A Dog

"I really want a dog."

I've been hearing that constant refrain from my daughter for the past several months. I wanted a dog, too. My husband was willing to tolerate a dog. But how to get a dog? Buy from a breeder? Go to the humane society? What kind of dog? Puppy or not?

Finally, last Friday, my daughter had the day off from school, and she and I went to the local humane society. I had gone on-line a few days before, and had identified a dog that I thought might work for us. She was a 4 year old black Lab mix, and was described as friendly and good with children, and only medium sized. I didn't tell my daughter about my research, I just let her look at the dogs and see what caught her eye, or her heart.

She looked at the puppies and the little dogs, then we went into the big dog area. There were some really loud barking dogs at the entrance, and that kind of intimidated my daughter. But we continued down the line of kennels, and eventually came to Chica. That's the dog my daughter was caught by. Chica was also the dog I had identified as a likely candidate. We went back in, and asked to meet Chica.

When Chica was brought into the dog run to meet us, she didn't immediately connect to us. She seem very stressed, and wanted out. She wouldn't look at us, and the whites of her eyes were very apparent. But after a few minutes, and a couple of doggie treats, she settled down, and began to connect. When she licked my daughter's face, I knew we were going to be okay. We went back in and did all the paperwork, gave them a credit card, and took Chica home.

Chica settled in pretty quickly in her new home, especially after I bought a crate later that evening. Everything seemed pretty easy; she didn't chew on anything, she followed me around, she'd come sit at my feet when I sat down. She was fairly calm for a Lab, the only challenge being that she would pull on the leash until she practically choked herself. She was smart, and learned commands quickly.

But then, on Saturday, she started to cough. Her appetite was a little off. By Sunday, she was coughing worse, and her appetite was way off. I called the humane society, and they said it was probably kennel cough, and as long as I could get her to eat, I could probably wait until Tuesday to take her to the vet, since Monday was Memorial Day. They gave me suggestions of things to try to tempt her to eat, and I was able to get her to eat a little bit.

But then on Monday morning, my mom instinct said, this is a sick dog. I called the animal hospital I had been planning to use, but they were closed. They gave a number for an emergency clinic, and I called them. They told me it sounded like kennel cough, and I should bring her in. I did, they examined her, found a mass in her abdomen that they weren't sure if it was a bladder or not, but gave me antibiotics and a cough suppressant for her, and said if she wasn't better the next day, I should take her to the vet.

The next day was today, and she wasn't any better. She woke me up at 4 am with her coughing, and she seemed even sicker than the day before. As soon as the vet opened, I called, and was given an appointment for 1:30. I gave Chica another dose of the antibiotic (her third), and worried. Every time I left the house this morning, I was afraid I'd come back to find her dead, that's how sick she seemed. But she didn't die, she was just miserable as she laid in her crate. All I could do was rub her head and coax her to drink a little water.

When I took her in this afternoon, her fever was higher than the day before, and it was clear we weren't dealing with a simple case of kennel cough. The vet today felt the same mass, and was sure it wasn't her bladder after I told her that Chica had relieved herself just a half hour earlier. She did an ultrasound, and found an abscess. She said it was probably related to the spay surgery Chica had just had 9 days earlier, when she came into the shelter. The abscess really needed to be opened up, but the problem was, Chica was too sick for surgery. We decided to leave her there overnight for IV fluids and antibiotics, and hope that would improve her enough for surgery. The vet also wanted to take some X-rays, because she was concerned that Chica may have developed pneumonia.

So I left Chica, and went home to meet my daughter's school bus. I explained where Chica was, and that she was very sick. My daughter asked me if she would get better, and I told her the truth: I didn't know.

A little later, the vet called. The X-rays had confirmed that Chica had pneumonia. That complicates things a great deal. Putting a dog with pneumonia under general anesthesia is risky; the vet said that you'd really want a ventilator around if you're going to do that, and that her animal hospital doesn't have a vent. She could refer us to a specialist who would have one, but it would be expensive and still far from risk-free. If the abscess ruptures, then that's really bad, so not doing surgery is probably not going to work, either.

So, our options are not great. Transport her to a specialist, have the operation, transport her back to our vet for post-op care, spend probably at least $4000, and still maybe she dies. Have our vet do the operation without a vent on hand, much riskier, and still probably $2000. Or put her to sleep. The contract with the humane society says that if an adopted dog incurs a major health problem within 30 days, they will take the dog back and refund the adoption fee ($90). It's not explicitly stated, but I would assume that they would then put her to sleep.

Rationally, I can't justify spending that kind of money on a mutt I've known less than a week. I could buy a purebred puppy with an impeccable pedigree for that kind of money. But that doesn't stop my heart from breaking.