One day

It doesn’t get any easier to say goodbye to a beloved pet even after you’ve said goodbye to so many before.  Today my heart is heavy with loss and sorrow as I look around our home and see one less sweet face looking back at me.  Last night, Kyle and I said goodbye to our sweet Chewy.  One of the best dogs I have ever known, Chewy was sweet to the core and so brave in the face of ravaging arthritis, vestibular issues, and aging in general.  She was a gentle creature, living a long life of nearly 17 years on this planet but not long enough for those of us who loved her so deeply.

Always afraid of camera flashes, Chewy especially hated the holidays. Here she’s climbing into Kyle’s lap for protection.

Chewy was Kyle’s baby from the start.  He adopted her just over 15 years ago from the Michigan Humane Society and they were constant companions throughout his late 20’s, his entire 30’s, and now into his 40’s.  I can’t help but recognize how lucky they were to have found each other and to have been together for so long.  My personal sense of loss is deepened when I think about how empty I would feel at the close of a 15 year life together.  I know he’s feeling it and I am filled with love and respect for him knowing the pain he is experiencing in his heart and soul.  It’s not easy.  Even when you know that you’re making the most difficult and loving decision you’ll ever have the privilege and authority to make.

Each time I become overwhelmed with emotion, I try to catch myself and think of a memory with Chewy…our Choo Choo.  Chewy has been ‘my’ dog too for seven years this month.  Nearly as long as I had my first baby, Mya, in my life.  I remember the first time I met Chewy on my first visit to Kyle’s cute little bachelor pad of a house.  She had the longest and softest fur I think I’d ever felt.  And she shed…the entire time I pet her, she shed and shed and shed.  There were tumbleweeds of Chewy fur all over the house.  But she was so sweet and gentle and friendly.  She loved the attention and I adored her.

A year and a half later, on Mother’s Day 2010, Chewy would be there by my side in the days after I let go of Mya and wandered an empty feeling house picking up Mya’s toys and putting them away.  I did that a couple of times and suddenly realized that it was not Mya who had brought all of her toys out and that it was Chewy recreating the scene of a life lived with Mya.  A dog’s dog to the core, Chewy had fallen instantly in love with Mya and, I realized in that moment of picking up toys, was deeply grieving the loss of her best friend and sister.  I looked at Chewy in a new way that day and knew that I had found yet another soul mate with which I would share my life.

Chewy came along for the ride with us on our year-long Texas adventure, welcomed Anya into our family with zeal, and journeyed back to Michigan with us in 2011 and, eventually, settled into life in our suburban home.  The seven of us have lived a relatively quiet and peaceful life together for over five years and, now, our world is rocked without her here.  Anya is distraught and worried, whining periodically and looking for Chewy.  Lily and Lucy are quiet and curious about the change.  And, Zoey…well, I think she’s a little shell-shocked too.  She has always preferred to be close to Chewy whether on the floor cuddling next to her or simply being in their crates near each other.  This morning, I think, Zoey realized that Chewy was not in her crate below and started to cry.  Then, when I let her out, she made her way to a spot that Chewy often curled up on the floor and proceeded to roll around and rub her face in that spot.

So, I am here trying to “act normal” amidst tears; washing the dog bed covers, blankets, and Zoey’s pants because laundry is a normal thing in our home with five…now four…fur-kids.  Even as I sit here and type, all four of them are nearby watching…watching to make sure that I am normal and that life will go on.  I know – we know – that life will go on.  And we will cling to these sweet little faces to help us move forward.

I am not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination but I have faith in one thing beyond this life: the Rainbow Bridge.  I find a little peace and a lot of hope in knowing that I will one day be reunited with all of my fur-babies and that, in the meantime, they are running and playing free of pain and discomfort.  I told Chewy last night to go wait with Mya…that one day her daddy and I would be there to pick them up and we would be together again.  One day.

Problem solved…?

Zoey seems to be back to normal after her second bout of constipation in January.  I was (and may still be) obsessed with her bowel movements; the frequency, consistency, and overall volume.  At her follow-up visit in February, the doctors were unable to palpate any stool in her colon/intestines and determined that we didn’t need to do any additional diagnostics.  Thus, no megacolon.  Now that the laxatone is part of our daily routine I think we’ve got this constipation thing managed.

All around, good – scratch that – great news.

However, it’s occurred to me recently that all of my babies are getting older.  And with age comes ailments and general deterioration.  Zoey’s paralysis and unique needs will most likely mean that she (we) will experience a variety of different issues as she gets older.  In January, the doctor was able to see on her x-rays that Zoey’s spine is showing signs of age – which is typical – and that was a reminder that my littlest baby, while still little, is getting older.  So, while I am glad to say that we’re past the constipation issue right now, I am aware that other things can and will pop up over time.

I do all that I can to prevent my babies from experiencing illness, infection, and discomfort.  I remind them all the time that their “only job is to stay healthy.”  It doesn’t mean they are going to listen.  But, I am hopeful.

Purring in the sunshine.  Zoey will turn seven in April.

 

Poop problems

We ended 2013 with a ‘first’ for Zoey: constipation.  It goes without saying that I have a rather intimate knowledge of her bowel movements so I knew that, after a few days of no poop, we had problems.  I took her with me to work on New Year’s Eve and discovered, after a rather invasive rectal exam, that she was quite backed-up.  Zoey endured the day like a champ and survived two enemas and 100 mL subcutaneous fluids – a conservative treatment plan for which I was grateful.  By the time we got home, she was ravenous – after days of minimal eating – and devoured half a can of canned C/D.  I crossed my fingers and hoped it was some random fluke.

Fluke it was not.

For the past couple of weeks, Zoey has been eating and drinking just fine.  I’ve been adding Laxatone to her food more regularly which she seemed to like – at first.  Then, suddenly, about two days ago, her eating slowed down and it occurred to me that she hadn’t pooped in a day or so.  I went to work this morning thinking that maybe I was paranoid.  Then I started talking with our doctor and one of the technicians.  They both thought I should run home and get her.  Thankfully, I did.  This time around we had to get a little more aggressive with our approach because I (we) feared the worst.  Megacolon.  The doctor proceeded first with a rectal exam upon which she removed three rather large, hard fecal balls.  Then, we went on to x-ray to get a clear picture of what was happening inside my littlest baby.  Not surprisingly, Zoey was quite literally full of poop.  Her colon and intestine(s) were clearly full of several large masses of formed fecal matter.  Her colon appeared to have some gas around one of the larger masses and was a bit dilated but not totally “scary” (my word) – meaning that the doctor didn’t feel like we had an obvious case of megacolon.

Enter slight sigh of relief.

We went on to administer two enemas (spaced about 2 hours apart) and 100 mL of subcutaneous fluids.  Zoey passed another very large, hard, formed piece of stool and immediately seemed more comfortable.  The fluids were definitely a nice way to keep her hydrated throughout the stressful day and she rested most of the afternoon in her comfy bed inside the kennel in our treatment area.  After our last patient of the day went home, we took another x-ray and could see that her colon had relaxed significantly and that the largest masses of stool had passed.

I breathed another small sigh of relief.

The doctor and I discussed next steps and she ordered up a bottle of Lactulose – a liquid stool softener that I can administer to Zoey orally with a syringe since I can’t rely on her to always eat her “medicine.”  I brought my baby home and she quickly ate some wet food and, as of a couple of hours ago, even passed two more hard, formed pieces of stool.  (Hooray!)  I will administer Lactulose 2-3 times per day for the next couple of weeks and see how things go.  The plan is to follow-up in two weeks with another round of x-rays and (fingers tightly crossed) hopefully rule-out megacolon.

I also plan on exploring holistic/integrative veterinary treatment protocols and calling Hill’s to find out what – if any – changes were made to their C/D diet.  It’s hard not to consider the possibility that this could be related to a change in their formulary…especially considering I have been feeding from a new case of canned food for the past few weeks when all of this has – very suddenly – become a problem.  I have to at least explore the possibility.

To be continued…and hoping for the best.  Zoey has endured more than her fair share, don’t you think?!

Zoey’s first dental cleaning

I know, I know.  It’s been too long!  The past couple of months have been…well…they’ve just been.  We’ve been busy with everything and nothing and now the holidays.  But, as it always goes when you have a house full of pets, there has been a lot of furry activity!

On Halloween, little miss Zoey underwent her very first dental cleaning.  I am pleased to share that it went off without a hitch (as most dental procedures do in the veterinary world) and her teeth cleaned up beautifully.  As you know, dental care is a priority for the general health and well-being of our canine and feline family members.  Dental cleanings are full anesthetic procedures just like other surgical procedures requiring sedation, intubation, and general anesthesia.  The veterinary practice I work for typically recommends annual dental cleanings and bi-annual oral exams.  Zoey is the last of my babies to experience her first dental cleaning and, at six and a half years old, her teeth were in the best condition – not even a trace of staining and no damaged teeth.

Despite working in the hospital and being privy to hundreds of dental cleanings over the years, I was still a little nervous about my special needs baby undergoing the procedure.  This was the first time she would be going under anesthesia since she was spayed more than six years ago.  But, I was able to get over the nerves because I trust our medical team and their knowledge/skill in using the dental and human-grade anesthetic equipment we have.  Plus, it’s always important (and reassuring) to have pre-anesthetic blood work run to ensure that your baby is safe to undergo the procedure.  Zoey’s blood work was great and her cleaning took all of 20-25 minutes.  Little miss woke up comfy and cozy in her own bed set atop the warmer pad in her kennel.  All in all, a successful first experience for my baby.  And I am pleased with the results…even if she was a sassy-pants before surgery and bit me.  The joys of motherhood, right?

Zoey takes in the sights and sounds of the clinic from the comfort of her own bed in one of our kennels.

On top of a warmer pad, Zoey is intubated and has an IV catheter providing fluids throughout the procedure.  Her vitals are monitored and documented every 5 minutes by the medical team.  (The blood pressure cuff is visible on her leg.)

Zoey’s mouth and teeth are examined, charted, and scaled (using both a hand-scaler and ultrasonic scaler.)

Zoey’s teeth are polished after scaling is complete using mint polish. Her teeth were sparkling at this point!

Post-op. Zoey is less than 5 minutes out of from anesthesia. She’s groggy, her eyes look funny from being lubricated, and she has the e-collar on because she was sassy during pre-op and bit me. The collar was there to keep the techs safe as she woke up and to make removing her IV catheter easier after she was fully awake and recovered.  I love this picture because she looks ridiculously cute…albeit drugged.

“Old age is no place for sissies.”

Bette Davis’ words.  I simply echo the sentiment.  And, today, my first day off in what feels like weeks, I am reflecting on old age and caring for the aging.  Human and animal alike.

This summer has been a tough one.  There’s no way around that.  You may remember, back in May, I posted about my grandmother – my Bama – who is quite literally staring down death as she suffers the last battles with ALS bound to her bed.  Her fractured femur has healed but her strength is gone and each day she grows weaker.  ALS continues to rob her body of the ability to breathe comfortably and even sleep peacefully.  Our family continues to rally around her and do everything we can to provide what basic care and comfort that we can.  But, to what end?  She suffers in silence, unable to speak.  Once a healthy, vibrant woman, she is diminishing…body, mind, and soul.  It’s just heart breaking.

As most everyone’s week was beginning on Monday, my long work week was coming to an end when my husband called me at work and said that Chewy was sick,  She had vomited and had diarrhea in her crate and was stumbling around and falling over.  I told him to bring her right in (thankfully, I work at a veterinary hospital.)  The doctor completed her physical exam and determined that Chewy is dealing with some sort of vestibular issue.  Best case scenario, we are facing idiopathic “old dog vestibular disease” which will gradually – over the course of days/weeks – get better.  Worst case…well….we won’t go there now.

Yesterday Chewy wasn’t as wobbly as she had been Monday night.  She ate her canned bland diet easily which meant that the medication went down easily.  We’ve administered subcutaneous fluids twice thus far and will continue to do so in the coming days to ensure that she does not become dehydrated.  Today though, Chewy is a stumbling mess – the symptoms mirror vertigo – and she has no interest in eating which means that administering medications is extra complicated because she needs to be steadied, have her jaw pried open while tossing the meds in toward the back of her mouth, then I have to hold her mouth shut while rubbing her throat to encourage her to swallow.  I was dripping sweat by the end of the whole debacle this morning.  It also doesn’t help that our house is a quad-level meaning that the living areas are split between multiple levels.  To prevent accidents on the stairs, I have barricaded Chewy (and in turn, Zoey) to the main level of the house for easy in/out trips to the backyard.

Alone with my fur-family, climbing over my barricades to get anywhere in the house and exhausted with emotion, I simply reflect.  I realize that my heart has broken a few times this summer and, like one always does after heart-break, you pick-up the pieces and put them back together the best you can.  But each heart-break leaves a new crack…a sad memory that you carry forever.

And, I look at these two old women – my grandmother, 78 years old and Chewy, 14-15 years old – human and canine – both of whom I love dearly – and I just know that old age is simply no place for the weak.  These women are tough ladies and, although my heart is heavy, they are teaching me – us – some important lessons about life and death and love and family.