Your dog or your bicycle?

I had the strangest argument with a very good friend of mine the other night after she asserted that a mutual friend’s feelings for his bicycle were the same as my feelings for Alec. If I had just ignored that comment, the argument would never have ensued. But I was honestly shocked to hear this come out of her mouth. Even if she thinks my feelings about Alec are comparable to another friend’s feelings about an inanimate object, the fact that she would not think twice about voicing this opinion to me was definitely weird. Weirder still was the fact that she would not budge one inch from this assertion, even as she apologized for the fact that I took her comment “the wrong way.” As I repeatedly gave her the opportunity to explain what exactly I had gotten wrong or misinterpreted, she simply repeated the same thing using slightly different words. It was surreal.

Let me back up. This friend dearly loves both Ali and me. And we both love her. She is one of my best friends and I respect and admire her greatly. In fact, I had just flown her up from San Francisco so she could stay at my apartment and take care of Ali while I was in Boston last weekend for work. She is one of the few people with whom I fully trust post-injury Ali. The cost of her plane ticket and food for her stay was around $300, a sum I could have easily reached paying a random pet sitter stay at my house for three days, and Ali knows and loves her, so I was amazingly grateful she took those days off work and time out of her busy life to come to Portland to watch him. This is a good friend! And her love for Ali (and her own dog) is unquestionable. So why does she think Ali can be compared to my friend’s bicycle? I’m not sure. The argument was heated and we came to no resolution. She tenaciously defended her position. Now, the bicycle-loving friend in this scenario truly does love his bike. One could even argue it is the center of his life. He has no car and depends on his bike for work. Using a bike as his sole mode of transportation is also a political statement for him, and his bike certainly holds more meaning to him than it would for the average person. No question. One might even say his bike is his friend. And yet… does he really feel about his bike the way I feel about Ali? Is that even possible? A big point in her argument was that the friend in question is about to pay $50 to ship his bike to San Francisco for a 10-day trip rather than ride a borrowed bike. Okay, even if I did want to engage on the level of how “much money you spend on a person or object indicates your feelings for said person or object,” with my ongoing expenses for Ali and the cool 16k in vet bills he racked up in just two weeks last year…well, sadly, I probably do have him beat there too. No matter how important a material object like a bicycle or any other treasured possession is in someone’s life, no matter how much meaning that thing holds for them (and knowing several people who are crazy for their bikes, I understand the point), can this feeling ever truly compare to the emotional bond one feels with a sentient being? Obviously, I think not. The fact this good friend of mine and Ali’s, who is also a wonderful guardian to her own dog, disagreed enough to argue this point until neither of us had any breath left is indicative of just how far from the mainstream my views are regarding my relationship with my dog. (I use the possessive but not to objectify him – I am “his” as much as he is “mine,” in the best sense of those words). So for those of you who understand why I was shocked and offended by her comparing Ali to a bike in this manner, I want to thank you. You are my kindred spirits in a world where animals are not only defined within our antiquated legal system as mere property with no more worth than a chair (and in the case of a shelter dog, definitely worth less than your expensive bicycle), but also are regrettably often conceptualized in similar terms even by those who love them.

Kobi.

Two years ago today my first dog, Kobi, passed away. As human beings we have a need to mark important passages, but this day is no more special than any other, really, except that it marks the day I was forced to make the hardest decision of my life. Seven and a half months before this fateful day, Kobi was 13 years old and in seeming good health (except for the slowing I thought was normal for an older large breed dog) when I discovered he had cancer. They were 98% sure it was lymphoma, a type of cancer that responds relatively well to chemotherapy. What could I do? Those of you who have been reading my blog will guess! I felt I had no choice but to, of course, start treatments. They said the chemo would not make him sick the way it does people and that he could live another two good years if his cancer went into remission. The operative word being “good” – I never would have kept him alive if he was suffering.

Kobi came into my life while I was home from college in the summer of 1994, about a month before I moved out of my parents’ house and into my very first apartment (I had been living in dorms before that). My summer job was at a boarding kennel, and there Kobi was day after day, because someone who worked there could not keep him in his new apartment. I fell in love and stayed after work to play with him every day. One day the guy told me I could have him and the rest was history. I was naïve back then and didn’t know about the tragic pet overpopulation problem. I had always thought I would have to buy a Siberian husky if I wanted one (yup, like many, I had a youthful obsession with the breed) and could not afford it, yet here a perfect beautiful mischievous creature fell into my lap. Oh, did I have no idea what I was in for!

Kobi was my constant companion for 12 years. He was there through so many relationships, residences, and life upheavals I have lost count. I always advise people not to get a dog if they will be moving a lot. Kobi and I moved on average once per year during those years and it was HARD finding rental places that would take big dogs. I could have saved a lot of money and stress had I been dog-less. Never ever would I have considered for a second giving him up, though. He was one and a half years old when I adopted him and I was his third “owner” (his first bought him in a pet store at a New Jersey mall). I vowed to him I would keep him forever, and keep him forever I did. When we started chemo treatments, Kobi responded so well it was amazing. I will never forget in the early days after starting chemo the day we went on a hike along the Russian River with Ali and my friend Steve and his dogs. Kobi was running faster than I had seen him in several years with an unmatched exuberance. It was like he was two years old again. He outran all the dogs and barely seemed tired. That memory still makes my heart warm. As his treatment wore on there were good days, bad days, and for me, many sleepless nights, but the good days always outweighed the bad. Until that last day.

Kobi was too smart for his own good, or maybe my own good. He was a difficult dog to live with, especially as a first dog because I was very naïve about dog behavior back then. Kobi was fiercely independent and never once came when I called him, much to my repeated chagrin when I would make the mistake of letting him off the leash at some park or on a hike. He was an infamous ruiner of picnics and pillager of garbage. He could escape from any enclosure, whether it was over, under or straight through, or by figuring out how to undo the lock. He was clever and had a wicked sense of humor. He did not cuddle and did not care to be petted. He did not need me at all. He was the very embodiment of free spirit. Kobi taught me what unconditional love was – not because he loved me unconditionally (ha! yeah right!) but because inexplicably, irrationally, and with no encouragement whatsoever from him, I felt this mysterious emotion…an emotion that is imbued with action. It carries a commitment.

Ali and Kobi lived together for 3 years. They got along just fine but I would not say they had a strong bond. Kobi did not really bond with anyone, human or fellow dog. They were very different dogs. Where Kobi would run away at the first chance he got, Ali would stick by my side and – surprisingly – come when I called. While Ali would play all day long (stick, tennis ball, squeaky toy, whatever – whatcha got?), Kobi would very rarely run after a ball with comically fleeting enthusiasm, only to get distracted and drop it three seconds later. Where Ali had separation anxiety when I first adopted him and could not stand being left alone, I think Kobi’s only anxiety was the agony of being imprisoned in a human world and not allowed to run wild. After living with Kobi for so long, Ali’s blatant and unrestrained affection for me nourished my love-starved soul. This is not meant to disparage my headstrong self-contained dearly departed friend Kobi. On the contrary, his spirit made me admire him tremendously – as difficult as that “spirit” made it to live with him at times. Because of those difficulties, I really learned what the word “commitment” meant, well before all of this happened with Ali.

Of course, I could not have foreseen what happened with Ali. I had some savings that were rapidly depleted once I started chemotherapy with Kobi, and then I got a credit card just to charge his medicines and treatments. Prior to his illness, I had zero credit card debt, only student loan debt. But as I have said before, I can think of no better reason to go into debt, so there I went. And in case you’re wondering: no, pet insurance does not cover chemotherapy. But I would not change a thing. I was able to buy Kobi seven extra good months doing his favorite things – going to the beach, the river, romping through the woods, and trying to run away until the very end, even though he had slowed down considerably. He never stopped trying.

On the morning of July 10, 2006, he couldn’t try anymore. The cancer had come back with a vengeance and apparently attacked his nervous system. That morning he could not get up. He couldn’t move. Even then, I still thought as I rushed him to emergency, he has had so many ups and downs, they will fix this too. But there was no fixing him this time and his cancer doctor told me the words I never wanted to hear: “If this were my dog, I would euthanize him today. I wouldn’t wait.” He said it was the “beginning of the end” and Kobi wasn’t going to get better this time. There were no treatment options left. I stayed with him for hours, asking him to give me a sign. He lifted his head once, but never again. I agonized over the decision. But I knew I could not keep him around for me. I could not be selfish. I had to do what was right for Kobi. But what was that? Who put me in charge? Sigh. I did, when I took him into my care all those years ago. Even though he had been sick for months it still came as shock to me. I told the doctor I had hoped, barring living forever, that he would pass away in his sleep. He told me it rarely happens that way. So I told him I loved him and a bunch of other things and then said good-bye.

Today I will visit the beach where Kobi spent so much time during his last months and remember his long, amazing life and all the lessons he taught me about responsibility, love, commitment, and freedom. Ali accompanied me on this pilgrimage last year, but because the beach is not accessible to dogs in wheelchairs, this year he will not be able to…so I will keep it short. I have so much more to learn.

Over a Barrel.

Photo: Ali in the van waiting to go home after work today. Oops, his booties have holes in them! How embarassing. Seriously, I ordered a new pair and they are on the way...he goes through them fast!

So, I have to travel (for work) to Washington, DC at the end of July for the Taking Action for Animals Conference. I assumed I would board Ali at the Animal Care Center, where he was hospitalized and had his surgeries, because while he was there the techs had mentioned another German shepherd in a doggie wheelchair who boards there when his people are out of town. I was relieved to learn this was an option, as I obviously can’t board him at a regular kennel facility. Last week I called to ask the rates, knowing full well it would be crazy expensive, but in no way prepared for what they told me: "rehab boarding" (special rate for large, non-ambulatory dogs) is $120 per day. Holy CRAP, I say! How can they possibly charge that much (and keep a straight face)?? Well, my friends, because they have me (and others like me, I suppose...but more so ME because I am poor!) over a barrel. My work trip was going to be 5 days (2 days traveling, 3 days conferencing), which adds up to approximately… shoot, where is my calculator?... okay, got it…$600! For a work trip, mind you, not even some fabulous vacation I actually am choosing to go on. How can I afford that? Have I mentioned that I work for a non-profit?? Oh, and they charge per 24-hour period, not per hour. So if you are a few hours over, they still charge you the whole $120. Nice.

But can’t I get the “I spent $16,000 in your facility already, damnit” discount?! Yeah, no…um, that doesn’t exist.

So, hating to do it, I asked my boss if I absolutely had to go. In addition to tabling at the conference, ALDF is hosting an attorney/ law student reception for our members on Saturday evening and, as student liaison, she really wants me to be there for that, so she said I could just fly in for the reception, while Maggie is going to attend the whole conference and table in my place. So this reduces my trip to 3 days (2 days travel, 1 Saturday reception). Plus my mom offered, without my even asking, to pay half of his boarding fee, which was really, really sweet. Finally, Maggie really wanted to go to this conference, so I am happy for her that she gets to go now. Still it would be nice if I didn’t have to go at all, but this will cut Ali’s boarding time almost in half, so I have to be grateful for that. And I have to travel for work again in September and October, so this will be a recurring problem that I need to deal with.

But isn’t there anyone who can watch him for me? Good question! Many of the people who have watched him in the past are no longer options because their houses and apartments are perched atop stairs... now insurmountable obstacles for Alec. Kevin, who often took care of Ali before when I traveled, could be a good solution because he lives mostly on the first floor with just a few steps leading up to his house. Although the steps would be a problem for me (I can barely lift Ali high enough to get him in and out of the van), Kevin is strong enough to actually pick Ali up and carry him, so could probably easily lift him up and down the steps. But Kevin is out of town for two months...

Could I leave Ali home? Well, I thought so. Maggie offered to watch him without hesitation when she learned how much it would cost to board him. I really appreciated this; she has been so incredibly helpful ever since we moved in together (and even before) and has been simply the best roommate to have while dealing with Ali’s situation. However, Maggie shares with me the not-so-strong problem, with the difference being I am totally used to all the difficult little everyday things involved with taking care of Ali. Lifting his back end up and into his cart is no small feat (especially given his propensity to wiggle about!) and the ramp at our house is actually pretty difficult to negotiate given it is quite steep. There is just a lot involved with caring for my 67 lb. beloved baby shepherd loaf, stuff I have gotten used to.

Now, all of this could be learned by another person, right? Sure! That’s what I was thinking, until the day after her generous offer, when Ali completely tipped over in his cart while going down the ramp. This scared the heck out of me. It happened so fast; his cart just caught the edge of the bottom of the ramp when he tried to turn too quickly – even with me holding onto him – and over he went. Then he started flailing and I didn’t know what to do but struggled to stay calm and keep him calm so he would not hurt himself. I could not get him upright in the cart the way he was down so I had to unhitch the cart and get him out of it, which I did, and begged him to “stay!” lying down on the sidewalk while I righted the cart and then got him back in it. He seemed fine, but I was mildly traumatized. I kept having flashes of it happening again. If that happened on my watch -- me, who guides him up and down the ramp multiple times a day -- how many things could go horribly wrong while someone else was watching him?? This is not to say I don’t trust Maggie – I really do. The best way to describe it is that it felt like an ominous sign (especially given the timing). Not that I am superstitious (well, maybe a little… which reminds me that I heard an interesting piece on superstition the other day in honor of Friday the 13th on NPR and the psychologist was saying that there is not one set of traits superstitious people share but that they do tend to score higher on measures of anxiety – you know, superstitious beliefs as a way to maintain the illusion of control over one’s world. That makes sense to me and despite my penchant for rationality, being of the anxious persuasion I definitely fit the profile.), but for whatever reason that scary little accident told me I would not be comfortable unless I boarded him. So that’s what we’re going to do. But hot damn, why do they have to be so expensive?!!

Ramp is built!

Yesterday my dear friend Steve (Ali’s too!) spent the whole day building a ramp for Ali so he can get up the 6 steps to the porch at my new place in Petaluma. I am tremendously grateful for him for building this for us – it was a big job and took hours! But now it’s all set up and all that remains (besides painting it) to be seen is whether Ali will be able to get up and down it okay in his new wheels (which won’t arrive for another [long!] two weeks). It should be fine, but of course I am nervous it will be too steep. Anyway, it is a tremendous relief to have the ramp built. Thank you, Steve!!! The materials cost about $200, but at least I didn't have to pay someone to build it (and thank you again, Steve, for also donating the paint!).

I spoke to my good friend and SF roommate, Courtney, tonight. They have started reluctantly interviewing people for my room and are sad about it – as am I! I looked up the listing for my room on Craigslist and it bummed me out; I remember us all writing the description together when we were looking for another roommate six months ago. This time it’s me being replaced – although nobody wants it! It will be hard when I go back to pack up my things once and for all. I have not been back there in over a month – ever since I left that morning to pick up Alec from the vet hospital. Right now it feels like I am just temporarily “away.” I don’t want to go back and say good-bye forever! Still, I can’t overemphasize how happy I am that Alec is here with me and doing so well all things considered. I am grateful I have this chance to take care of him and that is my one and only focus. While all this is true, saying good-bye to my old life will be sad too.

Ordered the cart today! Now we just have to wait 3 weeks…

I placed the order for Alec’s cart from Eddie’s Wheels (http://www.eddieswheels.com/) but now we have to wait 3 weeks for it to arrive. They take 2 weeks to build and a week to ship from Mass. to Calif. It is definitely a relief to finally have the order in. The measurements for these carts have to be exact and they are not the easiest to obtain. Juli, the rehabilitation specialist, and I measured him on two separate occasions (with another set of measurements done by myself and two friends for good measure) before we were comfortable that we had the precise numbers. We had some trouble getting accurate measurements across the top of his back, which is a part of the cart that is welded and definitely cannot be adjusted after the fact. If the cart does not fit right it has to be sent back and another cart built, meaning another 3 weeks and you have to pay for the new cart. So I really hope it fits him when it arrives!! My credit card has not been charged yet, but I think it is going to cost around $600.

And Alec is still going to the bathroom outside a lot so I haven’t really been expressing his bladder. I tried once early this morning but did not try for the rest of the day – I just let him go outside on his own. To see how well he was emptying (or not), I asked Dr. Leavey to stop by on her way home this evening to check his bladder with a catheter and she extracted four tablespoons of urine, which is not very much. So signs seem good that he is mostly emptying on his own, which is amazing! Fingers crossed that this continues.

Bladder expression has been going well, so I have scaled back the Phenoxybenzamine (most expensive drug EVER) to half the dose. If it continues to go well, we will scale back further.

A couple days ago it suddenly became really difficult to express Alec’s bladder, even though I had been doing fine the last few days. I know it’s not my technique because I can feel the “balloon” now under my hands and everything was going pretty well…then suddenly nothing! After my local vet, Dr. Leavey, checked and also found him hard to express, the doctors at Animal Care Center prescribed Phenoxybenzamine, which is a drug that relaxes the urethral sphincter. This drug cost $144 for a one week supply!!!!! Unbelievable… just my luck that he was prescribed the most expensive drug ever. I asked one of the neurologists if he would have to be on it for the rest of his life and she said quite possibly, but the other neurologist said no, it’s very rare that a dog would have to be on it for a long duration and that the plan should be to wean him off it, if and when expressing starts to be easier again. Luckily I accidentally gave him only half the prescribed dose the first night and I found he was already easier to express the next day. I am keeping it at this dose and within a few days will scale back if he improves. I called Costco pharmacy, which is supposed to be the cheapest option, and they will only order this drug in bottles of 100 pills, which costs over $600 per bottle!! I really hope he does not have to be on this for the rest of his life. :-(

On a happier note, I walked in the room yesterday and Alec looked at me and wagged his tail! I got really excited. I don’t know if it means anything, but I will investigate. Either way, it sure was nice to see it wag again!! He does this thing where if I walk in the room he will just wag the tip of his tail. It’s really cute – I call it his “rattlesnake tail.” Well, that’s what he did. It was pretty cool.

First Post

This is the original email update I sent out to friends and family in February 2008:

On the morning of 2/8, Alec came home limping from the park; an hour later, he could no longer walk. At that point I realized he not sprained his leg as I had originally thought...something was wrong with his back. My local vet sent me immediately to a neurologist (I later learned that with these injuries, time is of the essence) and it turned out he had ruptured a disc, which required surgery to repair. The injury was severe and there was significant bruising and swelling along his spine. For a while we feared he might develop ascending myelomalacia, which is a terminal condition where the paralysis spreads up the spinal column eventually causing the muscles controlling the lungs to stop working. Thankfully this did not happen, but improbably, a few days later while he was still recuperating in the vet hospital, the same disc re-ruptured a second time and another emergency surgery had to be performed. Two weeks and thousands of dollars later, he was able to come home. But not to my home in San Francisco, because like practically every place in SF, it has stairs, which are not an option for him right now - maybe not ever. Although the surgery saved his life, the injury was so severe I knew there was a chance he would never walk again.

A month after the surgeries, Alec still has not regained sensation in his back legs and he likely will remain paralyzed for the rest of his life. The underlying cause of this rupture is Intervertebral Disc Disease (IVDD), which is more common in small dogs, especially dachsunds, but not unheard of in German shepherds. Unfortunately, everything is more difficult when this happens to a large dog. If they do recover it takes longer and obviously it is more difficult to care for them; they can't be lifted up and carried everywhere like small dogs. I am trying really hard not to injure myself (especially my back) in the process of caring for him! Since I could not return home, we have temporarily moved into a vacant office on the ground floor at ALDF, which as most of you know is 45 miles north of SF, and have been crashing here for a little over 3 weeks, me on my air mattress, Ali on his bed, a small table for my laptop, and a lot of microwave dinners. This is where we work, eat, sleep and everything in between while he recovers from surgery. I have been looking for a new place since we cannot go back home to SF. There is a very slight chance he could eventually regain some motor function with physical therapy but, even with the best case scenario, this won't happen anytime soon. Some paralyzed dogs develop what is called "reflex" or "spinal" walking even if they can't feel their back legs, but one study I read said the average time for this ability to emerge was 9 months. I am doing physical therapy with him to encourage these and other local reflexes to develop and we are also in the process of ordering a cart, or doggie wheelchair, which will help with his therapy and of course, allow him to get around once again on walks. Apparently even bigger dogs can do really well in carts, and they have all-terrain type wheels that allow them to go on trails, the beach, and even the snow.

One of the biggest challenges has been dealing with Alec's bladder, which I have to manually express several times a day. Bladder expression is not easy to learn to do correctly, especially with a big dog, but it is very important (if not emptied completely the risk of infection skyrockets). But we are managing. It is no exaggeration to say my life has completely turned upside down in the last month. There have been a lot of challenges with learning to take care of a 65 pound paraplegic dog, not to mention being temporarily homeless, but my friends and family have been wonderfully supportive and I am so lucky to work for a great organization like ALDF so that I even HAD the option of moving into my office. Not many workplaces would allow that! Most importantly as far as I am concerned, Ali is in good spirits and has been an amazingly good sport throughout this ordeal. I am very excited to eventually get him out and about in his new cart, which we will be ordering from Eddie's Wheels: http://www.eddieswheels.com/. The first picture on the homepage is a German shepherd in a cart, in case you are wondering what he will look like with his wheels. ;-) Another friend is in the process of building a website for Ali and I will keep y'all posted. Some folks have expressed interest in donating to Ali's fund and so the website will serve as a place where people can contribute to his ongoing medical care, rehabilitation, and especially his cart (they are expensive, of course, and I am maxed out with around $16,000 in debt right now just from the two weeks he was hospitalized! Oh, how I wish I were exaggerating). Please think good thoughts for us! I am still hoping for the best.