Yeah, I'll call him an angel, although so much of his life he has been anything but. I have worked so hard to make him conform, fit into the mold that I thought the perfect dog should be. And he has fought me at every turn. Oh he might give a little just for my ego, but by in large he lives up to his name. He's a little Roscoe.
I thought about that so much over the last ... gee ... it hasn't even been 24 hours. I watched him as he trotted out in front of me, moving from side to side as we walked out of the hotel. That always drove me insane. I so wanted him to calmly walk beside me, taking his cues from me. You know ... what good dogs do. I never did win that one.
Last week I took Roscoe to the vet. I thought he had an inner ear infection, as his breed is prone. It seemed like his balance was off and that he was stumbling a lot. This is the dog that I compared to a cat. He could climb gates and walk on narrow ledges. Falling down is not something he did.
Dr Evans checked his ears and kept asking questions. Then she started doing some exams that I now know were testing for a neurological problem. Neurological ... my heart dropped into my stomach when I first heard that word. That was Friday.
By Monday he was definitely having trouble walking. Not that it bothered him. He would fall down and get right back up and keep going. Funny thing about dogs. Whatever happens they just keep going.
By Tuesday the neurologist at Auburn's Small Animal Hospital had called and could work us in. I threw some clothes in a bag and hit the road. Dr Evans had already given me some info on what to expect so I was prepared to hang around for a couple of days. We met Dr Redmond who gave me the drill. Blood tests and work up today. (Bless their hearts, my friend Amy and cousin Bob showed up to hold me hand during this.) Then I could take him for the night. Back the next morning for more extensive x-rays, MRI and a spinal tap.
I know it is crazy, but there is still this part of me that thought, oh .... this is my goofy dog. He has survived having all his teeth removed. He's survived a dog fight with a 75 pound dog. He'll be fine. We'll figure it out and fix it.
I dropped him at 7:30 and went back to the hotel to wait for the report. At 1:00 Dr Redmond called. For some reason he thought I had driven back to Birmingham. (silly man... not without my dog) He said I know it is a long drive back from Birmingham, but I would really rather than you came in for us to tell you what we found. I think my brain started shutting down at that point. I didn't ask any questions. I just said sure and made an appointment for 4:00.
I got there at 4:15. I'm never late for that kind of thing. Not this time.
I wonder if there is class that doctors, both human and animal doctors, take on breaking bad news. Clearly Dr Redmond had a method of delivering his information. He started by telling me the things that they had ruled out. Unfortunately, those were the least scary things on the list. Then he put up an MRI image for me to see. Even not knowing what it meant, I could see that that little brain looked ... wrong. Thats the first time I heard necrotizing meningoencephalitis. That wasn't even on the list.
Turns out that the left side of my baby's brain was rapidly melting. Soon it would spread to the right. No magic pill. No miracle surgery. No hope.
They let me bring him home then. No need to keep him overnight after all. He and I went back to the hotel.
People saw the shaved patch on his back and on his front leg. They petted his head and asked how he was. I told them the truth. He is fine. As far as he is concerned, he is fine.
Now I'm waiting for the folks at Auburn to send a treatment regimen to my vet. Not that it is going to cure anything. Now the goal is to keep him as good as I can for as long as I can. They say two weeks to a month, but they don't know. They told me lots of things that are going to happen. But for today, I'm trying to face it like Roscoe does. You fall down, you get back up and keep going.
