It’s been over two months since my dog was diagnosed with CCD—Canine Cognitive Dysfunction, or dog dementia. I’ve written about how we’re both adjusting as we face issue after issue, from his loss of reliable bite inhibition to my attempts to keep him eating meals. I’ve observed his “opinion” on certain subjects go through some serious changes over the days since our vet visit.
For example, to hide the medication his veterinarian prescribed for his condition, my choice from day one was string cheese, which my dog had always loved. I successfully used string cheese around his pills for a month. Then one day, for no reason I could see, he refused to eat the cheese, sending me off on a search for better choices in which to hide his pills.
When your dog has CCD, there are no permanent changes. I’m doing my best to appreciate the improvements, even though I know they’re temporary. I can no longer assume that my dog’s current “likes” will stick—it’s a far better chance that his “likes” will change overnight, for no apparent reason!
I have to be flexible.
Photo by Val Hughes
His crate in my bedroom had been a safe place for him throughout his decade with me.
I had always been able to count on the crate if I couldn’t be there to supervise him, like when I left the house or didn’t want to be interrupted when working at home. He’d sleep, come out of the crate happy to see me, no ill effects or separation anxiety. It was his safe, peaceful place.
After the sudden onset of his CCD symptoms—that first horrible night when I realized something was very wrong—he hadn’t seemed as comfortable crated as he’d always been. Maybe because he’d experienced such awful anxiety there that night? But then, several weeks ago, he seemed to change his mind. He started crating himself again, choosing to be in the kennel for a short nap or even for an evening’s sleep. He continued to volunteer for crate rest, seemingly more comfortable to stay there, sleep there, even if the crate door was not closed and locked. Convenient!
I was surprised and glad. I got some full nights of sleep myself.
I was wondering how long this welcome lull in restless behavior would last when, you guessed it—things changed again. He began barking in the crate at night … as I was trying to sleep a few feet away. When I say barking, I mean a sharp, loud, sudden bark—a bark that makes me jump. That bark would quiet for a couple of minutes and I’d start to drop off. But continued sleep was impossible. The first night it happened, I clocked his last bark at about 2:00 a.m. I think he woke up barking again around 6:00 a.m.
I woke up exhausted.
He was exhausted that next day, too, so we were both able to catch up on lost sleep to some degree. I could see no possible cause for his behavior. I tried to do all I could to avoid any choices during daylight that might trigger another such rough night, but it was inevitable. Days after, it happened again. Another sleepless night for both of us.
Long story short: after several repeats of the barking scenario, one night I’d had enough. I grabbed a blanket and my pillows, left him in the crate, and went to the room next door to sleep on the futon. I could still hear him barking, but not as loudly. (It didn’t make me jump.) As I started nodding off, I realized that he was no longer barking.
We both got some sleep that night.
I messaged Eileen Anderson, whose book on CCD—Remember Me? Loving and Caring for a Dog with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction—has helped so many whose dogs have been diagnosed with dog dementia. I explained what had happened. “Why did he stop barking?” I asked Eileen. “What do you think I might have changed for him by leaving the room?”
Eileen replied: “What comes to me is that dogs learn that when the human isn’t present, barking doesn’t get reinforced. Now, I don’t think you have reinforced his barking, and I don’t think it’s ‘demand’ barking. But by odor, he knows you aren’t there. There may be part of his brain that registers that there is no one to hear him. That’s my best! I wouldn’t bet on my own guess, particularly!”
I followed up the next day. “Our quiet night last night (after barking in crate two nights in a row) indicates that I may have responded correctly to diminish the behavior I did not want from him. We’ll see! “
Eileen answered, “Good luck! It’s a hard road!”
A few days later, I reported back: “He barked again last night, a few times, after we’d turned in fairly early (me, listening to the first Harry Potter book for the first time—Audible offered it for free; how could I resist?) so I gave it a minute or two, then just got up, took my blanket and my pillows and my tablet and went to the futon in the other room again. And yup, after a few more barks, he must have stopped because I certainly fell asleep fairly quickly. YAY!”
Eileen responded: “Yes!”
I can’t say that leaving the room has proved to be a “solution” to my dog’s night barking. But it seems to work to some degree, which allows both the dog and me to get some sleep. Not enough sleep, I think, but some is better than none. Meanwhile, I am solving some of the issues that involve my dog’s other symptoms of dog dementia, and for that I’m glad. (On a temporary basis.)
I have found a solution for pill-hiding that’s been working for over a week. I haven’t felt his teeth even once in the last month when I’ve given him a treat. He’s “turning himself in” more often at the back door, especially when it’s dinnertime, and he’s still running to the house when I call him. Yes!
Last night, when I left him loose in the bedroom and went to sleep on the futon, he did stop barking. But … remember his laundry-basket/waste-can urban renewal projects? He has apparently moved on from those to liberating the full Kleenex boxes I keep stacked on the lower shelf of my bedside table. I found them strewn around the room this morning. No destruction; he just moved them … with his paws.
What’s next, I’ve got to wonder!
I’ll write more about my dog’s life with CCD. Thanks so much for your interest and support.
