Random Musings > Where The Wild Things Are

Poor old Morph (22/3/2004 - 26/5/2018)

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Wowbagger:
Morphy is now the wrong side of 13½. That's a good 18 months in excess of expectations - setters don't normally survive beyond 12, or so I'm told.

He's normally a cheerful chap, despite having lost a lot of weight, eating far more than he ever did, and suffering from arthritis.

A couple of weeks ago he was clearly in a lot of pain from his hips. I gently touched his hip to move him a bit and he cried out. The following day the same happened when Dez tried to get him to move. That prompted a vet visit. He's been on Metacam for a little over a week and for the past couple of days he has had the runs. It has clearly reduced the pain a lot though. I shall stop the Metacam for a few days to give it time to clear up, but I think we are not far off the time when a one-way trip is in order. I don't want him to be in pain, and having the shits distresses him.

As an aside, one of Morphy's long-term acquaintances, a Yorkshire terrier named Barney, shuffled off this mortal coil a month or so ago. He had gone blind, his back legs were duff, but he still seemed quite waggy when you met him. He went into the garden one night to empty himself and was longer than usual. Dave, his owner, found him dead by the back door. Heart attack, in all probability. 15 years 2 months.

Barney was a lovely little dog, very affectionate and outgoing, and a real character. In the good old days when both dogs were young and spry, I used to spend quite some time every day in the park, throwing a ball for Morphy and he would retrieve it, drop it at my feet and then bark like a maniac until I threw it again. No matter where in the park Barney was, the sound of Morphy's barking would prompt him to come zooming across the grass like an e-type broom-head in order to scrounge liver cake from me. Dave would follow on his bike (Dave's replacement knees make it hard for him to walk far) and we would natter about life, the universe and everything. Even though Dave is about 15 years my senior, he went to the same school as a pupil where I started my teaching career. Some of my rather ancient former colleagues were the bastards who taught Dave, and quite probably assaulted him physically.

Eccentrica Gallumbits:
Poor Morph. Hard as it is, I'd rather do the one way trip a week too early than a day too late. I'd rather be grieving than know an animal I love was in pain. Morphy sounds like he's been a brilliant dog and he's had a long happy life. I hope the rest of his time is happy and comfortable. Good boy.

hellymedic:
Poor OLD Morph!
He has done well...

Wowbagger:
An update: after a few days on the Metacam, I took him off it. He had terrible diarrhoea which took a few days to get better. Now, although he is still slow on walks and has the occasional stumble, he is very cheerful. He takes an interest in people and dogs when we are out, nags me for treats and still does that endearing thing where he gently takes hold of my little finger between his teeth to take my hand off the keyboard to stroke him, or get him food, or pay him attention in some way that sitting at a computer doesn't do. He quite often comes in when he hears me playing the piano and either lies down nearby or leans against the piano stool.

This is him after about 10 minutes of the Schubert G♭impromptu:



It seems quite possible that his arthritis behaves as mine does - one hell of a lot worse on some days than on others. His appetite is very good.

T42:
Poor chap.  I reckon Metacam would go for the gut, NSAIDs do that.  Would the vet have an appropriate PPI for him, something like Omeprazole?

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