Let me introduce myself; I'm Elaine's dog, and today she has given me the opportunity of speaking. Although dogs can't really
talk, she pretty much knows what goes on in my canine head and so I thought I'd
tell you what its like to live with my pack or as you humans say "family"
along with Parkinson.
I first
started hearing the name "Parkinson" about six years ago, when I was
a growing young adolescent pup. At first I thought it was a disliked long lost
relative who uninvited was coming to live with us, and for ever it appeared! My
vocabulary for a dog is quite extent, yet I wasn't too sure who or what this "Parkinson" really was. It was certainly disrupting the household,
which until then had been much like any other family home.
I started to
pay closer attention to my owner, as she appeared to have something wrong
with her leg, and our walks became slower and slower. Not that I minded, for
I'm always willing and eager to go for a walk with her, but found now I had
time to sniff every single bush and tree as we crept along at a snails pace.
The walks became shorter too, and then one day, she took me completely by
surprise and fell, laying face down in the sand. I immediately ran over to her
and by licking her face thoroughly and a
second time for good measure, I could see she was alive. For some reason she
was having difficulty getting up, and although I have been trained to do
various tasks, I was at a loss for what was expected of me. Fortunately, my
instincts told me to stand next to her shoulders. I allowed her to put
her full body weight (she really should lay off the sweets!) on my broad
shoulders so that she could get up. Receiving lots of praise, I knew I had done
the right thing, and now whenever I see her laying on the floor, I help her up.
My duties in
the home also increased, not that I minded, in fact I was happy to help out. My
help and expertise at clearing up food spilt on the kitchen floor is appreciated beyond measure. A kind
of maternal instinct that I didn't even know I had, seemed to kick in and I
found myself tuned in to my owner's feelings and needs. There are days
where she doesn't want to play with me, or go for a walk, and doesn't even laugh
when I perform my party trick of chasing my tail, which I have to say, normally
brings the house down, but she didn't laugh or even smile. I found I could no
longer rely on her facial expressions to know what she was feeling or thinking.
Somehow the lines on her face and her eyebrows did not move as they once did,
and as a dog I found this quite disconcerting.
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