Walking with Oreo

 Walking With Oreo

There’s a program in town called Walk with a Doc. It’s designed to encourage people to get outside, stay active, and have a doctor on hand just in case. Me? I don’t need Walk with a Doc—I've got Walk with Oreo.

Broken Arrow, OK (2011)

Oreo entered my life as a furry three-month-old, black and white puppy – part Shih Tzu, part Jack Russell. I'd gone to the local humane society to get a cat. But, before I had a chance to tell the volunteer what I was looking for, a woman came in with a basket of puppies. I looked in and saw Oreo scrambling all over the other pups. I knew this was the pet for me. She was all energy, and her name was Oreo. (I do love chocolate!) Oreo bounced instead of walked, ran instead of strolled, and kept me on my toes from day one. 

Oreo-June 2011

Our first home together had a nice backyard, but no fence. However, we lived in a neighborhood with plenty of sidewalks, so daily walks were easy. We both needed exercise, so that's what we did. No need to fence the yard. 

At first, her little legs couldn't keep up, but before long we were walking a mile a day. 

Even when we weren't walking, we were usually together. If I went somewhere Oreo couldn't walk, I put her in a pet sling and carried her around my neck. She learned to travel in the car and stay in a motel. I bought her a doggie highchair so she could see out the car window and her own doggie suitcase for food and toys. We would drive to parks all over Oklahoma and nearby states, just to walk. 

House training was a breeze, and she never chewed the furniture. I did have to use a playpen to protect her from our cats. They were curious about the tiny, black and white fuzzball. Oreo's active personality made the cats want to "bat" at her as if she was a toy!

"What kind of cat is that?" 

During the first year, she developed bladder stones, requiring surgery. The vet removed a baby-food–sized jar of stones; and from then on, she was on a prescription diet. But that didn't slow her down. We continued to walk about a mile a day, her tiny legs trotting beside me, ears flopping in the wind.

Oreo Post-op

Independent Living – A Cottage with a Fenced Yard (2015, Oreo is 4)

Moving into an independent living community was a new chapter for us. Our little cottage had a fenced back yard where I could easily put her out to potty. It was tempting to stop walking; but I would never let her outside alone. I'd heard a horror story about a hawk snatching a small dog right off the ground, and I wasn’t taking any chances with Oreo. Forget the back yard – we walked the neighborhood. 

Our new community also had a dog park, but Oreo wasn't a social butterfly. Sharing wasn't her thing, and she also had a talent for sniffing out disgusting things to eat, which then made her sick. So, the dog park was off limits. We stuck to our walks, one to two miles a day.

Atria - The Woodland Walks (2018, Oreo is 7)

By the time we moved to Atria, Oreo and I had a rhythm. Our new apartment had a beautiful, wooded path winding around the complex – a peaceful retreat from the busyness of caregiving. If we wanted a longer walk, there was a walking trail nearby that went for miles through south Tulsa.

Oreo loved the wooded pathway the most because she would almost always encounter a squirrel. As soon as she spotted one, she'd yank the leash, speed off after it, and chase it up the nearest oak tree. Then she'd jump and bark as if to say, "I got it! I got it!" I don't know what she would have done if she actually caught it!

"I got it! I got it!"

Island Bay – The Canal Years (2021, Oreo is 10)

This move came with a change of scenery: a canal out front, a boardwalk out back, and a new set of challenges. The boardwalk was old, worn, and uneven, making our walks feel more like an obstacle course. 

The canal was about twelve feet below the apartments, so there was a grassy bank that flowed down from the sidewalk to the canal. One day, Bill was walking Oreo when a squirrel ran by. Oreo jerked the leash, hard, and Bill lost his balance. Before he knew it, Bill was rolling down the hill, arms flailing. A neighbor came running and rescued him. That was the last time he walked Oreo.

Still, Oreo and I kept going, logging our daily miles, navigating the boardwalk, dodging loose boards, and always keeping an eye out for squirrels. Some days, we'd pause to watch the pelicans swoop down for a light snack or the silver mullet leap from the water.

Pelican watching!

Lakeside at Campeche Cove - Slowing Down (2023, Oreo is 12)

Our next apartment had lovely green spaces tucked between the buildings. I thought of them as my very own English Garden. Oreo, on the other hand, saw them as battlegrounds – filled with other dogs walking the same paths, sniffing the same spots, and invading her territory! Over time, we figured out which dogs we could tolerate and which ones we couldn't. Still, we logged one to two miles a day.

"I don't know. They smell weird!"

But something else was happening. My once-springy, eager pup began slowing down. Our walks shrank to half a mile - some days, she could barely walk at all.  

Then things got worse.

She stopped eating. Slept all day. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Repeat. I even canceled a cruise because I couldn't bear to leave her. Nothing the vet tried seemed to help. She continued to get worse.

Finally, in the spring of 2024, I took her in one more time and gave the vet an ultimatum: Do something, I told him, or I'll have to let her go.

His answer? A vegetarian diet. I was skeptical but desperate enough to try anything.

Cove at GYB – The Comeback (2024, Oreo is 13)

Just before our move to The Cove at GYB, something incredible happened. The vegetarian diet worked! So much so, I've been cutting back on my meat as well!

Within five days, Oreo bounced back. Her tail wagged again. She had energy. She wanted to walk. She even wanted to run! Suddenly, my frail, aging companion was acting like an eight-year-old—bounding around, eyes bright, and eager to go! 

We began walking again - up to two miles a day! And not just that - she was climbing stairs. Three flights of them! 

Walking with Oreo (2025, Oreo is 14)

Oreo has been my walking partner for 14 years now. We both have some gray hairs, but we're still out there– walking, exploring, living. Acting younger than we really are. 

Because the best way to stay young . . . is to keep walking. 

A Perfect Day in Galveston: Treasure Hunting and a Dash of Panic

Today was one of those days that reminds me why life is an adventure. My friend, Bev LaRock, and I decided to soak up the gorgeous Galveston weather and enjoy a day out. With bright blue skies, warm winds, and a gentle sea breeze blowing across the Island, staying indoors simply wasn’t an option.  

Bev and I spent the morning walking up and down the Strand exploring bookstores and antique shops. I’ve been on the hunt for a new set of dishes and serving pieces because I parted with all my glassware while caring for Bill at home. Now that I’m settled in my new place, I’m re-discovering the joy of entertaining and looking to replace the plastics and Corelle dishes lining my cabinets. I had found some dishes I liked online, but I really wanted to support the local merchants. 

 

Just before lunch, we walked into this small antique shop in the middle of Galveston and found just what I was looking for! A complete set of eight place settings with extra cups and saucers. It also included a salt and pepper, a creamer, two gravy bowls, and a variety of serving dishes. The dishes are labeled, Hand Painted Vernon Florence, oven and dishwash safe. Made in California, USA! They are vintage Mid-Century, 1960s. This set is SO ME! The colors are bright and cheerful – they make me happy just looking at them. The price was right for me, so I was ready to make the purchase. 

 

Now here’s where things took a twist. The shop only accepts cash, debit, Venmo, or Zelle. I’m not one for carrying cash, so I used Zelle to pay. The owner wrapped up the dishes and promised to hold them while I fetched my car after we ate lunch.  

 

Bev and I then headed to Hearsay on the Strand – my latest favorite restaurant in Galveston. After our meal, I dropped Bev home so she could go do her volunteer gig at McDonald House. As she got out of the car, I realized I had no idea where I bought the dishes! I had no receipt and no contact information from the shop! My bank only had the owner’s name, not the shop name. And neither Bev nor I could recall exactly where we’d walked!

 

With a sinking feeling, I drove up and down Strand Street trying to spot the shop, but nothing looked familiar. Frustrated, I parked the car and continued the search on foot. Still nothing.

 

Just as a full panic threatened to take over, I had an “aha!” moment: my Apple watch had tracked my walk! Pulling up the Health app on my phone, I found the path we’d taken. No wonder I couldn’t find it - the shop wasn’t on Strand Street at all! We’d ventured several blocks away to the corner of Post Office and Kempner. I would have never found them without my Apple watch! 

 

Following the trail on my app, I finally found the shop and my new dishes, all wrapped and waiting for me. What a relief!  Now all I have to do is wash them up and find a place to store the extra pieces. Some will go in my closet for safekeeping, and the rest will be ready for my next get together. 

 

These dishes aren’t just tableware to me; they’re part of my journey, a bright and cheerful reminder of a beautiful day spent embracing my new life here on the Island.

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NOTE: I just looked up the price of these and found them online. I got a really good buy! I paid $300, tax included! 

Living the Life I was meant to live! (almost)

I finally feel like my life is what I envisioned it to be as a "retired" person. I know Bill is being taken care of, so I'm not currently worried about him. It's one day at a time on that one. 

Yesterday, my son, Wil, created an Ai program to try to get Bill to talk more about the life he currently remembers which is the 60s and 70s; maybe some 80s. It was amazing to watch. In 30 minutes, Wil whipped up a simple Ai that he programmed with lots of info about ROTC, Ft. Wolters and Ft Rucker helicopter school, and Vietnam. Then he directed the Ai to use the info to engage Bill in conversation. It definitely had some flaws (interrupted when it shouldn't and focused two much on certain questions), but it was mostly successful. Because of the way it was programmed, it asked questions that we would never had thought of, resulting in Bill talking about a portion of his life that we had never heard before. Wil said he would correct the flaws in a future version and try again over Christmas.  

At home, I'm happily situated in a small town with good people in an apartment that I enjoy. Oreo and I are getting lots of good exercise and fresh air. The new gym is fantastic! I set a goal to work out in it 2x a week so it's an easy goal to keep. 

 

Oreo and I enjoy the view in the morning whether it's the birds in air, the boats scooting around in the water, or the cruise ships docking. 

I even changed my Facebook page to reflect my new life. I want to feel more positive.

So, for now, life is good. I'm going to enjoy it while I can! 

Retirement Revisited-April 2024

This is a piece I wrote from a writing prompt on retirement. My gal pals (Debbie and Lori) and I get together once a week and write about whatever comes to mind, starting with prompts that Debbie gives us. It's always fun to read what we come up with. Sometimes, we write memoir pieces; other times we go off into fantasy land and write fiction. I'm thankful that I have made so many wonderful friends on the island, especially my writing group gals! 

Retirement Revisited

We were about to enjoy the last years of our lives, visiting parts of the U.S. that we had never seen before, eating at local pubs and diners where the town folk eat, and taking photos for our memory albums. That’s all Bill wanted to do after he retired. Travel and dine out.  

Bill at Museum

  

Clowning Around Taking photos

It wasn’t all I wanted to do, but I enjoy these things too. I could still craft, read, write, walk in the park, and do the things I enjoy when we were home. So, for me, life was going to be good. We had enough money to live comfortably and enjoy our retirement. Just a simple life with simple plans. 

Visiting a Bird Sanctuary

But that simple plan failed. Instead of traveling and dining in the U.S., Bill is now dining in a memory care unit in Houston, Texas. Instead of making new memories, Bill is desperately trying to remember whether he has Army Reserve drills this weekend or flying the police helicopter out of Dover, Delaware. Is he fixing computers in Tulsa, Oklahoma, or taking photos in Virginia Beach? Some days, he’s trying to remember how to get to work. Other days, he thinks he remembers that he owns this memory care unit. Where did that come from? I have no idea. He had been a man of many talents, but he had never owned his own business. 

 

And me? I sit here in Galveston in between visits to Bill, lonely, confused, and angry. There is no one here for me when I wake up in the morning. There is no one here for me to compliment the meals I make. There is no one here to call an ambulance for me if I have a heart attack. 

 

For a while, I continue this pity party. “Oh, woe is me. Who’s going to take care of me?” Then I think about my single kids and friends. How do they do it? All their lives, they’ve been single, but I don’t hear them complaining about the things I complain about. Instead, they’ve learned to adjust their lives to being single. 

 

I mentally slap myself in the face and force myself to reevaluate. “Move on with your life,” I tell myself. “You have a husband in memory care, but you still have hours, if not days, of every week left for you. Take them. No one else can take them for you. Staying home and sulking won’t make your husband any better. It won’t help him to have the retirement he deserves. Nothing will. That’s a given. But you, home alone, crying, bitter, and yearning for a life not possible, helps no one. Not Bill. Not you. Not your family and friends trying to help you move on. 

 

“The guilt won’t go away; that’s true. But it also can’t be solved. It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just the way it is. Accept that fact that you feel guilty, but also accept the fact that you can’t change the circumstances no matter how hard you try. And then, get on with the rest of your life. Enjoy the time you have for yourself. Do the things you’ve wanted to do. Experience life as you’ve never done before. No, it's not the retirement you had hoped for, but it can be a retirement worth living, for both you and for Bill.

 

“As you embark on new adventures and experience a life that refreshes the soul, your visits to Bill will become a pleasure instead of a thing to be dreaded each week. When you smile, he can smile. When you’re refreshed, you’ll have the ability to shower him with the few pleasures he can still have, whether it’s a home-baked cookie, a “contraband” coke, a visit with his dog, or even a short ride through Freddy’s drive in for a Peanut Butter Concrete. It may not seem much to you, but for him, It’s a special treat for a special day.

 

“Now, that’s a retirement you can be proud of.”

 

The Beginning: Eye Troubles

Where did this all begin? It’s a question I’ve asked myself countless times when people inquire about how long Bill has been battling dementia. To be honest, I can’t pinpoint an exact starting point. Looking back now, I suspect it began much earlier than I realized. Many odd behaviors that I chalked up to his vision problems could have been early signs of dementia.

In 2008, his vision troubles began. One day his vision was fine; the next day, he said he couldn’t see out of his left eye. His eye doctor couldn’t explain what happened; thus began the seemingly endless medical visits we made to specialists all over the country.

Less than a year later, the other eye became affected. Now he had central vision loss in both eyes. Each specialist we saw began with a diagnosis of Macular Degeneration, but after extensive testing, they all agreed it was not. What it was, however, they could not diagnose. 

In 2011, I made Bill an appointment at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, Maryland, to see one of the top eye specialists in the world. He interviewed us and told us to come back in a month. We flew out several more times over the next two years for extensive testing and treatment for Macular Degeneration. But, again, we were given no conclusive diagnosis other than it was definitely not Macular.

Finally, the eye specialist told us to accept that Bill was legally blind and adopt to his new reality. So, that was what we did. The next few years were filled with visits to the VA low vision specialists in Tulsa. They did an excellent job and even sent him to Tucson, Arizona, for specialized training. There, Bill learned how to use a cane, how to cross a street, and how to use the many devices he was given to navigate his new, dark world. 

Bill and Oreo- 2017

During these years, we joined a local support group for the visually impaired, Bill continued his involvement in ham radio, and he volunteered at the Broken Arrow police. He could no longer drive because of his visual impairment, so I had to drive him everywhere he wanted to go. But, at least he was getting out.

Looking back now, I recognize the subtle signs of dementia emerging as early as 2013. Bill, who was once a master of electronics, began struggling with his tv remote, iPhone, computer, and ham radio. He began misplacing his things and showing signs of hoarding. Over time, he became impatient and self-absorbed, sometimes exhibiting behaviors more akin to a child than the capable adult I had known. I assumed this was because he couldn't see very well.

Meanwhile, I was becoming frustrated, angry, and resentful. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t do the things I asked him to do around the house. Why couldn’t he remember what I told him ten minutes ago? I felt smothered because he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and I was exhausted from being a caregiver.  

It wasn’t until almost a decade later that we learned the truth. I often wish I had known sooner; perhaps I would have been kinder and more understanding. But when I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that that is not true. Even after knowing he had dementia, there were many times when I was not kind and understanding. The fact is, dementia reshaped our lives in ways we never imagined. It's a horrible disease and it's difficult for both of us. But we are facing it together, one day at a time.