(photo credit: Geoffrey Tischman)

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Millie's Adoption Story

Before I start this post, I'd like to share a wee bit of good news.  Millie doesn't have a UTI.  Hooray!  After yesterday's "free catch" of urine, I took her in to U of I this morning for a cyctocentesis.  Turns out the sediment from the first sample was from the outside of her lady bits, and not actually a sign of an infection.  At least her immune system can focus on fighting growing cancer instead of fighting two things at once.  A small victory!

Anyway, after all the crud and sadness of yesterday's post, I thought it might be nice to have a fun, feel-good post.  So, I thought I'd share Millie's adoption story.

I first met Millie in September of 2007.  She came into the clinic I was working at as a new rescue for Midwest Mastiff Rescue.  She had literally just been surrendered by her owners.  Since she was surrendered for medical concerns she was immediately brought into the vet.  She had been living in Ohio, but her new foster home was going to be in Illinois.  The clinic I was working in provided discounted care to dogs that came in through this rescue.  I had seen at least 15 Mastiffs come through and had fallen in love with the breed all over again.  Growing up I was always fascinated with Mastiffs and knew I wanted to have one some day.  I mean, how could you not?!  Anyway, Millie...who at the time was named Winnie, came in to have her knees evaluated.  A veterinarian in Ohio had diagnosed her with torn cruciates in both rear legs.  Her former owners were giving her NSAIDS, but felt like the best choice for them was to relinquish her to a rescue.  Thank goodness they contacted Midwest Mastiff Rescue.  Their policy is to provide the best possible care they can to their dogs, and to try to take care of all fixable medical concerns before adopting their dogs out.  Soon, they developed a plan.  Millie would have TPLO's - one on each knee, 12 weeks apart - and reside in a foster home in Springfield.  Her foster dad was a gentleman 50+ years old.  God bless him.

I was working the day Millie came in for her evaluation.  She was adorable.  She was almost two (her birthday is in December).  She had literally been plucked from everything she knew, was incredibly painful, had a difficult time getting up, but yet was still so happy to be in a room full of people fawning over her.  Her first surgery was scheduled right away, and she set up camp in one of the kennel runs.  I remember being so blown away by how great of a disposition she had, despite being is such a crummy circumstance.

During her surgery, I was the surgical assistant.  I was telling my boss about what a good girl this dog was.  He casually suggested that I adopt her.  "No way." was my response.  I was living with my brother & sister-in-law, had Sugar & Piper, and knew there was no way I could take on this kind of responsibility, let alone expense.  My boss suggested I reconsider.  After all, he knew I had always wanted a Mastiff.  This dog had a great personality despite being in pain, had already been vaccinated and spayed, and her knee issues were only temporary.  Why wouldn't I do this?  Again, I said "No."

Millie recovered from her surgery like a champ.  She was excellent for her pills & just begged you to cuddle her.  She was irresistible.  I still said no.  Millie was due to spend two weeks at the clinic.  Her foster dad as on vacation, so she needed to recover in a place comfortable with providing the care she needed.  Every morning I looked forward to walking her.  She was perfect around all the other dogs, could care less about the clinic cat, and was doing so well recovering.  I began to quietly consider adopting her.  I arrived to work the following morning, expecting big, slobbery kisses...but Millie's kennel was empty.  I freaked.  Her foster dad had come home early & she was sent home yesterday afternoon after my shift had ended.  It was at that moment I realized exactly how attached I was.  I needed this dog.

I started calling apartments for rent.  Let me tell you, finding a place that I could afford...who allowed two big dogs (one big, one BIG), and a cat...that also had no steps (for her recovery) was like finding a needle in a haystack.  Believe it or not, I was able to find a place.  I needed to get special renter insurance to have a Mastiff in this particular place.  The stars lined up, and I found a great insurance company.  The last step was convincing MMR that I was the best home for Millie.  I called one of the contacts there and pleaded my case.  Since I worked for the clinic & was able to do physical therapy with her (and also offered to pay for her 2nd knee surgery), they agreed to let me adopt her.

My family wasn't over the moon excited about this development.  They are all very pro rescue, but adopting a dog with known medical issues...a dog who required special insurance...a dog who would likely make it impossible for me to find future apartments to rent...a dog who was going to require a $2,000 surgery in 12 weeks...was not really their idea of a "good" decision.  It didn't matter.  I knew Millie was meant to be my girl.

A few days later, great family friends of mine - Josephine & Lorenzo - were driving me to Springfield to pick Millie up.  Did I forget to mention that I only had a Ford Focus at this time...and a dog whose leg can't really be crunched up doesn't really easily fit in a Focus?  My parents drove behind us in their car to meet their new, unexpected, grandpuppy.

Minutes after meeting her, my parents could understand how this dog sucked me in.  She was (and still is) a-freaking-dorable.

 Jowls.  Look at those jowls!

Meeting her Nampa for the first time.

That underbite gets me every time.

On our way back home.

Checking out her new yard.

Released to take very short walks.

Spending most of her time in the crate, recovering.

10 minutes after meeting Sugar for the first time.  

Since bringing this girl into my life, she's become a Canine Good Citizen, a Delta certified therapy dog, a two-time ASPCA model, and one of the loves of my life.  She certainly keeps me on my toes, but I wouldn't trade the thousands of dollars spent on medical care, 20+ eaten sheets, chewed open couch cushions, crazy guard dog behavior of my car, or any of the other challenges I've had with her for the world.  She is perfect just the way she is.
ASPCA calendar models.








Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Kicking Us While We're Down


Today should have been Millie's 8th round of chemo.  It wasn't.  Before chemo was administered U of I did another met check.  A met check is basically a chest x-ray to see if she had developed more nodules, or if the ones she already has have grown.  I dropped Millie off at 8:30am, and was told to pick her up at 2pm.  True to form, U of I called at 1pm to let me know the bad news.  The IV chemo appears to have stopped working.  The two nodules in her lungs have grown since the last x-ray (6 weeks ago).  They are roughly 1.5 cms now, up from 1cm that they were then.  One bit of good news is that she doesn't seem to have any more.  So...while that IS good news...it's hard to really see that it IS good news.  I suppose it is also good news that the nodules have not grown much more than what they were, but they have grown some...ugh.

Millie will no longer be receiving IV chemo.  She will still be taking metronomic chemo and possibly another oral chemo drug, Palladia.  These drugs help slow the growth of soft tissue tumors.  Palladia can have some pretty nasty side effects, so we'll see how that goes.  I'm willing to try it if it gives her more good time, but I'm not willing to force it on her if it gives her nasty side effects.  Before trying it U of I wanted to have baseline values for her bloodwork and also a urinalysis.  As it turns out, the Big Stink looks like she also is developing another urinary tract infection.  Ugh.  Her poor body.

The one thing that I am proud to say is that she is happy.  So, so, soooo happy.  She is loving her life and as far as I can tell, is in no pain whatsoever.  This, by far, is the best news.  She still does all the things she enjoys doing (eating, barking at strange dogs, helping to separate the cats when Hallie attacks Piper, eating, taking over the bed, cuddling, eating, swimming, car rides, special treats, going to work with me, chewing bones, eating, etc).  If a stranger saw her today, they would never know that Millie is sick.  She's the same nerd she has always been.  I'm not ready for this to not be the case.  I want a million more good days with her.  There will never be enough cuddles or enough slobbery kisses.  There are times where I worry so much it makes me sick.  I worry about what it will be like to see her start to decline.  Will I be able to recognize it, or will I be too wrapped up in all of this?  I think I'll know, but it is hard to realize that is our future.  I try so hard to focus on today.  To make the best of each day, but it is hard not to be overcome with worry sometimes.  Evan calls Millie a giant baby all the time.  Not in a mean way, just that she's so innocent & unaware in a big body.  I love this big blonde baby.