TulsaPets Magazine May 2021

28 TulsaPets • May/June 2021 a stranger, human or canine, and everyone immediately fell under his brown-eyed spell. One day when Stewie was about 7 months old, we noticed that he was holding his mouth open in a peculiar fashion, his lower jaw basically immobile. We checked to be sure he didn’t have something stuck in his teeth or in the roof of his mouth. Nothing. We offered a tasty treat, and he had great difficulty taking it and trying to chew it. Something was most definitely wrong. After consulting with our veterinarian as well as a specialty vet, Stewie was diagnosed with trigeminal nerve neuritis. The trigeminal nerve helps dogs use the muscles of their face to blink, eat and drink, and his was not doing its job. The underlying cause of trigeminal nerve neuritis is a bit of a medical mystery, though it is possibly immune-mediated, the result of injury or an underlying condition such as bone deformity or possibly a tumor. It can also be deemed idiopathic, as in Stewie’s case. We were instructed to provide support through a special diet that Stew- ie could manage with his limited jaw range of motion and to make sure he was able to drink enough water. With time, the condition would hopefully resolve on its own. Though he suffered muscle atrophy in his head and couldn’t play with toys as he normally liked to, Stewie seemed fairly unfazed by his condition, and his happy attitude prevailed. He still wanted to run, play and be in the middle of all the action that is typical of our busy canine-centric home. With support from our veterinarians and acupuncture and laser treatments performed by Dr. Heather Owen at Animal Acupuncture, we did see gradual improvement in Stewie’s ability to move his mouth and, most importantly, to wash our faces with his sweet kisses. He was such a tail-wagging trooper through it all, becoming a fast favorite of his veteri- nary support crew members. Things continued fairly normally over the next few months. Stewie’s appetite was great, he was getting better at chewing his special soft diet without making a horrible mess, and he was starting to gnaw on toys again. We were hopeful that he would soon make a full recovery. Then one morning Stewie lost his appetite. For anyone who has a Dalmatian, you know that 99% of them are complete and dedicated chow hounds. Food is a priority, and all spotted dogs tend to be members of the clean bowl club. I always say if your Dalmatian refuses a meal, something is very wrong. And in Stewie’s case, something was very wrong. He became lethar- gic. He wasn’t interested in any of the buffet of food choices we offered him. We immediately headed to our primary veterinarian for a complete checkup. Over the course of the next three days, Dr. Lauren Johnson of Ham- mond Animal Hospital worked to give Stewie the immediate support he needed and ran various tests to try to find a cause for his sudden, rapid decline. Bloodwork showed that Stewie’s kidneys were in distress, but we were unable to pinpoint any specific cause. Our next step was Oklahoma Veteri- nary Specialists, where Stewie was admitted for more tests and around the clock care. Our sweet boy was gravely ill, and turning him over during the pandemic, when we couldn’t visit to help boost his spirits, was complete- ly heartbreaking. But we knew he was in the best hands and receiving exceptional care. Despite our hopes and prayers, the news over the next 72 hours did not improve. The intravenous fluids and other medications should have helped Stewie start to rally, but instead his kidney function continued to deteriorate. On Friday evening, one week to the day of Stewie simply refusing a meal, we received the call every pet owner dreads. Stewie’s kidneys had failed, and his condition was to the point where the veterinarian over- seeing his care feared he would not make it through the night. Jim and I stared at each other for a moment in disbelief, our minds unable to accept that our precious, personality-packed puppy could be leaving us. We both immediately agreed, however, that we would not allow Stewie to linger or risk having him pass without us there to give him all our love until the very end. Our boy needed us more than ever in that moment, and we would not fail him. During the drive to the hospital, my brain was spinning with a jumble of what-ifs, whys and hows. In despair and desperation, irrational thoughts were creeping in. How can I turn back time? There must be a way to fix this. How can I fix this? But there simply were no more fixes. Thankfully, despite the remaining COVID lockdown, we were allowed into a room to spend some final time with our puppy. We got the chance to tell him the things once again we had been telling him for the past eight months: “We love you so much. You are the very best boy.” And we added one more—“you don’t need to fight anymore, sweet boy.” With great compassion and a gentle hand, the veterinarian came in and released our Stewie from his failing body. He relaxed in our arms and took his last breath, with our tears falling on his precious face. That drive home was one of the longest of my life. Stewie was supposed to be with us for years to come. We had been planning to celebrate his first birthday the very next day. We had a cake for him. It all seemed so unbelievable and painfully unfair. Stewie’s cause of death was officially juvenile kidney failure. We don’t know what caused it or if his trigeminal nerve disorder was somehow linked or not. We did not push to find out. All the postmortem knowl- edge in the world wouldn’t bring our boy back. I always believe life hands you lessons in every situation, the good, the bad, the sad. This time, I will admit, it took me a bit to find the lesson in losing a young, brilliant dog in the blink of an eye. And then, when it was time to celebrate our Howie’s 15th birthday—a milestone birthday for any dog—it hit me. It doesn’t matter if you have a dog for eight months or 15-plus years. Once you let a special dog into your heart, you love them completely and fiercely. You embrace every moment. You shake off a chewed shoe or a hole dug in the yard. You marvel that a creature so different from you manages to communicate and bridge the gaps. You appreciate how much richer your life is for bringing them in to be a part of your family. Losing a dog at such a young age was a first for us, and I honestly feel so robbed. While we still ache daily for our loss, we will always remember Stewie and his puppy antics with a laugh and a smile. The space he filled in our hearts would have covered a cake with dozens of flickering candles. Time is never guaranteed—a hard lesson learned. But love for a special dog is also powerful magic. And that is something a timeline can never erase. Stewie and the gang