“For Hollie, my soulmate, my daemon, my constant shadow”
I saw this today – words I had written elsewhere, but forgotten about – and the stoic face I had worn for the past few months melted away.
Hollie died in October and I have been in a strange state of denial, relief and grieving since then, but these nine words have brought that stage to a close. I’m still in denial she’s gone – I check the back door is locked before bed every night when I know it was never unlocked for her late-night toilet trip, my car still has her bed and blankets and buggy in it and I don’t want to move them.
I’m grieving, not for Hollie, but for the gaping hole a dogless life offers. I’m grieving for the loss of her soul to me – a soul I nurtured from the shell of a dog she was to make her the high maintenance diva she became.
Mostly, I’m relieved. As much as I’m hurting, Hollie’s life, and mine in caring for her, was hard – very hard. Almost tougher than it should be to care for and love a pet.
Be prepared
The anti-brachycephalic brigade are working in good faith, but I sometimes feel they alienate us brachy owners, so I want to put Hollie’s life and death to some good use.
I don’t want to alienate Peke and pug or Persian and Scottish fold owners. I am one of you, but the journey you are on is going to be so much harder than that of many other pet owners, and I want you to be ready – to be prepared for the issues you’ll face that are caused because of the way your dog, or cat, looks.
For those thinking of these types of pet, then this is not an unusual tale of a Peke, this is just a tale of what it takes – what it REALLY takes – to PROPERLY love and care for one of these creatures.
Pain
The number one consideration in my life with Hollie was managing her pain.
She had joint issues from almost the day I got her – luxating patellas, disc issues, elbow x-rays that made me almost vomit with horror. She was on painkillers for most of her five years with us, starting at age seven.
Pain is debilitating and tiring, and she was a stoic trooper throughout, but this made her pain harder to manage and I had to try and see through her stoicism to recognise signals of changes in her pain levels.
Mobility
I suppose it was lucky her mobility was limited as she rarely exerted herself enough to have breathing issues, although I’m sure her stress and anxiety were made worse with her short nose. It also caused me anxiety, as her anxiety in warm weather made me worry she would overheat due to her inability to cool incoming air in her non-existent muzzle.
Luckily I’m skilled at taking temperatures of wriggly dogs at 3am.
I’m sure many people are reading this thinking I should have just chilled a little, given her the painkillers and gotten her to relax. If only it were that easy – her joint conditions were progressive and, like a toddler, she would carry on with activities I knew would make her sore later, so I managed her time and activity levels closely.
Her anxiety had no clear origin, so I faced the ongoing dilemma of managing her environment and medication to calm her.
Surgical support
Hollie also had several surgeries that were only required due to her looks. There really isn’t room for good dentition in a Peke’s mouth, and so, over the course of three separate procedures, all of Hollies teeth were removed.
She had her nose roll removed – the extra skin above her nose that so many breeders want to see caused her hair to rub on her eyes. Of every intervention I did, this was probably the best one. No eye pain and better vision must have been wonderful for her.
She had some stomach issues, most likely caused by her conformation, and she had medication for that too. The daily balancing act of enough ham to mask the tablets versus not enough ham to make her obese was difficult.
Complementary interventions
As well as conventional veterinary treatment, Hollie had hydrotherapy, physiotherapy and acupuncture, and I managed her appointments and care between the different practitioners.
I also consulted a behaviourist on more than one occasion to ensure I was managing her anxiety issues as well as possible. I was, but we also added in some further medication to help her as she aged. By “aged”, I mean she was 10 years old. Not really that old by many dogs standards.
I’m not even counting the cost, but I was very grateful for her pet insurance. She must have knocked a few points off their profitability each time a claim form arrived.
Is that cute face worth it?
Hollie was rehomed, and while I didn’t create a need for someone to produce a puppy for me, have I encouraged others to do so by having a “cute” dog? Quite possibly.
I don’t regret one second of the life we had together, but would I do it again? I really don’t think I could, knowing what I know now.
I don’t know what I’m going to do as I don’t want a dogless life, but the stress of managing Hollie’s care for such an extended period of her life was unfair – and it was because of her looks that this happened. Not bad luck, serious illness or injury, but because of her looks.
Is that “cute” face worth it now?
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