Author: kungfunurse

Remember when you were little, and you wanted so badly to stay and watch TV, but your eyes were heavy, you fought your head against gravity to stay up? Then you couldn’t fight it anymore and you fell asleep in some odd, twisted position, without a blanket or pillow?

Your mother or father lifted you, carried you, and instinctually you wrapped your arms  around, barely knowing that they were taking you somewhere more comfortable, warmer, where you could settle in for a deep, safe sleep.

Ivan says this is what it is like to be set free.

 

I’ve had a few questions about what happened, and I don’t mind sharing, except for reasons I cannot go into, I have not name or describe a key player.

The bare bones story is that Ivan was triggered, reacted, and drew blood. He immediately withdrew, but the damage was done. Poor Ivan was easily startled. Like someone with PTSD. Ivan became startled when someone touched his paw. from behind [I THINK – the person, who I cannot identify] is not willing or able to give details] and it was so fast that I ca’t say for sure what I saw. I was walking through and only saw the kick at the back leg and a sudden roar. The person’s head was in his mouth. He immediately let go and was gentle again. I cannot say much about the physical injuries, but they are not life threatening. It was more terrifying than anything.

But after losing a paw to cruelty, Ivan certainly had rights to be sensitive. However, I have a seven year old, and what if she accidentaly stepped on his paw? As you know seven year olds aren’t the most careful people. For safety, I could not ask Ivan to live in a kennel or for us to tiptoe around him. Maybe the fall down the stairs hurt him worse, I dont know. But he could not get past his fears of injury. I had to make the decision for everyone’s safety, even Ivan’s. I refused to pass him along to another ‘rescue’.

Which led me to a terrifying thought: Teeth met bloodstream. Ivan was living in a barn before I adopted him. The foster mom provided no rabies documentation. What if   ?  He *had* started acting strangely. His sweet self who usually didn’t care about other dogs was lunging at them in the office suddenly. He was shaking his head in an odd way, like when they have an ear infection.

I consulted with the vet who told me there was a slim to none chance of Rabies. I had, after all, vaccinated him the week prior, to be on the safe side. But it could be too early to build up antibodies, right? And sometimes vax are not always effective anyhow! [Ever got the flu shot and gotten the flu anyhow?] 

I tossed this idea in my head, horrified. Rabies is 100% fatal after a certain stage. Rarely do humans survive. I consulted with other dog experts and a nurse. The conclusion remained the same: extremely remote chance of rabies. Besides, Rabid dogs typically are hypdrophobic, and Ivan drank water. He was also past the quarantine stage from the point I had him, 10 days, so he would be displaying overt signs of rabies by day 12, like frothing, poor coordination, hydrophobia.

He had just been through too much. Hot weather, limping, a fall downstairs, and an unknown trigger. Poor boy.We didn’t deserve to live among you. 

 

 

Ivan sent a message today. I can’t begin to tell you the form in which it came, but it was along these lines:

The office we were in didn’t feel right. The dogs there – everything. I felt it in the leash. It was different from before. Your heartbeat was harder, and your temperature was hotter. Nothing was good. Not when you told me “Good Boy” for peeing on the bush, nothing. I never understood your words, only vibrations. Sometimes I didn’t understand why I did what I did or did not do. I know a bad feeling when I get it though. I’ve had it before.

Your temperature got hotter when you sat next to me on the floor and the muzzle was on, I felt it. Now I am a web of myself and other dogs and cats and people. I let go of the big head you loved, and found myself a part of everything.

My missing paw, it was only missing because I was attached to it. It will never be missing again, because I am a part of something that does not need to be attached to it. So is Crystal and Jerry and Scout. You miss me because you are still attached. But you are also a part of the web, so we do not need attachment. We can stop panting, stop losing, because in this thing…we are still one. All of us…one. You have not met your part of being one have you? Because you will see, it not possible to miss something that you are already always a part of. The bowls, the collars, are these things I guess are sentimentals. Some dogs like to carry things like that, be attached. You will see, you will laugh so hard that tears will come down….that when you let go of these things, we were together all along without those symbols.

We are safe. Crystal and Scout and Jerry and the others…it’s not a fairytale to say we’re really safe. And it was all worth it.

 

One of the sickest, most troubling aspects of Ivan’s euthanasia was arriving at the vet, checking in, and having people overhear my business.  Now, I know a lot of you probably get sympathy for your tripawds, wich can be sweet. And Ivan got a lot of attention both for being a tripawd and a rare-ish massively boned breed. Which typically was fine, I didn’t mind answering questions. I was proud that he showed great adaptability and could be a model for amputees of any kind.

But, I don’t want attention when I am there to euthanize. Does anyone? I just want to quietly take care of my business.  had my mind committed and destined toward a result, and suddenly, people were gasping and dialing on their cell phones and saying “Did you try this?” “Did you try that?” and  “I know someone who knows someone who takes in this kind! Hang on! Oh…He’s not home…Let me try his girlfriend!” Meanwile the front desk is requesting payment. My hurt, confused mind is pulled. Do I let these people try to find him a home? Do I euthanize? Dogs are walking in and out. Some are growly. Ivan is strating to show signs of stress and aggression I’ve never seen before – snapping and other dogs in the waiting room. People are pleading. I say, “I just need to do this.” One guy stands up and says, “I’LL take him!” [Earlier he said he didn’t have room for him.] I say, “See this? I’m seeing behaviours here he’s never shown before. I don’t want to pass this on to someone else. I don’t know what is going on.” The guy is angry.

I pay. And to escape the frantic phone calls to other rescues and friends and farms, I tell the front desk, I’ll be outside. In my mind I beg them to hurry before one of the “rescuers” goes nutty and offers something crazy, like to pay to take him. PLEASE. LET THIS BE DONE.

Finally, a tech, who must have seen what was happening in the front, comes out a side door, and lets me in the back entrance to avoid the waiting room. The staff is supportive. Ivan – oh Ivan…if we could all pass away as quickly and peacefully as you did. You certainly earned the right to die gently, in comfort, with your biggest cheerleader EVER holding you.

 

Thank you. We were so excited to see the package that I tore it open and tried it on Ivan at 1140pm [I checked the mail late].

Ivan sniffed the harness for a good long while, wagged his tail and was ready to GO!

And by “GO” I mean, out the door, down the steps, WAY overconfident. Me included. So our spirits were GREAT, but our balance was not.

The door to our apt building was propped open. With his new found enthusiasm, Ivan and I tumbled ass over teakettle down the steps and out the door. He veered off to the right and landed in some bushes, but me…well  I was still connected by a short leash but abruptly halted by the wooden railing that he slid through underneath. Since I had the leash in my right hand, the rail made a lovely dark violet colour, met with alizarin red on my arm.

Poor Ivan. But, ever the champ, he shook it off while I whimpered, rocking back and forth on the curb.

I do think he was a little tender today, as he wasn’t his usual sweet self. But he agreed to pose for a pic with the harness, looking skyward toward Scout and Crystal in thanks.

So as I posted last night, Ivan’s belly blew up and looked weird, because his boney spine was still, well all knobby and he just kind of looked like the Pregnant Man, if you know who I mean. I didn’t *think* he had bloated, but I texted photos of him to my ex vet tech friend who said “something is definitely going on with him” …I go to the vet, and not wait til to tomorrow.

I explained, that from what I researched, he didn’t have the clinical signs. No retching, drooling, or pale gums. His tail was still wagging and he was friendly. He was just panting like crazy but he has been doing that before the big belly.

The ex-vet-tech friend was pretty insistant that I go to the ER Vet. Kinda freaking me out, with the whole, ‘they’ll die fast from thom this’ stuff.

A little background on the ex-vet-tech: he has a horrible, horrible unrelenting crush on me. I’ve explained about boundaries and how he has to respect them, and he has said he would. Stay with me here…I’m getting to something.

He asked if I wanted him to come to the ER vet. I said NO. Absolutely not. I’m fine.

Well, as fate would have it, I got to the ER Vet and realized I left my wallet at home. I had a $125 cash. But I had a feeling the visit would cost more.  Grudgingly, I called ex-vet-tech and asked him if he would kindly go to my apt and get my wallet for me. His respose? “GREAT! I just got out of the shower in case you changed your mind about me coming!” Bear in mind, it was past midnight.

And I had a feeling of being a little set-up. A little pushed down Worry Lane and into the ER Vet so that ex vet tech would have a shot at ‘getting together’, in spite of Ivan not having any of the clinical signs of GVD. Because, yea, he JUMPS at any chance to do that. Who the hell showers after being told, “No, I don’t want you to come.” just on the OFF CHANCE that something might change?

Back to Ivan. Of course he didn’t have bloat. The vet ruled that out on physical exam in like two seconds. Which FREAKED ME OUT, because the entire time in the exam room waiting, I was crying, preparing myself to say goodbye to sweet Ivan. Literally, once again, I thought, ‘this is the end’. Based on the har’em scar’em shit from ex vet tech. Who, by the way, should KNOW, after 13 years as a vet tech, that a dog wagging its tail and having a soft belly, not hard…is no GVD. So I’m a bit pissed.

However, on exam, the doctor found enlarged lymph nodes under Ivan’s jaw and behind his knee. Big, like, walnut sized. And he said Lymphoma is a possibility.

Here I am again. I just don’t have endless resources to pay for chemo and vet trips, yet I want the best life for Ivan. I live on a stretched income as it is. I don’t know what to do 🙁

 

Ha! Tricked you with the title! OK, had to throw some comic relief in here. Ivan lost a leg, and I found one for him. 🙂

So I did.

I have only had this lost soul for eight days, searched for him since June ninth after seeing his photo on Petfinder [because the foster mom wouldn’t return my calls, so I asked the Humane Society to verify his status on Petfinder], drove five hours to see him, was turned away initially by the foster mom, who said “I didn’t think you were coming. You have know idea how many people had stood me up, so I took a 24 hour shift at work,” and finally brought him home.

It seems touch and go. One moment he wags that bull whip of a tail and the neighbour downstairs tells me “I know when Ivan’s happy, because my chandelier shakes,” and the next moment his respirations are shallow and rapid, he can’t stand up, and I can’t tell if the pant-pant-panting is just a Mastiff thing or he’s suffering.

Mastiff People! Please tell me if it’s normal for three legged Mastiffs to pant so much! Is it because it’s summer? Is it because he is stressed about rehoming? Is it because he doesn’t “get” that he is HOME and he is unstable psychologically?

I feel silly crying over a dog I have only had eight days. But I’m afraid, so afraid this boy isn’t going to pull through. He hobbled through Atlanta on just the radius and ulna protruding from his leg…he deserves the rest of his life to be nothing but a vacation.

The vet today said that with him not gaining weight, she sould not rule out cancer.

I have to stop now because the screen is too blurry.

Thanks to all.

 

As you can see by the photo below, we are a week into refeeding, and Ivan is still very thin after coming from the foster home/rescue organization:

I’ve been mixing Pet Kelp[supposed to be nutrient rich] with rice, stewed chicken, Pedigree kibble and a bit of water together to make about two cups of food several times a day. He won’t accept the kibble alone. I’m still hand feeding most of the time, but now he is starting to rat from the bowl. He also gets salmon treats and peanut butter for its dense calories. Poop is looking good.  Well, as good as…er…poop can look.

All I can think of is that the recent heat is just exhausting him when we go out. He cannot, and I mean *literally* cannot walk more than a few feet without needing to stop and laying down. He immediately starts panting heavily. [But remember, he has to navigate a staircase before he even gets outside.]

I groom him a few times a day. “What’s there to groom an a Mastiff!” you say? Well, my Mastiff friends will back me up when I say that the dewlaps are connected to the twolaps are connected to the threelaps and all that turkey gobbler which falls into everything they sniff, eat, or lick. Towels at the ready. And you’ll please forgive me for making this analogy, but it’s the closest one I can think of. Under Ivan’s chin are dark stubbly bumps which look like the sometimes  the razor bumps that some men of African descent get. So I put some balm on him and give his muscles a massage before bed.

But last night, I ran my hands down over his back legs, and noticed [just barely] that when I did, some fluid appeared to leak from his right heel. No obvious cut or scrapes. Really, no trauma at all. Lighting wasn’t good, so I made it brighter, rubbed again, and saw that it was blood and clear fluid coming out of two pin-hole sized dots. When I say “pin-hole”      I mean the size of this asterisk *.

But when I put slight pressure from above the pinholes, big drops of blood and pus seeped through! As a people-nurse, this would not be good for my patient. I would express concern to her doctor immediately, for she could be at risk for bone infection, tunneling pressure wounds, fistulas, systemic infection, even death. So off the the vet, 4th time in 8 days.

She diagnosed infectd “bursae over the pressure points of the hock” and noted again the underweight status. He is on antibiotics and steroids.

I was angry.

I started making calls and emails to the people who organized his adoption. PetSmart sponsered it, although five hours away from me, so I called that store and talked to the manager. She was annoyed and seemed put off. She said she knew the foster mom. In the end she said she’d call her but I don’t know if she did. Wasn’t happy with that, so I emailed PetSmart Corporate Headquarters and PetSmart Charities with photos of Ivan’s condition and how at the adoption, the foster mom gave no rabies or other vaccinations documentation. And I forwarded the emails and photos to that county’s Animal Control, and because they actually have really no control over foster situations…the people who regulate and license fosters in Georgia are under the Dept of Agriculture. So I forwarded to their “Animal Protection” division. They want copies of Ivan’s vet records here in FL to investigate the foster group as well as the foster mom.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

To All Agencies and Media: On the Sixth Day After His Adoption, Ivan Louis MacGilicutty the First – Finally Had His First Poop At 0904 AM This Morning.

It Was Of Normal Consistency and Colour, Requiring Two Bags For Clean-Up.

Mr. MacGilicutty Requests No Further Details Be Released At This Time.

End.