Listen to this post:
When Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars, had been ours for about a month, we noticed that she wouldn’t stop eating stuff in the back yard: pebbles, sticks, mulch, grass, you name it. Our vet, who performed emergency surgery, said some of the sharp sticks could have done all sorts of damage in there, from perforating organs to obstructing everything.
When she was a year or two old, she suddenly had trouble just standing up to walk. It was Lyme disease, which recurred a few years later and for which she still tests positive even though she has fully recovered.
Dejah — who got that name because I wanted to have an excuse to tell people to watch the wrongly maligned Andrew Stanton near-masterpiece John Carter — has defied expectations. Her big sister Willow The Best Dog There Is™ died a few days shy of her 12th birthday, so when I took 11-year-old Dejah to the vet for an issue I no longer remember, I asked about her chances.
“I don’t see any reason she won’t make it to her 12th birthday just fine,” said the vet.
Today, Dejah turns 13.
Except for the five months between Willow’s death and the arrival of puppy Summer, the poor thing has always played second fiddle. I bonded with Willow closer than any other canine in my life, and puppies always demand more attention than the old dog, so I have probably never given Dejah all of the consideration she deserves.
She doesn’t seem to mind. She accepts what belly rubs and ear scratches that she can gather, she is always up for a treat — they are prescription diet treats these days and not the well-known brands — and she gleefully wrestles with Summer for possession of the throw rug, which is probably the hardiest bit of home decor ever manufactured.
Never mind that she spends most days lying on her back having a good, pleasant snooze anymore; that most nights she gets up at least once or twice to go out in the back yard (heck, so do I); and most of the time it’s a bit of a struggle to stand up (again, me too).
Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars, is a survivor with a big golden retriever smile. When I mentioned that I was writing about this old dog for today, Mary said, “I have a feeling this won’t be her last birthday.”
I’ve never had a 14-year-old golden retriever. Heck, I never had a 12-year-old before last August, and today, Dejah is 13. We’ll take it one day at a time, perhaps for 365 more.
