When to say When?

Recently, I heard a story that disturbed me so much that I cannot stop thinking about it – mostly because I am terrified of becoming the very person that horrified me.

Rumor has it that an individual is bringing a dog who is almost completely blind and deaf to agility classes. The dog is crashing into objects and is obviously afraid to traverse the course, walking around the ring with cautious steps, ears flattened against its skull, tail tucked under its body. Yet the dog’s owner continues to haul this pathetic creature to school.

Why would anyone do that to their dog?

I am fairly certain that any person who wants to spend time with their dog and goes to the trouble of bringing him or her to classes would not do so if they realized they were potentially torturing their best friend. Yet there are countless canines being dragged to classes and paraded around dog shows who are in obvious distress - pitiful beings who make even the most hardened of judges wince. Dogs whose discomfort is apparent to everyone but their owners, dogs with stiff gaits and unmistakable hitches, dogs who hesitate before jumping and look towards their owners with poignant expressions that clearly state, “I don’t want to do this, but I will do this for you, because you asked.”

The best reason I can come up with is that these owners are afraid. Often, the disabled dogs are seniors, shadows of their former selves, dogs that used to be able to easily perform the tasks that they can no longer do without some sort of discomfort. Truly, how often do people start a sport with an infirm dog? So my guess is that the owners of these dogs are not willing to admit to themselves that their dogs are too old to compete. Because, to admit that your dog is too old to do something, you must also admit that your dog is that much closer to the grave.

No matter what age, if your dog is healthy, willing, and able – absolutely explore the many things you can do together. But if your best friend is infirm, disabled, and no longer appears happy to work – perhaps the sport is no longer good for your dog, and is merely a source of nostalgia for you? Might those several hours of week spent at classes and events be better used on activities more appropriate for your ailing companion?

You could take them on a walk at a favorite park or beach and find a place where you can sit and just enjoy the fresh air while savoring your remaining time together. You might cook them a special meal, give them extra snuggle time on the sofa, take them for a car ride, or use the money you would have spent on classes to buy them a therapeutic dog bed, or even spring for a trip to a doggie masseuse.

But, before you can consider any of this, you must first open your eyes.

Thanks to Toby’s recent leg injury, I can see how easy it is to become that person who is blinded to their dog’s true condition. When his initial injury appeared to have healed in January, I began slowly reintroducing him to Rally class. First, I only jumped him eight inches. Then ten inches. Then twelve. Although he was no longer limping and was jumping whenever I asked, he began acting up behaviorally. I attributed it to lack of exercise, time away from the classroom, and recent stresses at home.

Possibly, Toby was actually trying to tell me that his leg still hurt, because two days after he jumped the full sixteen inches he needed to compete, his wrist swelled up again. Of course since he had simultaneously returned to normal activities in the yard and was running full tilt through the snow drifts and falling up icy stairs, I cannot say with certainty that the Rally jump was the actual cause of Toby’s re-injury.

But I also cannot say that it wasn’t.

This time, when Toby gets the all clear from the vet to return to his former energetic self, I will wait much longer before allowing him to jump again. Probably months. However, I cannot ignore the questions that keep struggling to make themselves heard in the muddle that is my mind. “Did the jumping cause the re-injury? Could it happen again? Maybe I should retire him from Rally?”

Toby does not enjoy being on bed-rest any more than I enjoy forcing him to be on bed-rest, so by allowing him to return to competition, am I taking a chance that he will reinjure himself – again – and have to return to the depressed state that he is in now? On the other hand, Toby loves to accompany me to class, (as far as I can tell by his excitement when we are getting ready to leave, and the prance in his step when we are on each other’s page in the ring) so by not allowing him to return to his old activities, might I be impeding the quality of his life?

See how easy it is to misinterpret what it is that you see?

I’d love to hear other competitor’s thoughts on this subject. As the decision maker for a team-mate who cannot talk, when do YOU decide to say when?