We seem to lurch from bad to worse. It's the way it is with the steadily failing faculties of an aging being. No different for a dog than it is for a human being.

First we noticed her hearing had become impaired and that steadily progressed to completely diminished hearing. Then it was her eyesight, and we had to be aware of that deficiency and to try to make things easier for her. Now she has very little eyesight left as she completes nineteen years of life as our constant companion.

When we have her out for daily walks she sometimes gets along very well, with gentle guiding, wearing her harness attached to her leash; we ensure she stays out of trouble. But she becomes confused without her eyesight, and sometimes stands there unwilling to proceed and we pick her up and stroll along with her that way until she appears prepared to give it another try. She no longer walks a straight line, but tends to veer off rapidly to the left or the right, and keep going, as far as she can, taking her off trail. Even with a firm hand guiding her, she struggles to continue veering off. We're satisfied with her progress when she manages to walk however awkwardly at least for twenty minutes in total throughout the course of our woodland walk.

In the house she sleeps a good deal of the day. But when she's tired of sleeping she tends to wander about the house. She does this wandering not in the least bit tentatively but almost aggressively at times, so much so that she will walk into walls or furniture or any objects standing in her way with a notable crunch or thud and we automatically wince. Even where it seems obvious - or seems obvious to us - that she should deduce there is a wall, she stubbornly keeps committing to meeting it head on.

We've had to close off open access to stairways. At night we place a baby-gate across the door in our bedroom. She once walked straight off the top step and tumbled completely down the entire set of stairs. The same with the stairway leading to the basement; she has wandered directly to the top of that set of stairs and tumbled in the same fashion. She fear she may severely injure herself.

When we take her out to the backyard we wait on tenterhooks for her to conclude her business, urinating or evacuating. There is no longer much pleasure for her out there, although she does still, from time to time, indulge in a lengthy sniffing cycle - although her olfactory sense too is diminishing it is still in evidence. Out in the backyard she will stumble into benches, trees, lawn ornaments, and we've taken to installing upright stakes to fend her out of the gardens where she will stumble and become even more confused.

This very trying period and our concerns for her give us impetus to celebrate those small victories; she eats well, particularly when tempted by extra goodies, and she sleeps well. Her heart, lungs are in good shape, despite a heart murmur. She has adequate strength and endurance and still moves with her customary grace, for the most part. Although her sight insecurity sometimes results in awkward stances.

And when our daily walks have been successful, and all goes according to plan, we breath sighs of relief.