Choosing Comfort Over Certainty: When "Not Knowing" is the Best Medicine

How much do you need to know? 

It’s a question to think about when faced with decisions about your dog. It hit home in the last couple weeks especially.

Booker, Fran’s 13-year-old Boston Terrier, hasn’t been acting himself since her older dog, Tango, died in November. He’s always been a bouncy, loud, exuberant dog. He’s been subdued and clingy. He’s also in some pain, squeaking when he’s attempted to yawn and reluctant to open his mouth. Even when offered treats. Except cheese. He’ll always take cheese.

While waiting to get into the veterinarian, we considered what was possibly going on with him, and what we were willing to do about it.

How much testing?

There are any number of things that could contribute to jaw/head/neck pain. Some of them simple and treatable. Others less so. Most of the possibilities might require extensive testing that might not yield definitive results. And, even if clear results happened, what are we willing to put Booker through for treatment?

Unlike with people, dogs cannot understand that achieving a positive outcome might require a journey through discomfort or pain. Almost everyone gets nervous or frightened when having to undergo medical or dental procedures. We all steel ourselves and go through it because we comprehend the potential benefit. Dogs live in the moment. The only reality is now. If “now” is scary or painful, that’s their life as they know it.

Even before we saw the vet, we’d decided that we could live with not knowing exactly what was wrong with him. There was a strange sense of peace in making the decision early. Before we pulled into the vet’s parking lot, we’d agreed: we could live with the unknown. No marathon of diagnostics, no scary anesthesia, and—most importantly—nothing that would require us to leave his side. Our goal wasn't a perfect lab report; it was a comfortable dog.

We’re fortunate that we live in an area where the finest, most modern veterinary specialists and technologies are readily available. And, over the years, we’ve availed ourselves of many of those resources, from blasting bladder stones with sound waves to emergency eye removal. 

But it’s always a balancing act. Weighing the benefit to the dog and the long-term prognosis against the emotional, physical, and financial cost.

Factoring in the data

The hard truth is that Booker is a teenager. That’s wonderful, but means he’s an old dog. There’s a limit to what we can “fix.” We can make sure he’s comfortable, but we can’t make him younger.

A social media friend of ours is going through a similar situation with her much-younger dog. All of a sudden, her dog is limping and in pain, without any signs of injury. She’s running the gamut, including specialists, vet schools, tests, etc. to find out what’s wrong with her dog. That’s the right choice for her, her dog, and her circumstances. We hope they discover the issue and are able to treat it. 

Treatment options

We’ve known our veterinarian for a very long time. We know she’s practical, realistic, and just as old-fashioned as we are. We knew she’d agree that Booker’s quality of life is the most important consideration now. 

We were right. After giving him a thorough going-over, even witnessing his “squeaking,” she prescribed some medicine and asked us to follow up in a couple days. If it didn’t help, we’d consider what the next step might be. 

Fortunately, Booker is much more comfortable just a couple days into the medicine. We’ll stick with this drug until it doesn’t help anymore. That could be tomorrow. It could never happen. We’re all assuming now that he has arthritis. It may be something else. But we’ll never know. And we’re okay with that.