Keely's Way: 7/15/2025

The All About Keely-Boo Edition

The Most Baby of Babygirls

Look at that face! Isn’t she precious?

She’s lounging in her own motorcade, an admittedly cheap dog stroller I got for her a few weeks ago. This is, actually, directly related to why you have not seen many updates here on the Scriptorium:

Keely is not doing well.

She is 17 years old, so I guess that’s to be expected. In fact, by some measures, she’s doing great for such an elderly elder dog. No cancer, no kidney failure, no bladder stones, no Cushing’s. Her eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell are failing but still continue to work well enough that she can pretend not to hear me when I say “NO.” (I know she’s pretending because of the side-eye!)

But the arthritis is kicking in hard (yes, she’s on meds for that) and body regulation is not doing great, which is a big deal here in Florida during the summer.

That’s the other reason I got the stroller, aside from the arthritis: she’s prone to overheating if outdoors for too long (same, bestie, same). I don’t want her walks to be curtailed to five-minute speed-pee runs, she needs some enrichment, so we go out on our regular route. When she starts flagging, she hops into the stroller to be pampered like the princess she is.

The real problem is incontinence.

It’s a non-stop faucet of pee, and I am going through 3-5 doggy diapers a day, and as many pee pads. As I said, there are no other issues that might cause this level of lack of bladder control, and the medicines we’re trying (mostly various forms of estrogen) don’t do much. Don’t do anything, to be honest.

I have to ration her water before bedtime, and even then I have my alarm set for 2:00 a.m. to change her diaper and pee pads. The other night she was soaked through even with the diaper, so it was an hour of mopping floors then giving her a full bath and blow drying her. As you can guess, I overslept my usual “wake up” alarm at six.

I have a whole system now for giving her back end a half-bath on the porch before we go for a walk, including two buckets, a watering can, and a spray bottle of dog shampoo.

She hates it. So do I.

We’re managing for now.

I’ll keep doing this for as long as reasonable, but that window is narrowing. A month? Two? I don’t know, and it’s hard to plan when nothing is technically “terminal” aside from just being old and mortal.

I’ve learned the hard way that she’s very good at hiding pain and discomfort. The 2019 Crisis was precipitated by…nothing. I thought maybe she had a slight UTI and then the next day she was crashing out at the vet and going into an ICU at a veterinary specialist, where she stayed for five days. She almost died, and I had no idea anything was wrong until she could not hide it anymore.

Such is the way with a lot of rescues, I’m told. Mother’s dog Tiffany was the same; she was an absolute delight of a dog until she laid down and did not want to get up, which turned out to be because she was riddled with cancer.

So I just don’t know much of how she’s feeling, even if I can tell she’s often not comfortable and hates dealing with the pee as much as I do (she’s very scrupulous about laying down on the pee pads instead of her beds when it gets bad).

The door is closing and I hate that.

I’m going to have to “make the call” sooner rather than later. I don’t have anything firmly scheduled yet, but it’s my duty to take care of her even in this. She deserves not to be living in pain and discomfort, and she depends on me to do what is right.

She’s the other half of my heart. She always will be, even after I say goodbye.

I’ll keep you posted.

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