It has been a while since Indiana stopped jumping—into the car, onto the bed, at the park… She was eight when the first signs of arthritis appeared, which wasn’t a surprise to me since she’s part German Shepherd, and joint issues are a known plague of the breed. So I got the joint treats, kept her on a rigorous walk schedule, and we continued.

We managed for years, but about a year ago, her right hind leg started to give out. We added monthly Librela injections since supplements were no longer enough, and that worked for about six months. Then the months became too long for her poor legs to wait for the magic drug, and we knew the wheels were coming sooner rather than later.

Daiki went on a second-hand hunt and miraculously found a set of back wheels for large dogs for $60—barely used. When you know those things go for $500 retail, yeah, it was an amazing find.

And as dogs always do, she adapted quickly. She started running on the beach again, and between the good days and the bad days on wheels, she was truly living her best life as she turned twelve. We almost forgot age was a thing until…

July 11th.

We were gone for the afternoon. We had left her in the garden where she has water and a huge amount of shade underneath our giant tree; she prefers that to being stuck inside. But when we came back, something was different. She was lying on her side, panting hard, and her eyes were moving rapidly from side to side. It looked like a seizure, but without the convulsions. It wasn’t hot that day. She had plenty of water. Nothing made sense.

After a wave of panic, we moved her inside and helped her drink. Her eyes eventually slowed, and she fell asleep. Hours of crying and Googling later, we were finally at the vet. The diagnosis wasn’t fully conclusive, but there weren’t enough symptoms to suggest a stroke. Most likely, Dr. Ban said, it was Old Dog Vestibular Syndrome.

Vestibular syndrome is a sudden-onset condition that affects a dog’s balance, causing symptoms like head tilt, staggering, loss of coordination, and rapid eye movements (nystagmus). While the idiopathic form (with no known cause) is common and not life-threatening, it can also signal inner ear infections, tumors, or stroke. Symptoms often improve within a few days to a couple of weeks, but sometimes they linger chronically.

And this is our case.

For more than two months, Indiana refused food. We tried everything. All the dog food on the market. Kidney-sensitive food first, then whatever she might possibly swallow. Something would work for a few days, and then she’d refuse again. Week after week, she lost weight. Nothing worked. We cooked premium human meals hoping to excite her. Maybe one bite—then nothing. She became a little skeleton dog, the ghost of herself, and with all that muscle mass gone, she could no longer stand up on her own.

At this point, you might wonder: Why continue like this? Why not let her go?
But every day, we kept walking her on her usual path, and every day she would pull—actually pull—to go a little farther. She’d aim for a slightly higher curb so she could do a tiny hop that made her feel adventurous. And that was it for us: as long as she was still pulling for more life, we would do everything we could to give her more of it.

In September, she had lost so much weight that starvation felt like a real threat, and that was unacceptable. But she wouldn’t eat anything. That’s when we asked ourselves: What if it isn’t the food? What if the muscles around her tongue and mouth aren’t working properly?
So we prepared liquid food and tried feeding her with a syringe—like a puppy. And it worked. She ate it all. We were back in business—back to a healthy amount and quality of food, baby-fed to her twice a day.

As of today, she’s gained some weight back. We’re still far from her ideal number, but we’re getting there. Her muscle mass is gone, and her arthritis is pretty much generalized, but we manage the pain and keep her on her two daily 45-minute walks, plus her strolls on the beach—because that’s the true love of her life. Time at the beach.

It is exhausting, and heartbreaking, to see her diminished by this syndrome. We manage the crises, adapt to whatever comes our way, and we savor every single new day with her—because we know there aren’t many left.