I took Clyde for his usual walk this morning. Even though it was raining, we walked. And he smelled the flowers.
A year ago, at six in the morning, I got a phone call that brought me to instant tears. Damara, Clyde’s dog sitter, called to say that Clyde was unable to move. He had been lying on the floor of her house all night shivering and was unable to move any of his four legs. She wanted my permission to call an emergency vet. I couldn’t imagine what had happened, but of course gave her my permission. Dave and I were in Sacramento and immediately jumped in the car and headed back for Santa Cruz. About thirty minutes later the vet called me. He said he couldn’t tell what was wrong with Clyde other than that he was a really old dog and had a lot of arthritis. He also said to me that the best thing I could do for “the dog” at that time was to put him to sleep. He wanted my permission to do so.
Talk about tears. And sobbing. And confusion. And a whole host of other things.
I asked the vet to wait until I at least got there. I wanted to have a talk with Clyde. He said he would wait.
A little while later he called me back and said that while he really still suggested we put Clyde to sleep, he also thought that perhaps a huge shot of cortisone might help. Cortisone sounded a whole lot better to me than death, so I asked him to please give Clyde the shot.
When I arrived at Damara’s house, Clyde was in the middle of the living room wrapped in blankets. And he immediately started barking and tried to stand up. But he couldn’t. I was heartbroken. My handsome man had so much life and heart and I still didn’t know what possibly could have happened.
The emergency vet again advised me that if I really loved my dog, I would put him to sleep. I burst into tears. Clyde tried to console me. And Dave got really angry and told the vet that while he appreciated that he was very pro animal, he really didn’t know Clyde or me or Clyde’s history and that it was too early to make that kind of decision.
So we carried Clyde to the car not knowing what our future held.
It held a lot of healing. Lots and lots of healing.
On Monday morning I took Clyde to our regular vet, Dr. Shumann. I love Dr. Shumann. He has always been a champion for Clyde. He also understands that Clyde is more than a dog and that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. And he knows that I’m going to do as much research as he is and am going to question him every step of the way. He’s very patient with me and his entire staff treats Clyde like he’s a god.
Dr. Shuman immediately suspected a stroke. Clyde’s head was now tilting to the right and his left eye was bulging slightly. He could stand up, but he couldn’t walk in a straight line and fell down very easily. He put him on a cocktail of a whole host of drugs and kept him for observation. I went off to do my research.
So there was lots I could do. Acupuncture. Swim therapy. A new diet. A new set of vitamins. As if it wasn’t already, my life became all about Clyde. I cooked special meals for him. The pet psychic came twice a week. He got acupuncture treatments and massage therapy. He got cranial-sacral therapy. He basically got everything a HUMAN stroke patient would get. And he improved. He got better.
On New Year’s Eve we had an appointment and I asked Dr. Shuman if I was doing the right thing. I asked him point-blank if I was pushing Clyde just so I didn’t have to let him go. Was I being fair to my dog?
And Dr. Shuman told me that I was exactly the kind of owner he wished he had for all his patients. One who cared enough to even ask that question? And who was willing to do whatever it took to make their animal happy and healthy and comfortable. He assured me he would tell me when it was time.
It’s a year later. Aside from Clyde’s struggles with his arthritis, he’s a very healthy dog. He had a thorough physical on Friday as part of his preparations for his move to Hawaii. His head tilt is gone. His eye is no longer bulging. He’s full of life.
I’m so happy he’s still here. He is Clyde. He is more than a dog.
