Phinneas: Happiness in the Now

The Five Foundlings (Phinneas far right)

We cannot save them all. I know - it's a harsh and depressing first sentence, but it's true. Phinneas's story is different from all my others: it doesn't have a happy ending. Friends keep telling me that it isn't fair [when we lose them] and it never is, but this one really isn't fair. Phinneas got caught in death's boomerang; he stared down ill fate with his tiny determination and then rallied against it only for it to swoop back and claim him in the end anyway. Death's boomerang.

Leonard's fleas

So yeah, it's sad and not the typical feel-good plot, but I'm going to tell his story anyway because otherwise he only exists in my memory and I can't allow that. I promise there are glimmers of happiness that shine through the tragedy; I'll do my best to illuminate them. The beginning of Phin's story as we know it is bleak, naturally, as rescues usually are. Perfect Pets Rescue received a phone call saying five chihuahuas had been found abandoned in the closet of a vacant apartment unit without food or water. Huddled together in a flea infested pile, the "five foundlings" survived their nightmarish neglect for who knows how long. PPR took them in and renamed them Mortimer, Rose, Leonard, Blanche, and Phinneas because they all looked like they should have the most classically geriatric names possible. I saw Phin's photo and offered to foster him, as I'm a sucker for projects and his skin clearly needed the most work.

Top: first photo of Phinneas
Bottom: rockin' the PJs

Phinneas came to us completely hairless with lava red skin that was hot and greasy to the touch. I had folks ask if we shaved him this way or if he had mange. The fleas did this to him. It's called flea allergy dermatitis - basically a hyper histamine reaction to flea saliva (read: bites) which in this case irritated Phin's system so much that he "dropped" his coat (severe alopecia). Constant scratching allowed bacteria to penetrate the skin's barrier and cause infection to set in, giving him a nasty odor and open sores. His initial bloodwork looked shockingly clean - I expected much worse given his condition and the stress his tiny little body had endured. He had four teeth, two good looking canines and two horrendous molars in need of extraction. The dental, neuter, and vaccines would have to wait until we got his skin infection and overall inflammation under control. We undertook a heavy duty course of antibiotics for the skin infection and twice weekly medicated baths to knock down the bacteria. I applied some extremely diluted essential oils to topically soothe his inflamed skin and made him wear long-sleeved pajamas to keep from relentlessly scratching. Despite his misery, he craved human affection. He never seemed afraid in our house even with all the other dogs and the foreign surroundings; he just calmly observed everything going on around him and begged for snuggles. I'm mildly ashamed to admit that I donned gloves to touch him and wrapped him in towels as a prerequisite for cuddling for the first week we had him. He was Grade A "yick", but oh so sweet. I lovingly nicknamed him "naked mole rat" and began to get to know the little doggy soul behind the ruined exterior.

As time promoted healing, Phin's personality emerged more each day. He quickly appreciated the space to roam and explored each room of the house with great curiosity. We had a lot of fun watching him observe, learn, and mimic our dogs' daily routine. Before long, he blended right in and moved as one of the pack. All of our fosters go through this period of melding, but to watch Phin acclimate gave me a special joy knowing he came from being stuck in the damp darkness of a waste-ridden closet. This little guy had the spirit of a survivor, a certain quiet bravery about him. I called it #tinydetermination.

A couple weeks passed and his skin began to show signs of healing: scabs. Bruises and scabby patches where he'd scratched himself the worst indicated that his body felt it had sufficient resources to designate toward rejuvenation as opposed to inflammation. A white flag from the immune system; a sign of peace instead of war; light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. They say certain things often get worse before they get better. I'd say Phin's skin was a visual example of this sentiment. He looked like he'd been dragged through gravel and kicked around the ribs, but I found myself smiling at his scabs and bruises because I knew their significance. We cut our medicated baths down to once per week as not to overly dry his healing skin.

Scabby and bruised but on the mend!

Sure enough, little patches of white fuzz began to sprout around his ears and along his back. I couldn't have been more thrilled! We'd added Zyrtec and fish oil to our healing regimen and the benefits showed mightily. This little guy regrew his fur like wildfire. Tufts turned into running strips of down which morphed into full blown patches of FUR. My little naked mole rat was no longer naked! He'd become a handsome little white fuzzball and I couldn't possibly be prouder of his transformation. 

Things were really looking up. Phin spent his days prancing around the house following the sunshine from one warm spot to another. He had his choice of dog beds scattered throughout the house, which he enjoyed thoroughly on days when the sun wasn't shining brightly enough through the windows for him. He danced on his hind legs for treats and dinner along with the others and snuggled on the couch with us in the evenings for TV time. The good life - finally! He was able to get his vaccines in September, gain a whole pound in October, and have his neuter and dental scheduled for mid-November. Adoption would be right around the corner. Phin was doing GREAT. So great! And then he just wasn't.

My little naked mole rat suddenly had terrible back pain, complete loss of appetite, and total lethargy. He hid in his crate around the clock and wanted absolutely nothing to do with human interaction. His entire demeanor shifted. We took him to the emergency vet Sunday night and confirmed the worst: he was in full-blown kidney failure. Kidneys, I've learned, are funny on paper. They show up fine until they're really really not fine. I'll never have all the answers I want: how "not fine" his kidneys were by the time he was rescued from that closet, how "fine" they were before his abandonment, how much his dental disease may have contributed to the problem, whether the happiness and improvement we saw was simply a "rally" or a "surge" like the trajectory of that Newtonian apple destined to plummet. In any case, Phin's kidneys were utterly shot. His temp was 98.6 and the vet said he maybe had one more day in him without hospitalization. Dogs have a very poor chance of bouncing back from kidney failure. Even had we hospitalized Phin for dialysis, his chances of meaningful recovery were decidedly poor at best. I knew looking at the little survivor in my arms that he had zero fight left in him. He was just done. I got mad at myself for thinking the phrase, "he's given up", because that little dog did everything except give up. He survived some sort of terrible neglect, socked death in the jaw, and ultimately looked darn good doing it. But the boomerang - it came back for him. We can't save them all. Even if rescue finances weren't a consideration (they always must be - that's just the reality), it wouldn't have been fair to subject Phinny to what likely still would have been his last couple days hooked up to lines and scared in a hospital. And for what? Only to have to make the call at some point down the road anyway, whether that be two days or two months ahead. No. This is part of the gig: making the painful decisions to avoid suffering. I held Phin in my arms and sang the simplest song I've ever sung as he drifted off, "Night night, Phinny. Night night, Phinny. We love you, Phinny. Night night, Phinny." He went peacefully and quickly, as they usually do when they're already that close to death. Not even a ragged breath. But it wasn't fair. It's just not. And it never is. But we can't save them all.

The happiest photos

My last photo with Phin

I wanted so much more for Phin. He deserved the world's kindest little old lady who would've 

loved nothing more than to snuggle him in her rocking chair until the end of their days together. He had so many snuggles in his imaginary future in my mind. I would've snuggled him more if I'd known I was all he'd ever get. I know how this goes; I know he had three months of "good life" here with us and that I must focus on remembering that. But instead, what kills me is that he only had maybe two weeks of true "feel good" during those three months. Just as everything was looking up, it all came crashing down around us. That's just like life, isn't it? That's 100% why we must find and cherish the happiness in the now. Savor life moment by moment. Remember the details. The "now" is fleeting and is never to be repeated. I've never had a foster dog die on me before, not one that was mine from start to finish. Peppercorn, Brooks, Niko, and Meiko are not forgotten but they weren't mine. I'm always the person holding the hand of the grieving foster parents. I guess it's my turn. I sat at the vet's office with Phin in my arms and tears streaming down my face while thinking, "it's not that it's really any different, it's just that I have to hold my own hand this time". So I held Phin's little hand and I let him go. "Night night, Phinny. We love you, Phinny."

Peppercorn's Plight: A Difficult Rescue Journey Comes to a Difficult End

Pepper, just a week before the end.

This is one of those posts that requires a large glass of wine next to the computer as I type. It's not a happy post, but even the saddest situations often have positive takeaways. If you recall, we last left off with Peppercorn adjusting to being the only dog in his new (third) foster home and doing well with a bit more space. Please, if you've got a few minutes to spare, have a refresh of his full story: http://ohfortheloveofdogs.blogspot.com/2015/04/peppercorns-plight-overcoming.html

Our last moments with Pepper

By way of Peppercorn, I came to know my wonderful rescue friend, Dawn Piazza. Dawn and 

I were both drawn to Pepper while he was at the shelter and we both committed to finding him rescue. Dawn is the one who found Jenna, Pepper's first foster, who made his jailbreak possible. Little Taco, the grey-ish Chi playing with Pepper in one of his shelter videos, is one of Dawn's own dogs she uses to test shelter dogs and help gauge their social skills. Dawn was right there with me on day one of Pepper's journey and we've since saved more dogs together than I can count, both independently and as part of the San Jose Animal Advocates team. Today, Dawn was right there with me on the final day of Peppercorn's journey. Today, together, we let him go.

Enjoying that cheeseburger

Over the past month or so, Pepper's foster dad (Henry) noticed his lymph nodes seemed enlarged. Over the next few weeks, he noticed Pepper seemed to be generally uncomfortable and extremely tired. He lost interest in walks, food, and water. His physical appearance changed; Pepper looked both oddly bloated and emaciated at the same time. He had no muscle tone left, just a bag of creaky bones. The vet cultured Pepper's lymph nodes and discovered that he had terminal Stage IV Lymphoma. Last Thursday, the vet informed us that Peppercorn had 10-30 days left. Just four days later, Henry called me to say he felt Pepper's comfort level had further declined and that we should go ahead and make the difficult decision to let him go. This evening, one week after we received Pepper's diagnosis, I made that painful one-way trip to the vet. After Henry gently kissed his head and said his goodbyes, I drove Pepper to Burger King for a treat. He enjoyed a bacon cheeseburger in the front seat of the car before we went inside for our appointment.

He went peacefully. In fact, Dawn and I think he passed on his own before the cocktail kicked in. His poor little body was so tired, so worn out, and so ready. I honestly believe that today was his day to go. Dawn and I stood by his side the entire time, stroking his back and gently scratching his formerly tattered ears (they healed in time!). In many ways, seeing such a weary creature finally let go and just slip gently out of our world came as a relief. Cancer is a terrible, exhausting, all-consuming monster. I am glad, in a poignantly bittersweet sense, that it took him so quickly.

Peppercorn spent ten months and eight days in foster care, during which time he bounced from Jenna's home to mine and finally to Henry's. To call Pepper a village effort would be an understatement. I remained his foster coordinator the whole time and got to see, unfortunately, that Pepper seemed determined to remain on the wrong side of the "unadoptable" cusp. But we are RESCUE. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Peppercorn had almost a whole year of freedom and love. Although we can't have every case be a "Peppercorn", it is so tremendously important that we take one on every now and then in order to grow in our efforts, to check our motives, to make a difference, and to save a life. So when you wonder why Dawn and I are smiling in the photo with Pepper on his last day of life, it is because he brought us together and together we will save many more lives in his memory.

Thank you to everyone who played a part in Pepper's journey. Jenna & Alyssa M., Dawn, SJAA, Alyssa S., Tina, Heidi & Jake's Wish, Drew, and most of all, thank you to Henry for loving him for seven months without a single hint of impatience or complaint. You may never read this, but I hope you know that you meant the entire world to this little dog and I don't know what we would have done without your commitment.

Pepper & Henry

Pepper: thank you for bringing Dawn into my life. Thank you for reminding me that I can't fix every broken dog. Thank you for keeping me humble. Thank you for the opportunity to grow even more in what I do. Thank you for trusting me and for allowing me to be part of your journey. Now rest, and know you were loved, Peppy. This hard life is behind you.

Ahoy, Mateys! Lefty / Cap'n Jack Pupdate!

Shiver me timbers, I'm home!

Pawsome news: Lefty is home again! He spent Sunday night through Wednesday (today) afternoon at the vet being treated for his tummy ailments. I finally got to pick him up just an hour ago and he is very happy to be home with all his buddies again. Oliver missed playing with The Whack Attack! That's what we call Lefty...Wacky Jacky converted to The Whack Attack because he's so nutsy. So, he's home and doing just fine so far.

WHAT, I have to get another bath?!

The vets couldn't quite put their fingers on what caused his massive upset, but they're suggesting it was a combination of the Rimadyl, maybe a little something viral, and possibly worms or intestinal infection. They finally got the multi-point explosions to cease, thank goodness. They sent me home with the works for upset tummy: Fortiflora to help firm things up, Carafate to coat the belly, Panacur just in case he is wormy, and of course the fabulous miracle-working Metronidazole. Metro seriously solves every single tummy problem imaginable. That stuff is magic. So, Wacky Jacky should be good to go from here.

Lefty had has staples and sutures taken out while he was there for his tummy issues, too. His leg looks GREAT. Check out the before and after. His fur will grow back and he will look perfectly good as new! The eye looks great, too. You wouldn't even notice he's missing one at first glance. We are to continue doing the physical therapy exercises for the leg: bicycle rotating it when he's on the couch and shifting his weight to the healing side when he's standing. Barring any more surprise catastrophes, Lefty should be ready to head north in a week or two. Check out the video below to see Wacky Jacky in action (from a week ago).

Me foster mum says I should have me a bit of a lie-down

Yaaaarr, 'tis true mateys, I be a tired scaliwag!

Lefty / Cap'n Jack: SOS, Mateys!

Cap'n Jack is a pro at the side-eye

Paws crossed for Jacky, everyone. He's rather sick. We had to rush him to Village Vets emergency last night. He had diarrhea for over 24 hours, which is enough for concern. As I called the vet, it turned to blood. He was crying and obviously in distress. I thought it must be due to the rimadyl he's been on for two weeks, although I discontinued it the morning before when I first noticed his tummy problems. When we got to the vet, he threw up in the lobby. I really got scared then because I thought he must have gotten into something toxic. We have nothing lying around the house, but I thought maybe he could have eaten a poisonous frog or something in the yard. I was so scared; I know he's not a super young pup and that he's had all his shots, but it looked like parvo. They admitted him for overnight testing and monitoring.

He's also an underbite expert

I got a call at 9PM last night saying we could come get him. I said I'd rather them keep him overnight. Sure enough, his diarrhea continued throughout the night. This morning when I spoke with the vet (the same wonderful lady who operated on Jacky's eye), she said that he's stable but is still passing a lot of blood. His x-rays and bloodwork were clear, so no blockages or organ damage. He tested negative for parvo, thank Dog (the mere fact that the vet tested him shows how acute his symptoms were!). He held down a little bit of food, which is always a good thing. The vet said he's resting well, but she definitely wants to keep him for another day and night at least. Her suspicion is that it's viral, not something he got into. Either way, I know they'll take great care of him.

Behold: extreme ear scruff!

Of course, Cap'n Jack is as affectionate and feisty as ever. He is a staff favorite at Village Vets; he practically has to sign autographs when he comes through the door. A vet tech even asked us yesterday if he's still available for adoption, haha! They said they were wracking their brains for good pirate themed nicknames for him when he came in for his enucleation. Y'all should have seen how excited they got when I told them Lefty is only his "official" name, but that he actually goes by Cap'n Jack! Yaaaaaaarr, mateys! They absolutely love him. So I know he's in good hands. Nevertheless, it always hurts my heart when one of our guys is struggling. Jacky is one of my favorite fosters ever...he is such a lovey little scruff munchkin and is just so happy all the time, no matter what he's going through. So please cross every paw you've got in hopes that Cap'n Jack / Lefty will overcome yet another medical challenge. The poor little guy needs a break!

As if the costs of Lefty's FHO and enucleation weren't already sky-high, Perfect Pets Rescue continues to stand by his side no matter the expense. They could really use some help raising funds to cover Lefty's medical bills, especially now that he's had to have expensive tests and overnight hospitalization. If you can forego an afternoon coffee run or maybe even just a morning bagel to help PPR, please click here to donate for Lefty's care: http://www.perfectpetsrescue.org/donations-and-how-you-can-help.html