In memory of my sweet Newman
I am not sure Newman has ever gotten mentioned on here. He died before I started this blog. But I had to post his story. It is long, but I wanted to tell it in its entirety.
Newman's story
Newman’s story is a great story that needs to be told. It has just taken me a while to be able to tell it. My sweet Newman passed away one year ago today. How we ended up with him and how he changed my life is a wonderful story that I love to share.
First off, Newman was what I call my heart dog. I have a group of friends and we use that term to describe a dog that just becomes so special to you. I love all my dogs, but the longer we had Newman, the more he become my boy and he needed me as much as I needed him. I think that is why it has taken me so long to write this out. The loss of Newman was devastating to me. I have never been so grief-stricken and upset in all my life. The poor Mr didn’t know how to help me and tried anything and everything he could think of. And a year later I have survived. I still miss Newman, but I smile when I think of him.
Newman came to us in a rather unusual way. He was a rescue dog. He had been listed with a rescue that we were a foster family for and adopted out. His first family decided they couldn’t keep him and dumped him at a local shelter. Thankfully he still had his rescue tags on and the shelter contacted the rescue. The rescue contacted the family and reminded them that their contract stated the dog was to be returned to the rescue if they were unable to keep him. The family wasn’t willing to drive him all the way back, so some great volunteers met them half-way to pick him up. But there was a problem, the kennel system used to house the rescue dogs had been voluntarily quarantined because of an outbreak of kennel cough and all the other foster homes were full. So, even though we were on a break from fostering we were convinced to foster Newman for a few days until the next adoption event and then another volunteer would be able to take him. I still remember the Mr calling me on my way home from work to let me know they would bring Newman to us in a few hours. I asked him if he knew who Newman was. He said, ‘Noooooooo. Why?’ I explained that Newman was a big dog, a Newfoundland mix and I wanted to know why his other family was returning him. The Mr didn’t know, but the volunteers were going to fill us in when they got our house.
So, the volunteers got to our house and out of the station wagon comes this big black hairy dog. And other than being a big boy, he was quiet and well-mannered. I was asking about why he was returned and anticipating some sort of issue or training that would be needed. The volunteers handed me a letter than the family had thoughtfully written to explain why they could not keep him. As I read it, my jaw dropped. You see Newman had been a ‘bad’ boy at their house. The reasons included: (1) when he was left alone in the garage all day, he chewed on some wiring, (2) we he walked, he scratched the hardwood floors and (3) worst of all, he pooped in their back yard. The Mr and I laughed and couldn’t believe these people were serious. These weren’t even issues and figured if that was all it took for them to get rid of him, he was better off back with the rescue.
Two day later, there was an adoption event. Now since we weren’t supposed to have a foster, we had made other plans. So, we agreed to drop him off at the event, go to our stuff and come back. While we were gone a woman and her children adopted a puppy. Just before we came back, she came back and said she wanted to adopt him too. So, the rescue agreed to it and had no problem since she had already been cleared and adopted a puppy. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but didn’t really figure we had had Newman long enough to weigh in on the decision. So, the woman adopted Newman and the puppy and went on her way.
As was policy, adopters are encouraged to get the dogs vet checked shortly after adoption so their vet can get to know the dog and the dog can be checked again for any issues. She took Newman to the vet and called the rescue to give us an earful. According to her vet, he had cataracts and needed cataract surgery, a double eye infection, an ear infection and needed a tooth and part of his jaw surgically removed. She was livid that we would adopt her a defective dog and she wanted to return him. We took him (as is the policy) and I took him a different vet that the rescue used. And here we got the real story! He did have cataracts, but without going to a canine eye doctor you wouldn’t know if they were operable or not. Many dogs have cataracts in their old age and are just fine. The eye infection was really just irritation from the cataracts. He did have an ear infection, but that wasn’t a big deal. The tooth was discolored and didn’t look healthy, but was firmly rooted in his mouth and would not need extraction or surgery. So, at this point the Mr and I decided that we would foster this big guy until he finds a home and give him the meds he needs to get better.
About a week later the woman calls the rescue to ask how her dog is doing. Um, excuse me? You tell us how the puppy is doing. On no, you mean Newman? Well, he isn’t your dog, you surrendered him back to the rescue and we refunded the adoption fee. You see, once she found out he wasn’t as sick as her vet thought, she wanted him back. Nope – not gonna happen – sorry! Now before you think our rescue is heartless, she called us up after her vet told all that was wrong with and (whine and) cried that she was a single mom with 3 kids and couldn’t afford the care, blah, blah, blah. That is fine, but you don’t get him back now that he isn’t as sick as you thought. Because, eventually, like all dogs, he will have issues and need to go to the vet. I told the rescue board that if they really wanted to give him back to her they could, but I wanted no part of it. I told them that I couldn’t explain it, but I just didn’t get a good vibe from her. Thankfully, that rescue firmly believed in foster families getting the final say. So, someone from the rescue board called her back and explained that because of his health issues, he would not be available for adoption and would be placed with one of the foster families. At this point, we still had intentions of fostering Newman until the right home was found, but were still on the hunt for his forever family.
About a week later, she calls and wants to know why he is still listed online. So, we blame slow paperwork and pull him off the site. We continue to take him to adoption events when we can, but are now relying on word of mouth through the volunteers to try to place him. Let’s face it; he is a 5 year old dog with some health issues. Oh and he is a big, black hairy dog. There are not a lot of homes lining up to take those kinds of dogs. The plan is going well, until this woman starts showing up at adoption events looking for Newman. Thankfully, we were never there at the same time, but we decided that we couldn’t take that risk because this woman was not normal. All this while the Mr is bugging me, ‘why don’t we keep him’, ‘he isn’t any work’, I really want him’. Now, keep in mind at this point, we only had Rocky and he was about 2 years old. We had fostered about a dozen different dogs at that point. We knew we wanted a second dog, but we really wanted a playmate for Rocky. So, an energetic, crazy, playful dog. Not an older, mellow dog. You all see where this going, right?
So, after 4 months of fostering Newman, I filled out the official adoption forms for him in February and he was the Mr’s Valentine’s Day present. To be honest, I still wasn’t sold on it, but I was out-voted. Newman was a great dog, but just not what I pictured. I swear after that, Newman set out to prove me wrong and win me over. He was fantastic dog. He grew more confident and youthful with every day. He lost a bit of weight, put on muscle and would wrestle with Rocky anytime. They would stand up on their hind feet and growl and wrestle like bears. We never had to police their play, they were pretty evenly matched. Rocky was faster and more agile, but Newman was bigger and played smarter. And if either one accidentally played to rough, the other would yelp and they would stop and cool off.
We continued to foster a bit after Newman settled in. He was a great ‘big brother’ to Rocky and any other dog. He loved the neighbor kids and was gentle and sweet with them. We would take him out to stores or dog events and everyone would fawn over him. They thought he was beautiful and a sweet-tempered dog. He would just stand there and let children pet him. Even kids that were afraid of dogs were drawn to him. He was like a good-will ambassador. I told everyone we saw that we rescued him; he was returned from two different families for no reason other than he was a dog. We figure by the time he had a home (which he had to have had because he had great house manners), and then he somehow ended up at animal control, the rescue kennel facility, then two more home – we were at least his 6th home. People were shocked that anyone couldn’t love this dog. I know I sound conceded, like my dog is better than yours, but he truly was a special dog. He reached out and appealed to so many people just by being himself.
Now, Newman was not without his problems. About 2 years after all this, we found some lumps on him. So, off to the vet we go and schedule surgery to remove a few. I went to pick him up and the vet wanted to talk to me first. I just wanted to see my big guy at that point. The vet really wanted to talk to me first. The lumps had a lot of white blood cells in them and while they weren’t sure until they got the lab results back in a week, it looked a lot like cancer. I was heart-broken. I spent the next week figuring out what kind of treatment was available, how far we could feasibly drive, and how much we could put him through. When the vet called with the results, they said it wasn’t cancer. Now whether they told us at the point what it was or not I don’t know. I don’t remember hearing a diagnosis, but I was so glad it wasn’t cancer that I can’t remember much of the call. Now it was November, and I had a big hairy dog with 3 large bald spots, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t cancer. Against the Mr’s wishes, I bought Newman a coat for the winter and we moved on.
About a month later, I found some blood and an open wound on Newman. No one knew what happened, but we took him the vet and got him all fixed up. We just figured he got poked with some ice or he and Rocky were wrestling too hard. Then, in February, it happened again. This time I went to the vet and I said I know something is wrong and I am not leaving until I have some answers. The vet opted to keep him for the day to clean up the wound and not stress him out and to do some research. The vet figured out that Newman had panniculitis. A rare autoimmune disease where the fat layer below the skin erupts in lumps that then burst leaving the body open to infection. It wasn’t life-threatening, but open wounds are never good. And it was leaving Newman’s skin sensitive to being touched and painful for him. The poor dog was uncomfortable, but never let it show. Had we not found blood, we would have never known. There is no one treatment for panniculitis. There is very little research on it and treatment is a lot of trial and error. Over the course of about a year, working closely with one vet, we found a treatment plan that worked and were able to manage his disease well. Over the next 2 years, I became an expert at recognizing the signs and symptoms before an outbreak. We also started to recognize what kind of stressors would trigger Newman. It wasn’t easy and there was a constant pill regimen, but it was manageable and made Newman and I best buddies. I was one taking him the vet every month to be checked over and have progress marked (I think the vet just wanted to see it for himself since it was so rare. He liked to take pictures and chart progress). I was doling out pills for the week into his pill container. I made sure he was brushed out and felt his whole body looking for anything unusual. At some point through all this I became his protector and he became mine. He became my heart dog.
I worried about him endlessly when we left him with our dog sitter (and she is fantastic), shoot, I even worried when I left him with the Mr. I monitored everything on him to watch for subtle changes. And we laughed, that even through all this, Newman seemed to get younger rather than older. He tapped his inner puppy and played and romped with Rocky and any foster we might have. We did slow down greatly fostering dogs because we were afraid the stress would aggravate Newman’s panniculitis. And when he was flared up, he was a bit grumpy.
However, in May of 2008, we upset the balance once again. We adopted Leo and he came home mid-June. I will save Leo’s story for another post. But Newman embraced his big brother status once again and kept Leo the puppy in line. It was always fun to walk all 3 dogs through the neighborhood or at events to see the way other people looked at us. Little did they know the biggest dog, was the biggest marshmallow.
Then in November last year, Newman cracked a molar chewing on a bone. We took him to the emergency vet where the stopped the bleeding and removed part of the cracked tooth. They sent us home with some good meds to keep Newman out of pain and told me to call my vet in the morning to get the tooth extracted. By the time I had called in the morning, the emergency vet had called my vet and told them they had to find room in their surgery schedule to take him. So, I dropped off my big guy and left him for a routine tooth extraction and teeth cleaning. I scooted out the door quickly because I didn’t want the vet and techs to see me cry. I couldn’t explain it, but I was just worried about my big guy. I called the vet in the afternoon to check on him and see when the Mr could pick him up (because I was stuck at work). They told me that he hadn’t tolerated the surgery very well, so they didn’t clean his teeth. They just got the tooth out and pulled him out. They were worried that he wasn’t coming out of anesthesia as well as they would like and wanted to keep him until they closed. So, I sent the Mr to pick him up at the end of the day (I was still at work). Then the Mr called and told me that they didn’t want to send him home, they wanted us to take him to the emergency vet to be monitored over night because he was still very lethargic. Well, I was NOT having that; I wanted to see my big guy. The vet even got on the phone and explained the situation. I told her I understood what she was saying, but Newman was stable and hated the vet. Please let us bring him home, let me get home and if I feel we can’t handle him, we will take him to emergency vet. The poor vet had never worked with me before and wasn’t used to my hands on approach, but finally understood. I left work early and headed home, convince that Newman just needed some mom love and familiar surroundings. I got home and he was so much worse than what the Mr and the vet lead me to believe. Which was smart because I had to drive home. But it was very sad to see my big guy like that. He was mostly unresponsive and running a fever. The vet had given him all the meds to counteract the anesthesia, but he just didn’t seem to be coming around. After an hour, I decided to take him to the emergency vet where he could be monitored all night. We took him in and they admitted him and figured he was just having difficulty with the anesthesia and needed some fluids and oxygen. Just supportive care to get it all out of his system. He was set up on the floor because he was so big and just laying there and they all started to fawn over him. They told me to call anytime. They would call if anything went wrong, but if nothing else, they would call in the morning with an update. I called just before we went to bed and they said they had to move him to a cage because he kept trying to wander off. That was my boy, trying to escape the vet. So, I went to bed and slept, knowing he was feeling better. We just figured because of his age, he was going to take longer to recover. I called the next morning to see if I could visit and they said visiting hours were in the evening and there was no need to worry. He was walking around and had gone outside to potty. He did have a few heart rhythm abnormalities, so they wanted permission to scope his heart and try to figure it out. So, the Mr stayed home to wait for the cable guy and I headed to work.
I was there about 30 minutes when my work phone rang and it was the emergency vet. They apologized for calling me at work, but no one answered the other contact phone numbers. Newman was crashing and they were doing CPR and needed to know what we wanted done. At that moment, my world crashed down. I told them to keep trying and to call me back on my cell phone. They promised to call within 5 minutes. I ducked out to my friend’s office to try to reach the Mr. He didn’t answer at home or his cell. My friend offered to drive me home (because I couldn’t drive at the moment), my coworker offered to cover for me and I grabbed my stuff to leave. Before we made it to the car, the vet called back, Newman was gone.
It was a long ride home, but my friend was fabulous. She listened to me cry and the rant because I couldn’t find the Mr. I got home and the Mr was there (the home phone was unhooked to link into the cable and his cell was in his car) and he knew things couldn’t be good if I had to be driven home. I told him what I knew. And we faced the tears together. I was just inconsolable (I am crying just writing thing now). We put ourselves together and went to see Newman. The emergency vet was great and handled everything with great poise and caring. No one really knows what happened, but our theory was that he had an unknown heart condition and it (along with the stress of surgery) was just too much for his old body to take. I called into work to let them know and my coworker told me that he would work the rest of my shift that day and had found someone to work for me the next day. Which was a wonderful thing because by that night I had lost it. I was devastated beyond words. Just hours before he passed everyone thought he was doing great and going to be sent home. I was shocked and hurt. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt.
But here I am a year later to tell his story. And although time has passed, I still miss Newman. The pain has been replaced by smiles. Instead of crying over him being gone, I find myself smiling at the little things that he did. I still miss him daily, but it is more memories and smiles and less tears and grief. So, to those of you who have lost a loved one (canine or other), the pain fades, but the memories live on. You do move on, but never forget.
So, hug your loved ones (human or hairy) and enjoy their spirit today!
My sweet Newman
Newman's story
Newman’s story is a great story that needs to be told. It has just taken me a while to be able to tell it. My sweet Newman passed away one year ago today. How we ended up with him and how he changed my life is a wonderful story that I love to share.
First off, Newman was what I call my heart dog. I have a group of friends and we use that term to describe a dog that just becomes so special to you. I love all my dogs, but the longer we had Newman, the more he become my boy and he needed me as much as I needed him. I think that is why it has taken me so long to write this out. The loss of Newman was devastating to me. I have never been so grief-stricken and upset in all my life. The poor Mr didn’t know how to help me and tried anything and everything he could think of. And a year later I have survived. I still miss Newman, but I smile when I think of him.
Newman came to us in a rather unusual way. He was a rescue dog. He had been listed with a rescue that we were a foster family for and adopted out. His first family decided they couldn’t keep him and dumped him at a local shelter. Thankfully he still had his rescue tags on and the shelter contacted the rescue. The rescue contacted the family and reminded them that their contract stated the dog was to be returned to the rescue if they were unable to keep him. The family wasn’t willing to drive him all the way back, so some great volunteers met them half-way to pick him up. But there was a problem, the kennel system used to house the rescue dogs had been voluntarily quarantined because of an outbreak of kennel cough and all the other foster homes were full. So, even though we were on a break from fostering we were convinced to foster Newman for a few days until the next adoption event and then another volunteer would be able to take him. I still remember the Mr calling me on my way home from work to let me know they would bring Newman to us in a few hours. I asked him if he knew who Newman was. He said, ‘Noooooooo. Why?’ I explained that Newman was a big dog, a Newfoundland mix and I wanted to know why his other family was returning him. The Mr didn’t know, but the volunteers were going to fill us in when they got our house.
So, the volunteers got to our house and out of the station wagon comes this big black hairy dog. And other than being a big boy, he was quiet and well-mannered. I was asking about why he was returned and anticipating some sort of issue or training that would be needed. The volunteers handed me a letter than the family had thoughtfully written to explain why they could not keep him. As I read it, my jaw dropped. You see Newman had been a ‘bad’ boy at their house. The reasons included: (1) when he was left alone in the garage all day, he chewed on some wiring, (2) we he walked, he scratched the hardwood floors and (3) worst of all, he pooped in their back yard. The Mr and I laughed and couldn’t believe these people were serious. These weren’t even issues and figured if that was all it took for them to get rid of him, he was better off back with the rescue.
Two day later, there was an adoption event. Now since we weren’t supposed to have a foster, we had made other plans. So, we agreed to drop him off at the event, go to our stuff and come back. While we were gone a woman and her children adopted a puppy. Just before we came back, she came back and said she wanted to adopt him too. So, the rescue agreed to it and had no problem since she had already been cleared and adopted a puppy. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but didn’t really figure we had had Newman long enough to weigh in on the decision. So, the woman adopted Newman and the puppy and went on her way.
As was policy, adopters are encouraged to get the dogs vet checked shortly after adoption so their vet can get to know the dog and the dog can be checked again for any issues. She took Newman to the vet and called the rescue to give us an earful. According to her vet, he had cataracts and needed cataract surgery, a double eye infection, an ear infection and needed a tooth and part of his jaw surgically removed. She was livid that we would adopt her a defective dog and she wanted to return him. We took him (as is the policy) and I took him a different vet that the rescue used. And here we got the real story! He did have cataracts, but without going to a canine eye doctor you wouldn’t know if they were operable or not. Many dogs have cataracts in their old age and are just fine. The eye infection was really just irritation from the cataracts. He did have an ear infection, but that wasn’t a big deal. The tooth was discolored and didn’t look healthy, but was firmly rooted in his mouth and would not need extraction or surgery. So, at this point the Mr and I decided that we would foster this big guy until he finds a home and give him the meds he needs to get better.
About a week later the woman calls the rescue to ask how her dog is doing. Um, excuse me? You tell us how the puppy is doing. On no, you mean Newman? Well, he isn’t your dog, you surrendered him back to the rescue and we refunded the adoption fee. You see, once she found out he wasn’t as sick as her vet thought, she wanted him back. Nope – not gonna happen – sorry! Now before you think our rescue is heartless, she called us up after her vet told all that was wrong with and (whine and) cried that she was a single mom with 3 kids and couldn’t afford the care, blah, blah, blah. That is fine, but you don’t get him back now that he isn’t as sick as you thought. Because, eventually, like all dogs, he will have issues and need to go to the vet. I told the rescue board that if they really wanted to give him back to her they could, but I wanted no part of it. I told them that I couldn’t explain it, but I just didn’t get a good vibe from her. Thankfully, that rescue firmly believed in foster families getting the final say. So, someone from the rescue board called her back and explained that because of his health issues, he would not be available for adoption and would be placed with one of the foster families. At this point, we still had intentions of fostering Newman until the right home was found, but were still on the hunt for his forever family.
About a week later, she calls and wants to know why he is still listed online. So, we blame slow paperwork and pull him off the site. We continue to take him to adoption events when we can, but are now relying on word of mouth through the volunteers to try to place him. Let’s face it; he is a 5 year old dog with some health issues. Oh and he is a big, black hairy dog. There are not a lot of homes lining up to take those kinds of dogs. The plan is going well, until this woman starts showing up at adoption events looking for Newman. Thankfully, we were never there at the same time, but we decided that we couldn’t take that risk because this woman was not normal. All this while the Mr is bugging me, ‘why don’t we keep him’, ‘he isn’t any work’, I really want him’. Now, keep in mind at this point, we only had Rocky and he was about 2 years old. We had fostered about a dozen different dogs at that point. We knew we wanted a second dog, but we really wanted a playmate for Rocky. So, an energetic, crazy, playful dog. Not an older, mellow dog. You all see where this going, right?
So, after 4 months of fostering Newman, I filled out the official adoption forms for him in February and he was the Mr’s Valentine’s Day present. To be honest, I still wasn’t sold on it, but I was out-voted. Newman was a great dog, but just not what I pictured. I swear after that, Newman set out to prove me wrong and win me over. He was fantastic dog. He grew more confident and youthful with every day. He lost a bit of weight, put on muscle and would wrestle with Rocky anytime. They would stand up on their hind feet and growl and wrestle like bears. We never had to police their play, they were pretty evenly matched. Rocky was faster and more agile, but Newman was bigger and played smarter. And if either one accidentally played to rough, the other would yelp and they would stop and cool off.
We continued to foster a bit after Newman settled in. He was a great ‘big brother’ to Rocky and any other dog. He loved the neighbor kids and was gentle and sweet with them. We would take him out to stores or dog events and everyone would fawn over him. They thought he was beautiful and a sweet-tempered dog. He would just stand there and let children pet him. Even kids that were afraid of dogs were drawn to him. He was like a good-will ambassador. I told everyone we saw that we rescued him; he was returned from two different families for no reason other than he was a dog. We figure by the time he had a home (which he had to have had because he had great house manners), and then he somehow ended up at animal control, the rescue kennel facility, then two more home – we were at least his 6th home. People were shocked that anyone couldn’t love this dog. I know I sound conceded, like my dog is better than yours, but he truly was a special dog. He reached out and appealed to so many people just by being himself.
Now, Newman was not without his problems. About 2 years after all this, we found some lumps on him. So, off to the vet we go and schedule surgery to remove a few. I went to pick him up and the vet wanted to talk to me first. I just wanted to see my big guy at that point. The vet really wanted to talk to me first. The lumps had a lot of white blood cells in them and while they weren’t sure until they got the lab results back in a week, it looked a lot like cancer. I was heart-broken. I spent the next week figuring out what kind of treatment was available, how far we could feasibly drive, and how much we could put him through. When the vet called with the results, they said it wasn’t cancer. Now whether they told us at the point what it was or not I don’t know. I don’t remember hearing a diagnosis, but I was so glad it wasn’t cancer that I can’t remember much of the call. Now it was November, and I had a big hairy dog with 3 large bald spots, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t cancer. Against the Mr’s wishes, I bought Newman a coat for the winter and we moved on.
About a month later, I found some blood and an open wound on Newman. No one knew what happened, but we took him the vet and got him all fixed up. We just figured he got poked with some ice or he and Rocky were wrestling too hard. Then, in February, it happened again. This time I went to the vet and I said I know something is wrong and I am not leaving until I have some answers. The vet opted to keep him for the day to clean up the wound and not stress him out and to do some research. The vet figured out that Newman had panniculitis. A rare autoimmune disease where the fat layer below the skin erupts in lumps that then burst leaving the body open to infection. It wasn’t life-threatening, but open wounds are never good. And it was leaving Newman’s skin sensitive to being touched and painful for him. The poor dog was uncomfortable, but never let it show. Had we not found blood, we would have never known. There is no one treatment for panniculitis. There is very little research on it and treatment is a lot of trial and error. Over the course of about a year, working closely with one vet, we found a treatment plan that worked and were able to manage his disease well. Over the next 2 years, I became an expert at recognizing the signs and symptoms before an outbreak. We also started to recognize what kind of stressors would trigger Newman. It wasn’t easy and there was a constant pill regimen, but it was manageable and made Newman and I best buddies. I was one taking him the vet every month to be checked over and have progress marked (I think the vet just wanted to see it for himself since it was so rare. He liked to take pictures and chart progress). I was doling out pills for the week into his pill container. I made sure he was brushed out and felt his whole body looking for anything unusual. At some point through all this I became his protector and he became mine. He became my heart dog.
I worried about him endlessly when we left him with our dog sitter (and she is fantastic), shoot, I even worried when I left him with the Mr. I monitored everything on him to watch for subtle changes. And we laughed, that even through all this, Newman seemed to get younger rather than older. He tapped his inner puppy and played and romped with Rocky and any foster we might have. We did slow down greatly fostering dogs because we were afraid the stress would aggravate Newman’s panniculitis. And when he was flared up, he was a bit grumpy.
However, in May of 2008, we upset the balance once again. We adopted Leo and he came home mid-June. I will save Leo’s story for another post. But Newman embraced his big brother status once again and kept Leo the puppy in line. It was always fun to walk all 3 dogs through the neighborhood or at events to see the way other people looked at us. Little did they know the biggest dog, was the biggest marshmallow.
Then in November last year, Newman cracked a molar chewing on a bone. We took him to the emergency vet where the stopped the bleeding and removed part of the cracked tooth. They sent us home with some good meds to keep Newman out of pain and told me to call my vet in the morning to get the tooth extracted. By the time I had called in the morning, the emergency vet had called my vet and told them they had to find room in their surgery schedule to take him. So, I dropped off my big guy and left him for a routine tooth extraction and teeth cleaning. I scooted out the door quickly because I didn’t want the vet and techs to see me cry. I couldn’t explain it, but I was just worried about my big guy. I called the vet in the afternoon to check on him and see when the Mr could pick him up (because I was stuck at work). They told me that he hadn’t tolerated the surgery very well, so they didn’t clean his teeth. They just got the tooth out and pulled him out. They were worried that he wasn’t coming out of anesthesia as well as they would like and wanted to keep him until they closed. So, I sent the Mr to pick him up at the end of the day (I was still at work). Then the Mr called and told me that they didn’t want to send him home, they wanted us to take him to the emergency vet to be monitored over night because he was still very lethargic. Well, I was NOT having that; I wanted to see my big guy. The vet even got on the phone and explained the situation. I told her I understood what she was saying, but Newman was stable and hated the vet. Please let us bring him home, let me get home and if I feel we can’t handle him, we will take him to emergency vet. The poor vet had never worked with me before and wasn’t used to my hands on approach, but finally understood. I left work early and headed home, convince that Newman just needed some mom love and familiar surroundings. I got home and he was so much worse than what the Mr and the vet lead me to believe. Which was smart because I had to drive home. But it was very sad to see my big guy like that. He was mostly unresponsive and running a fever. The vet had given him all the meds to counteract the anesthesia, but he just didn’t seem to be coming around. After an hour, I decided to take him to the emergency vet where he could be monitored all night. We took him in and they admitted him and figured he was just having difficulty with the anesthesia and needed some fluids and oxygen. Just supportive care to get it all out of his system. He was set up on the floor because he was so big and just laying there and they all started to fawn over him. They told me to call anytime. They would call if anything went wrong, but if nothing else, they would call in the morning with an update. I called just before we went to bed and they said they had to move him to a cage because he kept trying to wander off. That was my boy, trying to escape the vet. So, I went to bed and slept, knowing he was feeling better. We just figured because of his age, he was going to take longer to recover. I called the next morning to see if I could visit and they said visiting hours were in the evening and there was no need to worry. He was walking around and had gone outside to potty. He did have a few heart rhythm abnormalities, so they wanted permission to scope his heart and try to figure it out. So, the Mr stayed home to wait for the cable guy and I headed to work.
I was there about 30 minutes when my work phone rang and it was the emergency vet. They apologized for calling me at work, but no one answered the other contact phone numbers. Newman was crashing and they were doing CPR and needed to know what we wanted done. At that moment, my world crashed down. I told them to keep trying and to call me back on my cell phone. They promised to call within 5 minutes. I ducked out to my friend’s office to try to reach the Mr. He didn’t answer at home or his cell. My friend offered to drive me home (because I couldn’t drive at the moment), my coworker offered to cover for me and I grabbed my stuff to leave. Before we made it to the car, the vet called back, Newman was gone.
It was a long ride home, but my friend was fabulous. She listened to me cry and the rant because I couldn’t find the Mr. I got home and the Mr was there (the home phone was unhooked to link into the cable and his cell was in his car) and he knew things couldn’t be good if I had to be driven home. I told him what I knew. And we faced the tears together. I was just inconsolable (I am crying just writing thing now). We put ourselves together and went to see Newman. The emergency vet was great and handled everything with great poise and caring. No one really knows what happened, but our theory was that he had an unknown heart condition and it (along with the stress of surgery) was just too much for his old body to take. I called into work to let them know and my coworker told me that he would work the rest of my shift that day and had found someone to work for me the next day. Which was a wonderful thing because by that night I had lost it. I was devastated beyond words. Just hours before he passed everyone thought he was doing great and going to be sent home. I was shocked and hurt. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt.
But here I am a year later to tell his story. And although time has passed, I still miss Newman. The pain has been replaced by smiles. Instead of crying over him being gone, I find myself smiling at the little things that he did. I still miss him daily, but it is more memories and smiles and less tears and grief. So, to those of you who have lost a loved one (canine or other), the pain fades, but the memories live on. You do move on, but never forget.
So, hug your loved ones (human or hairy) and enjoy their spirit today!
My sweet Newman
I am tearing up reading your post. Lots of hugs to you today. Newman was such a handsome dog.
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Oh I remember the day Newman passed. My heart still breaks reading his story. You are so lucky to have him find you and share so much love with you before he passed. He was such a special boy! Thank you for sharing your story with us.
We miss you Newman!! Ashlee, Buddy and Maxim
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Thanks for sharing Newman's story -- such a good dog will live on forever in your (and our!) memories.
(((hugs)))
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Thanks for sharing Newman's story. I remember when he passed but I never knew his full story. Such a beautiful one! Hugs from Flash and Ollie!
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