Laura Greaves - Extraordinary Old Dogs: Uplifting true tales of remarkable seniors

Puppies are wonderful, but there is something truly special about an old dog.

Old dogs have that grey muzzle and the salt-and-pepper eyebrows; the face that says been there, sniffed that. More than anything, theyve shared a lifetime of love, laughter and licks.

Most dog lovers wish their four-legged friends could live forever, and yet senior canines are surrendered to shelters and rescue groups in heartbreakingly high numbers. But every day, all over the world, elderly dogs are doing incredible things.

Dogs like Maya, a rescue dog who pioneered the technique used to save koalas after the Black Summer bushfires. Or Haole, who continued working as a surf therapy dog while battling cancer, and eighteen-year-old Holly, who survived for days lost in the outback. Theres Chilli, who found television fame as a senior, and Chaser, the talking dog who even in old age could identify over 1000 different objects.

From saving lives and breaking records to leading online movements and surviving against the odds, stately seniors are wringing every ounce of joy and adventure from their lives. In Extraordinary Old Dogs , meet the geriatric tail-waggers proving theres plenty of life in the old dog yet.

This book was inspired by my ancient puppy, Tex. (All dogs are puppies, by the way, regardless of age or size. Irish wolfhound the size of a horse? Puppy. Sixteen-year-old cattle dog? Also a puppy.)

At the time of writing, Tex, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, is three months away from his thirteenth birthday. Whether he will make it to that milestone, however, is honestly anybodys guess. I wasnt confident he would even see double digits; every moment with him since then has felt like a gift.

You see, Tex is not in the best of health. In fact, he has a laundry list of ailments as long as his feather-duster fluffy tail. Tex has arthritis, an anxiety disorder, hypothyroidism, leukaemia, epilepsy and an incurable lung disease called bronchiectasis.

The arthritis makes him limp; the anxiety makes him worry and whine; the hypothyroidism causes him to gain weight and makes him more susceptible to other conditions like dermatitis; the leukaemia makes his blood do crazy things; the epilepsy causes violent seizures, almost always in the middle of the night; and the bronchiectasis makes him cough constantly. He has also become deaf in recent years.

On any given day, Tex takes at least twelve pills more if hes dealing with other issues, which frequently crop up. As I write this, for example, hes also taking two different antibiotics for a nasty abscess that infected his lip after he bit through it during a seizure. Im at the local vet with Tex at least once a week, either for a routine blood draw (required for the management of his leukaemia), to collect medication, or for the treatment of some new health catastrophe that has blindsided us. And that doesnt even include the visits to the specialist vet hospital. Their eyes light up every time my furry medical mystery saunters through the door; Tex is exactly the kind of puzzle they live for.

Recently, Texs regular vet casually told me how much money Ive spent there in the three years hes been looking after him. Lets just say I needed a stiff drink and a lie down afterwards. Thank Dog for pet insurance.

Some of Texs health issues are related to his advancing age, but the thing is that Tex has been an old man all his life. He had old dog problems even as a young dog: his arthritis was diagnosed at three, the thyroid disease at five and the anxiety at six. The epilepsy and leukaemia both arrived at eleven, and the lung condition was diagnosed at twelve.

Physical health aside, Tex has had the world-weary crankiness of a much older soul since day one. When he was a youngster, if he was feeling particularly content in whichever spot he was napping, Tex would let out long, dramatic groans that seemed to say, Oh, woe! The world is a harsh and unforgiving place! They became known in our house as his old man noises, and Ive since learned from other Toller owners that theyre a common quirk of the breed.

My family has had to make plenty of accommodations for Tex, both financially and in the way we live day to day. For example, we have to walk him separately from our two younger dogs, because he cant walk as far or as fast as them. And when we go on holiday, given his age and medical history, we dont want to ship him off to the boarding kennel anymore, so we either have to take him with us or find a trusted person whos willing to look after him in our home. And, of course, he continues to cost us plenty of money, although thats no fault of his.

He hasnt been an easy dog, but he has been a perfect dog a constant joy. And now that he is actually an old dog, chronologically as well as spiritually, I feel an entirely new depth of love for him. He has given me the best of himself and I view it as a great privilege that I am now able to return the favour. I can make sure his remaining time here is as happy, comfortable and love-filled as he deserves.

Tex inspired this book when I realised one day that not everybody would see him that way that some people would see caring for an ailing and elderly dog as a burden rather than a reward.

I was diligently searching through all the foodstuffs in my fridge, trying to find something in which I could conceal a pill so that Tex would swallow it. Usually I wrap his medication in bits of cheese and he wolfs it down no problem, but every now and then he will decide that he hates cheese and has always hated cheese and how could I be so dense as to imagine he has ever liked cheese? He does this, I think, purely for the fun of it. He likes to keep me on my toes.

Finally we agreed on pepperoni. The medication was duly ingested, and Tex returned to his busy schedule of napping in the most awkward and inconvenient places he can find. As I watched him meander away, it hit me: So many people would not bother with you.

So many people would not spend the money it takes to manage Texs medical issues, even when they could afford it. So many people would not be prepared to change their lifestyle to ensure consistency and comfort for an elderly dog whose health and happiness depend on it. So many people would not see the value in loving a coughing, wheezing, limping dog who does little besides farting and sleeping for twenty hours a day.

For some, it comes down to perceived quality of life. How can a dog like Tex, with his collection of serious illnesses, possibly enjoy his days? Thats such an easy question to answer. Tex has medication that ensures hes not in pain and doesnt feel unwell, and a team of vets dedicated to maintaining that. But more importantly, I know he still enjoys life because I know him. Ive been by his side since he was twelve weeks old. When Tex has had enough, I will know. When he is ready to go, he will either go or ask me to help him move on. When you have loved a dog his entire life, you learn to communicate without words.