2009

Curly Joe (and Tank) wanted me to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I had to get a jump on it because I'll actually be at work when the clock strikes midnight. Thanks for tuning in to this blog and for all the love and support. It's hard to believe Curly Joe has only been here for four months, especially since his birthday is in February. He's been urinating a lot, and I'm pretty sure it's because of his liver issues. I may take him to the vet on Friday, just to check things out. He's not acting any differently, just drinking and peeing a lot, like when we first got him.

Anyway, here's to Good Things in the year to come. We wish you all the best.

For the rest of us

Happy Festivus, everybody!

Curly Joe wasn't feeling well last night. He vomited (food) three or four times and was really restless. I've only had him for four months, so I'm still learning how to read him. My other dogs I had for 12 years or more and I knew them better than the back of my own hand. When they weren't feeling well, I usually knew why and what to do for them. Curly Joe has a serious liver problem, and it's something I've never encountered before. I can't tell when it's just a bad puppy day and when it's a bad liver day, so when he isn't feeling well, I have to work hard not to freak out.

My main concern last night was cleaning up the puke before Curly Joe inhaled it again (gagggg), but his gums were nice and pink, he wasn't dehydrated and he didn't react when I palpated his abdomen. I know for a fact he's peeing and pooping okay, so that wasn't the problem. It looked like there were bits of paper towel in his vomit, so I figured it was just regular old garbage gut. He didn't eat dinner and he didn't eat breakfast this morning, and that was fine. One thing I learned working as a vet tech, when an animal vomits, you put them on NPO for 24 hours. When I fed the inmates this evening, Curly Joe ran upstairs and sat by his bowl, so I knew he was feeling better. Not wanting to push things, I gave him about a quarter of what he normally eats. He ate slowly, but finished it all, so I think he'll be ok.

I was really nervous because with all this snow we've gotten, I'm pretty sure we couldn't have made it out to the vet if it had been serious.

This afternoon we had some fun out in the big yard. Since we got him, I've been nervous about letting Curly out into the big yard because the fence on the south side of the property is old and our neighbors' dog is always getting through somehow. I was worried Curly would find the hole and escape. However, I keep forgetting that dogs need a pack, and that wherever Tank goes, Curly follows. Tank has never run away once in his life (except for the time he jumped out my window -the day after he was neutered- ran to the front of the house and sat by the door to wait for me); he's only interested in sniffing, so I know that he'll stay in the yard and hopefully so will the puppy.

At any rate, Sis and I were out in the yard trying to fix a busted pipe. The dogs busted out of the yard and ran around in the snow. They were having so much fun, I didn't have the heart to make them go back into the little yard. And really, Curly Joe isn't going to learn anything if I don't let him get out and explore.

We haven't had any water here for a week and we ran out of wood pellets the other day. With all the snow/ice/more snow we've had, we haven't been able to get to the store. This afternoon, a guy from the plant nursery across the road helped dig us out of the driveway and put our snow chains on, and my sister was able to drive to the little store a couple miles down the road. She bought pellets and a few provisions, so tonight we and the animals were nice and toasty warm. I think it was a combination of good, strong heat and an afternoon frolicking in the snow that made Curly Joe sleep so much. He's been quiet all night, but still frisky and lovable when you say hello to him. For my part, I was so unbelievably relaxed (and, more importantly, warm), I dozed off in the middle of the Bruins/Devils game.

I'm sad that I won't be able to make a special First Christmas for Curly Joe, but the important thing is that he's even here for his first Christmas. Honestly, animals don't give a shit about holidays. It's just nice to include them in our celebrations, and I know my mom was really looking forward to us coming up to her house for Christmas. I was going to buy the dogs some new toys (since Curly Joe hoards them), too. I guess I'll just have to tell them Santa caught an updraft and won't be able to stop by until the weekend.

Pictures? Okay!

My car is under there. Somewhere.




It's like he fell asleep mid-scratch.

I have a ton more, but snow is snow. I spent 26 years buried under the stuff every winter, and when I moved out to Portland, I thumbed my nose at the thought of buying a snow shovel. Boy do I wish I had a snow shovel right now. Portland doesn't have very many plows (it hasn't snowed like this since the 60's), and they don't use salt for environmental reasons. They put down some sort of de-icing chemical, the purpose of which seems to be to make the roads five times slicker than actual ice, so when it does snow, the whole city shuts down. Growing up in Chicago, in all the years I was in school, we never once got a snow day. When we started attending the local community college, my sister and I went to class when it was 80 below (with the wind chill). We went home for lunch between classes, got stuck in the driveway, a neighbor dug us out and we went back for the rest of our classes. We had to scrape ice off the inside of my car before we left. There was a giant hole in the driver's side floor, over which I put a piece of wood, but slush splashed up into the car anyway. Never once owned a pair of snow chains. Since they refuse to salt the roads in Portland, if you don't have chains or an SUV, you're pretty much screwed until the bad weather passes.

Normally I wouldn't mind, but when I have to miss work or when one of the animals gets sick and I can't get him or her to the vet, well. I take issue with that. Global warming, people. It's not going to get any better. Salt the fecking roads. One week a year isn't going to do much damage.

For all that I bitch about the snow, at least Curly Joe is having a blast. I don't have to work until Saturday, which means I get to spend lots of quality time with my dogs. There's a six pack of Svengoolie (courtesy of my friend, Adoresixtyfour) waiting for me up at my mom's, and it's KILLING me that I can't go up and get it. And, you know, see my ma. Needless to say, old Sven would have been lovely to have around this week. Sven, the dogs, a lapful of cats, a bottle of IBC root beer and a roaring pellet fire. I guess I'll have to stick with hockey, something I haven't been able to watch since I started working the night shift. The Winter Classic is coming up in a little over a week; at least I have that to look forward to. I was born in Michigan (45 minutes south of Detroit) but grew up in Chicago. Though I am a Red Wings fan, I'm still a little conflicted as to who I should be rooting for.

At any rate, Curly Joe hopes you all have a merry Christmas and a kick ass new year. So do I. Thank you to everyone who has supported Curly Joe and to everyone who reads this. Here's to hoping I'll be updating this blog for many years to come.

Curly Snoe

He was born in the south but may as well have been born in the Midwest because Curly Joe is currently enjoying the hell out of all this snow.

I took this a little before 6:00 this morning.

December 15th - it was his first encounter with snow. He had such an adverse reaction to the rainy season starting up, I assumed he would hate snow. Boy, was I wrong. He ran around in it like it was caffeinated or something. Here he is enjoying a new hobby: apple pouncing.

Yes, he did run into me. Full speed.


Another one from this morning. That's me!
The bush next to us is covered in ice.


Size comparison. This is Curly Joe in September:


Three months later (same dog bed).
I think he has doubled in size:


And video! This was before the snow froze over.

As you can see, the boy is doing quite well. My sister is teaching him how to speak; he's pretty damn smart. When I let him out now, he hops around the snow into the spots that he's already created so that he won't have to crash through anymore ice.

One of these days, I'll get him to puppy classes, though he's probably too old now. It's hard finding the time for it; I get off work at 4:30 a.m. and go to bed at 7:00. I need to get on the ball because he WILL be a therapy dog. I have decreed it.

Curly, Tank and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday. It's a little bittersweet this year, as it is the first Christmas we've had in 14 years that didn't include at least one of the original Chicago dogs. (Tank doesn't really count because he's from New York.) Still, I'm glad that Tank has a friend to share presents with and that he won't be alone. It has been wonderful to see their friendship progress over the last four months. For myself, I never thought I'd be happy getting another dog after all of this, but I think that it helps that I see so much of Luke, Meathead, Lady and Bernie in Curly Joe. I know it sounds like I'm projecting, but it really is strange how he seems to have a little bit of each of them in his personality, voice and mannerisms. Hell, he even sounds like Chester when he smacks his lips.

With him around, it seems easier to keep the old dogs and their memory closer to the surface.

December Pupdate

Curly Joe's first Christmas is rapidly approaching. Personally, I'm a bit of a grinch about Christmas. After our dad died, my sister took it upon herself to decorate the house for the holidays. We haven't had any sort of Christmas (with a tree and presents) in seven or eight years, but this year my sister is determined to go all out: dig the tree out of storage, string up some lights and ornaments, put some twinkle lights out front. Me, I just want to get a leg lamp and stick it in the front window. My south-facing bedroom window faces the road, and I think it would be hysterical to put a leg lamp there. None of our asshole neighbors would get it, but we would. I actually got my sister a mini leg lamp a few years ago, but the cats spend a lot of time curled under it for warmth, so the stocking has gotten a bit ... furry.

But I digress. Oh, hey. Curly Joe finally (just now) chewed through his fire hose and pulled out the squeaker. Garbage time!

Curly continues to do well. He raided the garbage quite a few times last week, so I've been worried he'll have a flare up or something, but he seems to be okay. He's still on L/D, Hepato Support and the 3V supplements. Every now and then, he'll eat around the Hepato Support capsule (I just stick it on top of his food) and I'll have to yank open his gob and cram it down his throat.

Saturday, Sis and I took Curly Joe on an outing. I can't say what we did because it's a surprise for LaShea and Chad, but Curly had a great time and met a lot of nice people, including Dr. Brown. She is the doctor I met last year (through my regular vet) who did acupuncture for Lady and Meathead. It was good to see her again, as she was on maternity leave for a while, and we didn't have a reason to see her after Meathead died in July. She introduced us to a massage therapist (whose name I've forgotten), and we chatted for a bit. Everyone had to stop and say hello to Curly, which is pretty much par for the course with this guy. He's irresistable. When it came time for Curly to [do that thing that's a secret], he wasn't happy about it at all. Afterwards, we went back over and continued talking with Dr. Brown. She said a lot of nice things about me and my sister and how we have the island of misfit toys except for animals. And also the fountain of youth because our animals live so long. "Curly Joe, even if he doesn't get his liver fixed, will probably live to be 15 and they'll go, "Well, he's starting to get a little bit of a limp.'" Oh, I hope.

Sis mentioned how I wanted to get Curly Joe trained for pet therapy, and the massage therapist said that he would be perfect for it and I should definitely look into it for him. That made me so happy. For one thing, now I know I'm not biased; there really is something about Curly Joe that draws people to him. I mean, all dogs are wonderful, but Curly Joe is special somehow. At home, he's hyper, obnoxious, jumping all over Tank, but when we're out in public, he's all quiet and submissive. I dunno what that's about, but I'm going to roll with it.

At any rate, here are some recent pictures and video of Curly Joe:

On our way to [the thing].
Afterwards, I stopped at Petco to replace the leash Curly ate last week.


Curly Speak is funny.

Yesterday, Curly Joe was frolicking around the office with a toy in his mouth. He was play growling at Tank, teasing him with the toy. This went on so long, we tuned them out. Tank, who had been silent the entire time, got fed up and went, "ARF!" and Curly Joe dropped the toy and went, "Damn." I keep telling Tank to kick his ass. I hope someday he'll take my advise and put that little dog in place.

Get to the part where you pee!

Last night, we had Early Thanksgiving at my ma's. I don't normally celebrate this holiday (for several reasons), but my mom is going to be in Florida for Christmas, so we kind of threw both holidays together and celebrated early. Plus, she's going to spend Thanksgiving with her friends, eating normal, non-vegan food. (Sis and I, since I have the day off of work, are going to the zoo. I wouldn't normally patronize a zoo because it kills me seeing those beautiful creatures in cages, but it's free on Thanksgiving as a thank you to Portlanders for voting to pass a measure to improve living conditions at the zoo. I really want to see Samudra.)

Anyway, Sis was teasing the dogs by talking to them through an empty paper towel tube, and this is what happened when Curly Joe got too excited:

November Pupdate

Not much to report on the Curly Joe front, except that he has learned how to bark and has taken up the unfortunate hobby of digging holes in the landscaping. See?



He has also learned doggy laughter, which I haven't caught on video yet. I do have some new photos, though:

Hanging out on the front porch with Tank.


Snoozing (with Tank) by the warm and cozy wood-burning stove.




Caught in the act.

A few seconds after that last picture was taken, Tank taught Curly Joe a thing or two about inappropriate touching.

I'm still looking into puppy classes for the young'un. It's hard to find something to fit my schedule, since I work nights. I'd love to take him to a dog park soon and just let him loose. He has so much energy, it exhausts me just watching him zoom around the yard.

If dogs could vote

No matter who you support, Curly Joe hopes you all went out and voted today. These are amazing times we're living in right now.

New game.

I got Curly Joe a new toy the other day. It’s made from fire hose material, so I figured it’d be perfect for him. When I got home, I read the reviews and apparently it’s really easy to destroy. So I’ve been keeping an eye on him when he plays with it. So far he seems content to just make it squeak and then thrash it around for a while. The other night, we discovered a new game. It’s called Go Upstairs And Throw The Fire Hose Into The Frontroom And Make Curly Joe Run Up And Down The Stairs For Ten Minutes. He has so much fun, it’s insane. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Meanwhile, Tank is standing there going, “Thank god he stopped chewing on my legs.” Curly hasn’t learned “drop it” yet, but he will eventually. Tank was never into fetch, so this game is fun for me as well. Tank’s more into chewing than he is fetching. He just wants a nice Kong-based toy stuffed with peanut butter to occupy his time. He’s old. His needs are simple.

I worked last night, so I didn’t get to take Curly Joe trick-or-treating.

I’m kidding.

So that was Curly Joe’s first Halloween. Not very exciting, but at least he’s still alive to appreciate it.

P.S. If my sister ever comes back from Chicago with the digital camera, I will post video of Curly playing with his toy. Assuming he hasn't demolished it by then.

The Dread Pirate Curly

I don't know when I'll have internet access again, so I wanted to wish everyone a Happy Halloween/Samhain from Curly Joe.

Homecoming

On September 28, 2008, four days after checking in at the NWVS to undergo an operation to repair his liver shunt, Curly Joe came home. He wasn't all that excited to see us when we picked him up, but he was pretty gorked up on codeine, so I wasn't insulted. He slept a lot the next couple of days, but his appetite was good and he was obviously happy to be home. I had to tether him to heavy objects a lot of the time because the urge to chase cats proved far too great, even for a puppy with 18 staples in his belly.

His recovery went really well, considering what dire straights he'd been in just a few days before. When his pain meds ran out, he had one bad day and then he was back to normal.

When we picked Curly up from the vet, they gave me release papers for him:

Summary: Curly Joe had surgery with Dr. Donna Lee Taylor to repair a porto-systemic shunt. Unfortunately, the shunt was found to be intra-hepatic and could not be ligated. Dr. Taylor entered the abdomen and also the chest in attempts of finding an extra-hepatic shunt. Curly Joe had some bleeding and hypotension during anesthesia. Post-op Curly Joe was very critical and overnight after surgery, he had developed hemothorax and was administered multiple pRBC transfusions, a plasma transfusion and was ultimately given several auto-transfusions over 24 hours. About 48 hours post-op Curly Joe was much brighter and started eating on his own and maintaining his PCV count. He has severe hypoproteinemia with TS of 3.0 and Albumin of 1.3 (Albumin improved - post-op = 0.7). Curly Joe is being sent home today and will follow up with Dr. Taylor.

Medications:
1) Cephalexin 250mg capsules: Give 1 capsule by mouth every 12 hours with food. (antibiotic) Next dose is due at 8pm.
2) Codeine 30mg tablets: Give 1/2 tablet by mouth every 6 hours for pain. Next dose is due at 8pm.
3) Purchase Pepcid 10mg tablets over the counter. Give 1 tablet by mouth every 24 hours - next dose is due this evening.

DISCHARGE INSTRUCTIONS
1. Strict exercise restriction. No running, jumping or playing. Only take Curly Joe outside on a leash to urinate/defecate.
2. Monitor incision daily for any signs of redness, swelling or discharge. If any of these signs are noted, please have Curly Joe rechecked by a veterinarian.
3. Keep an e-collar on at all times to prevent Curly Joe from licking at the incision site.
4. Monitor Curly Joe closely; if he becomes lethargic, stops eating or drinking or starts vomiting, please have him rechecked by a veterinarian.
5. Schedule a recheck with Dr. Donna Lee Taylor in 10-14 days for a recheck. Please call her team on Tuesday to give us an update.
6. Please feed Curly Joe the L/D diet.

I followed those instructions faithfully (except for that minor bout of horseplay, but that was two weeks after his surgery), and recently took Curly Joe back to NWVS for his check up. As we sat in the lobby, at least two techs walked by and greeted Curly by name. He's a rock star to these people. They took him in back for the recheck and came out to tell me the doctor was thrilled with how well he is doing. I had taken him to my regular vet a few days before to have his staples removed, but was concerned about some swelling in that area. I was paranoid it was a hernia, but the tech told me it was his body's reaction to the internal sutures. She said it would go away as soon as the sutures were completely dissolved. Whew. Other than that, he was in great shape. He now weighs 26 pounds!

When we first got him, he was scrawny. His ribs were showing, his fur was patchy and he had a skin condition. I believe that the L/D food I've been feeding him, as well as the Hepato Support and 3V I've been mixing with his food has really done wonders for him. The doctor said he looked amazing and that I should keep doing what I've been doing.

The tech told me Dr. Taylor was going out of town for a week, but is still looking for other options for Curly Joe and would get back to me as soon as she found something.

Today, a little over a month later, Curly Joe continues to improve. He still has a messed up liver, but for now he is doing well. He still hasn't learned that cats hate to be chased and that he shouldn't turn his back on the geese when we're out in the yard, but he takes everything in stride and keeps me laughing with his antics. Sometimes we'll be out in the yard, and I'll look over and see Curly standing there with his front legs wrapped around Tank's neck. Or I'll go to call them in and see Tank running for the door on three legs because Curly Joe is running alongside him with one of his legs in his mouth. A leg or an ear, Curly's always got something that doesn't belong to him.

Halloween will soon be upon us, and I promised LaShea I would buy Curly a costume. I found the perfect one for him and took pictures yesterday. I will post them as soon as I get the film developed.

Until next time . . .

Riding the storm out.

September 26, 2008

Two hours after almost losing and then maybe not losing Curly Joe, my sister and I were on our way to the Northwest Veterinary Specialists to see him. I called ahead of time to let them know we were on our way, and the tech told me that they were halfway done with the transfusion and Curly Joe's blood pressure had gone down and he was able to breathe better, too. We got there at around 2:00 in the afternoon and waited in the lobby until the tech came out for us. As he led us in back, he warned us that Curly was hooked up to a lot of different things, so I prepared myself for the worst. Then he led us into the recovery room, and there was my Squirrely, lying in a big, see-through (oxygen) cage. As soon as he saw us, he lifted his head up and started whining. The tech opened the door and when I leaned in to give Curly a kiss, he (Curly) tried to get up. Sis and I settled him down, and he seemed content to just lie there on his side and sniff us. I gave him lots of kisses and told him he was a good boy and that we missed him and loved him so much. His nose was all crusty, so I could tell he'd been eating baby food.

While I was wuzzling him, I heard Sis tell the tech that he looked good. The tech said, "He looks a whole lot better than he did this morning." That made me feel a little better.

And honestly, he didn't look nearly as bad as I'd feared. He was covered in blankets, but there was no way I was peeking under them. I didn't want to see his incision. Not yet. He was alert, but you could tell he was uncomfortable. They had him on good pain meds, but still. Something like that, he had to have been hurting a little bit.

Curly whined almost the entire time we were there. Sis and I took turns petting and kissing him, though we were nervous about all the wires and tubes running into him. He had a pulse oximeter attached to his paws and one of the nubs came loose. As I was petting him, Curly Joe saw the stray nub and immediately tried to eat it. Luckily, the tech came by and put it back in place and Curly forgot about it. Surely he couldn't be that bad if he still wanted to eat plastic, right?

We wanted him to get a lot of rest, so we didn't stay long. Three hours later, I called the doctor. She said she was standing there looking at Curly across the room from her and he was napping. She said he'd had a good afternoon and had taken a lot of naps. He hadn't gotten all of his blood yet (it's good for 24 hours) because they wanted to check his PCV and then give him some food first. So he was resting comfortably. His respiratory rate was still high, but not as high as it was. She said that just by looking at his respiratory rate, she didn't think his chest was filling with blood again, but they would take some radiographs later just to make sure. She put me on hold to check his chart and then told me that his PCV was 22%. She wanted him in the high 20s, low 30s. He wasn't on any blood pressure support, which was good news. "He was not happy with us after the chest tap," she said. "Before that, he would wag his tail at us. Afterwards, he stopped, but he's starting to warm up to us again." I've done chest taps before. Animals DO NOT LIKE IT. It's hard work on everyone involved.

She said he definitely wasn't out of the woods yet. At least there was no horribly bad news that time. She said in 10-15 minutes, when he woke up from his nap, they were going to feed him and then finish the transfusion. Isn't that cute? Wakes up from his nap. It's like he was at daycare instead of fighting for his life in an oxygen cage.

At midnight, I called the hospital again and spoke to the tech taking care of Curly Joe. She said he was bright and alert and had been walking around outside and going potty. His blood pressure was even better that evening and he'd been eating well. She said he wasn't out of the woods yet but was showing some improvement. HIs PCV was only 25%, which was the low end of what they wanted for not needing a transfusion. They wanted him in the upper 30s, lower 40s. They had one syringe of blodo left on reserve for the autotransfusion, if he needed it. He wasn't having any trouble breathing, so I took that as a good sign that the hemothorax wasn't returning.

When I had spoken to the doctor earlier, she told me that, if we could get Curly Joe past this, then we could manage his health with diet and medicine until she could find someone who could address his problem. She knows there are doctors who specialize in super sucky intrahepatic shunt problems; it's just a matter of doing some research.

I thought that was really promising. Surely she wouldn't be saying that if she thought Curly had a short life expectancy outside of surgery.

I called the hospital again when I woke up the next morning. The on-call doctor told me that Curly Joe was doing very well that morning. He'd been eating a lot and was in good spirits. They didn't have to give him the second transfusion, and as of 6:00 that morning, his PCV was at 30%. The best news was, they said he would probably be able to go home the next day.

We went to visit Curly Joe again but couldn't make it out until that evening. We got there at around 8:00, and when I told the receptionist who we were there to see, her face lit up and she told us what a sweet little dog he was and how he climbed into her lap when the techs were cleaning out his cage. After a few minutes, a tech came out and said they were getting him ready for us and then led us into one of the exam rooms.

We waited another five minutes or so before a tech came in and put down a mat and a nice, thick blanket for Curly to lie down on. Five more minutes passed. The tech came back with a bowl of turkey for Curly, but cautioned us to feed him a little bit at a time so he wouldn't vomit. Finally, she carried Curly Joe in and put him down on the blanket saying, "Is this your baby?" He was happy to see us, but not quite as happy as the day before. I attribute this to the bowl of turkey. He fixated on it the entire time. Sis fed him a little while I took pictures, and when she put the bowl back up on the table, he would just sit and stare at it. Then he would walk around the room and look at it from different angles.

We scratched his head and doled out all the kisses from his adoring fans. He kept coming over to sit by me, so I took that to mean he was happy to see me. After a little more turkey, he let out a very dainty yet very human belch. I hugged him (gently) and was shocked to find that I was touching his incision. It extends from the (top) base of his penis all the way up to his chest. Staples all the way. After a little while, we could see in his eyes how tired he was, but he was too uncomfortable to lie down. Sis went to tell the receptionist we were done visiting, and she paged someone to come and get him. By the time she arrived, Curly Joe had managed to lie down. When he saw her, he immediately rolled over onto his back and exposed his belly for her, darting his front legs out and then folding them back up against his chest like "Pet me. Go on. You know you wanna." That's what he does when he sees somebody. He doesn't just walk up and sit politely, he falls over and exposes his belly. It was wonderful to see him do that, even if it did expose his hideous incision.

Every time the tech bent down, he would flop over, so she ended up having to carry him out of the room. He immediately looked miserable, but we gave him one last kiss and told him we would see him tomorrow. And that is how our visit went.

FYI: This website has an animation that shows what is wrong with Curly Joe's liver.

Up next, Curly Joe's homecoming.

It's a boy!

On August 12, 2008, we arrived home with Curly Joe. We introduced him to Tank in the street (neutral territory), but Tank was so excited to see me, he barely even looked at Curly Joe. As for the puppy, he loved Tank instantly. A split second was all it took for Curly Joe to consider Tank one of his best friends.

I wasn't really all that surprised. I had only known Curly Joe for a couple of hours before I realized how special he was. It's hard to pinpoint, but there's something about him that just sucks people in. His eyes? His ears? The way he immediately flops over on his back for belly rubs whenever someone approaches him? His penchant for sleeping in suitcases? Whatever it was, I saw it when we walked around Boulder with LaShea and Chad, and I saw it the entire drive back home to Oregon. He is impossibly cute. Sometimes you can't even stand to look at him, he's so cute.

But I digress. It took a couple of weeks, but Tank finally climbed up out of his depression and warmed up to Curly Joe. The cats are a different story. I think Curly thinks they're puppies because every time he sees one, he jumps on it.

One of the things I noticed early on was how much water Curly Joe drank and, inevitably, how much he urinated. I'd been planning on taking him to my regular vet anyway, to find out if he had any lingering issues from being poisoned. Now I was concerned there was something wrong with his kidneys. So on August 19th, I took him to my vet for blood work. On August 20th, the vet called told me that Curly Joe's kidney values were perfect, but his liver values were off. She said it could be one of three things:

1. Hepatitis.
   
2. A shunt problem.
   
3. Leftover toxins from when he was poisoned.
   

She recommended taking him to the Northwest Veterinary Specialists for an ultrasound/biopsy, but not before we did a clotting profile to make sure he'd be alright for sticking needles into his organs. The labs came back normal and he got the green light for an ultrasound. On August 30th, I took Curly Joe to a picnic and (thanks to some incredibly generous people) on September 12th, I took him to VDIC for an ultrasound and biopsy. The good news was, they didn't need to take any biopsies. The bad news was, the reason why is that he very clearly has a serious shunt problem. In fact, he probably wasn't ever poisoned; all of the symptoms that made the Louisiana vets think he was poisoned are classic signs of Portosystemic shunt problems: vomiting, seizures, head pressing, anorexia, stunted growth, etc.

On September 24th, I took Curly Joe to NWVS for his surgery. On September 25th, they operated on him. (They like you to bring your animal in the night before so they can get a catheter all set up.) About four or five hours after they started surgery, the doctor called to tell me that she had been unable to fix Curly Joe's shunt. It turned out to be intrahepatic (inside the liver), and she couldn't get to it without compromising him. There were no exit vessels to clamp off, and she cut up into his chest cavity a little to see if she could find a way through there. She was basically telling me there was nothing she could do. One of the two options I was given when Curly was diagnosed was surgery or managing the condition with diet and medicine. (l/d and lactulose.) Knowing Curly Joe would die without it, I chose surgery. I was devastated when the doctor told me there was nothing she could do. She then told me that she would look into other surgery options for Curly; there were other vets out there who had experience working with intrahepatic shunts, and she said she would keep researching. She also said that Curly Joe might need a blood transfusion.

An hour later, she called me again, this time to tell me that Curly Joe was still intubated and not waking up as fast as he should. I tried to keep myself from freaking out, but all I could think about was something my regular vet had told me a few days before Curly's surgery: a third of the dogs she'd seen go through this procedure never woke up.

They put him in an oxygen cage and covered him up with warming blankets because his temperature was low. He had lots of fluids going into him, too. They checked his pcv (packed cell volume) and it was low, so they consulted their critical care specialist who recommended giving him half a unit of blood, recheck in an hour and then give him the other half if needed. This was basically for supportive care. The doctor said she hadn't seen any evidence of seizures or clotting problems, but was a possibility.

At around 2:00 a.m. I got another call from the hospital. Curly Joe still wasn't doing well. His blood pressure was really high and his protein was low (which means he wouldn't be able to heal). The doctor asked for my permission to give him another blood transfusion (which I did) except this time it would be plasma. She said there was no guarantee that he would be better in the morning. He was responding to them, but not getting up on his own. They considered him a very guarded patient.

Six hours later, the doctor called again. She told me Curly Joe had developed hemothorax and was not improving. After some discussion, she said she didn't think that Curly Joe would recover from this. I asked her if she thought he was suffering and she told me that he was on two different pain meds and wasn't in pain. I told her I would call her back. My sister (who works from home as a transcriptionist) was working in her office. I went in to tell her what the doctor had told me and made the decision to euthanize him.

I called NWVS back and told them we would be coming in and then went to get ready. 20 minutes later, I called them back to check on Curly and make sure he was comfortable and able to hold on until we got there. I talked to the tech who assisted Curly's surgery and he told me that the doctor wanted to talk to me. My heart sank. My first thought was that Curly Joe had died before we could get there. Then the doctor got on the line and told me that she had consulted with another doctor at the hospital (one of the many great things about NWVS is that it's full of specialists). He examined Curly Joe and said that he didn't see a dog who was ready to die. He took radiographs (at no charge to me) to see just what was going on inside Curly's chest. They revealed that he did have blood in his chest, mostly on the left side where the doctor had made the incision to look for another way to get at the shunt. She said she would like my permission to do a chest tap and use the blood for an auto-transfusion. He would still have his shunt issue to deal with afterward, but she wanted to get him through this first. They wanted to give him a chance. She said he was interested in food and wagging his tail when people stopped to say hi to him. They didn't think it was time to give up yet.

At that bit of news, I told the doctor that they should do all they can for him, hung up, walked into the office and started sobbing. My sister immediately walked over, gave me a big hug and said, "See? This is good news!" I was so afraid to hope, but I stayed positive for Curly's sake.

There were a lot of people pulling for Curly Joe, most of whom had never even met him.

Next up: The power of positive thinking and a little dog who doesn't know the meaning of the word "quit."

All work and no play makes Curly Joe a dull boy.

I first heard of Curly Joe about four months ago. Before I moved back in with my sister, we would talk online a lot and she was always mentioning this brain damaged puppy that a friend of hers knew from volunteering at a shelter down in Louisiana. At first I didn't pay much attention to it. Over the course of about a year and a half, our dog pack went from five to two (and this wasn't including the old golden retriever we'd rescued who died of liver cancer in '04). All we had left was my 10-year old hound dog, Tank and my sister's Shep/Lab mix, Meathead. Tank's best friend, Luke, died in January of '07. Nine months later, Lady died after battling Cushing's Disease for several months. Bernie followed her five months later; they were inseparable the whole time we had them.

Since Luke died, Tank had been growing more and more depressed, and I was starting to really worry about him. I didn't feel ready to start thinking about getting another dog, but I knew it would be the best thing for Tank. Around that time, I heard about some laboratory dogs (for a vet school) who needed homes or they were going to be euthanized. Fortunately, it turned out that the dogs actually weren't in any danger of being euthanized and all found good homes, but it made me realize that I was ready to take in another dog. It was right around then that my sister sent me a picture of this brain damaged puppy in Louisiana. My sister's friend, LaShea, told her that the puppy had been found, dying, outside of a nail salon. He had some seizures and passed out a couple of times, and the vet suspected he'd been poisoned. Well, the second I saw his picture, I knew I had to have him. Sis told me he'd been named Curly Joe because of the way the tips of his ears curled backward. The photo at the top of this blog and in LaShea's entry are the ones that sold me. I knew he would be Tank's new BFF.

Summer was upon us and we were concerned about how to get Curly Joe from Louisiana to Oregon. Flying was the easiest mode of transportation, but with his health issues, it wasn't something we wanted to attempt. My sister and I discussed driving down to Louisiana; LaShea talked about driving Curly up her herself. In the end, we decided to meet in the middle (or thereabouts): Boulder, Colorado. Sis and I had never been there, and I was very excited at the thought of a road trip. I hadn't been on vacation in eight years. We made our plans and got ready. On July 3rd, an hour before we were set to leave, Meathead started acting funny. We figured it was a pancreatitis flareup, as he'd been having issues with it for several months. We dropped him off at the vet, who called us back a few hours later. Meathead was really bad. His temperature was so high, they had him covered in ice packs. By the time we got there, he was mostly gone. When temps run that high, dogs go into organ failure. We think he waited for my sister because he died a few minutes after she crawled into the kennel and curled up with him.

Naturally, we canceled the trip. Over the next few weeks, Tank's depression got worse. He was eating and drinking, but I practically had to drag him out of Meathead's bed and make him go outside. LaShea and her husband had taken Curly Joe in to foster because the woman who was taking care of him went on vacation. We made plans again to meet in Boulder, this time at the beginning of August. On the evening of August 9th, 2008, my sister and I walked into our hotel room in Boulder and threw down our bags. I called LaShea's husband to let them know we were here (we got rooms in the same hotel), only to find out they were in the room right next to ours. He actually opened the door and surprised my sister when she was coming back from the car. I hung up the phone and went to meet Curly Joe.

First impression? A little underwhelming. Just kidding! Curly was flopped out on the bed, just ... hanging out. If it'd been Tank, he'd be bouncing off the walls and bruising my shin with his tail, but not Curly. He was like, "Hey, what's up? Come rub my belly." Of course, road trip adventures take a lot out of six month old puppies, so naturally he was tired.

I just couldn't get over how small and quiet he was. We hung out in their room until about 3 a.m., just talking and having a good time (watching some stupid movie on the Sci Fi channel). We left Curly Joe with them for one more night, and the next morning we all drove to Estes Park and walked around the Stanley Hotel. It's the hotel that inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, you know. And they let Curly Joe in!

Sadly, we parted ways that afternoon. Sis and I and little Curly Joe headed back to the Pacific Northwest, LaShea and Chad headed south to Louisiana. Very sad. I'm not really good with people; I'm very shy and awkward. But the moment I met those two, I felt completely at ease, like I'd known them for years. Though leaving them was sad, we knew we would be seeing them again, as they are planning to move to Portland in a couple of years. What a reunion that will be!

Up next: What happened when we brought Curly Joe home.

The Beginnings

Curly Joe's journey begins in Shreveport, Louisiana. It was May 2008 when he was brought to Pet Savers Shelter. We know he was near death and found next to a nail salon. The shelter worker, Janice, who received him didn't believe he'd make it through the night because he was so weak and kept passing out. She kept him at her house, and later he went to live with Linda, who owns Pet Savers. During this time, he had several seizures and the veterinarian decided he'd probably been poisoned. Pet Savers didn't have the money to do in depth testing, and over time Curly seemed to grow stronger.

I was keeping a journal on my messageboard chronicling my adventures in animal rescue. The very first post I made about my work at the shelter featured a picture of Curly and his story. One of the posters (grubbygirl) simply said "I want him." I thought she was joking or it was just wishful thinking. Little did I know, she meant what she said! And her sister, turtle tracks, definitely wanted him. We started looking into animal transport options.

After realizing he probably couldn't get a clean bill of health to fly (and that flying can be quite risky), and that trying to create a transport chain from Louisiana to Oregon just wouldn't work, we decided to meet half way, in Boulder, CO.