No Turning Back--Amputation Day

     Ugh. Taking an animal to the vet is never a joyous occasion. Waking up early, on the day after Christmas, to deliver your adorable puppy to her amputation appointment has to fall somewhere on the bottom of the list of "fun ways to spend a morning." I was guilty, and sorry, and nervous, and committed. By this time, we had been assured and reassured that this was the most caring decision we could make for her well-being, and that was the only positive in the situation.
     Bo had to work (lucky), so I loaded Betty into the car--she had become a pro at car rides, after 7 trips to the vet

I had 20 minutes of this look, to rattle my nerves

 

  The staff members at the clinic were very understanding, and passing her off into the arms of an old friend was as ideal as awful can be. They explained the procedure, and assured me that they would contact me, as soon as she was out of surgery. If her pain could be controlled, we would be able to take her home that night. I faked an upbeat goodbye, and told her to she'd be just fine, and walked out the door to the sound of scared puppy cries.

     Again, I was blown away by the support of our friends. Positive messages helped pass the time, as I sat with my phone in my hand. 

Roughly 832,473,245 hours later, my heart skipped a beat, when this came in

 

     I didn't know what we were walking into, when we went to pick her up. I figured it would be pretty "Frankenstein," but despite the gruesome evidence of what was a major, yet extremely successful surgery,  that wagging tail with the white tip made us feel instant relief. It hurt, looking at the 18 staples and bruised tissue, but hearing about how pleased the surgeon was with the results gave us a taste of optimism. The message was relayed to us that she did not feel that Betty's lifespan would be affected by loss of limb, and she expected her to experience very little, if any limitations. We did the right thing!

     Although she whimpered the whole way home, when we set her down, she immediately walked--like she had never had 4 to begin with--to her food dish for some dinner. CRAZY!

 

     We tried to comfort her, and inspected the surgery site, getting used to this drastic new look--what had been a cute bandage, adorned with Christmas trees, now resembled a pita pocket. The incision and closure were beautifully done, but a bit jarring

     It quickly became evident that she was in a lot of pain--I can't even imagine what she was feeling--so we called the vet, in a panic. They were soon to close, and we would have to go to the ER. It made us sick, to see her stressed and hurting, and we rushed her in, as fast as we could. Thankfully for all three of us, the sweet girl finally cried herself to sleep on the way. We were able to be seen quickly, and the clinic staff made us feel better by expediting the check in process.

Bo comforting his girl, late night in the ER

     A pain med injection helped a tad, and we brought a slightly more comfortable puppy home to rest

 

     Another sleepless night, and my first injection on an animal later (yikes!), we were all relieved to have the day behind us.

Tough Decision Reached--Hoping for a Christmas Miracle

   I am a researcher, through and through. I cannot make a big decision, before exhausting all efforts to educate myself on every potential outcome. When it came to making the call on how my beloved Betty girl would live her life from 10 weeks on, I went into overdrive. Our vet was fantastic, and called nearly every day, with updates and information she gathered from specialists she shared Betty's case with. We learned that if we could salvage 40% of the tibia and fibula post-amputation, she could be a candidate for a prosthetic. I called every prosthetic company in North America, gathering as much insight on this option as I could soak up.
     We had xrays sent out for fourth, fifth, and sixth opinions, and even spoke with a surgeon in the famed Oregon State University Veterinary Department. Surgery was not an option--it would take multiple cross-pinning procedures, the leg would not grow, with the destruction of the growth plates, and it would likely be a "gimp" leg with chronic pain and little use. A low amputation would not be plausible, due to the integrity of the bones being compromised by the severity of the expansive infection. The unanimous decision by all professional opinions was a complete amputation. We prepared ourselves for the next step, and tried to stay positive, as we celebrated our first Christmas with our wonder girl.

 Wiped out at "Grandpa's" on Christmas Eve

     Betty met the family, and charmed them all. It was a bittersweet day, watching her play with her cousin dogs, knowing her surgery would be the following morning. The closer it came, the more nervous we became. Would she understand what happened to her? Would she fail to bond with me, after I dropped her off to be cut on? She would wake up from the anesthesia...right? We tried to ease our anxiety, but couldn't rest until she was out of surgery, and back home.

Hobbles, Wobbles, and Smiles

     As if we needed validation, watching Betty immediately take to her new life in our world was absolute joy. We brought her home and showered her in love, while beginning our painstaking research for the best possible solution to this problem none of us asked for. We couldn't stop doting over her, and she seemed to soak up every kiss, snuggle, and belly rub.

     First night home, and exhausted after a long and emotional weekend

 

Such an angel

 

     Going back to work was BRUTAL, but she adjusted well to her puppy room. I'm fortunate to live close to work, and counted the minutes until I could go home for lunch every day

 How can you leave that face?

Coming home from work to this was absolute JOY

She couldn't get enough loving--if she couldn't wake us up to get affection, she would nestle herself into a comfy snuggle position

Despite her best efforts, the cats weren't convinced that this Christmas present was better than the laser pen they'd hoped for... They slowly warmed up to her, inches at a time

"That cat is hideous"

     

     Puppies are work when they're healthy, and I wasn't sure what to expect, with a wounded baby. To my delight, she was puppy pad trained after one single accident. She learned to "come" and "sit" in minutes-- we concluded that we had the smartest puppy there ever was.  It was amazing, watching her quick adjustment to walking with a bandage, and although it was a lot of work to keep it clean and dry, and take her in to the vet for changes every other day, we didn't mind a bit--she definitely had more challenges to face than we did. With the amount of care it took to stay on top of her medications, monitor her bandage, and keep her safe and comfortable, I slept on the couch with her for two weeks. There was no question it was well worth the sleep deprivation!

 With all that she had been through, it was such a relief to see what a happy girl we had

Best Worst Day--Betty Comes Home

  To say that we were elated to bring our baby girl home would be a gross understatement. By the night before pick up, we had designated and set up our second bedroom as the puppy room, and had every "necessary" product on hand for her homecoming. I hardly slept the night before-- it was like being a five year old, and waiting for Santa.

 

     We set out on our long drive, chattering the whole way about the next chapter we were embarking on--Betty would be there to run in the sand when we go to the family beach house, scout around the woods on camping trips, pull our children on a sled on snow days, and celebrate our 40th birthdays, as a good ol' girl. I know it's crazy, but I never said we were sane! We were over the moon.

    When we got there, Betty squeezed her way through her littermates and straight to us. How great was that?! We picked her up out of the commotion, and sat down on the couch for her to have her first booster shot. When Bo sat her down, she made an attempt to trot across the living room, and we immediately saw that she was not putting weight on her left hind leg. The breeder was just as concerned as we were, and told us that she hadn't noticed her limping before. She had a ping pong ball sized lump on the inside of her left hind leg, with a healing puncture wound in the center. The breeder offered to take her to the vet, but we were ready to have our puppy home, and didn't want to trouble her, so off we went-- straight to the vet.

     Betty snuggled the whole ride home, alternating between looking me sweetly in the eyes, and nuzzling into the crook of my neck (except for when she threw up all over my lap..). 

 A tad nauseous on the ride home

We drove straight to our vet, where we waited for 3 hours on a busy holiday season Saturday, and were the last to be seen. By this point, after all the poking and rubbing we had done (without so much as a whimper from Betty), we were hoping it was some sort of crazy spider bite, but were concerned about how hard the mass was.

     Our vet had been crying, when she came back with the xrays. She looked devastated, and answered our shocked looks of concern with "It's really bad."

She had broken her tibia and fibula, including the growth plates, and the bones were badly infected

 

     We discussed the implications of the injury, and were completely overwhelmed. Options could potentially range from amputation for roughly $1200, to multiple exhaustive reconstructive surgeries, which would be deep into the thousands. Amputation could shorten her life expectancy, and leave her with arthritis in her remaining 3 limbs (especially since she's a large breed), and surgeries would be painful, with constant rehab and recovery, likely lead to arthritis in the leg regardless, and possibly be unsuccessful altogether. She wanted to send the xrays to multiple orthopedic surgeons in her network, and get some more definitive answers. We were heartbroken.

Comforting my baby, and processing the diagnosis

 

     Bo was apprehensive about embarking on such a rocky road, and painfully aware of the fact that we did not have $1200-$??,000 in savings (probably no more than $11 in savings, between us, really), and went silent. There was much discussion needed at this point, so our vet recommended we leave Betty there for the night, to be medicated and monitored, while we went home to come to an agreement. She made her point that decision making, regarding the future of the cutest and most loving puppy on earth, would not be possible, with her sweet face looking at us. My heart sank, walking out of the clinic. My head was reeling, and the tears were gushing.

   I did what any 28 year old adult would do, and called my mommy. I have the best mom. She's one of those types of ma, who always has the answer, but facilitates your own realization, rather than telling you what to do. She was incredibly encouraging and supportive, and my convictions were even stronger, when we hung up. Betty picked us for a reason. This was my dog. Period. My dream had been to have a therapy dog partner, and, when I looked into the future, I realized that there would be no more special and inspiring therapy dog, than three-legged, wagging-tailed Betty. Bo was upset about the thought of missing out on his dog dog fantasy--he wanted a dog who could play fetch-- a dog who would run on the beach, and sled with our kids, like the vision we had dreamed up. He was concerned about the health, length, and comfort of a life on three legs, and was unsure if this may be a living nightmare for all involved.

     All day, my phone had been buzzing and chirping, with our wonderful friends checking in on our new addition. This thoughtful support was putting me into a tailspin, so I posted an update on Facebook, hoping the "How's the new baby, Mom?!" texts would take a time out.  In no time, I had received dozens of encouraging comments, including advice and offers of aid from multiple friends I had grown up with in horse 4H, who now were in the veterinary field.  In addition to requests to share the xrays with their vets, I received a Christmas Miracle of an offer--as a special case, and with the help of a long time friendship, amputation could be within our financial capabilities (ONE MILLION thanks to Oregon Friends of Shelter Animals). After much agonizing, this incredible opportunity had Bo mostly convinced, by the time he fell asleep.

     Sleep was not in the cards for me. I was nauseous, imaging what Betty's life may hold, should we take 1/4 of her limbs. Would it be heartbreaking, watching her struggle to hop on 3? I stayed awake all night, watching videos of tripods, reading forums, and educating myself on what this could entail. I had my persuasive speech prepared, just short of note-cards, when Bo finally woke, and my heart melted, when he rolled over, put his arm around me, and said, "Let's go get our puppy."

Love at First Look--Betty Picks Us

     Thanks to Chuck's parents, we were able to stay in the loop on the expected litter. By strange coincidence, the day I finally sent a completely over-the-top message befitting an actual human adoption to the breeder was the day that the puppies were born. We literally celebrated like we'd received news from our surrogate. Ridiculous.

We were able to see a few pictures of the litter, before meeting them--

     After four long weeks, we hit the road for an hour and a half trip to the farm where we would meet our baby, who we'd decided to name Betty. Bo insisted on a female (his reasoning, "A leg-humper is bad enough.. a 125lb leg-humper is a nightmare" made enough sense), and we both agreed repeatedly throughout the drive that we would pick a traditional Swissie black puppy, so we'd have a mini Chuck.
    When the puppies were brought in, they were a busy bunch of wiggles and wagging tails. It was hard to track them, and we both tried to scope out a black female...

then I looked down, and noticed this little brown face staring right at me

She had made her pick

 All bets were off-- we melted!

     We accidentally stayed in the poor woman's house for two and half hours, passing the little love bug back and forth, taking photos, like the paparazzi, and telling her how excited we were to bring her home. I cried when we left, hating the thought of four more weeks, until she would be ours (and because I cry at everything, including commercials).
     We showed pics to friends, family, co-workers, and clients. So in love already, we could hardly stand ourselves (others likely shared the sentiment!).