Oh, we do miss him

We are in mourning. We are distraught. We have lost our beloved Lad

by Guy Massey

Our beloved Lad had to be put to sleep this month.

We have, of course, had to put other dogs to sleep before but the loss of Lad has hit us hard. His bed lies empty. The house seems empty without his presence and we feel less secure without him.

Oh, we do miss him.

We got Lad not long after we lost Lees, a female rottweiler we rescue through a friend from a poor, rather than bad, home in Southern Ireland.

I remember I was trying to find the telephone number of the Rottweiler Rescue Society. As this was in the days before the internet I had borrowed a copy of Our Dogs from a friend to see if there was anything in there. As there wasn't I rang a local rotty breeder to ask for the telephone number. Little did I know at the time that the breeder I rang was one of the foremost breeders in the UK and one of the top rotty judges. She duly gave me the telephone number of, what I now know to be, the Rottweiler Welfare Association (RWA). Just as I was about to hang up the telephone she said, casually, almost in passing: "If you don't have any luck with the RWA I have a six month old male here." "Oh," I said. "That's very interesting. How much do you want for him?" "£300," she replied. As we had never before paid more than £80 for any dog I was a bit shocked by this but managed to splutter: "I am afraid that is a little more than I wanted to pay. But thank you anyway." And that pretty much was that.

However, at the time the RWA was not able to help so I rang the breeder again to ask if she would consider taking a little bit less for her six month old male. What she thought might have been a little bit less was not quite what I had in mind for a little bit less but we discussed the issue for a while until she eventually she said: "Look, why don't you come and see him?" No harm in just going to have a look I suppose. So Debs and I drove up into Norfolk one February afternoon to have a look at this six month old male. We should have known better.

As we were walking to the front door of this ex-farm worker's cottage in the back-of-beyond in the middle of Norfolk, I happen to look in through the kitchen window and saw a rotty standing facing away from the window watching its owner. I said to Debs, I wonder if that is him.

And it turned out it was.

To make the cottage slightly bigger the owners had taken out a wall and run two rooms together to form one big room. But the two rooms were not on the same level so there was a step of about eight inches between one level and another. After the introductions and we had been ushered in, Lad was brought in to meet us. Everyone was a little nervous because nobody was quite sure what he would do but I said hello to him and stroked him on the head and scratched behind his ears. Debs did the same and all seemed well. I then sat down on the step and took his head in both my hands and pulled him slightly towards me while whispering sweet nothings to him. It was quite a brave, not to mention foolish, thing to do but it just seemed right at that moment. The breeder, I think, was quite taken aback at a stranger doing this to one of her rotties. But after that there was no question of us not having him; it was just a question of agreeing a price. Which, of course, we did and so Lad came to live with us. And Murphy. And Meme.

Murphy was a touch put out at first - a strange dog coming to live on his turf - but they soon became the best of friends. As Lad grew he started to flex his muscles and see what he could get away with but Murphy always brought him sharply back in line again. All through his life, although Lad turned out to be a big strapping, troublesome dog, when push came to shove, Murphy remained top dog.

One of Lad's favourite tricks was to grab a mouthful of Murphy's neck and pull. If Murphy was sitting up Lad would pull him backwards until he fell over. If he was lying down Lad would just pull on his neck and drag him across the floor. Despite his eyes bulging out Murphy never seemed to mind. Certainly he never objected. Just accepted it as part of life. One of those things that you have to accept and put up with.

Often, when Murphy walked passed, Lad would stretch out and grab one of his back legs. For some reason Murphy never seemed to think this mattered to what he was doing for he continued to walk forward with his front legs while one of his back legs was held tight by Lad until he just couldn't stretch any more and stopped. Again, Murphy never seemed to mind. He stopped, looked behind as if to say 'watch it chummy' at which point Lad would let go of his leg and roll on his back with all four legs in the air just as though he had pulled off some childish prank and was now rolling about in an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.

Around here we have always had a rabbit problem. We are not exactly over-run by rabbits but we do seem to have more than our fair share. The Labradors have always liked to chase rabbits but when the rabbit goes into the bushes they consider that it has gone home and not pursued it further. Our first rotty, Lees, wasn't having any of that. When she went after a rabbit a bit of bush or hedge wouldn't deter her; she was straight in. Lad was the same. When he was chasing rabbit he would really stretch out and almost scream with excitement and the only thing that would stop him would be the sheep netting. Lad was fast but he was nowhere near as fast as a rabbit. As far as the rabbit was concerned being chased by Lad was just a minor inconvenience between eating one flower and the next. There is no way they would have considered it a serious threat to life.

During the summer the dogs like to play in and around the ponds. Murphy and Meme love to swim; well they would being Labradors. Lad liked to paddle in the water but never once, in his entire life, did he go out of his depth. The ducks that live on the pond used to tease him. They knew that he would never swim so they would paddle in towards the shore to attracted Lad's attention. When Lad plunged in after them they would fly off and circle round before landing at the other side of the pond where they would splash about attracting his attention again. Lad, never being one to back off a challenge, would race around the edge of the pond toward the ducks at the other side. But, of course, as soon as he went into the water the ducks would take off leaving Lad with another failed mission on his hands.

Oh, we do miss him.

Towards the end of 2002 Lad started limping. I was not too concerned about this at first as he could have picked up a thorn between his toes, although I couldn't see anything, or he could have strained a muscle or pulled a ligament or tendon, but when he didn't improve I took him to the vet. Rather than let things develop I booked him in for an x-ray of his hip and upper leg. Although the x-rays and examination cost a whopping £173:00 they didn't show up any cause for concern and the vet prescribed the usual pain-killers and anti-inflammatories and suggested that if it didn't get better in three weeks to come back.

At the time my though was that if the lameness was a muscular problem - and what else could it be as the x-rays were clean - it could take longer than three weeks. After six weeks Lad was no better and by now he was also constipated so I went back to the vet and demanded a review of the x-rays and a full examination. Although he was constipated I didn't think there was a connection between that and his lameness. Normally, as when one visits the doctor, you are allocated a 10 minute appointment with the vet. On this occasion Lad and I were with the vet for a full forty minutes. The vet's conclusion was that again he couldn't find anything wrong with Lad. Incredible. When I asked about the constipation the vet just advised a couple of doses of liquid paraffin. Not exactly cutting-edge veterinary science here!

During the following next week-end Lad's condition deteriorated to such an extent that on the Sunday morning it reached crisis point. By now Lad couldn't walk; he was just lying in his bed, dying before our eyes. Debs was in tears and inconsolable. I rang the vet and said that I was bringing Lad in and that he was in such bad condition that he would probably have to operate on him and that he would be well advised to get in his second relief vet to cover him. Fortunately Lenny Lenny just happen to be here so he and I were able to carry Lad out to the car in the blanket from his bed used as a stretcher. It was so sad to see him like that. Three months ago he was able to run down to the car to meet me after work; now he was unable to walk at all and was being carried out. So sad.

At the surgery the veterinary nurse and I carried Lad into the surgery and lifted him onto the examination table. The vet could see as well as I could how Lad's condition had declined in the five days since he had last seen him. I told the vet that we were now fighting for his survival and to get a grip of the situation. To give credit where it is due, he did buckle down and spent two hours stabilising Lad's condition and getting his blood count and toxin levels in some sort of order. I left Lad overnight in the surgery hooked up to a glucose and saline solution drip.

The next day the vet rang to say that Lad was still alive but that he was still a poorly dog and that they recommended I take him to the Animal Health Trust at Newmarket. I was able to get an early afternoon appointment and went to collect Lad to take him there. Certainly he was much brighter than the day before and he was able to walk to the car.

But in the hour or so it takes to get to Newmarket, and without his glucose and saline drip, he had deteriorated again by the time we got there. We were early for the appointment and, having parked in the car-park, I thought Lad might like to have a walk on the grass but he just lay on the back seat of the car and looked out with dull, sad, lifeless eyes. For a while, once in the Small Animal Clinic, he sat up looking at me just as he had looked at his owner that day we bought him but now pleading with me for help and relief, but then it got too much for him and he had to lie down. When we were called to see the vet he couldn't get up although after I had helped him up he was able to walk along the corridor. Not well and not steadily but at least under his own power. So soon as he was in the surgery he just lay down again but this time he never got up.

The Animal Health Trust vet diagnosed a cancerous growth in the hip muscles which had enlarged to such an extent that it was causing a restriction in the colon which in turn was effecting his bodily functions.

We had come to the end of the line. There was no hope. There was nothing anyone could do for him. Just one small injection and it was all over; he was now out of his misery. He had had a good, albeit short, life and now it was over.

Oh, we do miss him.

Rest In Peace

© Copyright Guy Massey, February 2003