband (boyfriend at the time) were together. They had a special relationship obvious by their endearing cuddle. It was sweet.
In October 2001, we were just days away from our second wedding anniversary when I suggested going to an animal shelter. We didn't make it past the first one before meeting Albert. He was one of three siblings: Madame, Albert and Einstein. (Clever, huh?) It dawned on me recently that the Madame was probably for Madame Curie, another well known physicist, but for us it wasn't about science. It was about the white patch of fur that only Albert had, the one thing that set him apart from the others. We fell hard. Ok, to be truthful, I fell hard.
I am not sure how things are today, but back then the shelter had to do a background check on Albert's prospective family. How was our apartment? Was there room for him to run? Would we provide a safe environment? We were worried that we would not make the cut because we lived on the 3th floor of an old Victorian house converted into apartments. There really was no yard but luckily we lived next door to a dog park.
The night of our anniversary we got the call - we could bring Albert home in three days! We rushed through our "romantic" dinner so we could hit the pet store. Nothing was too good for our puppy - decorative food and water bowls, squeaky toys and a long leash. We were ready.
I remember picking him up on a beautiful Virginia fall day. When we got to our apartment, he jumped out of my arms, ran and hid under the car. He was scared and shaking. My husband crawled under the car to get him out and from there our adventure began. Of course, as it would work out, within eight months we had another little one, the first of three kids that would spend their childhood with a beagle - the only pet they've known.
Fast forward ...Albert is now 15 and definitely in the autumn of his life. He has certainly slowed down and most recently has been suffering from the affects of arthritis. He is more like a cat in some ways because each time we think this is it, he bounces back. Although he may not have nine lives he has had quite a few.
A couple of weeks ago he would not get out of his crate in the morning. This is a dog that goes outside at least 10 times before everyone leaves for school/work in the morning. I believe Albert's number 1's and 2's are completely treat motivated which makes going outside a rewarding experience on many levels. But the day he wouldn't get out of his crate, we knew something was wrong.
A few days later he had a seizure. This was a bad experience and one that I was so thankful for divine intervention. On a normal day, at the time the event happened, my husband would have been at work. That day he was off - he handled Albert for hours until he was right again. All I could do was sit in the living room and cry.
For days afterward he could not get around without stumbling. He looked like cartoon Bambi when he slid across the ice. All fours stretched out. I wanted to know if this was it. Was he going to break a leg? Was he in pain?
We took Albert to the vet a few days later to calm our fears. Yes, the arthritis has gotten worse, but to find out what caused the seizure would take hundreds of dollars of tests. The vet could pick up on our pathetic vibe, wanting to do more, but limited financially. She gave us some medicine, assured us that we were still good pet owners, despite not going further with the testing. She said animals do not indicate pain the way humans do. Their pupils may dilate and that is it. She said from experience, beagle mixes are stoic in response to pain. After examining Albert he was as she predicted - a very stoic canine.
It has been a few weeks since that visit and Albert has been doing better. In fact, I caught him this week up on the kitchen table reaching for one of the kid's lunch containers to rescue the remains of a peanut butter sandwich. It warms my heart to see glimpses of that puppy from years ago. Because his legs still give out from time to time, I could not get mad about the table incident. I was actually
impressed and may have said, "Way to go, buddy."
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