We Lost Sally

We lost our beloved little girl Sally. She had bravely battled her progressive neurological disorder since arriving just over a year ago. At first, she was completely mobile if very wobbly. She would fall down on occasion but pick herself back up and keep going. For all the effort it took her to walk, we marveled at how much she liked to get out into the yard and zoom back and forth. She was determined to get around on her own, and she did. Sally displayed that determination right until the end.

When Sally came to us, she was emaciated, heart worm positive and had a mouth full of rotting teeth and ulcers. She underwent a battery of tests, as well as an abdominal ultrasound and an echocardiogram of her heart, before beginning the months-long treatment for heart worms. During her visits to our specialty hospital, the neurologist had examined Sally a couple of times but couldn’t determine a cause for her neurological disorder.

Only once she was safely past the heart worm treatment, and her heart judged strong enough after a repeat echocardiogram, could our board-certified veterinary dentist and oral surgeon go to work on her mouth.

And what a job it was! Sally was under anesthesia on the operating table for six hours, and in the end the doctor had to remove all of her teeth except for a couple of canines in the front. The doctor said Sally’s mouth was one of the worst he’d seen in his long career.

Once finished with all the medical procedures, Sally thrived here. She loved all the attention she got from us, and enjoyed the company of the other dogs as well. She was always snuggled up with one or more of her friends.

But this past summer she suddenly deteriorated one day. She couldn’t walk far without tumbling over, and she was much more unsteady on her feet. We rushed her to the emergency room at our specialty hospital in Burlington, and later that day the neurologist did an MRI. Unfortunately, it didn’t give us any concrete results, so we don’t know for sure what happened to Sally. A stroke, most likely.

At that point all we could do was provide supportive care. As the months wore on, Sally became less and less stable. Whatever had struck her was clearly progressing. The photo above, which I took in late July, was one of the last times she could stay upright and sternal for even a few minutes.

But this tough little Beagle wasn’t about to give up! And she made that clear to us. She still had a zest for life. And she still maintained that hearty Beagle appetite. We had to set up a special feeding station for her so she could stay upright while eating, with plenty of bumpers to keep her stable. Here’s a photo Alayne took after Sally had finished dinner one evening:

About six weeks ago we had to make further adjustments because she was struggling to remain sternal even with all the bumpers around her. Sometimes that involved adjusting the bowl angle, sometimes offering her different formulations of food, and other times Alayne would just hand feed her.

As compromised as Sally was — by this point she could no longer walk at all — she could still manage a loud and insistent bark if any of the other dogs came anywhere near her while she was eating. “Get back, it’s mine!”

While her body was stiffening around her, she remained interested in everything going on. Alayne began carrying her around the farm for “walks,” so Sally could explore the barn and gardens and other areas. Her eyes would get big and her Beagle nose would start sniffing like crazy.

By this point Sally was pretty much incontinent, so Alayne was having to bathe her every morning and change her bedding throughout the day. Sometimes Sally would get up to three baths a day. Alayne doted and fussed over her all day long. And Sally adored Alayne in return.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, we noticed a change in Sally. The spark was fading. Her body began to be even less flexible. While she continued to eat, she didn’t go after her food with the same gusto she once did. On her walks with Alayne, Sally didn’t show the same interest she used to. And she was also losing weight now.

Day by day, it seemed like everything was becoming more difficult for her.

It’s a stomach-churning responsibility to know when to make the call on euthanasia. There’s never the “right” time. We never want to be too early, but we sure never want to be too late, so they end up in pain or suffering. It’s a difficult balance to strike, and we agonize over it each and every time.

But we realized the moment was finally here. Alayne called the clinic to make the appointment, and a week ago, she took Sally in.

We had her for just 13 months, and had come to cherish her. Somehow having them for such a short time makes it even harder to say goodbye. This was one of those cases. She’d made such an impact on our lives — this little Beagle, so fiercely determined to make the best of her life, no matter what difficulties she faced — that letting her go was one of the hardest and most emotionally wrenching things we’ve had to do.

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And sadly, that wasn’t our only recent loss. Not long after writing that previous blog post about Finn, we unexpectedly lost him about a week later. His kidney disease had progressed to the point where he suddenly just stopped eating, and nothing we could do or offer him would get him to eat. He was letting us know that it was time to go. We had that sweet, gentle boy for just 48 days. But he died knowing he was loved, perhaps for the first time in his long, hard life.

So yes, it’s been a rough couple of months.