Loved and Lost

The question was asked after my last post...Did you get another puppy?

Yep.  Actually- we had 3 puppies.

It was early June when Molly Putzer left us suddenly.  The house was silent.  Our hearts were broken.  The kids were coping.  I was beside myself with grief.  I had not grown up with pets. I had never dealt with this kind of loss before.  She was always there, and now she was gone.

John broached the topic of a new puppy a few days after Molly was gone...

"Maybe we should look for another dog.  It would be good for the kids, maybe help them heal? I miss having someone greet me at the back door every night.  It is too quiet here!"

I looked at him in shock. 

"I thought you didn't want to another dog?  You hated midnight barking, dog dirt pick up, sitters, and fighting for a place to sit.  Besides, puppies destroy things, require tons of attention, and pee everywhere."

He put his arms around me and said "I know all that.  I just want everyone to quit crying!!"

So Kelsey and John started looking.  A few phone calls were made, and 3 days later I was driving 45 minutes North to check out a little miniature pincher they found on the internet.  We told the boys her name was going to be Sophie.  I figured this dog was going to have the name I wanted.  No one was even getting a vote this time!

 

Sophie was 8 weeks old, smaller than I expected, full if vim and vigor and all teeth.  She was smart, busy and quickly trained to potty in a litter box in the bathroom.

 

Two weeks after we brought her home we suspected she was having seizures.

 

Okay- no problem.  This isn't rare.  She bounces back within minutes.  Give her some medication, adjust the levels, move on. 

 

She didn't follow my plan.

 

Under the advice of our local vet, decided to take her 2 hours away to Madison.  The university has an awesome veterinary school and they had an opening the next morning.  Kelsey, my credit card and I took off early the next morning with Sophie dozing on my lap.

 

She had a seizure in the lobby while we waited.  I took her up to the desk and suddenly 3 nurses came out running. They took Sophie back into the clinic area.  I turned around to see my 20 year old daughter in tears. 

 

I hate feeling helpless.  I hate seeing my children cry when I am helpless- even more.

 

Her seizure had ended before they had a chance to really observe her.  Being in a teaching veterinary school has it advantages.  Very eager students and tons of people who love animals.  They especially love puppies! 

 

After a thorough exam, we were given options.  All of them costly.  We decided she would stay the night, MRI, spinal tap, blood draw, and liver biopsy.  How could we give up now?  She was so young, it might just be epilepsy, or it might my some catastrophic metabolic disorder. 

 

I came home with a credit card almost to the limit, no puppy, and no answers. 

 

We would have to wait for lab results, but they decided to treat her for epilepsy while we waited.

 

We picked her up the following afternoon and tried to carry on but Sophie never recovered.  Her seizures continued to ramp up until it looked like she was having one constant seizure.  I knew we were in trouble when the head of Veterinary Neurology called me back.  The kind hearted woman on the other end of the phone told me there was nothing more they could think to do.  Sophie was on enough seizure medication to put my husband in a coma, we had rugs, runners, blankets, and pillows everywhere.  All she wanted to do was lay in my arms and snuggle. 

 

Probable diagnosis- metabolic disorder.  Genetic and deadly.

 

We had her for just short of 2 months before she was put to sleep in my arms.  She was wrapped in the little lap blanket we had shared for last month.  I took her in alone- it was my choice and I couldn't bare to watch my family cry over her too.  I haven't been able to put her remains under the arborvitae tree she loved to play in.  She is currently resting on the mantle.

 

I'm glossing over most of the details in this story because- quite frankly- it is simply to painful.

 

After a week of deep, dark depression- John took me out to breakfast.  He pulled out my iPad, and showed me a picture of a puppy.

 

 

 

 "She's a chocolate and tan female miniature pincher.  She's in Minnesota.  The breeder will meet you halfway." he told me softly.

 

I cried, I looked at the photo, and I cried harder.  I wasn't ready.  I had lost 2 dogs in less than 2 months.  I could not do this again!  The kids were on a roller coaster of emotions- especially Michael.  He had taken all of this extremely hard. 

 

We all sat down that afternoon and talked about it.  It would be hard, but this puppy came from a reputable breeder.  We could wait- but it would be almost a year before this breeder had another litter.

 

Andy chose the name Izzy. 

 

Michael and I drove 3 hours to meet our newest member.  She was docile, gentle, meek, and tiny!  After a few weeks, I emailed the breeder thanking her for the millionth time.  In passing I mentioned that we may be contacting her in a few years about getting a second puppy from her.

 

She wrote back-

 

"I still have her brother.  He's very sweet too.  He likes to be held like a baby."

 

Oh boy...what have I done now?!

 

Being a complete chicken, and not wanting to face my husband- I sent him a text....

 

"The breeder wrote me back.  Izzy's brother is available.  :)"

(I hoped the smiley face would soften the blow)

 

I didn't get a reply.  I waited 3 hours until he came home for lunch.

(Not a good sign)

 

He walked into the back door, and said "Show me the picture."

 





 

 He knew it was a done deal. 

 

A week later Milo joined his sister.  Although they had been apart 2 months, they seemed to immediately remember each other.  They cuddled up on the blanket together 10 minutes after we got him home.  They are now inseparable!

 

We now have 'Dumb and Dumber', 'the kids', or 'the twins'.  One puppy was interesting but 2 puppies are awesome.  They fool constantly, follow me every where, have a toilet paper obsession, and are 82% potty trained. I haven't used the bathroom without 2 witnesses to cheer me on since we got them.

 

John says they are the best stress reducers ever.  He claims that Izzy is his princess, and Milo is a dirty old man.  He refuses to acknowledge that Izzy chewed up 2 pairs of his slippers- he insists that Milo forced her to do it.  (Milo didn't puke and poop leather laces for 2 days!) 

 

Its been 7 months since we started the roller coaster.  We've loved and lost, loved and lost, and loved again.  Izzy and Milo are healthy and happy and so is the family. 

 

Milo and Izzy

Christmas 2012