The One With Aldacron

It was after midnight on a cold winter night nearly four years ago. My wife and I were lying in our living room watching TV when a dog started barking behind our house. It was no small feat for a dog to find its way back there, considering the layout of the surrounding buildings. Curious, I grabbed a flashlight and went to check it out.

I walked down the narrow corridor between our building and the next and rounded the corner. The first thing I noticed was that the boiler room door was half open, where it was usually closed. The barking was coming from inside. I slowly approached the boiler room and pulled the door fully open. Inside was a tiny Yorkshire Terrier, freshly bathed with a pink ribbon atop her head.

The little girl took a few quick steps back when I knelt down and held my hand out. Her barking was now directed at me. My wife joined me then and couldn’t get over how cute the little dog was. We had quite a bit of dog food and several different doggie treats in the house for Charlie, our Maltese, so my wife quickly ran inside and came back with a bowl of food and a few treats.

The dog continued to bark even after we set the food in front of her, but gradually her fear and caution gave way and she started eating. Then she allowed us to pet her. My wife instantly fell in love with the little thing. Even then, we knew that we couldn’t keep her. The recent shampoo and the ribbon meant that, more likely than not, someone was out there missing the little girl. We brought her inside and resolved to start searching for the owner the next day.

Over the next several days, we put out the word to all of the vet clinics in the area, all of the little mom & pop stores. We posted notices around the neighborhood with contact info. Meanwhile, the terrier quickly became attached to our maltese. He, having been an only pet going on four years, was at first afraid of, and later annoyed by, her. She followed him everywhere, he wandering around the house in vain trying to get away from her, she hot on his tail. It was great fun watching them interact like that during the first few weeks.

Shortly after we took her in, my wife named her Mini. It was a perfect fit and she responded to it instantly. The days and weeks passed. No one contacted us. For a month, we kept asking around the neighborhood, with no success. Then, nearly a year later, we moved to a new neighborhood. Mini was still with us and had become one of the family.

Every dog has its own unique personality and Mini’s was such a pleasure to see. She hoarded the treats we gave her, hiding them under pillows and blankets. When she did eat them, she wolfed them down. Wherever we placed a bag of treats, Mini would often lie nearby like a guard. She had a habit of walking back and forth with one side against a wall to scratch, much like cats do, but Mini was graceful about it in a different way. Her short little legs made her a terrible jumper, so when she wanted to come up on the sofa, or in my lap while I was at my desk, she would stand on her hind legs and paw at the sofa or chair, whining all the while. When we would call her name repeatedly at a rapid pace, “Mini, Mini, Mini, Mini, Mini…”, she would whine and yelp. After we took in two more dogs, she acted like the Queen of the House, ignoring them until she was ready to give them her attention.

The past six months were not easy for Mini. She had one medical problem after another. One of her problems was an enlarged heart which, when other problems came up, like an infected uterus, complicated matters. Each time, she got better. Then, a little over a month ago, the most recent dog we had brought in, Happy, was diagnosed with canine distemper, a deadly virus that is easily preventable through vaccination. Happy had not yet been vaccinated. We were assured by our vet that Mini and the others would be OK, as distemper vaccination is recommended every other year in older dogs. Mini and Charlie last had vaccinations nearly two years ago, so were due soon. Another dog, Joey, was vaccinated earlier this year. We had all of them, including Mini, tested anyway. The blood test was negative. It was only later that we learned that distemper often cannot be diagnosed by blood test alone.

Things were really scary with Happy for a while. She had several of the second stage symptoms of distemper: shivering, vomiting, fever, runny nose, lethargy, and loss of appetite. Since there’s no real cure for distemper, the vet said he could give her a transfusion of blood that is resistant to the virus. After that, the best we could do was to give her a warm place to stay and keep her away from the other dogs. So we did. The transfusion was given over five days. We kept Happy in my office, away from the other dogs. The vet said that we could let her out in three to four weeks, depending upon the results of another test at that time.

A couple of weeks after we quarantined Happy, Mini came down with conjunctivitis. This was nothing new for her, as she’d had it several times before. We had some eyedrops on hand for it. I had read online that conjunctivitis can be one of the symptoms of second stage distemper, so we went back to the vet to be safe. Another negative blood test and the lack of any other symptoms led the vet to give us the all clear signal. A week later, Mini developed a twitch in her lower abdomen, near one of her hindlegs. Again, I had read online that the third stage of canine distemper was an attack on the central nervous system, which could cause twitching muscles, seizures, and symptoms akin to dementia or alzheimer’s disease in humans. Another trip to the vet, another negative blood test. He said it was a muscle spasm. The next day, her whole leg was twitching. It wasn’t sporadic, but constant. Then she started having seizures.

By this time, we decided to take a trip to another vet clinic across town, one we had visited twice in the past for cases the local clinic couldn’t handle. Mini had just had surgery there in August because of her infected uterus. They kept her for a few days, sending some samples of different bodily fluids off to a lab. While she was there, they brought the seizures under control. Meanwhile, my wife and I were relieved that Happy had made a full recovery. We were extremely worried about Mini, though. Many dogs in her condition die and those that recover often have long-term, even permanent, side effects.

A day after we brought Mini back home we were told what we already knew, that the results of her test were positive. She did have distemper. The local vet in our neighborhood started the transfusions on her. Then the seizures came back, not as lengthy as before. Mini’s leg was shaking so violently she could barely walk. She began to lose her balance when she stood up. My wife and I, along with her brother, stayed up all night, making sure that she ate, giving her medicine, giving as much attention to her as possible. Though, regrettably, I spent more time on my computer than in the room with Mini. My wife, determined that Mini would live, took her to a couple of different clinics, looking for anything that could help.

Three days ago, Mini’s eyes began to squint shut. She could barely open them. She didn’t bother trying to get up. She had kept her voracious appetite, even as ill as she was, but now she wouldn’t eat. My wife took her back to the clinic across town, where Mini spent the night. Yesterday, we brought her home. The vet there told us that she was dying. It was time for us to consider putting her to sleep. Mini was motionless, lying on her side. Her breathing was labored. We debated, briefly, putting her to sleep. But my wife found some information online about a clinic that had an excellent track record with distemper. She sat up with Mini all night last night and, this morning, took her to tha
t clinic.

Of course, there was nothing they could do. Mini’s condition was steadily deteriorating. Just before 3:00 this afternoon, they called my wife. Mini was very near death and she should hurry over if she wanted to see Mini alive again. She called me from the taxi to let me know. Thirty-five minutes later, she called me again. Our Mini was gone, having died shortly before my wife arrived.

Some of my family back home, some of my wife’s family, some of our friends and coworkers, are often questioning why we go through so much trouble, spending so much money, on our dogs. It’s something that can’t be explained to people who don’t feel it. Our dogs are a part of our family. In our minds, they aren’t like family, they are family. Mini’s loss today has affected both of us deeply. Over the past few weeks, my wife and I have both gone through the cycle of blaming ourselves, then blaming the vets, then blaming ourselves again. But now, today, we only feel a deep, deep sadness.

My wife brought the body home in a box. When I opened it, she pulled Mini’s body out and held it in her arms. She sat like that, crying, for a half-hour or so. Eventually, I took Mini and put her back in the box, with a final scratch behind the ear. Then I carried her to the local vet clinic. They were expecting me. I wasn’t at all concerned who noticed the tears on my cheeks as I walked back home.

As dark as the world is these days, little bright spots like Mini should be treasured. She brought a great deal of happiness to my wife and I, as well as to our niece and others. In turn, we hope we were able to give as much to her. What breaks our hearts more than losing her is the knowledge that in the last two weeks of her short life she was in pain and discomfort. With the pain and the suffering mankind is inflicting upon each other every day, it doesn’t seem right that such an innocent creature should suffer as Mini did. I wished each day that I could bear that burden for her. She was’t human, she didn’t come from our genes, but she was our daughter in every other way.

Goodbye, Mini. We love you and we’ll miss you dearly.