What I've Learned from Stella

For the last month, I’ve been getting up between 5 and 6 am to feed Stella. I pull on a robe, fumble my feet into slippers and toddle down the steps, using my phone to light the way. Sometimes I prepare her food first and then go back upstairs to wake her up. The first week or so, she was reluctant, looking at me as if to say, “What is wrong with you? It’s not time to get up yet.” Now, she’s gradually adjusting to this new schedule, going outside for a quick pee and then coming in to eat her breakfast, figuring she might as well eat even if it feels like the middle of the night. When she’s almost finished, I quietly slip behind her, tent her skin at the scruff of her neck and inject her with insulin. She doesn’t even flinch. This will be our routine for the rest of this dog’s life. Her meals and medication must be 12 hours apart and since we frequently have rehearsal commitments in the evening, 5:30 is what works. I try to go back to bed but after carefully measuring insulin dosage in a tiny syringe, I’m too wired to sleep.

In dog years, Stella’s about my age and has been through more health issues than I care to count. She was diagnosed with Addison’s disease, a metabolic disorder in which her body cannot produce cortisol, at 4 months. Management requires monthly shots and daily prednisone. Last year she had two surgeries, one of which was for a torn CCL in her leg.  She’s had her share of ER runs with serious GI upsets and has significant arthritis. But she just keeps on plugging. Her breeder calls these dogs “terrier tough” and that pretty much describes Stella. She walks into whatever vet office we happen to be visiting (and there have been a lot) and hops up on the scale without prompting. Bloodwork—eh, what’s another stick? Ultrasounds and electrocardiograms? Ok, whatever. She readily takes pills in pill pockets.

Stella adapts to what she can’t change and trusts the people who care for her. She keeps barking at squirrels even if she can no longer chase them. She happily licks her bowl clean in the dark hours before dawn. She’s adjusted to green beans and disgusting freeze-dried raw salmon bits for treats and loves her healthy turkey/green bean/egg white meatballs. She still enjoys park walks and sniffs, although we don’t go as far as we used to. She lets us know when it’s time to turn off Netflix and go to bed and does not take any crap from her younger sister, Sophie.

I miss staying up to watch Stephen Colbert, and I still haven’t figured out what to do with that early morning hour. A walk with the other early risers in the neighborhood or a little stretching and yoga? Maybe this new routine might end up being good for me, too.

I firmly believe in many ways, dogs are smarter than people. They just play the hand they’re dealt and find a way to make it work. Something to be said for that.