Sisters take care of each other

Sisters

In the past two or three years, Ceilidh has slowly lost her vision and her hearing. Ninety-nine percent of the time she manages perfectly. In fact when we meet new people while out on our walks they’re always shocked to hear that she’s blind because she marches along like any other dog. Having said that, we do watch out for her because she has on occasion hit a lamp post or more likely a branch that may have fallen onto the boulevard during one of our wind storms. She seems able to sense larger objects in her path but not smaller or thinner ones.

Some of the most challenging situations for Ceilidh have occurred in our apartment. We have carpet runners that go from one one end to the other and act as a guide. Once or twice we’ve seen Ceilidh lose her way and end up in the dining room instead of the living room. When she needs help, she sits down and makes a grunting-squeaking sound to call us.

Freckle has always been very protective of Ceilidh. Now that Ceilidh can’t hear us when we get up in the morning, Freckle bounces over to her bed and exhales mightily through her nose on Ceilidh’s face to let her know that it’s time to get up. Ceilidh doesn’t seem startled, just opens her eyes and blinks at Freckle.

A few months ago in the middle of the night, Freckle suddenly appeared beside the bed in an agitated state. She was running back and forth and bouncing up and down–behaviour that we’d never seen at 3:00 AM when the entire house is normally sleeping. I immediately lept out of bed and followed Freckle as she ran down the hallway into the other room. She stopped in front of Mary Doug’s antique desk and chair. Poor Ceilidh had somehow gotten tangled up in the legs of the chair under the desk. She was clunking into them trying to find her way out but seemed to have gotten into a bit of a panic. Freckle stood and watched while I gently pulled Ceilidh out from under the desk and picked her up. Her little heart was pounding and she leaned in the way that Pugs do when they’re nervous or scared (we call it “clinging”).

Ceilidh has always had a younger, bigger Boxer sister to look out for her. When she was young, it meant she could be really mouthy with big dogs in the neighbourhood. Nowdays, it just means that she has someone to run for help when she gets into a jam.

Freckle & Ceilidh waiting for dinner

Freckle and the bumblebee

Freckle thinking back to last summer and that weird bumblebee in the garden! Photo by MD Wright

I was looking through my files for blog posts I’d started or made notes for and found this one from June 13, 2008. I’d forgotten about it and it made me smile to remember Freckle’s growly throat noises as she stalked a wooden garden ornament. Here it is:

Freckle and I were walking along the railroad tracks/community gardens late this afternoon when suddenly we heard a whirring noise in the midst of a clump of irises. We approached and as I suspected, it was a one of those bumblebees on a stick (the modern kind) but one wing had been incapacitated and was pointing to six o’clock. The other wing was doing double-duty and whirring gallantly in the breeze! Freckle was obviously shocked! She bounced back and crouched down as though she’d just met a Boxer with a strange face. She started tilting her head as only Boxers can do … turning it this way and that… looking at the lopsided bee struggling unsuccessfully to fly away with each gust of wind.

Then Freckle crouched really close to the ground and I could hear the beginning of what we call the “throat noise” … low gurgling sounds that begin just above her chest and rumble all the way up to her front teeth. She began bouncing from one side to the other … all the while gurgling away and tilting her head from side to side. The bumblebee, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious.

By this time it was approaching 5:50 pm and I was hoping to be home in time to watch the six o’clock news. I said, “Freckle, let’s go. It’s just a bee on a stick… it’ll be here tomorrow.” Freckle wasn’t convinced. She gently planted first one paw, and then the other so very carefully between the plants surrounding the busy bee. Each time I said, “Freckle, not in the garden,” and she’d immediately lift her paw up but kept her eyes on the bee. And all the while, the warbling gurgle continued in her throat.

Soon I heard the evening news theme song wafting along from a nearby apartment building. “OK, Freck … here we go.” It took persistence and a cookie to convince her to move toward home. Later in the evening as I watched her snoozing peacefully on the couch, I wondered if she was dreaming about stationary bumblebees or whether she’d given it another thought.

Grandma comes to visit

Grandma tells a joke

by Ceilidh

Grandma came to visit us a few months ago. She’s a very cool lady (actually we were all a bit cool when this photo was taken as you can see by the blankets). She can tell a joke, I tell ya! I was just howling … but Freckle not so much. Not sure if it’s because she’s was born without a sense of humour–which would be very strange for a Boxer–or if she just doesn’t get Grandma’s wit. To be honest, I think it may just be that Boxer thing about wanting to be the centre of attention and not wanting to share the stage with Grandma. Freckle likes to be the “funny one” and is usually full of silly remarks as you can see in the photo below. It’s true that I can’t hear very well these days, but somebody needs to tell her that she doesn’t need to shout into my ear!

Freckle sharing a joke with Ceilidh (who is hard of hearing)