CHRISTMAS IN JULY: On Saturday, July 25th (Christmas in July!) I was gifted a twice-rescued, thirteen year-old, twenty-three pound black dapple dachshund named “Paxil.” (No one knows the origin of the name, but it’s on his collar.)
This was only a week and a few days after unexpectedly losing Percy and I REALLY didn’t want another dog - but it was that or a rescue agency, so I said I’d give him a home.
A VISITATION OF DEATH: He is very energetic for his age and sadly, two months later - on Friday, September 25th - while home alone, he managed to injure himself somehow, probably by jumping on or off the furniture and, within a day, lost the use of both rear legs.
I did everything wrong. I didn’t block him from jumping on furniture in the first place, I didn’t take him to the vet immediately (as I was broke), and - on top of all that - misinterpreted what was going on.
I found half a chewed up rubber ball and suspected he had eaten the other half. And maybe he did. And after I saw that he had no signed of a blockage I thought he was getting arthritis.
But that was not the issue. His back is apparently the issue.
So I foolishly continued having him move around and even took him for short walks in the twenty-four hours between the first symptoms and the complete loss of control over his legs.
So I completely blew the critical early moment that often determines whether the dog will ever walk again.
BEYOND DEATH: I talked it over with my housemate and we are both committed to caring for Paxil so long as he has quality of life.
As the front end (the one that barks and eats) works just fine, Paxil gives us moment-to-moment updates on his quality of life. :-)
On payday, September 30th, I took him to the Allentown Animal Clinic (http://aacexotics.com/). They found he was full of gas (his x-ray looked like he had swallowed a balloon), has lousy teeth, and a heart murmur that - along with his age - makes him a poor candidate for any surgical procedure, let alone spine surgery (presuming I had the money, which I don’t).
They found that he had no apparent pain when they pressed on his backbone (a good thing), yipped in pain when they pinched each of his back paws (also a good thing), could wag his tail, and still pee and crap. He also, astonishingly, is able to stand on all four legs for a least a couple of seconds so long as he’s steadied so he doesn’t topple over.
The vet said it looked as if he had “forgotten” where his rear paws were. After the first couple of days he began licking his back paws, possibly attempting to stimulate and “re-map” them in his brain.
It has taken me a full month to adjust to the basics of living with a small dog who has lost the use of his hind legs and I’m just now beginning to get the necessary resources for physical therapy - which, along with steroids and some other drugs, are really the only treatment options available, both financially AND medically.
Paxil’s chief unhappiness with all this is that his food has been cut drastically (from his point of view :-) ) to help him lose weight, though it’s a diet of home cooked chicken breast and white rice (to solve the gas issue) that he’s become quite fond of.
So life goes on even amidst anticipations and visitations of death and - while I’ll continue the physical therapy as long as he lives (whatever else he gains from it, he loves the attention and the handling) and if there’s no improvement by Christmas I’ll get him a prosthetic and he’ll be the hottest thing on one wheel.
