Billy the Chonk
It’s been a while since I’ve given an update on our beloved Billy.
He is big and chonky now. We’ve got his weight up, no more ribs or spine sticking out. And he’s now on a maintenance diet. We gradually reduced how much we were feeding him and his weight seems to be plateauing which is good to see.
He has a lovely, playful nature. Sometimes, he’ll come strutting up to Heather or I with a bit of a wiggle in his swagger and lure us to the backyard for a romp. He doesn’t chase balls. He’s more of a chewer so we find sticks to throw for him, which he runs to pick up and tear apart. He loves to have a little frolic and run around. But it’s not long before he remembers he’s an old man and needs a rest!
We’ve noticed that he’s missing a lot of teeth. His top left canine and most of the teeth along the top left of his jaw are gone and many other teeth are chipped or ground down.
We had a reminder that healing is a journey, not a destination. On Thursday night, I tripped over and fell towards a foot stool. I put my hand out to break my fall. However, the foot stool was under 2 cushions which provided no resistance. As I made contact with the cushions, they gave way. Causing me to vault over the foot stool and face plant into a pile of cushions, legs in the air on the foot stool behind me. It was pretty funny but poor Billy didn’t think so. He leaped off the couch and went to Heather. Sitting at her feet, shaking and staring at me. For the rest of the night, he stayed by Heather but kept his eye on me. I was able to coax him to me with some liver treats, but he was slow and cautious and didn’t stay with me long. There was no aggression, just a watchful wariness.
Interestingly, despite his wariness towards me, he slept on my bed that night which he hadn’t done in a while. On Friday, he was out of sorts. He looked sad, and was a bit skittish. He couldn’t settle anywhere for long, and we couldn’t get a tail wag from him. He didn’t have his spark. In the evening, when it had just got dark, we couldn’t find him anywhere in the house. We eventually found him in his hole in the garden and he had to be coaxed back inside. That night Heather and I both sat on the couch with him between us, watching telly. Soothing him and loving him while he hummed his little whale song of contentment. He slept on my bed again on Friday night. On Saturday, he was more like the Billy we know. He had his smile back, he was wagging his tail and didn’t look as bereft and forlorn as the previous day.
We can only imagine what he’s been through to have had that reaction to me falling like I did. If we say “fuck”, especially with any amount of force, he’ll look at us uneasily. He gets his big scary dog bark on when he sees men in hi vis and he became agitated recently when Heather was listening to a podcast narrated by an Australian male. She’s played lots of podcasts with American male narrators and he’s not been bothered, but the Aussie voice put him on edge.
It was an eye opener into how deeply hurt these rescue doggies can be. When you see stories of mistreated animals, any humane person feels empathy, sorrow, and even anger. When you get to know one of those creatures and love them as your own, it’s heartbreaking. It hurts more than I can say to think that my Billy lived like that for 10 years. Only to wind up left in a shelter with cancerous tumours.
I have to not dwell on his past or it will break me apart. Despite those ten years, the next years will be filled with love, treats and frolics like he could never have dreamed of. Having people to love and care for him who he loves too.
We look ahead to the next step of the journey which probably involves a cuddle, a treat and a nap in the sun.
’til next time…
Peppa's Place 