Chug-A-Lug

Once Skater was stabilized and his blood and enzyme levels being monitored twice a week, the next order of business was to rule out any obstruction in the gut. We scheduled a series of barium x-rays and, as I would not simply leave Skater at the veterinary clinic all day, it meant that we had to drive back and forth every hour to do more films

Skater and I were at the clinic at 8:00 AM. I was told to pick him up at 9:00; they would get the barium in him and do the first films. So, I picked up my boy at 9:00 and we basically spent the day driving back and forth. At 3:00 I was told that it wasn't working, that there wasn't enough barium in him and we would have to redo the whole series. Excuse me??? WHY, I asked, was there not enough barium in my dog and WHY did it take until 3:00 for them to figure that out? I was told that Skater fought them tooth and nail, (literally), and that both they and the dog ended up wearing more than he swallowed. Okay, I thought, so what do we do now? I was sent to another local vet to pick up more barium and I told them that I would give it to Skater the next morning and we could start all over again. They were more than fine with my solution.

I have had barium x-rays and I will admit that the stuff simply tastes terrible. But I also knew my dog; if I asked, he would comply. The next morning, I mixed the solution, put it in a bowl and said, "Skatie, please drink it - yum yum." He drank up every last drop (except for the residue of white stuck to his chin like a gruff old man's beard stubble). When we got to the vet clinic at 8:00 and I told them he was ready, they asked in astonishment how I got all the barium into the dog. My answer was simple ... "I put it in a bowl and asked him to drink it. He didn't appreciate your fighting him and, if you'd asked, he would have done the same for you."

We spent the day, again, driving back and forth. The films were done. There was no obstruction.

On A Wing And A Prayer

The morning after Skater and I arrived back in Illinois, I woke up to find that Skater had not only resumed having watery stools, but had also been vomiting all night. The only vet I knew was the one whose name was on Skater's rabies certificate and, at 7:00 AM, on a very cold, snowy morning, I made a very panicky call. The vet agreed to meet and, a half an hour later, my dog's life was in the hands of a virtual stranger. After a thorough examination, the vet expressed deep concern for Skater's condition and prognosis and, for the first time, I had to acknowledge that I might very well lose my dog. Aside from the terrible fear that Skater might not survive, a million thoughts were running through my head. This was NOT a high-tech veterinary clinic but, rather, a typical country practice. How on earth was this man going to figure out what was wrong with my dog in order to save him?

Simple blood and enzyme tests revealed that Skater's liver had suffered damage and was not functioning as it should; he was immediately put on different antibiotics as well as a prescription diet. I'll get back into the medical history next time but, for now, have to comment on the diet.

Skater, who had NEVER voluntarily missed a meal in his eight plus years, was NOT going to eat what was in those prescription bags and cans. Day after day, he turned his nose up at the food and we would end up having a food fight. My trying to force-feed him only resulted in my wearing most of the food. After a few days of this nonsense, I couldn't stand "torturing" Skater any further; it was awful to watch an animal who had always had such joy in heating become one who felt he was being punished by being fed. So, I called the company who manufactures the prescription food and told them I needed some sort of recipe that I could cook for my dog; that he would not eat their prepared diet. I spent a rather bizarre hour on the phone with a rocket-scientist (NOT!), who, when I asked her what type of "animal fat" she wanted me to use (after she said it was essential ingredient), proclaimed, "from a dead animal". I am not the most tolerant person and, when stressed, what little tolerance I do have goes straight in the toilet. I told her I hadn't intended to walk out into a field of grazing cattle with a machete and slice off a day's worth of fat ... and asked if she could POSSIBLY give me a genus or species ... something. We finally agreed on poultry. With the help of an old friend, a diet was devised for Skater that he not only was willing to eat but actually went back to enjoying his food.

As always, he was patient, waiting for me to figure out what he already knew. There are always alternatives; you simply have to be aware enough to look for them.

A Long Day's Journey Into Night

It's been awhile since I've written anything ... this is the hardest part of the journey for me. From the time we arrived back in Illinois until Skater's death, four and a half years later, it was a roller coaster of health issues, all stemming from that original problem in Maryland. Apparently, Skater had licked up some de-icer and it wreaked havoc with his health. As always, Skater handled it all with grace and dignity and always seemed to know when my own emotions were on the edge; this dog ALWAYS took care of me first and his own needs were secondary.

It's still difficult for me to recount what went on during those years so I think I will go back to an article I had published and try to get it written down in the most succinct way possible. I have to try - for Skater. My amazing boy went through so much; I got to the point where the words "interesting" and "fascinating" were the LAST words I wanted to hear from a veterinarian. In fact, to this day, the words themselves bother me but they also serve to remind me what a miracle Skater was and always will be. I have never before and not since met or heard of any animal with such an immense capacity for love, compassion and the ability to give of himself. The bizarre health issues, all stemming from that horrible de-icer, that plagued my boy ... many, alone, would have been too much for any other dog to handle. But, Skater handled them all and taught me AND his vets what tolerance, understanding and love really mean.