Charlotte

Charlotte

Dogs have been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. My parents never had a dog, but I spent every summer of my childhood with the dogs at my grandparents’ farm. My love of these animals was an important part of my decision to become a veterinarian.

While I was in practice, I always had a dog. Pogo and Mats were my constant companions and assistants. They were company on long drives and were even helpful in some treatments. Both could round up animals that weren’t in the right place for examination. When a cow got down and gave up, the best treatment was often my strange dog running at them from across the barn.

After I retired from practice we got our third dog, Charlotte. She had a different life than her predecessors. Like the others, Charlotte is an Australian Shepherd. She is bright to a fault and needs more exercise than most breeds. She has never been on a vet call, but most days she spends hours running over the barrens. Her travels kept both her and her owners in good condition.

Of all the dogs I have been associated with, she is by far the friendliest. Charlotte likes everyone. Every dog, cat or person she meets, she loves. I don’t think she would be much use as a watchdog; she would likely welcome anyone into our house that came along.

For all her friendliness with strangers, she is oddly aloof with us. She shows no excitement when we return from trips. We get not much more than a glance that suggests “oh, you’re back.” When she has stayed with friends of ours, she develops the same nonchalance after a few days of excitement.

The other strange feature of this dog is her resistance to health problems. She has more lives than a cat.

Four years ago, we noticed her shaking a little in the evening. At first, we weren’t too concerned, but her problems soon progressed to full-fledged convulsions. She went on to being in a seizure for over two hours.

I have seen cases like this in dogs before and the prognosis for this kind of activity is dire. When she settled down and we got her to a vet clinic, she was diagnosed with canine epilepsy and put on anti-seizure medication.

For the next few days, she was lethargic and wouldn’t eat. She got to the point where she couldn’t even lift her head. We phoned our kids with the sad news that we were considering putting her out of her misery. On what we thought was her last night we stopped her medication.

The next morning, she was much improved. We kept her off the medicine that had been prescribed and within a week she completely recovered.

Charlotte is now 12, a respectable age for an Australian Shepherd to reach and she’s having trouble. About a week ago she collapsed and we assumed she wouldn’t make it thought the night. The next day she was fine but had another episode a few nights later. She looked so bad that we put her on a comfortable pillow and hoped she would pass quietly during the night. The next day she was up again and keen for a run outside.

We don’t have delusions that we will have her much longer, but I’m grateful she’s been such a wonderful companion and had such a full, joyous life. When I was seeing small animals, I always told clients that losing them was part of the deal of having pets. I suggested they needed to compare the happiness the animal gave to the sadness of their loss. Perhaps I’ve bought into my own rhetoric. It will be hard losing Charlotte, but what a wonderful experience it has been to have her in our family.