Charlie

prolog I wanted a puppy. NO, I needed a puppy. My heart was so broken I thought I would never stop crying. You have to understand, I am not a crier. Tears do not come easy to me. In fact, it would often be a year before the tears would fall and that would only happen when I would watch all those 9-11 shows that would tear my heart apart. Oddly it wasn't the whole buildings falling down that would get me but the small random kindnesses that often went unnoticed in these shows: someone crossing themselves as they watched someone jump from the windows, others helping someone to their feet or sharing a cell phone. The story that really gets me is the one about a wheelchair bound woman who met with the other disabled at their designated point on floor 17, that is until one of this woman's co workers saw her, scooped her up out of her chair and carried her down those 17 flights and saved her life. That could make me cry. My mother's death an funeral didn't even have me tearing up but then I lost Rocco the Wonder dog and within 6 months Little Dog Ollie and I was so broken I cried at dragonflies or for no reason at all. There I would be , doing nothing, thinking of little and the tears would roll down my face.

Even worse, no one understood, or cared to comfort me except for my cat Isabella who would come running even when I made no sound. Finally I realized that is something didn't stop this, I would be forced into psychiatric care.

A puppy. I needed a puppy and, hence, Charlie.

CHARLIE IS FOUND
Now you would think that once I decided I needed a canine furbaby I would just go out and get one. Not so. I felt I should get a rescue dog, but I wanted a puppy. Did I want big or little? Boy or girl? I know I wanted a mixed breed but that was about it and forget asking anyone else in the family because the answer I got constantly was "Whatever you want." Well, for god's sake if I knew what I wanted I wouldn't have asked. So then I started checking rescue sites which are so overloaded with pit bulls you wonder if any of them actually find a good and loving home. I thought I found a mid sized dog who had been rescued and was living in someone's office for the past 6 months but the squeak of my kitchen door scared it when its foster family brought him to visit and then resposted the dog on craiglist without telling me. And then there was Charlie. It was a friday and the post popped up on craigslist along with the picture and I called the owner and said I wanted the dog. To make a long story short after the owner hemmed and hawed Charlie was ours.

Oh my god, look up adorable in the dictionary and you are sure to find a photo of Charlie. he's a lab shepherd mix but looks more labbish with the most incredible eyes that change from amber to hazel and back again. He was little and round and full of energy and we all fell in love with him instantly. He nipped toes and chased balls and refused to let you leave the room by holding onto your pant's cuff and not letting go. He slept sprawled next to the air conditioner vent and thought canned catfood was gourmet dining. Each day I loved him more and then he was sick.

I didn't say got sick because we now suspect he was sickish all along. The people who had him before us had gotten him from a rescue group that had saved him from a high kill shelter down south. The new parents were giving Charlie milk at night and so Charlie had this big round belly so when Charlie's nose began to run I thought it was milk alergy, then he became lethargic and it was down hill from there. we took him to the vet where he was examine, no fever, given his shots and suggested that we give the boy a benadryl. Come Saturday he was all skin and bones and I was frantic. Luckily the vet squeezed us in because Charlie never would have lasted till Monday.

Charlie had lost 2 pounds between Wednesday and Saturday morning. I had been up most of the night, on line trying to find out what might be ailing him and it looked like parvo fit the bill. By now Charlie had the dry heaves and I was told by the husband that I was worrying over nothing and, for god's sake, couldn't I be positive once in awhile? Don't you just love the support.

So Mr Skeptical the husband went with us to the vet's and was in for a rude awakening. It seemed as if everyone but the phone lady was in that exam room, giving him fluids, checking his stool, soothing him, getting meds into him, testing the stool (bloody of course) and trying not to panic. You see, this poor vet is the one who had put three of our previous animals to sleep and had given a death sentence to one, who died in his sleep thank god, and so Doctor Suh was not going to give up. Thankfully the parvo test was negative but Charlie did have a massive infection of his gastrointestinal track which was causing the internal bleeding. We got our bag of meds and special food and pages of instructions and took Charlie home.

I had thought the waiting for Rocco to get so sick that it was his time to be sent over the rainbow bridge was horrible, dealing with the puppy sickness threatens to break me forever. This loving adorable puppy looks like the nazis got hold of him and tried to starve him to death. He slinks around house ears back giving you this look as if begging your forgiveness for something that he did not do. He wants to be left alone and now sleep with our ancient cat who is as light as air and who tolerates his warmth against her.

We were at the vet's again yesterday to discover he had lost another pound. Back with the iv, the pills and this time the vet showed us how to force feed Charlie, plus we got even more special food and a gel like nutritional suppliment that will help. His stolls are now solidish and blood free but with the force feedings and the pills, Charlie screams whenever I get near him. He wants no part of me and while that breaks my heart, I have accepted it. I don't care if he doesn't love me, I love him and I want him well. I do not get impatient when I end up with dog snot and mooshed dog food sneezed all over me, or if I have to try and try and try again to get the pills down his throat. I am his mommy and I want him to live. I am to call the vet tomorrow but what is there to tell him. The food is getting in, he is a little more alert but screams when we get near.

This is horrible. Truly horrible and I feel as if I am in this battle alone. I've told Josh that I don't want him feeding and pilling the dog because Charlie has to have someone he feels save with. The husband yells at the dog to stop squirming and I am better off doing it all myself. I have on line friends but none in my real off line world and so I am alone in this.

So I have started this blog because I have to share this with the universe somehow, as if saying it out loud (so to speak) will strengthen Charlie's hold on this life. The vet thinks there is a chance for Charlie and is as determined as I am to do the best for him and, of course, if it is needed, he'll join Rocco and Ollie, Mutley and Emily, Rubby Bunnits and unnamed kitten, Pip and Bunbun in our little grave yard under the big tree. And I...... I will be empty.