I don’t know much about diabetes in humans. I know lately my doctor has told me to go on a diet because I am “pre-diabetic” (which … means … “not diabetic”? I know it means insurance won’t pay for WeGovy…), but that’s about it. I took this test: https://diabetes.org/diabetes-risk-test and it says I’m a 5 out of 10, which it considers “high risk.” I find this interesting because the only high risk involved in 5 out of 10 on most scales is one of failing…

I’m way more attuned to this affliction in pets. Several years ago, we had a cat who got late-onset diabetes, which we learned when I took her to the vet because she was drinking three water bowls dry in the course of a workday. She got shots on the regular, and it was back when you had to very carefully take the bottle out of the refrigerator, roll it back and forth on the counter, and then put it away very carefully.  That cat died from what I am convinced was a bad batch of insulin and a very catlike behavior of hiding her symptoms.  She was chasing a bug when I left that morning and she was completely done in when I got home that night, and hundreds of dollars of IV fluids and vet attention later, she was beyond hope and had to be put down. She was a great cat.

And now we have a diabetic dog, which was a way more bewildering diagnosis. We got Nicky as a puppy at the tail end of COVID, and our local vet was too jammed up to take her on, so we went to a new place. They all loved her to bits and gave her glowing bills of health and seemed to give her special attention, but since you weren’t allowed to go into the office and watch the vet, it’s hard to say what was actually going on. I do know that she was NOT drinking gallons and gallons of water But she WAS eating like a horse, and I know I asked why she was not gaining weight and they said she was a growing girl. I asked about her intermittent gastric troubles and they told me she probably ate tulips. (Because she did that ONCE when I wasn’t looking. She was definitely a sicky that night!)

Then we moved to Illinois and left the dog in the care of our kid for a weekend. When we came home, I noticed a weird mote in her eye and—naturally—asked the kid what he had done to her. Indignantly proclaiming his innocence, he stared in her eye and deflated: “What is THAT? How did that happen? I have no idea what I did!” He’s not that good at faking sincerity, so I apologized and hauled the dog off to the vet posthaste, where they informed us that she was hopelessly diabetic and treatment requires diligence and shots and testing and prescription food and a strict no-snackies policy, and yes, she was a golden retriever but say hello to your new platinum retriever because you will be paying and paying. 

The snacks issue got relaxed a bit. She gets ice cubes and fancy diabetic-friendly snacks in small doses, but she’s not totally deprived. She has given us an occasional scare when her sugar dipped and she staggered like a drunk til we smeared her mouth with honey. She got into Christmas cookie trash once and gave me a heart attack but not a blessed thing happened to her. She’s doing great.

I still live in a mild state of panic whenever we start a new bottle of insulin, but I’m hoping we are attentive enough to keep her around for a nice long time.