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| Ike June 2000 - September 9, 2011 |
We lost our dog Ike yesterday. We lost him to cancer. Cancer is a disease that affects certain breeds in a high rate of occurrence. Labs are one of those breeds. Ike had been in hospice/palliative care with us for the last almost-a-year. Dogs and people share the same kinds of cancer in certain instances. Some of the protocols are even the same for treatment.
Ike wasn’t expected to have made it this long by his oncologist. We always expected him to make it this long. We know Ike, who has always been able to overcome whatever disaster has been thrown his way, whatever health issue, whatever prognosis of doom. Ike can be compared to a person who might have a cloud hanging over them. This has never daunted him. It has never daunted us. We tried to stay positive and tried to keep our days happy.
As a catharsis for myself, and in loving memory of this fine dog, I’d like to tell you his story.
In April of 2000 we acquired Ollie, our golden retriever, for $200 from a gentleman who was an over-the-road truck driver. He had two goldens at the time. Ollie and his brother. We would have taken them both, but he had a family interested in Oggie, and they did end up taking him. So we purchased Ollie. After a considerable wait, we decided we were going to look for a companion dog for Ollie. Ollie was only a bit over a year old when we got him, and we always had two dogs, so we began our search. A friend of mine, knowing we were looking, contacted me about Ike, who was a stray found along a roadway in Maryland. He was at the Caroline County Humane Society.
When Ike came in he was limping and missing much of his tail. His limp was caused by an unknown source (possibly hit by a car) which injured his hip area so that the ball and socket were no longer functional. He would need an operation. The femoral head would have to be removed. He was also found to be heartworm positive. These things, under normal circumstances, would have made Ike a candidate for euthanasia. I still have the email from the Humane Society. Here is what they wrote me:
“Even though Ike had two strikes against him (heartworms and his injury), we just couldn’t let him be euthanized. He is a special boy.”
I put in my application, and contacted his foster home. Here are some of the things Ike’s foster mom (who volunteered at the shelter at the time) wrote me about him:
“Ike really came to my attention when we needed to load up dogs for a trip to the vet for rabies shots as they would be going out to adoption. We really noticed there was more to his limp, so we had the vet check him. We let Ike hang out in the office with us, where he stole our hearts laying his head in our laps, following me wherever I went and walking into a crate that was set up for another dog and settling in. We looked at each other and smiled—what a good dog! We knew at that point that surgery was a must but before fighting that battle (funds are always short) we decided half-heartedly to have him tested for heartworms. We also knew that if he had two strikes against him that a different decision would need to be made. The smear came back positive. We cried, but looked at his face and said 'oh well—not for this dog.' Understand we are not bleeding hearts, but have a true love for the animals and what we can do to make things better for them. He just grabbed us.”
After countless correspondences between the shelter, foster mom and myself, we adopted Ike on my son’s birthday, September 2, 2001. We were traveling back from a vacation at Rehoboth Beach and picked him up on the way home. The shelter had raised funds through a grant--and a local woman donated $200 after hearing of his plight--for one half of Ike’s surgery. A local vet donated the other half. A local newspaper columnist did a story on Ike for the newspaper, which appeared on August 21, 2001. This brought in an additional $100 in donations. I still have the article, which the shelter was kind enough to send to me. It reads:
HUMANE SOCIETY LOOKS TO HELP IKE GET BETTER
Ike wags what is left of his chocolate brown tail as he limps across the room to play with a volunteer who is also one of his foster parents. The Caroline County Humane Society rescued the 1-year-old Labrador Retriever in June after finding him abandoned and still hurt from being hit by a car. The accident dislocated Ike’s hipm which was never able to fully heal. Ike also was recently diagnosed with heartworm.
Unfortunately for Ike, the Humane Society does not have the funding to pay for his surgery, so they are asking for donations. Traci Higdon, executive director of the Caroline County Humane Society, said the Veterinary Medical Center of Easton agreed to treat Ike for half price, but at least $300 is still needed to treat him. The surgery would replace the ball in Ike’s hip so that he can walk and sit properly.
“He’s very friendly, very gentle and loves popcorn,” says foster parent and Humane Society Board Member Melinda. “He’s just an extremely loving dog.”
Ike now is patiently awaiting his surgery and looking for a good family to adopt him. Ike’s case is not all that uncommon, according to the Humane Society. “There are a lot of very nice dogs at the shelter,” Higdon said. “To us, we can’t justify euthanizing them.”
Anyone interested in helping out Ike or adopting a needy pet can contact the Caroline County Humane Society.
There is a photo of Ike along with this article.
In November we traveled back to Maryland with Ike for his surgery to repair his hip, officially called a Femoral Head Ostectomy. He was neutered at this time as well. He needed to wait until one month after his heartworm treatments were completed to have any surgery at all and/or be put under anesthesia. We paid for the remainder ($207.15) of his surgery costs, opting for laser surgery which would allow the wound to heal faster. Then Ike was free to come home and enjoy the rest of his life.
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| Ike and Ollie Taken in 2002 |
Ike and Ollie became fast friends. Neither of them left the property. We did not have a physical fence at the time. Both were excellent recall dogs. It was easy for us to see how Ike warmed the hearts of his rescuers. He was always a calm and very gentle dog with piercing eyes that looked right through you. In his initial years with us he had a penchant for electronic objects like remotes and nintendos—and he chewed these with great gusto if he could get his paws on them. But, in all the years we owned Ike, this was his only vice. (Well, if you don't count the one or two times he brought pieces of deer carcasses from the woods...LOL!) He soon overcame even that, and could be trusted laying with a remote all day and never chewing it once.
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| Ike with our older cat Cleo. He got along with our cats very well and often was a sleeping buddy. |
After his recuperation period from his operation, he moved normally. We could tell which side was the side of his problem, but most visitors never knew once his scars healed with new fur. We went on many adventures, including vacationing in Maine with both Ollie and Ike (where Paul was too trusting with the dogs off leash and I would yell…LOL). They enjoyed lounging on the screened in porch on those summer days, and going for leash walks on Maine roads and over the rocky beaches. They even swam in the water pool that was very near where we stayed.
We lost Ollie to a cancerous tumor of his heart in October of 2006. Ike's best buddy was now gone in body, but I'm convinced lives on at the farm in spirit. Goldens, as it turns out, are also extremely prone to cancer.
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| Ike sharing a bed with Harry. |
We had added Daisy to our group in 2003, as well as Bethy in 2005 and Moe in 2006. Moe loved Ollie. We have many photos of Moe laying with Ollie. When Ollie passed on, Moe transferred his love to Ike. Ike loved romping with Bethy the most, and she would often have to hide on him under the bushes in their game of "catch me if you can."
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| Ike loved stuffy toys and stuffy play nights! |
One day, in the winter of 2008, when Ike was 8 years old, I noticed a foul smell coming from his mouth. I thought he might need dental care, so we took him to our vet for a check. Our vet found a tumor growing in Ike’s upper palate, and immediately made an appointment for us with a local specialist. Ike’s diagnosis was osteosarcoma cancer. He needed an operation to remove 1/2 of his upper palate so that the cancerous tumor could be excised. We went ahead with the operation and Ike's follow up care. He would require six month check ups, with bloodwork and monitoring after the surgery, but his surgeon felt that he had gotten all the margins and Ike would be cancer free. There wasn't enough skin in the upper palate to fully close the hole that was there, so Ike's mouth healed with a hole in it, and it never bothered him one day. He learned to eat and drink carefully so that food would stay out of the crevice...again, another testiment to Ike's adaptability to adversity.
For two solid years Ike was back to "normal" and enjoying life on the farm. Then at the end of August, 2010, I noticed Ike was drooling and thought I smelled that familiar putrid smell coming from his breath. We had an early September appointment to take him back to the specialist. There our worst fears were realized. Another tumor was growing on the opposite side of Ike's upper palate. They could not perform surgery. He might be a candidate for chemotherapy. We needed to have x-rays done of his chest. We met with the oncologist and the x-rays were taken. The prognosis was grim. Ike's cancer had metastisized to his lungs. His lungs were full of tumors. He was not a candidate for chemotherapy. They gave him up to three months to live.
I remember coming home feeling so dejected. I was depressed. How could this be happening to such a good dog? I know now it happens to good dogs everywhere, and that we need more funding to rid both dogs and humans from this menace. I began to investigate alternative medicine. I joined a cancer dogs group on line. I found, one day in a particularly depressive state, a lovely Facebook site called Positive Posts for Riley. Riley was a dog who also had cancer. I read the site completely. The premise: STAY POSITIVE. Don't dwell on the fact you are going to lose your dog! Live everyday to the fullest.
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| This is one of the last photos I took of Ike. He loved to be outside and lay in the grass. |
From that day forward I never acted like Ike was going to do anything but live. We put Ike on an alternative treatment involving K9 Immunity Plus and a no grain diet. When he didn't eat over the Christmas holidays, I cooked him anything he would eat...ground beef, chicken, tuna casserole, cheese dishes, and Paul and I fed them to him by hand. I could always get him to eat, even if he wasn't quite feeling like it that day. After the holidays, he went back on his own to eating normal dog food and relished his meals. I never thought of the prognosis or the months he had. I just kept moving forward as if that prognosis didn't exist.
Ike went on as he always did. He played, until these last few months when he slowed down quite a bit. This of course was due to his breathing issues, which came on if he got too excited or walked or ran too much. In the last two months, the cough began. It's a very dry cough that doesn't bring up anything. Besides the K9 Immunity Plus, we had Ike on a course of Prednisone. This aided in his breathing and to keep any swelling that might occur within his body in check.
I prayed for Ike every day. Mostly my prayer also asked that when it was time for him to go, that he show me in a big way. I didn't want to make the mistake of taking him too soon. I had read alot on palliative care and talked to alot of people about the signs to expect. I had also read up alot on cancer, both the human and canine versions. To be sure, I contacted my very trusted animal communicator. Some people do not believe in animal communicators, and I have to honestly tell you I didn't, until I met the woman I use. She is, without a doubt, a woman with a gift. I simply wanted to ask her how I would know when it was time. She told me it would be a big sign...there would be no second-guessing. I would know. I shouldn't worry anymore. And, I didn't.
Even though you know that the result of palliative care is very final, you still aren't quite prepared for it when it arrives. The day before yesterday I had noticed Ike's breathing had changed. He also was coughing more, and his cough sounded different. When you have gotten used to watching and listening to your dog's every sound and movement, you can immediately discern fine points...fine changes. Ike ate his dinner the night before, but for the previous few days, had seemed uninterested in food. He showed up for treats at treat time, but didn't take them with much gusto.
On the day that Ike left us, he refused his breakfast that morning. His breaths became shallow and many small breaths in the course of where a single breath might be. He groaned when he lay down and when he got up. I took him outside after making him some ground beef. He liked it outside. I tried to hand feed him. He refused it. I tried his favorite cheese, his favorite treat. He refused them. He walked slowly to the fence line to relieve himself and then laid in the grass. He couldn't make it back to me. I dropped the bowl of food on the table outside and went in to get my husband. Tears were coming down my cheeks, but I knew. It was time.
We made the appointment. I got my nail clippers and grooming comb and got a dog bed out on the patio. I encouraged Ikey to join me there and I groomed him. He liked to be fussed over. We talked. In the place of his clear golden eyes I saw pain. This was the right decision.
I don't want to say that Ike was the best dog we ever owned. We have lots of best dogs. Each bring their own game to the table. But I can tell you he was the most extraordinary dog we ever owned. Kind and understanding beyond belief. Adaptable and willing to go on no matter what. He fooled even his vets when it came to timeframes. He cheated the humane society rules when it came to euthanasia. He embedded himself in our hearts forever.
Every once in a while, God graces us with a spirit that is indomitable. Such was Ike's spirit.
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| Ike rolling in the winter grass. |
Run free Ike. We know we will see you again, and I, for one, will be so happy to stroke your sweet head once more.
