People find their way to stories like this when a dog comes back into their life late in the day—older, slower, carrying a quiet list of medications—and the question becomes practical as much as it is tender: what does she need now, and what matters most?
Floppy’s life reads like a long track across changing ground: rescue, training, friendship, loss, rehoming, then return. The details below keep the shape of that journey, while trimming repetition and gently correcting a few health claims with reliable veterinary guidance where it matters.
Floppy, found and carried
Floppy came to me as a deserted stray, worn down and paralysed by a tick. I remember hesitating before I picked her up. She looked fearsome in that first moment, and I wasn’t sure what hands near her face might invite.
But tick paralysis can make a dog look worse than they feel—weak, unsteady, sometimes unable to swallow properly or breathe well if it progresses—and the urgency is real.1, 2 Four days after she recovered, the surface story fell away. She was gentle with my children and steady around other animals. Protective of her turf, yes, but not brittle. Not looking for trouble.
A dog with a hidden history
For an abandoned dog, she was remarkably well trained. She heeled. She sat. She stayed. She rolled over. She sang.
One detail still stands out: after days with no food, I put a bowl down and she didn’t touch it. She just watched me. Then I said, “Eat,” and she finished it in seconds. It felt like a trained rule, held onto even when she’d been hungry and alone. I remember thinking that someone, somewhere, had put serious time into her.
The old owners
Later, I met her former owners: a scruffy pair living on a bush lot. They’d bought her to guard their “exotic garden”, then abandoned her when they couldn’t train her to be vicious.
Shadow, the farm, and the door she could open
The following year we acquired a male German Shepherd Dog, Shadow, and Floppy became his anchor. They were inseparable—running the farm, swimming in the dam, and coming to the beach with me. They even learnt a kind of surf awareness: timing the break, keeping their heads, getting through water that looks simple until you’re in it.
Shadow died at four years of age after a kitchen raid made possible by Floppy’s door trick: she’d bang her nose into the corner, lift the heavy glass door up and off its catch, then slide it with her paw. One day Shadow found chocolate—kilograms of it—and ate it.
Chocolate is genuinely dangerous for dogs. The toxic agents are methylxanthines (especially theobromine), and serious poisoning can involve gut upset, agitation, abnormal heart rhythm, tremors, seizures, and death, depending on dose and type of chocolate.3, 4 High-fat, rich foods can also trigger pancreatitis in some dogs, and some veterinary sources note that very fatty treats (including some chocolate products) can be part of that picture.5, 6 Whatever the precise chain inside his body, the outcome for our family was the same: sudden and brutal. Floppy lost her best mate.
Rehomed, then held close
Four weeks later, a notice arrived from our real estate agent: the house was being sold and we had to move out. We searched, and searched again, but couldn’t find another home where dogs were allowed.
Floppy went to live “temporarily” with my sister. My sister already had a border collie, Ryka, and the two dogs hit it off immediately—quick checks at the gate, shared shade, and the unspoken ease that sometimes forms between dogs who don’t need to prove much.
A year passed and I still couldn’t find a dog-friendly place. Then Ryka died. By then, taking Floppy back felt less like a reunion and more like another rupture, so my sister kept her for the next six years.
Fifteen years old, and back again
I didn’t think Floppy would reach old age. She already seemed old at eight. But at fifteen, she was still here—slower, yes, but present. Then it became my sister’s turn to move, around 5,000 kilometres away, and that kind of trip didn’t feel fair on a dog her age.
I’m now in a position to provide a home for her, and Floppy has returned to me.
What old age looks like on a good day
She is still herself. Just old.
She takes arthritis medication and heart tablets. She is profoundly deaf, though a high-pitched whistle still sometimes cuts through. Dogs can hear higher frequencies than humans, and that ability can remain useful even when hearing is reduced overall.7 She can also hear my old diesel 4WD coming down the road—a low rumble you feel as much as you hear.
Her walks around the block are slow, about 300 metres at most. She wants to go further, but her body won’t always negotiate the distance. Once, I carried her the final 150 metres, and it pulled me straight back to the day I first found her and carried her to my car.
Her favourite place is under my table while I work at the computer. Tail wagging. Occasional foot licks. And still, the singing—odd in a dog who can’t hear much now, but familiar all the same.
A quiet note on safety (for anyone living with a dog like Floppy)
- If you find a paralysis tick or suspect tick toxicity, treat it as urgent. Veterinary attention straight away matters, and keeping the dog calm can help while you get there.1, 2
- If a dog gets into chocolate, don’t “wait and see”. Risk depends on the dog’s size and the type and amount eaten, and it can escalate quickly—especially with darker chocolate.3, 4
- Older dogs tire earlier than their minds expect. Short, familiar walks and soft footing usually beat one big outing, and it’s normal for distances to shrink over time.
Floppy
I don’t know how much time she has left. But for now, each day has its own small steadiness, and that is enough.
This is my old dog, Floppy.
References
- University Veterinary Teaching Hospital Sydney (University of Sydney) – Tick paralysis
- RSPCA Australia – Be prepared: Spring is here … and so are the ticks
- MSD Veterinary Manual – Chocolate toxicosis in animals
- ASPCA – People foods to avoid feeding your pets (Chocolate, coffee and caffeine)
- VCA Animal Hospitals – Pancreatitis in dogs
- ASPCA – What to do if your pet gets into chocolate
- American Kennel Club – Sounds only dogs can hear: higher pitches
Veterinary Advisor, Veterinarian London Area, United Kingdom