I Have a Dilemma

Tucker, a little butterscotch-colored terrier mix, has been in foster care since May 3rd, but he has some major issues.  On the plus side, he's a little guy, under 20 pounds.  He is loving, playful and lives to chase squirrels (he has a huge beagle-like bark for such a small dog). We treated Tucker for heartworms with the 2-shot protocol, and he's well-recovered from that experience, but he has proven to be unreliable as far as housebreaking.

He stayed at my house from May through the middle of June.  I had a lot of trouble with him at my house, in spite of crating, in spite of walking him on leash, in spite of taking him out on a sensible schedule and watching to make sure he did his business.  I'm not a beginner in the housebreaking department, but this was a dog who was a poop-making machine and a two-to-three time pee-er with each outside visit.  And he would still mark or poop inside.  And sometimes, he would poop in his crate.  While there could be some underlying health issue, we're stuck--the Shelter doesn't run labs for routine things and there hasn't been money for comprehensive workups on an otherwise apparently healthy dog.  But Tucker's potty habits aren't the only problem.

Tucker is also a chewer.  He loves rawhides, and Nylabones, although I eliminated those right off while trying to solve the poop problems.  But in the two months he was at my house, he could slip away, just for a few minutes, and find stuff to chew up--earbuds, earphones, underpants--the usual stuff dogs love.  However, he also chewed up a vintage stuffed toy animal that was from my childhood.  He did this while I let him nap with me on top of my bed one rainy afternoon.  He somehow did this while snuggled in my arms without me realizing it--and I'm not that hard of a sleeper!  Okay, so that was my bad, and I learned that he can't sleep on or in the bed.

In addition to these tough but normally manageable bad habits, Tucker has some odd anxieties.

He seemed to "forget" every single day that my husband lived in the house.  He would charge, barking and lunging (all 15-pounds of him) at my husband each evening when he came home. Or each time he came in door on the weekend.

The normal approaches to this fearfulness didn't work.  Leashing and correcting didn't seem to make a difference.  We'd do the calm correction routine (like the successful parts on "The Dog Whisperer") at the door, and during the repetitions, and gradual movement to my husband walking in the door, Tucker would do fine.  Then he'd lapse again the next day.  Like a memory slip.

He was fine in the crate and okay on the leash with my husband--although my husband noted several times that Tucker seemed like an unusually clumsy and uncoordinated dog.  I, too,  noticed that Tucker could not keep to a heel without getting tangled in the leash, no matter how I held it.

When my son arrived home from college, Tucker treated him like he was the biggest, baddest, scariest guy on the planet.  And my son, who loves dogs and is a big soft-hearted lug of a kid, was crushed.  He took it personally, and got upset.  In fact, he practically cried over it one point, wailing, "Why doesn't this dog like me, Mom?"

 My son likes to hold a dog and surf the web or play video games.

Tucker's inability to adjust to my husband and son made it impossible to keep him in my house as a foster, especially when combined with the housebreaking and chewing.  I figured that I was the one at fault and hoped that Ms. N., Tucker's "sub-foster" since June 17th, could help Tucker with his issues.  She has a very anxious Aussie mix girl and  a deaf Aussie boy, and has brought both of these dogs around.  She is an experienced dog person.

I gave Ms. N. pretty much full disclosure (I left out the vintage toy animal bit) and she was confident she could work with him.  She got his stools firmed up (not only was the quantity amazing, his stools remained soft even after the heartworm treatment was finished) with cottage cheese and pumpkin.  She got him to keep his crate clean.  He was having fewer accidents.  He loved playing with Ms. N.'s dogs

However, Ms. N., brought home another foster.  This guy was newly fixed and marked a few times, so Tucker began marking again.  Or so Ms. N. thought.  Now Tucker has completely backslid.  He's peeing and pooping in the house again.  He's torn up blinds and cushions, and is falling apart if he is crated.  We have to decide what we are going to do next.

The problem is that he is still a Shelter dog.  The Shelter doesn't do exploratory lab work, or behavior-rehab or place dogs in sanctuaries.  The Shelter dogs get basic vetting and a rough behavioral review (not a real evaluation by an expert). As it stands, Tucker is not readily adoptable at this point unless he is consigned to living outside (which is probably all he had done before in his short life--he's less than two years old).

We have to select an option that doesn't involve a lot of money.  I'm going to to go over Tucker's case in full detail with Ms. N. One nagging fear that I've had ever since I brought Tucker home is that he is a distemper survivor.  He has always seemed just a little off in a neurological sense.  I don't know what it takes (besides more money than I have to spend on him) to determine what is behind his behavior, but we have to do something.

If you have had experience with a dog like Tucker and can offer any suggestions, please leave me a comment.

Coda

Sunday morning at the Emergency Vet office is never a fun experience.  People filled the waiting room, with animals needing assistance for things ranging from high fever to broken legs.  I came to the Conroe Emergency Vet Clinic to be with Arabella, our little distemper dog, in her last moments.

On Saturday, I took the little Chihuahua from a Vet clinic in the Woodlands to the Emergency Clinic since The Woodlands Clinic would be closed for the Memorial Day weekend holiday.  The dog's sponsor was willing to keep trying to bring Arabella around.  But after receiving an estimate that began at $1,400 with a high of $2,500, and no guarantees or end to the critical care (the estimate was good through Tuesday morning, when the EC Vet would close), the sponsor was forced into making that tough but familiar decision.

"Every time I started thinking about that bill, I'd get a cold knot in my stomach," she told me on the phone this morning.  "I'd spent so much already, and the dog wasn't improving."  I agreed:  it was time to stop, and do the best thing for Arabella.  I had already made it clear to the sponsor that  I would go and be with Arabella at the end since the sponsor was out of town and was handling the dog's treatment via phone and email.

So Sunday morning, instead of going to church, I went to a service of a different kind.  I took a little red collar that Arabella had worn, a pink squeaky toy that she had enjoyed and the softest fleece blanket I own.  At the  EC clinic, the staff was awesome.  Unfortunately, I don't have anyone's names, but every staff person, from the presiding Vet to the Techs and Desk Staff treated Arabella and I with the greatest compassion and respect.

I was ushered into an exam room.  I couldn't take Arabella outside (she was still shedding the distemper virus and would put other clients' animals at risk) but I spread the fleece blanket on the exam table, and when she was brought to me, I removed her Elizabethan collar and slipped a red dog collar around her skinny neck, because in my house, we never have "nekkid dogs"--every foster gets a collar.

She perked up and wagged her tail as I cuddled her.  I showed her   the small pink squeaky toy I'd brought her, and made it squeak.  She reached for it and took it into her mouth.  She didn't have the strength to squeak it, so when she dropped it, I squeaked it and gave it to her again.  She seemed happy and held it contentedly in her mouth (at my house she had walked around with that toy in her mouth, just squeaking and squeaking).  After about 10 minutes, the Doctor and Tech came in with the syringe of pink fluid.

One month ago, I had to put my own dog down.  It was chaotic and hard because my daughter panicked when the dog jerked as the needle went in.  This Vet didn't do a pre-sedate, but she was good at this procedure.  Arabella did tense and jerk once, but I was ready when her head flopped limply into the crook of my arm.  She went easily and fast.

Both the Doctor and Vet Tech were attentive and gentle.  They talked to Arabella through the entire procedure, calling her a good, good dog.  She was a good dog. A very good dog.

The Cost of Compassion

"Arabella" (aka "Princess"), the little Distemper Dog, is back at the Vet's, on IVs since yesterday.  She has had the three serum injections that might defeat the distemper, but her physical state was sliding.  Her sponsor opted to pay out of her own pocket for this final effort.  Arabella has a lot of heart and hasn't given up, but the money spent so far to fight her illness is more than $1,000, and that's at steeply discounted (thanks to two very generous Veterinary practices, and two non-profits) rescue rates.  If she is not significantly improved after three days, then we need to face the fact that euthanization is necessary.  I don't want Arabella to die.  Nor does her sponsor and others who have met her.  Yet, money may not save her life.

Which brings up the question:  How much should be spent trying to save a Shelter dog?

Vast amounts of money, much from non-profit fund-raising, much from individuals' own pockets, is spent on individual Shelter dogs whose plights spur people into last-ditch, major efforts.  Many of these cases involve unique situations that arouse fierce sympathy.  Just recently at our Shelter, major effort and expense has been spent treating a dog hit by a car (the dog is recovering) and a mature Chocolate lab whose owner dumped him with an old badly healed broken leg, which has now been amputated (this guy is recovering as well).

The latest extreme example is a GSD mix dog found along the I-45 and brought into the Shelter with bowed front legs, due to carpal flexural deformity, along with severely atrophied back legs.  This dog appears otherwise healthy in spite of his condition, and he has learned to "scoot" along using his belly.  Currently, the Shelter Director (who is a notoriously soft-hearted person) is investigating treatment options.  Most likely, appeals will be made for outside donations.  Plans include high-lighting this dog in the paper to arouse public interest.  Not to suggest that it is wrong to consider treating this dog, but I still wonder if the thousands of dollars that corrective surgery will require could be better spent elsewhere within the Shelter.

Dogs tug at peoples' heartstrings and consequently their wallets--Arabella's sponsor has spent close to $800 of her own money.  The sponsor has a huge emotional (not to mention financial) investment in this dog.  Yet Arabella is property of Montgomery County, Texas.  Without the volunteers (and I count myself in this group because I've put $150 or so toward her treatment), Arabella would already be dead.

Still, with 40 percent of all incoming dogs testing positive for heartworms, and the fact that the Shelter opts to treat these dogs at the rate of about 8 animals per week and a cost of $25,000 per year (much donated), we need to ponder the difficult issue of resource allocation.  It's tough to choose.  People will be upset.  Some dogs will not get treated.  But perhaps it would be better to affect the outcome for the greatest number of dogs.

We're not only faced with choices regarding the extreme cases, we need to develop a better approach to handling distemper cases.

Many distemper dogs are given treatments, and most, especially the puppies, die.  The preventive vaccine series costs about $40-$160, depending on where the owner takes the puppy.  In our area, many people don't vaccinate their puppies.  Whether it is out of ignorance or lack of money is unknown.  But the $1,000 spent so far on Arabella would buy a lot of distemper vaccine.

It's a thorny issue with no easy answers.  What do you think?  What is the best way to compassionately spend limited funds?

Doin' the Distemper Dance

Distemper is a horror--it is highly contagious, and almost always lethal.  Plus, it's dicey to diagnose since the early symptoms mimic other common ailments, including bordetella (kennel cough), upper respiratory infections and the early stages of parvo.

My little foster Chihuahua, Arabella, who we're calling Princess, probably has it.  It's tentative because obtaining a distemper diagnosis is not easy.  We've got fever (highs up to 104.9 degrees F, currently averaging about 103.4 degrees F), lethargy, despondency, weight loss, loss of appetite, nausea, excessive salivation, dehydration and gummy eyes with red rims.  The kitchen-sink approach (described two posts earlier in this blog) didn't work.  Four days of IVs and antibiotics worked only as long as the catheter was in place. 

So now we're trying something new and controversial--the Dr. Sears treatment, which is based on the "Newcastle" vaccine.  One of our area Vets who has treated animals from the Shelter is offering the three-day series of serum vaccines (taken from healthy donor dogs).   Today, our little Chihuahua received the first of the vaccines, along with an injection of Baytril.

Her sponsor has taken her home tonight because she wants to oversee the dog's treatment.  The sponsor is convinced she can do a better job getting the dog to eat (good luck with that).  Plus, she doesn't have kids.  I'll get the dog back on Thursday, which provides me with a chance to catch my breath.  I have another foster dog, plus my own dog.  Taking care of this dog has been a challenge because my family is still grieving the loss of our dog, and her symptoms have caused her to look a lot like he did (although he didn't have distemper), which pains my 16-year-old to tears.  I don't know if the Newcastle approach will work.  All we can do is try.

According to an ABC news report in March, "Spring is considered to be distemper season. But what's happening now is believed to be more than that. Harris County Animal Control is seeing about 20 percent more distemper cases than normal. Then there's the wildlife population. Raccoons are susceptible to distemper. Since January more have been brought into Houston's Wildlife Rehabilitation Center."  Distemper outbreaks are also reported in Autstin, and are affecting other states as well as Texas--California and Florida are experiencing upticks in cases.  In Toronto, Canada, there is an outbreak of distemper in raccoons that is spreading to dogs.

What galls me is that distemper is one of the most preventable diseases that afflicts dogs.  Years ago, of course, it was a rampant killer, but vaccinations for puppies have put a huge dent in the disease's power.  However, many people don't vaccinate their puppies--and almost all the puppies from unwanted litters arrive at the Shelter vulnerable to the disease.  They are sentenced to death because they are exposed before the vaccines have a chance to take effect.


We can't do much about wild-animal transmission of distemper to dogs, but we can save lives, not mention tons of money, by vaccinating.  As for Arabella, only time will tell.