I go out walkin', After midnight, Out in the moonlight...

…begins a country song by Patsy Cline. For my almost 17 year old Chihuahua and me the lyrics are totally accurate. Pica (named after a unit of measurement – there are 6 picas to an inch - because she is so small) is fond of waking-up around two or three-AM to go for a walk. So, with flashlight in hand, cell phone in my pocket, and supporting her with a homemade sling, we start out from the garage, walk down to the mailbox, turn south and slowly begin our stroll. I made the sling for her because of her inability to hold her body in a pooping or peeing position for very long without losing her balance and falling into the mess. The sling is made from some old soft denim material and two bamboo purse handles I found at a local fabric store. Three years ago she was diagnosed with spondylosis, a degenerative disk disease. Then last year when she couldn’t walk much at all we took her to Mississippi State Veterinary School in Starkville where they diagnosed her with a herniated C3/C4 disk that was pressing on her spine. It damaged some cervical nerves causing her to lose feeling in her legs. She had surgery to remove the damaged cartilage and this has left her a little weak on her right side. She has regained some feeling and has recovered limited use of her right front paw. She doesn’t seem to notice that she is handicapped nor does she complain. I’m sure she has arthritis, dimentia, kidney failure, and some blindness in both eyes. But she toddles down the street in her funny slap-slap-thump gait, smelling every square inch of asphalt available and stopping at the more “interesting” sources of odor for a longer evaluation. When she has eliminated her mid-afternoon meal and pee-marked every ten feet until she has voided her kidneys, she stops so I know it’s time to turn around and head home. Thus far I haven’t been afraid to take her on her walks at this hour and I guess that makes me a bit naive. Our neighborhood is VERY safe so I haven’t worried about others being out at the same hour possibly with sinister intent, but I probably should. So far the only scary things I tend to avoid are the three large storm drains along each side of the street. I imagine each one containing a rodent eco-system along the same proportions as in the movie “Ben”. A young Michael Jackson is singing the theme song in my head as I swing Pica away from the maw of the metallic buttress that covers the drain. I shine my flashlight hoping I don’t see tiny red eyes looking back at me. Pica continues moving towards home shuffling and sniffing. At last we are in the garage. I push the button that closes the large steel garage door and we enter the kitchen. Pica also has acid reflux so I give her ¼ of a Pepcid AC and chase that with a piece of Melba Toast. Then I follow her slap-slap-thump down the hall back to her bed. It takes about 30 minutes to complete this routine every night. Even though I am exhausted from sleep deprivation in the morning it’s difficult and sad to think that Pica and I may not have a lot more time to …go out walkin', After midnight, Out in the moonlight…