Letters from North
America
What
a difference a week
makes.
Last week I wrote a
column about Buddy, my
pound pooch (Think Tramp
as in Lady and the
Tramp) who was in the
hospital and not
expected to live. We put
him in the pet hospital
on the 7th of this
month. He was diagnosed
to have an immune
disorder that caused
anemia and possibly
could not be treated.
Our routine is to take
him to the overnight
emergency clinic at 6pm
and then pick him up at
7am and take him to the
vet doctor, where they
look over him during the
day. Then we start the
process all over again.
His red blood count
should be in the 40-45%
range and it was going
down as low as 11%. Then
they would give him a
blood transfusion and it
would go up but come
down in a few hours.
Last Tuesday I wrote a
column with the
expectation that he was
not going to make it and
we would have to put him
to sleep.
We’ve had him for ten
years and the vet thinks
he was about three when
we got him, so he is an
old dog, but if we could
keep him for a little
while longer, we thought
we should try.
On Wednesday morning
(last week) I went to
the vet and we talked
about his chances. Not
good and getting worse,
so we agreed to come
back at 4 PM and let him
go. We called our boys
and were to meet at the
vet clinic. As I started
to leave he tried to
break away from the
doctor and wanted to go
out with me. He still
had spirit. I could not
go back to work and sat
down at my computer and
looked up his diagnosis
on the internet. Several
sources told me that
removal of his spleen
might save him. I called
the vet and she told me
that his chances of
surviving the operation
were about 15%. I
thought 15% was better
than what we were going
to do at 4PM which was
0%. I would rather have
him die on us on an
operating table than
sticking a needle in him
without trying
everything we could.
For the operation we had
to take him to a
different clinic that
specialized in these
kinds of procedures.
They removed his spleen
on Thursday morning and
he made it through
without a hitch. They
biopsied the spleen and
the liver and didn’t
like how the liver
looked and thought it
might be cancer. They
had to send it off and
it would take four or
five days to get the
results back. In the
meantime he had a total
of five transfusions.
The vets had never had a
dog go past two. My
advice to you is to keep
on trying and not to
give up. Animal
treatments vary and you
need to be informed
about various options.
All weekend long we have
vacillated between
laughing at how much we
enjoyed this little
animal and crying if we
had to put him to sleep
in a few days. The
doctors have called each
morning at 8am to give
us an update. My wife
and I as well as our
boys are beside
ourselves with worry. We
know Buddy is old and if
he has cancer, we have
to let him go. But those
of you reading this know
what you go through when
you have to make this
decision. It isn’t easy,
at least not for us.
His blood count went
back up to 19% and has
stabilized. They called
today and are giving him
another dose of an
immune medicine and we
can pick him up
tomorrow. There was no
guarantee he would get
better. We may not be
able to keep him much
longer, but his appetite
is great and if he
builds red blood cells
back up and gets
stronger, well that’s a
good thing. If we have
to, we’d rather have him
leave us here at home
rather than in a cage at
the hospital.
This whole episode has
evoked mixed feeling
from friends and
associates. About half
cannot understand
spending money on a dog
this old. The other half
agree that we have to do
what we can for the
things we love. In our
family this is a dog who
is a member of our
family, not just an
animal.
I was saving money for a
new truck, but
personally I’d rather
have Buddy, the wonder
dog around for a while
longer. I can always get
a truck. I can’t always
get a new dog.
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