Sunday

Symptoms: Prelude to D-Day

Simon's mouth surgery proved to be a false alarm of the worst kind. It was a tease, a lesson that things can change much too quickly. In May 2008, about a month after the surgery, Simon started acting differently. He seemed to slow down slightly. What does this mean in real terms? He wasn't quite as ready to go jogging with me, quite as excited about long walks, and generally not as quick to "do stuff". In retrospect, these were the first signs that all was not well with Simon, the dog who lived for outings the way a teen lives to get behind the wheel with buddies.

Vets tell you to bring in your pet when you notice a change in behavior, but this is more easily said than done. Pets are known to go through phases the way humans do. Do you go through slumps? Get bored with your daily run? Grow tired of eating in? Sure, but you don't run to your doctor with fears of serious illness when you hit a patch of ennui. Likewise, it didn't occur to me to rush Simon to the vet siting "less perky" as a reason for visit. What about the change in enthusiasm, you say? The weather was starting to get warm - a prelude to the force that is a Virginia summer - and, although usually not so soon, Simon slows down in the heat. The initial change was so subtle that I didn't even mention it to Stan.

A few weeks later, the imperceptible changes metamorphosed into puzzling signs. Remember his #1 passion, eating? Simon wasn't as thrilled about mealtimes. We had heard of dogs suddenly rejecting the food they had enjoyed for years only to shake things up a bit, I guess, and favor a whole new dining experience. Simon's personality is so reliable you can set your watch to it, but we thought maybe this was his doggie midlife crisis and he simply wanted a different menu. We took him to taste test new foods at ProFeed and he seemed very interested. We came home armed with new chow only to have Simon snub the grub a few days later, so we gave the experiment a few more chances. Unfortunately, our apparently picky pup refused to endorse any of the handful of brands we tried.

We resorted to the old standby, chicken and rice, which he seemed to appreciate. Although it was comforting that he was eating, this had to be a temporary solution because - we innocently thought - there was no way our pockets or schedules would accommodate Simon's homemade food fad in the long term. Had it only been a case of the fickles! One sunny day the first weekend of June, the three of us went on a walk. Simon didn't want to eat much that morning so we thought some fresh air might persuade his appetite. He was slow, but it was warm and he must not have had much energy after skipping breakfast. Right? Halfway through the walk, Simon refused to go further and laid down on the sidewalk. Finally, a big red flag with flashing neon lights. He was on his belly, not on his side, so it wasn't as scary but clearly this dog did not feel well. There is no way a healthy Simon normally would be conquered by a relatively short walk - it wasn't that hot.

Once home, we examined him by feeling around to see if he was tender anywhere. He may have flinched a little as we touched the belly area, but one thing was indisputable - his tonsils seemed to be pretty swollen. As we researched "swollen tonsils dogs" online, "lymphoma" kept sneaking into search results. This was annoying. Simon's blood test and biopsy just a month prior were negative for cancer. He didn't have cancer. He must have some sort of tonsillitis or related infection, so we thought, that was tiring him and making it hard for him to eat.

Tired of dealing with Alexandria Animal Hospital's money machine (they recommend overnight stays for everything), and wanting an accurate and efficient diagnosis, we looked into animal hospitals ranked highly by checkbook.org. We settled on one in Arlington but got their answering system. Their recorded message instructed us to call Southpaws in Fairfax for emergency services. After hearing about Simon's symptoms, the staff at Southpaws booked an appointment for the next day with Dr. Gieg, one of their internal medicine specialists. That was fast...

Monday

Healthy, Happy & Mischief-free

Simon rarely graced the vet's office in the seven years before D-Day (diagnosis day). He was healthy, happy and generally mischief-free. A proud parent, I'll boast that he was such a good boy that trips to the vet were mainly for yearly check-ups and vaccine boosters.

We are pretty good about keeping tempting chewables out of reach when leaving the house - no idle plates of brownies on the counter to torment him. Simon taught us early on that his #2 passion was chewing. (Eating, of course, was #1.) Unless you prefer unnaturally distressed furniture and bite-mark footwear, some reigning-in is necessary. We had an explosively funny experiment with discipline during his first weeks home. Taking after Stan, Simon started tinkering with electricity, except his technique was to chew on computer cords. A crispy husband is one thing, a laptop-seared dog is another (much less predictable) so I took action. I taped balloons to the cords. The result? A little dog who lost his appetite for household objects.

After the balloon incident of 2002, Simon focused his chewing on dog toys, but his passion caused him some grief. As a powerful chewer, he would consume bones, whittling them down to remnants. Enjoying a bone during the day meant paying for it that night. Neither savory nor restful for any of us. Fortunately, he never had to get anything extracted from his belly, but extreme chewing led to excessive wearing of his teeth.1

Visits to the Shirlington dog park also led to some sleepless nights. Simon swims only for dear life and loves chasing the ball but retrieves only on his terms. (He takes after me here, except I don't chase after balls.) However, he would jump into the Shirlington creek to fetch a red ball. Specifically red - smart boy knows red stuff pairs well with black dog. On hot days he would also sneak a drink from the creek, which always led to stomach upset later. What is particularly alarming about this is that after many visits to the park and a few months before D-Day, Arlington taped off access to the creek with hazard tape and posted a "hazardous waste" sign nearby. I guess the pipe jutting out the creek wall should have been a red flag for all of us. I'm not attributing Simon's cancer to the creek (or lack of proactive measures by Arlington), but I'm not ruling it out either.

In April 2008 Simon had a growth (fibrous epulis2) surgically removed from his gum. It's storytime, boys and girls, because it turned into a fiasco. We noticed the growth months prior and had it probed by Dr. Baxter of Alexandria Animal Hospital, who said gum growths were common and instructed us to watch it for growth. By March, the growth had not changed in size but was bleeding so Dr. Baxter took a small sample (needle aspirate) to confirm that it was benign. VPI (Veterinary Pet Insurance), with whom we had a policy since Simon's adoption, informed us that we no longer had an active policy. Through Stan's employer, VPI previously offered a discount for switching to online billing. We later discovered that VPI was supposed to send a confirmation form when Stan signed up for that offer. We never received such a form and VPI didn't renew our policy. Although we had submitted to VPI claims for standard visits between the time of the offer and the date of this appointment, VPI failed to inform us about the expiration of our policy and the missing form.

It doesn't end there. We purchased the new policy and VPI then said it wouldn't cover the biopsy because it was for a pre-existing conditon. Then VPI required a surgery claiming that an aspirate biopsy wasn't conclusive. Surgery requires anesthesia, which is risky to dogs, so it should be done sparingly. It seemed ridiculous to put a dog through that risk for a growth that apparently was not even growing.

Dr. Baxter said our options were to 1) leave the epulis alone, 2) have the growth removed from the surface to ease discomfort (something AAH could perform), or 3) have surgery to reach the origin of the growth (something only a specialist should perform). We ruled out option 1, because the epulis was bleeding, therefore obtrusive and would probably become painful within the year. A specialist explained to us that a biopsy did not reveal extent of the growth under the gum so option 2 seemed like a temporary solution to a situation that might eventually require option 3. Both options 2 and 3 required anesthesia so we opted for the surgery. The dental vet, Barron Hall, said he would remove only the affected parts of Simon's gum, but that could mean a whole chunk of jaw. He said he would run tests to see if the mass was cancerous. Yikes. My throat constricted. A lab who loves to chew might have a chunk of mouth missing. Cancer? We are not going there. There is no way our dog has cancer.

Dr. Hall confirmed that the epulis was benign and ended up removing two back teeth and a small piece of jaw. No cancer. Phew. At least Simon's pearly whites got professionally cleaned.

1 Prolonged chewing on hard bones and tennis balls has a chiseling and sanding effect on teeth, which is NOT good for your dog. Playing fetch with tennis balls is fine. Infrequent and brief bone chewing might be ok, but bones should be the sterilized, compact kind. Be careful with rawhide because it's brittle and pieces can lodge into the walls of the digestive system, which can be fatal if not extracted. Softer toys and treats won't keep teeth as clean, but they leave your dog with teeth to clean. Brush them regularly to avoid having to get very pricey professional cleaning at the vet. A little caution goes a long way, which saves a lot of pain and cost.

2 See http://www.peteducation.com/article.cfm?c=2+2089&aid=3057

Sunday

A Pup Called Simon

A year after we were married, my husband and I bought our first home. The first thing we did after moving in was look for a dog to adopt. My heart was set on a golden retriever, but we soon learned that you don't just choose a dog, a dog chooses you. After a few months of weekly visits to local animal shelters, 9/11 happened and Stan had an opportunity to work on a project helping the City of New York develop systems to manage mounting claims. So off he went to NYC.

What happened next? I visited the Arlington Animal Shelter and saw a black lab mix puppy boarding with an older dog. The puppy was trying unsuccessfully to get the older dog to play. The other dog just looked on with the amused yet affectionate and tolerant expression of an elder. As I approached the kennel, the puppy immediately turned to me and licked my hand enthusiastically, its little tail going in all directions. Shelter staff took us to the back lawn to see how well we interacted. The pup was clearly very interested, paying close attention and inviting me to play. Energetic, sharp, enthused but not OCD or hyper. In short, perfect.

The four-month-old pup, supposedly discovered along the side of a road in WVA, had a waiting list of people to be interviewed by shelter staff. Panic - he's the one! Ha! The duds ahead of us on the list fell out of the running like dominoes. One tiny glitch, though: the shelter insisted on interviewing both adoptive parents and Stan was in NYC with little chance of taking a day off that week. I am very proud that Stan worked on the NYC-9/11 project, but his boss could bite me - after 2 months in NYC, Stan was taking a day off to come adopt a dog. And so he did.

Naturally, it was love at first sight with Stan and the pup. The adoption went through. We went home, bought the essentials, puppy-proofed the house and brought him home the next day. I'll never forget it. I sat in the back seat with puppy on my lap holding fast to me. No car sickness - oh, we're going to get along just fine. Once home, we took him on a tour where he inspected and put his seal of approval on each room. He seemed to say "good job people, I think I'll stay". Then he proceeded to declare a spot as his master bath. The scene is forever etched in my memory. Dog starting to tinkle. Stan scooping him up by his front armpits and rushing out the door. All the while the fountain continuing to flow uninterrupted. Can you blame him? We failed to show him the way to his loo.

We decided to name him Simon, because he's simply a Simon. No goopy names like Oreo, Blackie or Licorice. Truth be told, Simon does look like he's stuffed with vanilla creme oozing from the center. He has this patch of white fur on his chest and a paw that looks like he accidentally dipped his toes in a pan of white paint. The patch is in the shape of a tie, which is appropriate because he's a serious yet peppy dog ready to "work" (learn, play).

Ready or not, we had our work cut out for us. Stan returned to NY on Sunday so Simon and I were left to our own devices. Simon decided he no longer cared for his usual food, proceeded to stop eating altogether and quickly lost weight. (Apparently puppies shouldn't be going on diets.) Quite alarming to a first-time dog owner. I put him on chicken and rice, which he would only eat pure. There was no tricking him by mixing in some of his dog food. Now that he was moving up in the world, his palate was simply too refined for basic kibble. Stan returned the following weekend and he took over Simon's culinary experiment. We picked up food samples from ProFeed and organized Simon's taste test. Simon picked one food and ate it voraciously for the next seven years.