These Boots are Made for Walking

When Little Rooster was welcomed home 8 days ago, she was depressed and at about 10% of her usual vitality.  At my last apartment building, the nickname given to her by the other dog parents on the playground was, "Excitable Dog".  It was a building filled with burnt out hippies, college kids and "artists" -not the most creative, but it stuck. To see this barely contained bundle of energy reduced to zombie army crawling through the apartment really made me consider that, "Quality of Life" question. Would it be fair to......

WHO CARES!  Those melancholy days are over bitches!  

Check, check, check, check, check it out!

(I think we can cut her a little slack on poise and balance.)

The Strut

The Shamble

The March

Not bad! Amirite?

A Hurricane Sandy Miracle!

Yesterday morning, as I was picking up a red boot off the floor, a golden lasso off the couch and star spangled bottoms off the coffee table (I was Wonder Woman for Halloween and my method of undressing was a tornado), I noticed I had attracted the attention of a certain curious bulldog.

I looked at her, she looked at me and then, no big deal, Roo WALKED 4 steps to me all on her own!!!!  I cheered and screamed, "She's walking, she's walking!!!" and she promptly fell over.  In the last 3 days, she has started standing up for short amounts of time without any help.  Open the bedroom door, Roo's standing there.  Open the bathroom door, Roo's standing there.  Eating a sandwich over the sink, Roo's standing there.  What a creep.

The hardwood floors are too slippery for her little paws to maintain a grip, so I picked up a few runners to have around the apartment. The rugs and a game of tug, have really helped strengthen her little backside.

What a little warrior!!

Dreaming of Elevators

If a friend tells you that carrying a 29 lb dog up and down 2 flights of stairs, 3 times a day, will be good "exercise" for you, check your Facebook page.  That picture of you sneezing and doing tequila shots from Spring Break 06' just got tagged.   Your friend is a liar and not to be trusted.

Lucky for me, I have live in help.  Even luckier for me, the help has a freelancer's schedule and is making time during the day to help Rooster out.  This schedule from the gods won't last forever, but Roo won't be paralyzed forever (fingers crossed)!  It's only been a few days of living with a handi-capable dog, but we've worked out a system.  Mornings and after work- I'm on Roo Bathroom Duty.  During the day-Lucas is on BD (he is also all day Charlie BD).  Late nights- combined effort. 

We've claimed our potty spot in a gated grassy area of our local housing project.  The residents love watching us through their windows and stopping by to ask, "Is your dog sick or something?", "Did he break his leg?", "Make sure you clean that up" and, "Whoa, I wish I had that kind of help".  A sling to help you walk? You want to waste a wish on that?

It takes a little while to convince her to start walking, but once she gets going, she is pretty fearless.  So many smells to sniff out! Leaves on the ground! Garbage on the sidewalk! Pee stains on the curb!  She will even "run", while we hold up her back legs and follow the brisk pace set by her front.  It's equal parts sad and adorable.  When she is pooped out (literally), she is carried home.  We feed and water her, so we can do it all over again in a few hours.

We are burning sooooooooo many calories, everyone should try this work out.  I wish I had a sling.

Home is Where the Fart is.

HooooooooWEEEEEEEE!  What are they feeding these dogs at the animal hospital?  Rancid elephant sweat with a dash of dirty diaper? My post was going to start off with how nervous I was to pick Rooster up from the vet and how I'm afraid I'm going to break her already fragile spine.  Instead I'm plastered to the side of my couch as far away possible from this anal air bomber, talking about dog flatulence. Ok, I'm done (her butt is barking).  Ok, now I'm REALLY done.  Roo is home!

We picked her up this afternoon from VERG in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.  The nurse came out and went over Roo's home care, exercises, physical therapy, and told us to call back in a week for a check up.  I still haven't met the elusive Dr Prata and his constant midday surgeries seem a little too convenient for my liking (looks like someone doesn't like being wrong, she's gonna walk again damnit!). When we were ready to say goodbye to VERG, the vet tech "walked" Little Rooster out, holding her back legs up in a sling.  Cue the inspirational music and slow motion action shot while I rise to greet her.  Now insert a screeching halt sfx and zoom in on my horrified expression.  Roo gave me a quick glance and immediately tried to barrel and growl her way over to a battered poodle, who was apparently using his only good eye to give Roo a, "You Wanna Start Something, Yeah I Called Your Mom a Bitch", dirty look.  My dog is paralyzed and still a total badass.  The doggy turf war (which left the poodle shaking behind his owner's legs) tuckered my princess out and she slept like a rock in the cab ride home.

When we arrived at our door step, we decided to see if she had to go the to the bathroom. Better to find out now, before I carried all 32 lbs of her, "big is beautiful" self up the 2 flights of stairs to the apartment.  Within 5 minutes of awkwardly sling walking around The Williamsburg Houses' front yard, she peed and pooped all on her own!  Our celebration was toned down due to the fact that we didn't have any doggy bags in our pockets.  We whispered "Hurray!", looked around like nothing happened, picked Roo up and ran away.

She seems in good spirits and it's clear she was ready to come home.  As soon as her gaze fell on her freshly laundered dog bed, she tried to dive out of my arms into it.  Once she settled herself in and was convinced that the bed still smelled like her, she allowed us:

To play tug with her favorite toy for awhile.

To feed her lunch and give her water.

She was even able to stand on her own (with a little help!) for a few seconds.

All in all, GREAT DAY!

Mama, I'm Coming Home

Drop the bass line here.  "Boom che, ba boom boom che. Boom che, ba boom boom che".
Relax, let you body feel the rhythm and begin to move your feet.

After your body is swaying to the music and your roommate/significant other/neighbor across the street with the hawk eyed view into your living room is looking at you like you have lost the ability to do math or tie your shoes on your own, (the toothpaste dripping out of your mouth is working against you here), slowly begin singing, "Guessssss who's coming home tomorrowwwwwwww"?  As you build your crescendo, move your feet a little faster, quicken the pace of your song and incorporate some fist pumping into your dance moves. 

Ok, ok! I won't make you sweat anymore.  ROO IS COMING HOME TOMORROW! Her party hat is on, her bags are packed and she is coming back from the worst vacation ever VERG Animal Hospital.

FAQ:
Does this mean she is going to be ok?
-No.

Can she walk yet?
-Not even a twitch of the legs.

Will she ever walk again?
-We don't know.  

If she is going to gain the ability to walk, how long will it take?
-Best guess is months, not weeks.

Will she need extensive physical therapy?
-Absolutely.

Is that expensive?
-Duh.

Will you commit yourself to that?
-Of course.

These answers suck, so why are you so excited today?
-Rooster has full control of her bladder and bowel movements.  This is great news, because I won't have to "express" her myself and she is at a low risk for a bladder infection/UTI.  She has run the course of her antibiotics and pain medication and as far as the surgery went, she is on the road to recovery. Now we just have to wait it out and hope that her brain relearns how to send the message down to her back legs for movement.  We are also going to have to be patient with her, read her signals and give her lots of love and reasons to recover.  The vet will send us home with a sling to hold her back up while she moves her front legs.

And for long distances.

We live in Brooklyn, we have a store that sells Artisanal Mayo, we can totally get away with this.

Friday. Always Camera Ready.

Who wants to see pictures of a dog fresh out of spinal surgery?  Be warned, you are going to tear up and want to click immediately on Rooster's Surgery Donation Site.  Her vet costs, including the MRI, surgery and her hospital care are now teetering at the $8,000 mark, but I'm just going to ignore that for now.  Lucas went to visit our little trooper this afternoon to remind her that we love her, check her spirit levels, and to let her know that we didn't give her away to a new, weird, medicine-y smelling family.

He reported back that her mood seemed better than when he visited on Tuesday.  She is now peeing outside when they bring her out for potty breaks, but her legs are still limp spaghetti noodles. 

The Dr will be out of the office for the weekend, so we probably won't get any updates until Monday.  Trust me, we are all feeling the positive vibe.  Keep it coming!

Thursday. These Hips Don't Lie.

Dr Prata  fun facts:

Enjoys fly fishing upstate!
He's holding a French Bulldog in his bio!
He always calls in the middle of my morning shower!
He calls Rooster, "Our Friend"!
He calls Lucas, my "Best Friend"!
Everyone knows mustaches are a sure sign of smarts!

Doesn't he sound like a fun dude who can really bring the party?  I have no problems with this man, oh, except for when he told me that based on his 43 years of experience, he didn't think Rooster would ever regain the use of hers legs or was ever going to the bathroom on her own again.  Ok, I kinda hated him when his baritone boomed those words, but that was Monday!  Ages ago!  Today I love him.  Why?  Because while I was standing sudsy in the shower this morning,  he told me that Rooster had some feeling in her legs, had a little hip movement AND peed on her own.  I'm looking on Etsy for best friend necklaces.

Shakira, Shakira she is not.  He warned me that this surgery wasn't like a broken bone where we have nothing to worry about, but the words I'm holding on to are, "I'm feeling more positive about her outlook and it all starts in the hips".  Ain't that the truth.

Wednesday. Visting Hours.

At 7:30am Wednesday morning, I received a wake-up phone call from Dr Prata.  Rooster was up to seeing visitors.  At first I was afraid to see her and thought it would hurt too much. According to the surgeon, we would be faced with the choice of letting her go soon (never being able to walk/pee/poop on her own, quality of life, decisions, decisions, heartbreak etc).  Then I realized I was being a selfish dick.  Would I really abandon my sad and confused baby when she needed me the most? Am I a Nazi?  Last time I looked, my thin black mustache hadn't grown back.

I took a rare lunch break and left the office on a mission to see my dog.  Arriving at the clinic steel jawed and determined, I would show my puppy so much love, she would have no choice but to walk again.  Hell, maybe even walk into my arms that day!  Upon my arrival, I was shown a waiting area and  proceeded to wait 40 minutes.  Every time I heard nails clicking on the linoleum, I looked at the door expectantly and if I had a tail, it would have been wagging furiously.  Eventually, Roo walked into the room.  Sort of.  With some help.  Her front legs were moving and a lady with a sling was holding the rest of her body up.  I fell to my knees and began frantically petting and kissing her face.  All pride was checked at the door.  Was Roo happy to see me?  Maybe.  Was she sad and bummed out? You betcha.  Were her front legs shaking with the effort of trying to stand?  100%.  We sat on the floor together on a beat up Spiderman blanket, while the vet tech gave us some alone time.  I examined the horrifying rectangle that had been shaved into her back along with the 30 odd stitches keeping it all together. 

The tech I spoke with didn't seem to know anything about Dr Prata's grim forecast and instead kept saying things like, "When you bring her home" and "In a few weeks she will need".... Do I get my hopes up?  Or is she ignorant of the situation? Is she saying that this is a future possibility?

Tuesday. Spinal Surgery is EXPENSIVE.

After spending the previous night sobbing loudly to my Mom on the phone and then trying to drown my sorrows with an IPA and brisket from Fette Sau, I started to feel a little better.  Smoked meat is a band aid to my sorrows.  Roo was out of surgery and resting at the hospital, my puffy eyes were returning to normal and I felt like I could actually talk to people without bursting into tears. She is still paralyzed in her hind legs, but there is a still a chance that it will only be temporary.

Have I mentioned yet that I have the most amazing group of friends? Friends that I am not even sure I deserve.  I'm crabby, I'm blunt, I like to go to bed early.  And let's face it, surgery is EXPENSIVE.  Let me get this out of the way and tackle the elephant that is creeping around in the room.  No, I do not have pet insurance.  Does that make me an idiot?  I don't know.  Maybe.  Probably.  Hindsight, 20/20, blah, blah, blah.  I haven't been able to justify the costs of that monthly premium on two dogs. Or do I just insure one? The man made miracle French bulldog or the elderly chihuahua mix?  And I'll admit it, there's that skeptical side of me that thinks pet insurance is just a way for companies to cheat you out of money.  I'm sure I heard that on AM radio before or Micheal Moore said it in an elevator.   ePet insurance is linking to this blog as I type, a testimonial to their services! Lesson learned.

Back to my amazing network of friends.  I'll say it again. In caps, so you really get the message. SURGERY IS EXPENSIVE.  The visit to the emergency clinic including the MRI is a cool $2,200.  The spinal surgery, including 8-10 days of closely monitored care, expressing her bladder, administering pain meds, changing her blankets, is around $6,500. Um, sure.  So what do my ladies do?

They start a web based donation page for people to help out with Roo's medical bills:
https://www.wepay.com/donations/fund-roo-ster

They start a Facebook page to make people aware of my problem:
Fund-Rooster

They blog about it:
Social Media Success Story

They post the links to the donation site on their twitter, instagram, and FB pages.  My email box has been filling up  with donations from friends, family members, coworkers, clients from my job and strangers!  Yes, people who I don't even know have started throwing in $5, $10, $25, $50, or $300 (thanks mom!).  Every donation has brought a tear to my eye and I am beyond thankful with the amount of people who are ROOting, for Roo!  As of right now, $3,700 has been donated to my fight for Roo to walk again.  I honestly can't believe how incredibly kind people can be. 

Monday. The Day I Sobbed Like a Baby.

This day sucked.  Just sucked.  I couldn't sleep the night before, my dreams were filled with dogs in wheelchairs and drag bags.

So I was less than bright eyed and bushy tailed when I walked into work Monday morning.  In an office of under 20 employees, it's hard to keep secrets.  Mostly everyone gave me a wide berth and let me spend the day silently tearing up at my computer.  Some knew what was going on and others could only speculate.  I couldn't speak to anyone.  I was waiting for a phone call that was pretty much guaranteed to be bad news and my stomach was in knots.  Really, it felt like I had been punched in the face.

Dr Prata, from VERG, finally called around 1:45pm to tell me the results of Roo's MRI.  He explained that she had a herniated disc in her spine.  The disc hit her spinal cord abruptly causing swelling, bruising and bleeding.  Based on his 43 years experience, her chances of having use of her legs again were slim.  I'm not even sure what I said at that point. I think it was, "ok, ok, ok" without fully understanding what that meant.  The only thing I heard was, "Do you want to proceed with the surgery?".  I didn't have to think about that, my answer was always yes.  How could I not give her every chance possible?  My only responsibility is to take care of her and in return I receive unconditional love.

Sunday. 2 Legs Down.

On Sunday morning, October 14th, 2012, all hell broke loose.  I brought Charlie (she'll get a blog when she is in the hospital) and Roo out to potty at the parking lot of the marina.

I noticed that Roo was wobbly and walking around like she was drunk.  When she hunched herself up to go #2, she was standing on her tip toes and falling over.  I tried to make light of the situation for everyone's sake and not to ruin the weekend vibe with the dramatics of a crazy hypochondriac dog lady.  On the inside, I was silently freaking out.  A rule that has been hammered into my head about Frenchies, is when you see them stumbling for no reason or favoring a leg, RUN, don't walk your dog to the vet.  I've read about too many cases of IVDD and slipped discs in small dogs leading to paralysis.

I quickly packed up the pups, smiled at the drunk dog jokes, bid farewell to my fellow Boatelers and called a car service to take me to an emergency animal hospital. First, I tried my regular vet, Dr Kuhlman at Gramercy Park Animal Hospital, but because it was a Sunday, my call went straight to an answering service.  From a quick Google search in the taxi, I found VERG in Brooklyn Heights.  By the time we arrived at the emergency clinic's doorstep, Roo had completely lost the ability to move her hind legs.  I can't even explain how heartbreaking it was to see my little dog struggle just to keep herself up.

Within 20 minutes of our arrival, we were seen by a doctor and the torture began.  The doctor began moving Roo's legs around and pressing on her spine. I've never heard my dog scream before that day and I could easily live the rest of my life without ever having to hear it again.  Lucas and I had tears in our eyes, while trying to keep it together and remain calm. We made use of the tissues on display in the waiting room and sat until they could give us some answers.   My snorty little dog was admitted to the hospital that day with the plan of starting her on steroids overnight and an appointment was made with a neurologist and for an MRI first thing Monday morning. I was handed 2 estimates.  One for the Sunday visit, including the MRI.  The 2nd, for her potential spinal surgery.

We had nothing else to do, but return home from the weekend one dog less. 

Introducing the Cast

I always thought that the day I bit the bullet, jumped on the bandwagon, or tried to immortalize myself via the interweb and started a blog, it would be about food. Food recipes I tried out, pictures of food I ate for breakfast/lunch/brunch/dinner/late nights, food I watched people eat on the subway, or about the magical food concoctions that had come to me in the middle of the night.  Trust me, peanut butter, goat cheese and avocado on a bed of pasta could really catch on.

I wish.

Instead, I'm starting this blog to talk about my currently paralyzed French Bulldog, "Rooster", aka "Little Rooster", aka "Roo", aka "My Favorite Thing in the World".  Sounds fun, right?  Let me rewind a few days and tell you how it all began. 

This past Friday, a group of my 15 closest friends and I spent the weekend at Boatel in Far Rockaway.  I packed up more food than was necessary, 2 sleeping bags, 2 suitcases, 2 humans, 2 dogs and escaped living in a tiny Brooklyn apartment to live like a pirate on the high seas, otherwise known as sleeping on a docked boat at a sketchy marina.  The dogs and people were excited to be there; Boats! Grilling Area! Public Restrooms! and we all ate/drank too much and passed out slept through the first night without incident.

Saturday morning, my excitable French Bulldog, Rooster was acting strange.  Her body was trembling as if she were cold, her mood was mopey and she didn't have much of an appetite.  This is unnatural behavior for a dog that can be dead asleep at 3 am, hear a kitchen cabinet shut, and open a worm hole to instantly transport herself to my side.  I assumed her lack of hunger meant she wasn't adapting to life at sea and probably had a bit of bubble guts going on.  We can't all be boat people.  I checked in on her throughout the day, convinced her that her food was tasty and let her lie in the sun for a bit.  We all joked about sea legs, who has them, who doesn't and if you were stuck on a deserted island, what 3 movies would you bring? Clue, Sherlock Holmes and Live Free or Die Hard.