When Dallas was 12 years old, she began to have trouble with her hips. She wouldn’t jump into the car so eagerly or, she’d slip and fall in her attempt. She was slower on the stairs. This wasn’t the first, nor the last breakdown I suffered. I thought she was dying; I thought I was going to have to euthanize her to end her pain. Oh the drama! If only I knew then that I still had another crazy five years with her, maybe some years being taken off my life could’ve been avoided.

I took her in to work the next day, she was diagnosed with arthritis and put on Deramaxx. Over the next 5 years, we added in Tramadol, messed with the doses of each according to the season and later, I also added in Adequan – learning how to give the shots to her myself, at home so she (and the veterinary technician staff at work) could be spared the drama.

In the mean time though- I mean during my mental breakdown one evening, and prior to the next day’s visit to work and subsequent arthritis diagnosis, Hubby and I got online and he volunteered to buy her the Pet Stairs. This way she could walk up them, into the car on her own terms. This was yet another incident of my giving in to her royalness. I could have just forced her to allow me to lift her into the car, but that caused her anger. She disliked giving up any control. As I rarely went anywhere without her, she found it unacceptable for me to just help her, but she was struggling with her sore hips, we thought the stairs would be a good solution.

She clearly disagreed.

See below, the very set we bought: (in someone else’s home as I borrowed the image from Google…)

Image

She HATED them. I would set them up, so that she could walk up them into the car. She would suddenly be able to soar -jumping right over them on into the back seat. I imagine her intense level of stubbornness was painful during times like this.

Needless to say the stairs sat unused in my trunk for years, and then in storage when my Taurus died until recently. They were donated to a local dachshund who I was told could use them.

The thought of her stubborn little self jumping perfectly over the stairs, rather than simply walking up them or allowing me to help her makes me almost smile…. so I thought I would post what is yet another – treasured memory for me, but probably pointless rant to everyone else. 

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