Last July, I wrote a diary here--"Lessons from a Dog on Letting Go". I had just finished burying my 14-year old best friend and travel companion, Brandee. I was bereft. I was honoring the lessons she had taught me.
http://www.dailykos.com/...
Many of you suggested I look into a rescue dog. It took me all of five weeks to find the one at Golden Retriever Rescue in Fairbanks and bring her home with me. This, now, is Callie's story. It's a beautiful story, but I'll warn you right now it does not have a happy ending.
Callie was a smallish, dark red golden retriever, four years old. Her previous owners did not have time to deal with her "confidence" issues. I, on the other hand, had plenty of time and was in need of a squirrel chaser.
We traveled the 650 miles from Fairbanks to my home in rural SE Alaska together to get acquainted. We spent the next five months falling deeply in love. How I could love a new dog so much after Brandee died astonished me. But there it is.
Callie was less than enthusiastic about riding in the car. Her gait was a bit stiff and somewhat odd, with her sometimes favoring one or both back legs. She didn't know how to swim and exhibited a fear of water. She regurgitated a lot. I wondered what I was getting into.
Well, what I got was pure devotion. I got a dog willing to try anything I asked her to. A dog who loved the autumn tundra. A dog who rejoiced upon learning to retrieve a stick in the water deep enough requiring her to relinquish her solid footing on the bottom. A dog who would occasionally seem to have a switch flipped inside of her and would break into a zig-zag run faster than a speeding bullet and accompanied by a joyful, rather soft, "ruff-ruff".
Confidence didn't seem to be much of a problem when she barked for the first time at a photographer with something dangerous (a tripod) approaching me while I was picking berries on the tundra. I could only laugh.
Confidence didn't seem to be much of a problem when I heard her bark for the the second time while watching a set net on the river. I turned to see her nipping at the heels of an adolescent grizzly bear who had been heading my way.
Callie made friends easily, both the human kind and the doggie kind. So much for "dog reactivity" issues. She seemed to know this is what I expected of her and rather enjoyed socializing. She was friendly with the squirrels as well, chasing them only sometimes and, even then, kind of gently.
At night she would wake me up from time to time with odd little vocalizations and her nose to my bedside. I told her she was a good dog and gave her love and told her to lie down. She would always do as I asked.
She loved trails through the woods, river walks, and set-net fishing. One of her skills was finding and smearing herself with old, dead fish.
She became fit and agile and lost any sign of a limp. She would retrieve with joyous abandon, once even squeezing herself into a narrow culvert and backing out with her prize, that old tennis ball.
She loved snow and no matter how deep it was, she liked to play hide and seek in it with her toys and tennis balls.
She promptly claimed a dog pillow when she came across one at a friend's house, was gifted a pillow, and played the role of the princess and pillow beautifully.
At the end of 2011, I put together a slide show tribute of Brandee's life (8 minutes).
Then followed up with a three-minute slide show of Callie's new life--2011.
I learned how to post .m4v files on You Tube and you can see them here.
Tribute to Brandee
http://www.youtube.com/...
Callie's New Life
http://www.youtube.com/...
Jenny Lester gave me permission to use her songs with the slide shows. "Friends Like You," "The River, Mother, Nature, and Me", and "Send Me an Angel". "You've Got a Friend in Me" came with iphoto as one of the slide show theme choices.
Little did I know that Callie's New Life would turn out to be pretty much all the rest of Callie's life, period.
Regurgitation was still a problem right up until January 1st when I said "Our new year's resolution is No More Puking." I started feeding her smaller meals and more frequently. There was No More Puking. This dog was pure love and perfect.
A week ago Monday, on one of our regular walks through the snowy neighborhood, Callie began her walk as normal. But on the way home, instead of the speedy zig-zag, she started panting heavily and then sitting down every few steps. It was a major effort to get up the hill and back home.
I let her rest and watched her closely. The next day, she was even less ambulatory with her hind legs. I called in a retired vet to evaluate. She appeared to be in great pain and we feared intestinal blockage/bloat.
I was not able to get her to the vet clinic in Juneau until Wednesday night because there were so many blizzards, the planes were not flying, and the first available ferry was Wednesday. I arranged to have the fresh two feet of snow plowed out of the driveway. I arranged for help to carry her to my vehicle. By this time, she couldn't crawl across a door jamb. She was not eating or drinking or peeing or pooping. After eight hours in the car/on the ferry, we arrived at the vet clinic in Juneau at 10PM for after hours emergency care, fearing a need for emergency surgery.
She tolerated the long vehicle/ferry ride. At the clinic, she tolerated being dropped off a stretcher to which she was not securely stabilized. She tolerated an entirely unnecessary muzzle. X-Rays. Blood tests. Enemas. Lubricants. Needles and subcutaneous hydration. When I was allowed to visit her and tell her good-night around midnight, I saw the crazed look of fear in her eyes. Yet, I knew I was helpless to help her on my own.
By Thursday, we had a diagnosis--myasthenia gravis (MG) (serious muscle weakness) and megesophagus (enlarged esophagus from muscle weakness). The test for MG is a shot of Tensilon. If the dog is able to walk again within ten minutes of getting the shot, the diagnosis is positive. It's not a cure and the effect wears off quickly.
Sometimes dogs can be treated effectively with medication with this disease. Sometimes dogs with this disease go into remission within months (nearly 90%) it is reported. Most dogs with megesophagus eventually die of aspiration pneumonia when regurgitating or vomiting.
I came to terms with the diagnosis and decided I would give it my best shot to keep her with me for as long I could. I hoped for responsiveness to the medication. I hoped to take her home. I hoped for a semblance of a normal, happy dog life, such as we had had the previous five months.
A team of vets and technicians collaborated on her case and gave her plenty of loving attention. She won over all their hearts, wagging her tail while putting up with indignities. She began to eat and drink water again. Through it all, she never puked.
By Saturday, things were still dicey, but the vet offered hopeful words. She was taking at least three medications and had walked some steps. Perhaps I could take her home today.
Early Saturday, the vet talked with me and seemed unsure, but somewhat optimistic about how things were going. He was still working with her. It would be best if I waited to come in until 2PM. Then, around Noon, I got the emergency call. Callie had vomited, had turned blue, and her temperature had shot up to 108 degrees. She needed immediate sedation and intubation to just keep her alive. What did I want to do? At this moment, all hope for a normal, healthy life for my dog disappeared. I foresaw way too much more trauma, with little or no hope for either recovery or a happy life from here on out.
I said, "Let her go. But I want to be there. I'm on my way over." "Do you want me to sedate", he asked. Thinking only this meant she would be free of her trauma, I said yes.
I arrived to a dog sedated and intubated--probably was necessary to keep her breathing until I got there. I said my good-byes. I'd like to think she felt the love. But at least I think she was past the fear, the stress, the pain, the trauma. We gave the final shot that stopped her heart. I'll be picking up her ashes at the post office tomorrow.
The good parts include the lessons she taught me about how well she coped with her condition for the time I had her, how even with such a condition, she could be a brave, beautiful, normal, happy, confident, floppy, adorable dog.
I was happy to have at least one hour with her on both Thursday and Friday in a private treatment room with her dog pillow. I could experience her wagging tail and help calm her. She ate treats from my hand and drank the water I offered her.
I do not regret for a minute that I adopted this dog. I treasure the five months we had together. Looking back on it, I see that she was coping very well with her condition. And that without knowing what it was, I was listening pretty well to her needs. We were working it out. I adored her. She was perfect. She was awesome. Callie girl.