It's A Dog's Life

"My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet." - Edith Wharton

Yes, I admit it. I am one of “those” people. The ones you see talking to their dogs as if the dog could talk back. I used to laugh when someone said their dog was like their child. How could that be? It’s a dog, not a child. I have children, I know the difference. Or I thought I did.

I’ve written before about . He’s overweight, disobedient and he often smells bad. But this past week, he was so much more than that. He was very much one of my babies and it took almost losing him for me to figure that out.

Because he was a rescued pup, who wasn’t always fed, Oscar has a nasty habit of eating anything he comes across. More than one Lego man has emerged from Oscar in ways best not described here.

As a mom, I know what to do when my kids get sick. I’ve seen every kid illness and injury there is. Chickenpox, head lice, colds, stomach bugs, cuts needing stitches, all of that has been dealt with at my house. Sure, with my first child, I was a wreck. The time he fell and split his lip, I pretty much lost my mind. By the time the third one did that, I calmly handed her a freeze pop and a paper towel.

But when a dog gets sick, that is a whole other world of worry. They can’t talk and tell you what hurts, that’s the first problem. Then there are the behaviors that are common in sick animals, but were confusing to me, a mom of humans. I had no idea when a dog has a stomach ailment, they lick the floor and  everything else in their path obsessively. Or that when they are in pain, they become confused, wandering around unable to settle.

But we knew something was really wrong when Oscar wouldn’t eat. Pugs live for food, much more so than other dogs. When Oscar turned his head away from a chunk of cheese, it was time to call the vet.

He’s never enjoyed riding in the car, so getting him there was a challenge. On a good day he would have raced around the car, digging for crumbs under the seat and trying to sit on my lap. On this ride, he simply slumped over in the back seat.

One look at him and our veterinarian could tell something was very wrong, by this time Oscar had the shakes and was just lying there whining. We had to leave him and he looked at me, I swear, with an expression of hurt and fear like “Don’t go!”

The problem turned out to be an obstruction requiring surgery. Try as he might, Oscar just couldn’t digest an ice-cream-flavored Barbie Lip Gloss. The first thing I thought was of course, we had to do it, he was sick, we had to save him. Then the vet outlined the cost.

Our little dog was now going to cost more than my first car. It took all of half a second to say: “Yes, go ahead”. He has always meant a lot to me, but in that moment, when it was his life in my hands, well I’d worry about the money later. We can cut back on a few things and maybe now I’ll finally have that yard sale.

After he came out of surgery, I insisted on seeing him. They told me he was pretty out of it, and he wouldn’t know I was there but by this point I was completely assimilated into my new role as "Crazy Dog Mom" and I simply said “Yes he will.”

Not for nothing, I have seen my children in a hospital. Thankfully never for anything too severe, but still, it’s heart wrenching. So is seeing a helpless little dog with an IV and six inches of metal staples in his belly staring out at you from a cage. I have new respect for anyone that can work with sick animals, I could never do what they do, every day. To Dr. Rockwell, Dr. Story and their staff, thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it.

After a few tense days of waiting to see if the surgery would work, I’m happy to report that Oscar is back home with us, minus several inches of his intestine. Being the tech addict that I am, his progress was chronicled on both Facebook and on his personal page on Dogbook. I kid you not.  Say what you will about social media, I had people from all over the country checking in on me and my little dog too!

I also discovered I am not alone in my devotion to “a silly dog”. I remembered the family story of Ruffa, another silly dog. When my parents were first married, my mother had a dog. My father had bad asthma and allergies and despite trying to keep the dog off the furniture and the bed, there was no other choice but to find a new home for Ruffa. I remember my mother telling me how awful it was - there was no way she would have kept a pet that was making him sick, but getting rid of him was heartbreaking.

I’m just glad it didn’t come down to that kind of a choice for my family. Of course if Oscar was making someone in my house sick, he would have to go, that’s a given. But at the end of a long week, all I had to give up was money. He is so worth it.

About this column: Brenda Kelley-Kim is a Marblehead mom and a self-professed "loud mouth."