The Puppy and the President

                                                                          

            I was talking to my Missouri friend, Dr. John Dodam, a few weeks back, and a familiar topic came up in our conversation- our age. We are both exactly half-way through our fifties, although I am three weeks older, thank you. John is usually the more optimistic one, but on this particular day he seemed down,  lamenting the fact  he could no longer do the physical things once possible even a short time ago.

             Of course, he was right. I've spent most of the last year coming to terms with that. However, I also learned recently that with the right motivation, the exhaustion and physical limitation can be overcome. Our office is open six days a week. By the time Saturday afternoon arrives, I'm pretty well beat, and often feel like I've got no more left to give. Such was the case two Saturdays before Christmas. Then, shortly before 5 o'clock, my phone rang.

            The emergency call was from a man named Rick regarding his sick puppy. Zeek, a ten week old Labrador mix had just been diagnosed with parvo at an emergency facility. Canine parvovirus destroys the lining of the gastro-intestinal tract resulting in severe vomiting, profuse bloody diarrhea, dehydration, and often death.

            Zeek was examined by me only three days before and seemed to be a normal, healthy pup. That's the nature of this nasty disease. I even gave him his first distemper-parvo vaccination. However, puppies are not fully immunized until they've received vaccination boosters every 3-4 weeks with the last given at sixteen weeks of age or older.

            The hallmark of  parvo treatment is intravenous fluids given to combat the profound dehydration. The fluids actually are not that expensive, but the constant monitoring required to administer them is.  With Christmas around the corner, that's the dilemma Rick and his wife, Melissa, found themselves in. They couldn't afford the estimate for the treatment that could save their puppy's life. "What can we do? We can't just let him die."

             Earlier at lunchtime, I did what has now become the new ritual in our office-  scrolling through the postings of Facebook friends. I guess I could blame our young employees for getting that started, but it was easy to fall into the habit. I don't have that many Facebook friends- only nineteen, and I must admit nearly half of them were obtained because, apparently, I have a twitchy finger.

            Since most of my "friends" are from this area, not merely geographically, but also politically, I was more than a little surprised to stumble across a photograph of Jimmy Carter. That was before I realized the post had less to do with his presidency, and more to do with his humanitarian efforts.

            Mr. Carter was shown dressed in his Habitat for Humanity gear, along with the following quote: "My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can, with whatever I have, to try to make a difference."

            For the rest of the afternoon that quote weighed heavy on my mind, especially in light of my previous conversation with Dr. Dodam. The timing for Zeek couldn't have been better, though. No way were we going to let him die. Not without a fight, anyway.

            "Do you think you can give him injections?", I asked Rick.

            "My wife can," he quickly volunteered. "She had to give shots to her mom when she was sick."

            Rick, Melissa, and a still bright-eyed Zeek met me  in our parking lot half an hour later. I showed them how to administer subcutaneous fluids under Zeek's skin, as well as antibiotic and anti-vomiting medications.

            I, or one of my staff, called to check in on him daily. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, Zeek held his ground dehydration-wise, although he was more lethargic. Wednesday was probably his worst day, but  by Thursday he was starting to turn the corner. Zeek has  since fully recovered, due in no small part to the resolve and dedication of his parents, along with a little nudge from an old man in Georgia.

            Thank you, Mr. President, for a lifetime of service to your country, your fellow humans, and for  your role in saving the life of a now rambunctious puppy in Lima, Ohio. Your inspiring quote would make a fine oath for the veterinary profession. Heck, it would be a darn good New Year's resolution for everyone.

 

By Dr. John H. Jones