Here I am, their "human", injecting myself into their lives. Forgive me. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was special. She had Trinity's delicate, feminine features. Her sweet little eyes and snout; Her colors, and possibly her coat. I was smitten by her.
At 5 weeks, I took Trinity's litter outside to play and took this beautiful photo of the puppy I named "Zion". I named her after the city of the resistance in the Matrix. Usually pups aren't named until they are picked up by their new owners, or once we know they will stay at Crystal Creek. I named her in the moment that I knew I could never keep her.
When I took this pictures of her at five weeks, I remember thinking, "Take as many pictures as you can. You never know when something tragic might happen to one of these pups."
I especially thought of this little puppy. I hoped nothing tragic would ever befall her. No bite from another dog. No premature swim in the pond. I was going to guard this puppy with my life, because she meant that to me. I am so thankful I took these pictures of her before I knew the future.
It was a beautiful Friday afternoon. The sun was at a slant that hinted how far into fall the season had grown. At 5 weeks and 2 days, I heard the tiniest rasp of congestion near the food dish. I picked up Zion and placed her near Jon's ear.
"That's it isn't it? She has Mega-E". Megaesophagus a disease that's almost always fatal in puppies. Their esophagus has a soft spot in it which causes food to get caught instead of swallowed. The most common sign is regurgitation of food and a raspy sound after eating or drinking.
"Yeah, it might be. It's hard to say whether she ate too much at once, or if she has it. I haven't seen her throw up, but maybe Trinity kept the whelping box pretty clean."
"How can we know," I asked?
The best way is to watch after she eats and see if anything comes back up."
So, the next day I tested our theory, just to be sure. I fed her scrumptious deli-counter turkey from Safeway. She gobbled it down. I laughed to see her enjoy it so much. But my laughter was short lived. Minutes later, her eyes went glassy and she was yelping. She didn't want to throw up. She didn't even know what it was. But she threw up every last bit of that wonderful turkey.
I told Jon, and he gave me suggestions on how to help her, if she was going to survive. We tried ground hamburger meat, cheese, milk. I became discouraged and couldn't think of anything more that she might like to eat. It all painfully came back to the surface and she was growing weaker by the day.
By 5 weeks 5 days, she was a skeleton. Her boney little body was pushed this way and that as a strong autumn wind blew in ahead of a storm. She was outside playing with the others. Her tenacity amazed me. She hung around the water well, and continued to drink in-spite of her in-ability to keep it down. I hoped lingered in her system to stave off dehydration. If only she would grow! Jon said if she grew, she might be able to live. I was in denial.
Later that day, I offered her the holy grail of dog food. Raw ground meat. She turned away from it. Even when I tried to force her to taste it, she dropped it out of her mouth.
At 5 weeks 6 days, there was a snow storm. I went home. I needed a break. When I woke up in the morning, I felt refreshed and eager to return to the pup. I woke a little late and was taking my time getting ready. That's when I realized I hadn't heard from Jon that morning. I checked my messages. I nearly panicked when I listened to his. Zion had stumbled out of the dog igloo, sometime during the night. She was almost dead. He tried warming her in the tub, but he had to go to work.
I by-passed make-up, breakfast, and anything else that wasn't a necessity. I raced to his house. When I arrived, I looked all over for her. I looked outside with Trinity, in the bedroom...She must be gone, I thought. I wasn't there like I promised I would be. I sat on the floor and started to cry.
"I wanted to be here for you, Zion. I'm really sorry I wasn't. I'm sorry I let you die alone." Then... I heard the exhaust fan in the bathroom. I opened the door, and there was; lying on her side in the tub, wrapped in a wet towel. When I called her name, she lifted her head. I was amazed at her strength.
I picked her up in the towel and held her tight. She seemed so alive! But I looked inside her mouth and knew it was not true. Her gums were blue and her mouth cold. She was fighting, but she was dying. Quickly I realized that the blanket was soaking wet. I took her out and began drying her with the hair dryer. She seemed to love it. Realistically she probably couldn't fight it.
My main concern at the moment, was to make her comfortable. I was like the hospice unit for dying puppies. I wrapped her in a new towel and we went to lay down on the bed. I didn't think she was going to last much longer.
We laid on the bed like that for hours. At one point I wondered if she was only holding on, because I was holding her. When Jon came home for lunch at noon, he poked his head in.
"Wow! I can't believe she's alive. You don't understand, that puppy was almost dead. Heck, she might have been dead. Maybe I just thought I saw her jaw move, and it was really just me not being able to let go." He paused, "I brought her in and ran hot water over her. When I left for work, I left her for dead."
Then he gave me hope. He fed her chicken soup. It seemed like the elixer of life. She WANTED to eat it. If only I'd discovered chicken soup two days earlier, maybe she wouldn't look like this. She ate and ate chicken soup. Later she drank a bunch of water.
Then...I started finding little puddles of puke. Water, laced with chicken soup. They were all over the place. She was stumbling around in the dining room. She laid down in a cold corner.
I took her into the bathroom and laid her out on the rug. The lights provided warmth and the rug was soft. She was so weak. I sat with her for awhile. She was nearly asleep. Jon called me away to help with a task. I left for about a half an hour. When I came back, she was gone.
There was a small spittle of throw-up on the rug just beside her mouth. There was no other mess to clean up. She had prepared all evening for this. Going "outside" like a good little puppy. Emptying her stomach. All that was left was a beautiful little german shepherd puppy, lying on the rug as though she were asleep, gone to her name-sake...
