A Sad, Sad, Boy

This is a Sunday Story – no politics here, just another “dog” story.

Dahlman Dogs

There’s a whole “series” of these “Sunday Stories” about dogs:  finding dogs, taking care of dogs, and even losing dogs.  But what you need to know for this particular story, is that Jenn and I have five dogs.  They are all rescues, two from even before we knew about Lost Pet Recovery, the charitable organization we help that finds lost dogs for owners and, returns them home.

The other three are what they call in the dog “business”, “foster fails”.  They were dogs we brought into the house on a temporary basis, until LPR found a suitable “forever home”.  But, as John Wayne said, “…My fault, your fault, nobody’s fault…”; we fell in love with them, and now we have five dogs in our “forever home”.

Five dogs are a life altering experience.  They need to go out, they need to eat, they need medical care, and most of all they need love and attention.  It’s not just fifteen minutes morning and night, let them out and back in from the fenced back yard.  It’s time, it’s love and in return, all of them, from the eleven year-old Buddy to the four year-old Cece, are loving dogs back to us.  We had to buy a bigger bed.

Baddicus

Our second dog, a “before LPR” dog, is Atticus.  He’s a Yellow Lab, big and goofy, taken from the Franklin County Shelter before he was “put-down” for major ear infections.  It turns out they weren’t infected; Atticus is allergic to most animal proteins.  He can’t eat beef, nor buffalo, nor chicken, turkey, deer or even duck.  If he does, he gets crazy reactions in his ears, so much so that when we brought him home from the shelter, we thought he might be deaf.  

Shelters don’t have the time or money to work out those slow problems on stray dogs found wandering the park, but we did.  So, after trial and error, and with the help of our outstanding Vet Dr. Hicken, we found what Atticus could eat.  He’s a sweet potato and salmon guy, and for treats he can also have carrots (and celery, though too much isn’t good for him).   And he hears just fine, even if you stand up at the other end of the house.  He’s right there, an escort, ready for whatever you’re going to do.

Atticus is a “needy” guy.  He wants snuggles, he wants attention, he does not like to be left alone.  Anxiety often is Atticus’s middle name (not the “Baddicus” we nicknamed him.  All of our dogs have dual names, Buddy Budreau, Atticus Baddicus, Lou-Easyiana, Keelie Lee, and Cece Baby Yoda).   

Game Time

And they all like to run around and roughhouse in the backyard.  Even Buddy, at eleven, on good days will go out and bark at everyone else, trying to get them “in-line” as any good herding dog should.  

So we don’t know what happened.  But  a few weeks ago, Atticus was limping on three legs.  He just didn’t want to put his right-rear leg down, except for the times he required it to take his stance.  Both Jenn and I examined it, but couldn’t find a place where we elicited pain.  So we figured he bruised a pad in his foot, or stressed a muscle.  He didn’t seem particularly upset, and found a new, high-speed limp that worked for him. We gave it a couple weeks.  But the limp didn’t get better.  So it was a visit to the Pataskala Animal Hospital. Dr. Hicken wasn’t available, so we saw another great veterinarian, Dr. Borders.  And she gave us the bad news.

ACL

I was a track coach, and over forty years I became very familiar with knee injuries. The ultimate bad news in knees is the dreaded initials “ACL”, the anterior cruciate ligament that keeps the thigh bones from grinding against the lower leg bones in the knee joint.  When the ACL is torn, the knee is unstable, and surgery is the only answer.

Now ACL surgery for athletes is a big deal.  There’s a minimal six months recovery rate.  When an ACL is torn this season is over, and there’s a ton of rehabilitation to get ready for the next year.  And there are few shortcuts in successful ACL surgery, pretty much getting the diagnosis means the entire plan – from the Bengals Joe Burrow to a high school girls cross country runner.  

And for dogs it’s even worse.  The knee joint in dogs isn’t the flat-on-flat of the human knee.  A dog’s knee joint is at an angle, with serious shearing forces against the ligaments.  So when a dog’s ACL tears, the knee just doesn’t work right.  And meanwhile, all of those shearing forces are doubled on the other knee.  Fifty percent of Labs that tear one ACL will tear the other within a year.

So you know where I’m going – Atticus tore his ACL, just like Cincinnati’s Joe Burrow and that high school girl runner.  And there’s only one solution.  It’s a different surgery in dogs than it is in humans, one that requires a total change in the geometry of the knee.  Bone is altered, plates are screwed in:  it’s a big deal.  For most dogs, it’s a two to three month recovery rate to get back to about 85% of “full”.  Atticus won’t be catching passes in the “Puppy Bowl” (and he won’t be playing the piano either!!).  

Exile

He had surgery yesterday.  It’s tough – he was so excited to “go for” a ride, and meet new people at COVE – the veterinary hospital where Dr. Howard did the surgery in Delaware, Ohio. Rochelle, his surgical assistant, quickly made Atticus her “best friend”, and is managing us in managing his care.  When we picked him up, he was still stoned on the anesthesia, headed into exile in a crate in Jenn’s office.  He can’t jump up on the bed to sleep beside us, can’t hang with the rest of the pack, and has to figure out a new way to poop (without spinning at least three times).  

Atticus is drugged, big time.  It’s the only way to keep him down for at least the first two weeks until the staples come out.  We did get rid of the “cone of shame”.  We’ve switched him to a more palatable air cushion ring, like the thing frequent flyers use to sleep on a plane.

 But he’s still miserable, clearly trying to figure out what he did wrong to get crated in exile.  Jenn spent the night with him last night, I’ve got the day shift right now.  CeCe, Keelie and Lou are just outside the office door, desperate to see their friend.  We are on Day-One, at least ten days to go before our new “stoner-boy” will be allowed to get sober.  At least he’s sleeping – now.  But there’s a nose under the crack of the door.  Inquiring minds want to know — what’s up with Atticus!

The Sunday Story Series

Author: Marty Dahlman

I'm Marty Dahlman. After forty years of teaching and coaching track and cross country, I've finally retired!!! I've also spent a lot of time in politics, working campaigns from local school elections to Presidential campaigns.