Sages long way home

I was called late one evening by one of my technicians. She told me that her neighbor had “dropped” their 4 month old pit bull puppy off of the porch, and she believed the puppy had a broken leg. I told her to meet me at the clinic with the puppy first thing the next morning. Now I know all of you are gasping in horror and thinking that I am a cold, inconsiderate, awful person because I was waiting until the morning. But I will remind you all that a broken leg is not a life-threatening problem. And to my defense I did give her instructions for pain medicines to get her comfortably through the night.

Many times in trauma cases we do not rush into surgery. We don’t rush into surgery because we need to make sure that the really critical parts of the body are o.k. We want to make sure your heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, bladder, intestines, etc. are all still intact. A bone, really almost any bone, is ancillary. Bones are just to protect other more important things, or help you get around.  

I met Sage puppy the next morning. She was the most adorable grey happy bundle of cuteness ever. I knew the minute that I saw her that I was going to try to make everything alright for her. I was dedicated to her from the first moment. It was impossible to not want to hug her, cuddle her, and love her. And that was all she wanted to do back. She was so happy and so sweet and soo adorable. (Man, I just can’t resist a pit bull puppy!  Especially a fat nosed doe-eyed wiggly butt pittie bull.)

Then I looked at her. She was limping on not one front leg, but both. Damn it! I knew what that meant. And then the girls confirmed it with an x-ray. She had broken the right elbow and the left wrist. God, she was a mess. My technician then divulged to me that the family who owned Sage was a very young couple with two children under 3, and the father was undergoing treatment for cancer. She didn’t have to tell me what she said next. They had no money. Really? Am I surprised? Why should I be? I wasn’t? But how was I going to fix two broken legs for free?

I called her family in to talk the next day. I wanted to meet them and decide how to procede. I had some hard questions and I wanted some honest answers.  A 3 year old little girl was being carried in by her mid-twenties year old mom, and barely thirty year old dad carrying a less than 1 year old baby. My first question was, “why would you get a puppy when you are facing cancer and two very small children?” I know it is a direct hard question, but I wanted to know. Why would you get a puppy when you can't afford anything, and you have two small children to raise? Their answer was, “I,” (this is dad speaking), “always wanted a pit bull puppy.” Ok, I understand, and yes, I completely empathisize with the severity of this disease, and the fear of leaving a wife and two small children, but a puppy is a big responsibility. Emotionally and financially. They had no funds to get her basic vaccines, so of course they can't afford a broken leg, (or two). I feel very strongly that a puppy, or any pet for that matter, is a responsibility, not a right. I told the family that we wanted to help Sage but that I would not do it for free. They had had Sage for months and not had any veterinary care for her. I felt that once we “fixed” her she would go right back to being uncared for medically. She still needed all of her vaccines, to be spayed, and then the monthly flea and tick preventatives.  

Sages family signed her over to us that day.

I called a staff meeting to decide what to do next. We collectively decided that we were going to fix Sage. I think that after that I sort of lost track of the plan. Because before I knew it the front desk had raised about $2000 for her care. I was so proud of the staff.  I decided that her wrist could probably just be splinted and as long as we paid very good attention to the bandage and kept it clean, and dry and changed it often so her rapidly growing bones wouldn’t be hindered by the stiff splint she would probably be ok on the left front leg. The splint did help provide her with some rigid support. The splint acted like a cane for her so she was very happy to place all of her weight on her front left leg. She quickly learned how to run around on three legs.

BUT, that right elbow was a big problem. It was beyond any of the vets abilities to fix. I called a few friends to see if I could coerce, beg, plead, for help. It took me three weeks to get an old classmate (and very good surgeon) to come and help fix her elbow. He had to come from his real job, as a specialist veterinary surgeon, to the clinic to help with he surgery. Between his regular job, and a significant delay due to traffic, he arrived at the clinic at 7 pm. We started Sages surgery right away. At midnight I looked across the table at my very good friend trying to help me fix a very bad, very old fracture, and I told him that I was ok with accepting that we might not be able to fix this leg. He stopped his struggling with the ulna and said, “I have never given up yet, and I am not starting tonite.” All I could do was smile and say, “ok.” Another 45 minutes later we had the bones lined up and 2 pins placed and we were closing up our incision. He left the clinic at 1 am. That was, and still is, officially the latest night I have had to stay at Jarrettsville Vet. (Yes, please say a little prayer that that record holds for the next 2 decades). I handed over all the money we raised to our surgeon. It was a small fraction of what he would have made on the same surgery in his clinic, and it was a ridiculously long night.

Sage woke up well.  We kept her heavily sedated on morphine and I carried her home to my husband already in bed. Sage recovered remarkable well. It took her a few weeks to learn how to bend her elbow again and regain the muscle in her forearm and biceps. But the whole time she smiled, jumped around, cuddled and kissed. She was so happy to have friends and dogs and cats to play with. She never skipped a beat, and she never slowed down a bit. Within 4 weeks she was almost unrecognizable as ever having had such a catastrophic disaster.

Sage had been with us for about 6 weeks. She was a part of our JVC family. She stayed at my house and with me for the first two weeks post operatively. She played with my puppies and she slept in my bed and was a welcome addition.

After her 6 weeks of recovery I felt an enormous amount of pressure from the staff and the incredibly generous clients who had contributed to her surgery. I called her family back and we sat down again to talk about Sages' future. I explained to them that I was very concerned that if anything happened to them that she would once again be at the mercy of the generosity of others. I also explained that raising a puppy required time and money. I wasn’t sure that they had either. But it was undeniable how much those kids loved her and how much she loved them, and I wanted the same happy ending that everyone else was rooting for. I asked them to sign a contract stating that they understood what the cost of her basic care would entail, and that if anything happened to them where she would need care that they would bring her back to us. Sage’s mom reassured me that they had multiple emergency plans in place. And that her parents would take her and the family if they needed an extra hand or place to live. I reluctantly gave in to the pressures of everyone around me and took a leap of faith and signed her back over to them.

Because they were neighbors with one of my technicians I also felt better about being able to keep a watchful eye over them.

I asked about her frequently and was told that she was doing fine.  Six months went by. My technician came to me again and said that Sage had been given away by the family. I was very upset by the news. I asked why?, and she told me that they couldn’t care for her any longer. I was furious. I had gone against my gut feeling, I had provided them with everything Sage needed for her first year, and I had made them sign a contract saying that they would give her back to us if they couldn’t care for her any longer. I asked if there had been a death in the family?, or if they had moved?, and my tech told me that "No, they were fine". She did add in that she hadn’t seen Sage in a while and that she thought that Sage was now on a farm getting more exercise and with people who loved her, because that what her neighbors had told her. My tech knew I was furious and she knew that I was going to try to track Sage down. She told me that she believed them and that she really thought Sage was ok, and better off in a different home.

Months went by. And then my phone rang at the clinic late one Thursday night. I remember my receptionist Michele (Nina’s mom) running back to the pharmacy where I was screaming, “Baltimore County Animal Control is on the phone!” and “They have Sage!” I picked up the phone immediately. The director of the shelter was on the phone. She told me the following; That sage had been brought in that day by a Baltimore City police officer. He had gotten her because a Baltimore City Animal Control officer had been dispatched to his house because his neighbor had called to complain about his pit bulls. You see in Baltimore County, and many other places, there is an extreme prejudice against pit bulls. He actually had two very nice pit bulls, but his neighbor wasn’t too fond of them. When the animal control officer pulled in the police officer saw a sweet grey female pit bull in the animal control van. He asked the officer where he was going with her. He told him that he had just picked her up because the owners had bought her off of Craigs List and then had decided that they didn’t want her anymore, so they called Animal Control. Apparently in Baltimore City Animal Control will come pick up an unwanted animal. But in Baltimore City ALL surrendered pit bulls are euthanized. When he told the cop of her impending fate the cop said, “well can I take her?” Now remember the animal control officer was there because the neighbor complained that he already had too many pit bulls, but for some reason he let the cop have her.  Now he had three pit bulls.

Three pit bulls was 1 too many for his house. He quickly realized. He started making some phone calls to try to figure out where he could bring her to try to find her a home without risking her being condemned based on her genetics. He found Baltimore County. They, unlike many others, do not euthanize based on breed. The staff at Baltimore County shelter told him he could bring her there and if she wasn’t adopted in five days, or if they couldn’t adopt her out, then he could come and get her. But at least she would have a chance at finding a home.  When he brought her to the shelter they scanned her for a microchip. We had micro chipped Sage as soon as she was surrendered to us, and it is my policy for this very reason that I do not ever allow a new owner to change the microchip information if the pet is adopted from us. (To date we have gotten three pets back that have been brought to shelters to be euthanized.)

I was soo happy to get that phone call. I told the manager that I would send someone immediately to go get her. She told me that the shelter was closed and that she would hold Sage overnight and let us come and get her in the morning. I gave her my name, my cell phone number, and I told her that we would pay the adoption fee to get her back. She told me not to worry and that she would be there first thing in the morning to meet us. I hung up the phone and relayed the entire phone conversation to the all of the staff who had been eves dropping the whole time. I called the technician who was neighbors with Sages' original owners and told her the whole story. We both had to convince each other that we wouldn’t do something vengeful. We were soo happy to know that Sage was safe, but we were all hurt, and infuriated that they had sold her.

At 8 am the next day two of my technicians went to the shelter and picked her up. She was not exactly the same dog we had remembered. She was skinny, and had a terrible coat, and was not the happy, outgoing, sweetheart she had been. She was now the result of neglect, probably abuse, and I can’t even imagine what else. I feared that she had been sold to go into fighting, and that maybe she was just lucky to have not been killed, because we hadn’t raised her to be a fighter. There were a million thoughts running through my head. But I stayed focused on the fact that at least she was back safe with us, and I had learned my lesson. I will always trust my gut feeling, and I will not let other people coerce me into ignoring my gut. I also spent a lot of time trying to keep myself calm. It was very very difficult for me to not call her original owners and say some really terrible things to them. I almost didn’t care whether he had cancer, and I almost didn’t care what he was thinking, or how he could have justified doing what he did. I will never forgive them for selling her and leaving her to face what would have most likely been a death sentence. Whether it be by lethal injection, dog fighting, or gunshot.

It became clear to all of us immediately that she could not be adopted out without a significant amount of re-training. She now bit people out of fear, and she couldn’t be trusted. It was three weeks of trying to rehabilitate her in the clinic before we all decided that she had to stay with us. Michele asked if she could “foster” her at home. She had just lost one of her Rottweiler’s and she had another Rottie dying from cancer. I was worried that the stress of losing two pets and taking on a behavior case might be too much for her. But I also knew that Sage needed to get out of the hospital and needed the one-on-one attention of her own owner. I told her “yes, on a trial basis.”

Sage went home with her, and she went back to being the puppy we remembered. She hasn’t had any issues, and she and all of us are so happy to have her back.

I don’t know how Sage, or us got so lucky, I am just very grateful that we all did.

D.C.

This is the most personal story that I could write and share. It took me three weeks to be able to send it out into the world. Whenever an owner tells me how much they are grieving over their pet I think if how much I miss my cat D.C. I still can’t think of her or talk about her without crying. There isn’t a day in my life where I don’t think about her, grieve for her, and miss her like crazy. I understand how loss can profoundly affect your life.

To my kitty D.C; I say I love you, and I am so grateful for always helping me through the really rough spots of my life.

Here is D.C.’s story

I was looking for a kitty when I finally got my first apartment. I know most people get dishes and a sofa. I wanted a cat. Actually I wanted two but I told my roommates that I was only going to get one.  So I headed to where any responsible new pet owner would go for a cat, the pound. I, at that point, still considered myself a very knowledgeable, wordly, solidly standing in the “nothing shocks me anymore” veterinary arena. Suffice to say, I was so wrong. And I wasn’t just a little wrong. I was you aren’t even in the same galaxy wrong. I walked into the Baltimore City Animal Shelter with a plan and an air of confidence. As I crossed the threshold into the facility I was met by a foul smelling, disorderly, waiting room. There were a lot of people, I thought this was a good thing, I thought there were a lot of people there to adopt. Unfortunately I learned they were there for drop off and not pick up. Oh I was wrong on so many levels. I waited quietly and patiently to go in through the adoption rooms to find my kitty.

After some time I was escorted to the cat rooms. There were 2 at that time. They were the size of a closet. Lined on one side with cages, with just enough room to walk single file down the row piled three high of cages. There were maybe 30 cats in those 2 rooms. “Great,  I thought, there aren’t a lot of cats here they must have a high turnover.” Wrong again, they have a 5 day hold for these cats then they were euthanized. So all of those cats had been there less than 5 days, if they weren’t adopted or claimed by their owner, (which I swear never ever happened) they were euthanized on day 6.  I found out later that they routinely euthanized 70 plus animals a day. I spent a long time looking in those cages. This was a big decision and I wanted to make the right one. I had my boyfriend there with me. He picked out the small long haired cute grey kitten. She was almost irresistible. She was the obvious choice. I kept looking. In one cage in the second room in the middle of the racks of cages, there was a small, skinny  calico cat screaming. She had green snot pouring out of her nose and her eyes were all crusted shut. She was the cat no one would pick. I wanted her. I wanted her because she would meow and meow and meow. She wanted attention and she wanted a home. And I like anything that is assertive and demanding (no Freudian jokes! please?).  I asked the attendant if I could adopt her. she said she was too sick to be adopted, but I could put her on “hold”. If she was better she could be adopted. I was told that she had an upper respiratory disease that had turned into a lower respiratory disease and pneumonia. I filled out all of the forms and we left with one small grey kitten.

I called the shelter the next day. She wasn’t any better. I called everyday for the next 5 days. She was worse and not better. Finally on the 7^th day I went back to the shelter. I asked to see the manager. I explained that she wasn’t going to get better if she stayed there and I wanted to try to help get her better. I told her I would pay her adoption fee and take responsibility for her medical care. The shelter manager looked at me and I knew she was weighing whether or not she should break the rules for me and a sick cat. I took her skinny sick bony body home.

I spent the next months trying a lot of different antibiotics and running a lot of tests. She did eventually get healthier. She was always a petite cat, but she gained muscle and her coat got shiny and full. (I always tell my clients that cats get a poor coat within 1 day of being sick, so monitor coat quality closely). Her ocular (eye) and nasal (nose) green discharge also subsided with time.  But the one thing that never changed was her demanding meows. She would call for me every time I came home. It didn’t matter where she was. If she heard my voice she would scream for me. I always said hello to her cries, and she always came running for me. If I ever was upset, especially if I was crying, should would stand in front of me and meow until I stopped. More truthfully, until I focused my attention on her, but either way it always worked. Whenever there was an argument in the house she would stand between us and scream until we stopped. She really was my guardian and my most faithful companion.

I was so profoundly moved and concerned about the conditions at the Baltimore City Animal Shelter that I became their first official volunteer. I went to the shelter four times a week for 3 to 4 hours at a time to just walk the dogs and pet the cats. I was concerned because it didn’t appear that the animals were getting any attention from the over taxed overworked staff. After about 8 months I realized that I was really struggling with what I was seeing everyday. It was routine for them to euthanize 70 animals a day. I cried everyday I got home. I couldn’t carry this sadness and I couldn’t stop the death. I couldn’t help but get attached to these cats and dogs. I couldn’t bear not to see them the next day I came in. it burned a scar inside of me so deep that I changed careers at age 30. I spent 12 years in college so I could become a veterinarian. I bought my own clinic so no one else would ever have to tell me which pet gets a second chance and which one doesn’t.

D.C. died at the age of 19 in my arms, in my bed. She had struggled with chronic renal failure (kidney disease) for many years, and in the end she was too weak to stand. But she lay with me for two days and meowed every time I looked at her. It was so hard to say goodbye to her. Her fragile little body had lasted far longer than I ever would have guessed when I adopted her so long ago.

I went back to the Baltimore City Shelter a few years ago. I went into the room where I had found her.  I told all of the kitties there that I hoped that they found a loving home and that someone loved them as much as I loved my cat D.C.

For more information on chronic kidney disease in the cat please see the link below;

http://tinyurl.com/3bwedjy

If you would like more information on upper respiratory disease please see the link below;

http://tinyurl.com/3zelewn

If you would like more information on pneumonia please see the link below;

http://tinyurl.com/44jbebu