Floyd was not with us long, barely three months. He was an outside farm dog for the first 8-9 years of his life. He evidently had little social interaction with humans because by the time he came into rescue, he was distrustful, afraid and did not know how to show or accept affection. In the rescue he was labeled as a "caution" and put in a pen by himself where he lived for about a year and a half. He was finally adopted by a man in Gaithersburg, MD. But Floyd still had no social skills and would not be housebroken. Although the man did care for Floyd, he became too much trouble to care for so he turned him over to House of Puddles.
Floyd was a handsome old boy and rather sweet in an odd way. He did allow head rubs and ear scratches if approached slowly and carefully. Eventually he learned to enjoy back rubs, and towards the last few weeks he was here, even careful cuddles and kisses on the head. He would often bark or howl for no apparent reason and pace through the house for long periods.
But Floyd had a number of medical issues. He had grand mal seizures, chronically stuffed up nasal passages, vasculitis on the tips of his ears, causing bleeding sores, and he could barely see. None of the antibiotics we tried or prednisone helped. The vet was convinced he had a form of cancer in his sinuses and brain that was causing all these problems. He kept losing weight and fluids, even though he was eating and drinking well. When he started running a fever and became severely dehydrated, the vet said there was nothing more she could do for him that would bring him back to good health. Putting him on fluids would only buy him a few days. She advised me to let him go to be at peace.
I patted a spot next to me on a quilt on the floor and he came to lie down with me. I held him close and stroked him as he drifted off to sleep, to dream forever of love and happiness.