I had an absolute blast working with her, training her, and bringing her into the fold of our family, not to say that all was roses and rainbows. She did chew a phone, a remote, and chair legs, dug holes in the yard, and did all sorts of puppy shenanigans, one of my favorite shenanigans she would do was remove every stuffed animal from a basket we had, bring them out to the yard and spread them into utter chaos. A few stuffed animals died in the process, creating quite the cleanup. But I laughed internally as I scolded her with "No" and pet her profusely. I'd put all the toys back and go back to work in my office just to see the chaos again a few hours later. To be completely frank, I loved it when a stuffed animal died; one less to deal with :-).
Leia chewed up Ella's bed; that kind of pissed me off, and that was quite the mess, and it was also the tipping point of her health. Hindsight allows me to write this freely because, at the time, two days later, I was certain that the chewing of the bed was her demise, I've known too many dogs to eat inorganic matter that clogs their system, and the results are catastrophic. So when she became constipated over the next few days, I feared the worst. One of her bowel movements, so very small and bleak, showed what I hoped was a worm, so I brought her into the vet and hoped that it was parasites. The vet offered to do some x-rays, but I wanted to treat for parasites first because I knew we would not be going through the surgery for blockage, as a dog that eats inorganic matter will eat inorganic matter again and again and again. While I pretend to be a wonderful dog owner, I am but a human, and I am no saint. Dogs have always been in my life and a HUGE part of my life; I LOVE DOGS; however, I also understand they are "farm animals" they are animals, and they are for the US, not the other way around. So when my worst fears presented themselves, I stood steadfast to my principles and denied testing and instead tried to treat what we "hoped" was wrong; after treatment, she went from bad to worse; that night, she had labored breathing, and we hoped it was because I was giving her soft foods with extra water to keep her fluids up. And it was whistling in her nose, so we hoped it was just a runny nose. I tried the following day to "pick her nose" she hated it, it was hard to put her through that while her eyes were sinking, and her third eyelid was coving half of one eye and a quarter of the other. She was suffering, and that's one thing that I am adamantly against. After I cleared her nose, I called the vet, and the vet gave me some options, but most importantly let me know that likely the labored breathing was because she was in pain, which crushed me; I knew, and I explained to the vet that I was not going to go through the surgery, and therefore what can we do to keep her comfortable, the vet explained that the pain she was in could not be medicated out. Therefore it was either surgery or euthanasia. Pinned down by my principals, I called my wife and explained the situation; I felt like shit. My stomach hurt, I was starting to get a headache, and my body was excreting orders that resembled rotting meat. I knew the facts and the facts (at the time) that she was in pain, and she had been in pain for an evening, and we needed to act fast to put this beautiful animal out of her misery. Optional surgery, no, according to my principles.
Now is the time to explain what I mean by principals. I am a huge fan of rescuing dogs. Dogs are awesome, and certain breeds are better for certain families; there are no bad dogs, but there are many combinations of breeds that don't mix with situations and/or behaviors that don't integrate with certain environments. Let me explain with a couple of examples; we had a dog named summit, a border collie with so much energy I had to research how to keep his insanely clever active mind busy. I built a food puzzle, I challenged him through training, and he was AWESOME for our family of two, my wife and I; the breed was a challenge we happily embraced, my wife ran him ALL THE TIME, and I played a ton of frisbee with him, he was our buddy, took him everywhere, loved the truck, loved to be in the garage with me fixing stuff, he was the right breed for the right environment for the right family. Then we had kids, and if you know Boarder Collies, you know they have to be number one or at least have the opportunity to work their tails off to their own benefit. Our environment changed, and that was not conducive for a border collie; no longer able to spend the time he needed, he became territorial because we were unable to comfort him that it was ok that neighbors walked by, we were no longer talking to every neighbor that walked by and therefore he began to think it was a change in the environment that we were unaware of and therefore a threat. He needed a better environment, and we could supply that by letting him live out his golden years on a 2.5 acre per property neighborhood, chasing deer and just loving life. We never in a million years thought we would need to "rehome" our best buddy, but things changed, environments changed, and it was best for him to succeed in a different environment. Should we have known, maybe, but it wasn't as we thought we knew; now that we know that settings are so crucial to different dogs/breeds, I would like to say we "know" better. This is where my principles come into play. I am a free dog owner, they are part of our family, and they are to be loyal to our family and us. A well-trained dog for their environment is a ridiculously easy dog to love and thrive. I know me, and I know my inability to have a dog, for instance, that you have to hold back at the door because if they get out, they run; not my cup of tea; when friends and family come, I open the door wide open if the dog wants to greet them in the yard; that's great! If my friends or family don't want the dog out there, I do my best to keep her inside, but I am very confident the dog will come straight inside after greeting with no concern about leashing. Our dogs have free rein of the house, which drives my wife nuts, but couches for sure, chairs, you bet, even beds! They must earn it with trust that they don't chew or destroy etc., as well as listen when we want them to move (though I've gotten super soft about that with Ella, she's so old :-)) I will no micromanage my dogs; I kind of can't and don't have the time or the willpower, this may be just a season of life, but currently, I want my time/energy spent on my kiddos and not on the health and well-being of a dog. There lies the catch-22 because having a dog, the responsibility of a dog, and the love and joy that a dog brings, allowing our family to be closer, teaches valuable lessons that I can't even explain, which is why I LOVE DOGS. But we can not have a dog that will get sick if unwatched, or is dangerous if unwatched, or is ______ if unwatched. This is the environment that we present to dogs. And therefore, we need to have the proper dog/breed/training to succeed. In a nutshell, if a dog eats inorganic material in our house, we cannot stop it from doing it again; therefore, our environment is not conducive to that type of dog. Thus absolutely limiting our decision.
So the only decision was to put this beautiful animal out of her misery and put her down; gut-wrenching realization of how horribly I failed this part of our family. She didn't deserve my ignorance; she needed to be kenneled for much longer until she stopped chewing; I needed to clear out all inorganic matter that could have caused this; how could I have been so stupid. I killed this dog. The emptiness that overwhelmed me was claustrophobic. I excreted stress at levels that I hadn't gone through in years. My body was shutting down, and the blame game that I was playing with myself was wreaking havoc on me.
The vet had let me know that they couldn't get her in for surgery for a few days anyhow, and we would have to go to the ER to even verify that it was indeed a blockage (though at that point, it was nearly certain as everything pointed to that). Luckily, the vet understood my situation and called back with a third and final option. Take her back to Dumb Friends League and see if they can save her and rehome her into an appropriate environment. It was as if a truck was lifted off my chest, and I had options to share with my family. As we discussed, I was still in favor of letting her sleep, as it was torture to see her in the condition she was in, but the idea that she could fulfill another family's needs was overwhelming for our family. So off to Dumb Friends League I was. I dropped her off, got through all of the information bragging about how wonderful she was with no issues, then the tec came, laid eyes on her, and said we should get her back as soon as possible; I agreed and said thank you. And that's when reality sunk in; as I handed the leash to the tec, I broke down in tears and struggled to finish the exit interview. We only had Leia for 7 weeks; unreal how these animals can impact our lives. As I choked my way through the exit interview, I asked if there was any possible way to get her back if somehow it was still a parasite and not an inorganic blockage. Her response was so kind and humane, "generally, once a dog is handed over, we will not give them back for any reason, but there have been acceptions" I explained that we do not have a house conducive to a dog that eats inorganic matter. Still, we are and were the best house for her if that is not the case. They understood and let me know I could keep checking on her for the days to come.
I checked in that night, and she was comfortable, with medications and fluids awaiting surgery the next day.
I checked in the following day, similar, and that night, she had gone through the surgery and was recovering, and no obstruction was found. My heart soared; I was going to get her back, hell or high water! And I even told Denver Dumb Friens League that. I was able to get in touch with the manager (who had the final say) and pleaded my case, she, again being so very professional and understanding, let me know that we could discuss something like that later but not until the animal is in adoptable condition. I rechecked the following day; she still had no bowel movements and was going downhill. I touched base with my family with a sliver of hope we may have but tried to be realistic that she may not make it through this. And again, a blame game concept; this is not as bad because we didn't know, but still reviewing the water she drank. Was it the res? Was it the pond? Did she eat the poop of one of the prairie dogs? Is it my fault? I am literal in my thinking; therefore, this episode of blame was not too hard on me because all of these are "chance" or bad luck, and there is not a lot you can do about bad luck. My body was recovering from a couple of days ago when I logically killed this dog, morphing into I didn't.
I received a call from Dumb Friends League, the vet, excited, yet also somewhat telling, I returned the call. I received the news that she had a very rare neurological disease with an up to 90% death rate, Dysautonomia. And they were going to put her down. I put her on speaker phone, and my wife and I reviewed the information with the Vet, an autoimmune (they think) disease that attacks the nervous system, starts by slowing the digestive system to a stop, develops quickly to the lungs, and was able to be diagnosed when her eyes stopped forming tears, and would no longer dilate. Mother Nature is brutal. And yet beautiful at the exact same time.
Will Leia forever be in our hearts? No way, remember I'm a logical/linear thinker, and I'm sure my girls believe she will be; truth be told, she'll fade from our memory, assuming we get another puppy at some point. But did she pave the way for another puppy? You bet, and therefore derivatively absolutely, she will forever be a part of our existence; she gave me the confidence to get a "pointer" mix and work on training them to be a companion first and a field dog (I mean literally walk fields with me and I have a shotgun over my shoulder, and if the poor sap of a bird flies overhead maybe my bird dog will find it, and hopefully I'll get it before my bird dog eats it) I was uncertain if we were being fair to a dog when we got Leia, my wife very confident (correctly so) that we were ready. Leia proved to me that, indeed, we as a family are prepared for a puppy; we came together around her, not a blame game whose fault it was that she tore apart "favorite stuffies," but instead, it was lessons of putting away your prized possessions, or the puppy will do puppy things. I was so impressed with my girl always wanting to walk her to school, wanting to be the one that got to walk her to school, keeping up with the training better than I, having her sit on every street corner before crossing, and the kiddos yelling at me when I forgot that fundamental rule. Holding all of us accountable, the feeding was a fight on who would "get to" feed her. Being logical, this thinking is illogical as it is so myopic. However, my family helped me through the puppy phase with excitement and embracing the challenges. The confidence I gained in my family through this process is fundamental. Leia was meant to be precisely what she was meant to be; while she as a living being may be forgotten in time, her butterfly effect is lifelong.
I look forward to trying again. We only get so many dogs to bless our lives; we were blessed to have Leia added to our blessings.
With Love, Rest in Pease, Leia. 
Comments
Post a Comment