Milo is 11 years old. In human years, he is 77 years old. His snout has turned white. So too have his paws. Growths have appeared between his toes that he cannot stop gnawing at. So, we have had to fashion socks to prevent him from cannibalising his own paws. His skin allergies have gone from bad to worse. So, we have had to encase him in a raincoat to stop him from scratching himself to shreds. We have also put him on a food elimination diet of duck and sweet potato.
He is far less energetic these days, our Milo. When he tries to stand from a lying down position, his hindquarters tremble slightly with the effort. With less exercise and the same amount of food, he had also become rather portly. I gave instructions to halve his food portions. I was afraid that if he lost the use of his hind legs, none of us girls at home would have the strength to carry him out to poo.
Yet, Milo still looks at me with the eyes of a 2 year old child, simply trusting. The only time he ever gets upset with me is when I pet Pistachio before I pet him. When we come home, it is important to Milo that we greet and pet him first. It does not take much. He just wants a quick pat on the head, a loving look and a short greeting in my baby talk voice. Once that is done, he will happily let me cuddle Pistachio.
Overall though, the vet believes he is in good shape for an 11 yr old dog. His bark remains thunderous. Milo's bark has alerted us to many a shady figure lurking in the shadows in the dead of the night. A few times, there were strange men standing out in the street at about 3 am. Once, the police came and arrested someone who was hiding in the park nearby.
To all who are not family, Milo is a scary dog. Yet, he has been nothing but gentle with me. No one is allowed near his bones but Milo brings his bones to me and stuffs them under my thigh. I don't quite know why he does that. Is it a love gift? Or does he do it because I am the Alpha Bitch of the family and he knows that his bones are safe with me?
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