Harlow has heart worm. I found out on Tuesday after her routine wellness blood results returned. I was dumb enough to answer my phone while on break at work. No one at work knew quite what to say so they said dumb stuff that didn't help. Nothing was going to help. For whatever reason, none of my desperate calls to Danny went through. I was, I am devastated. And it is my responsibility.
I'm the pill giver and flea medicine tube squeezer at our house. Some times I get a little behind and the actual dose dates don't line up to the sticker on the calender, but I'm always close. I am. I buy my year's supply times two because Harlow takes two of everything. I dose for six months because that is when mosquitoes are active. I start in April so she is protected as the snow melts and I finish in September because I have never seen a mosquito in October. Yesterday, at the follow up appointment, I learned that heart worm preventative medicine works backwards. An April dose protects from any infection that may have occurred in March. So that September dose did nothing to any parasites that got in her in September. That's where an October dose would have been pretty handy. I didn't know. And as we all know, ignorance doesn't keep my dog from getting heart worm.
Heart worm is a bitch. She has little regard to what she is doing and to whom she is doing it to. She just moves in and wrecks havoc on the life of her hostess and all those that love her. Bitch.
So back we went to the vet on Wednesday for another blood draw and another couple of tests. I certainly hope that they come back negative, but they won't . There wasn't a mix up at the first lab. Fuck. Heart worm.
Harlow is nine. That is a pretty fine life for a giant breed. We had always hoped that she would see Jacob graduate, and she has with very limited health issues. There is a bladder issue controlled by medication. There is a very slow get up in the morning. There is a tendency to bark at nothing, or at Danny because sometimes she forgets. But all in all, she is still a pretty spry ole girl.
Heart worm is very expensive to treat. And like all things dog, it is measured by size. So what is $1000 for you is $3500 for me. Or more. And Harlow is nine. She could come through heart worm treatment just fine. But there is a long list of health issues just waiting for us and we had always said that we would keep her comfortable and dignified. We use that second term loosely.
There is endless information and I don't know what to believe. Harlow does not have any clinical symptoms. She still eats, she doesn't cough and her activity level continues to be practically nonexistent. She could live for years with the heart worm without much issue. No one seems to know. According to one website, dogs can live five to seven years. If Harlow lived that long without the heart worm, that would be a miracle, let alone with them.
I look at her. Her with the milk dud eyes and wrinkled forehead. Her with the enormous underbite. her with an ass end that often does its own thing. And I am sorry. So sorry that I didn't know. That I failed her as a friend and caregiver. And she doesn't blame me because that's not her deal. She has many emotions but I cannot recall her holding a grudge.
We got Harlow in the fall of 2005. She was a gift from Flying W Farms in Ohio. We had purchased a mastiff from them a year prior and in a shitty turn of events that pup died shortly after we got her. It was through no fault of the breeder. It was a rotten deal and the breeder was good people and offered us another pup. Harlow Louise, named after the troops on the hill (the 194th LRS) and a shared middle name with her deceased cousin LRS Louise.
She has been a good dog. Never one to want to leave home, she has ruled the backyard with a giant paw. She is often wary of people, taking her time to warm up. But when she loves you there is no holding back. There is no holding back.
Harlow has never been anything grand. There is often drool from her mouth and farts from her ass. Our carpet is slobber stained and wet dog stunk. Our base boards are scratched and our floors are always covered with fawn colored tumbleweeds. She has never rescued us from a burning building or taken down a bad guy. She does not help the blind or pull a cart. She is just a dog. Just a good friend. A pillow. A mass on the floor. She is a presence that I cannot imagine being gone from my life.
I have been hit by a ton of bricks just a few times in my life and I never quite get used to it. The exhasution that comes from all the whys and what ifs. The sore eyes and red nose. The deals made and withdrawn with the Lord. I have never had a dog for more than ten years. Is it me? I am beginning to think so.
In these two and a half days I have grieved. I still grieve for the dog gone three years and the dog gone fifteen years. How will I keep myself from grieving this girl before she is gone? How will I keep myself from looking for signs and symptoms? And will I be wise enough and a good enough friend to know when she is done?
And when she is gone, will she stick around just a little bit as Barron has done? Will there be two light colored movements in my yard? Will I be so lucky?
No comments:
Post a Comment