Every once in a while, we receive an email that touches us in ways we cannot express. This email received last week reminds us why we do what we do. This family gave a home to a Basenji that would otherwise never have had a life well-lived. As a special needs dog, he likely would not have made it out of the shelter. Their willingness to open their home and their hearts to him is a story worth sharing. The family epitomizes the unconditional love of both volunteers and adopters. We wanted to share their story as tribute to their love and his life. The name of the dog has been changed to respect the privacy of the owners:
We
haven’t been active with BRAT for a few years, but still consider ourselves
part of the family. As such, we wanted to pass along to our extended family the
sad news that we had to put our BRAT “Beloved” to sleep today.
Beloved came to us in 2009 as a six-year-old special needs dog pulled from a shelter in
south Georgia. Missing two toes on his right front foot, a recently
diagnosed seizure disorder and scars too numerous to count; Beloved was a sight to
see. The general consensus was that he had, at some point in his life, been hit
by a car. He had broken his left femur so severely that it needed to be wired
back together (we could still see the wire on x-rays) and sporting a large scar
from a gash on his left elbow that would have made the make-up artist from a Frankenstein
movie proud. Beloved’s body was a mess.
When
Beloved first arrived, he was still adjusting to the dosage of phenobarbital for the
seizures. He never made eye contact, hung his head down and wobbled when he
walked. Through trial and error, we got his seizure medication dosed properly
(thereby slowing down the eating machine that the drugs turned him into) and
bringing out his true self.
Beloved settled into a quiet life dominated by good meals, bounding through the park,
as many walks as possible (as long as there was a car ride involved), and
generally being the happiest dog we’ve ever owned. Beloved was a comedian, always
underfoot, sleeping on his back (paws in the air). The only Basenji we have
ever owned that would yodel for us, mostly on cue, and he possessed a very
emphatic “sit."
Beloved’s spirit seemed unstoppable. He took life on with enthusiasm
and generally at full speed…the “turn and launch” maneuver was one of his
favorites. Our (previously adopted BRAT) grudgingly shared “her” house with Beloved, but
they did run and play the standard Basenji games often.
In
2013, Beloved was diagnosed with Progressive Retinal Atrophy, untreatable and leading to inevitable
blindness. Beloved’s world was slowly dimming around him, but it largely went
unnoticed by him (and by us) until he started going deaf as well. Undaunted by
his handicaps, Beloved still insisted that he knew where he was going, and you
trying to change direction was an attempt to alter his mission plan. A
headstrong, blind and deaf Basenji with brain damage is not a combination to
take lightly!
Late
in 2014, routine bloodwork for a dental cleaning revealed severely elevated
liver values; then we got the diagnosis…liver cancer. Devastated at how unfair
life had once again been to our little pal, we pursued a surgical approach for
the cancer, and in February 2015, he underwent a lobectomy, removing the cancerous
parts of the liver. Recovery was a slow, tedious process complicated by the
winter weather, but Beloved made a complete recovery from the surgery. However, he
was not out of the woods. Beloved’s liver (what was left of it) was, to quote his
surgeon “ugly." The phenobarbital had severely damaged his liver, so he was
going to need supportive drugs to keep his compromised liver functioning.
In
August more blood tests (in anticipation of that dental cleaning) came back
amazingly good, and Beloved was deemed to be cancer free. Until….today, three days
from his scheduled dental appointment. Beloved had been suffering from diarrhea for
about a week; we had changed foods and he wanted nothing to do with the old
food. We assumed it was just a mild gastrointestinal upset that would clear
once he adjusted to the new food and he would be fine. He wasn’t. At midnight, his
stomach began to spasm and he was in obvious pain. By 2 a.m. we were en-route
to the emergency vet where they found fluid in his abdomen, most likely blood.
He was admitted for tests, and ultrasound showed that his liver was again under
attack. This time it appeared to be sarcoma hemangioma of the liver, a highly
aggressive, invasive form of cancer which spreads quickly, and generally leads
to internal bleeding. The diagnosis is not definitive without a biopsy, but
they’d seen it before. Beloved was in bad shape. Having only a partial, severely
damaged liver remaining, and the likelihood of the cancer having spread
already, it was decided that we wouldn’t put him through the trauma of another
surgery for the possibility of an additional six months with him.
At 1 p.m. today, slightly more than 13 hours from our initial indication that there was
anything really wrong with him, Beloved was dead. It’s the toughest part of pet
ownership, but one that you have to accept when you invite an animal into your
life. The pain will one day subside, and we still have our female Basenji to help cushion
the blow, but never hearing him yodel again is going to be hard.
Beloved was not a
perfect dog, but he was our dog and we loved him. We thanked him for being a
part of our lives, then we let him slip away quietly forever.
Thank you does not seem to be an adequate expression of the deep gratitude we have to this family. All we can offer them are our deepest condolences...and a promise to continue the work of rescue and rehabilitation of this remarkable breed.
Stories like this remind us of why we do what we do. But we could not do it without them and cannot do it without you. Please consider joining us in this important work: http://www.basenjirescue.org/Volunteer.asp.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDelete