Dervish was a good dog who tried his best at everything. He wasn’t perfect—he still had a few issues with being fear reactive with other dogs—but even that was getting better. I had him in a class and he was progressing quickly. Dervish wanted so badly to please me.
In his favorite place
He was a great hearing alert dog. Nothing escaped his notice, not even the spiders he was afraid of. I never needed to worry about the door, or boiling water, the phone, an alarm, people walking around (even in the hallway outside my door!), and no matter what lovely interesting thing he was doing, the alert came first.
This is where Dervish was during the accident. His leg got trapped between the pushed in door the the pushed in footwell Dervish’s leg was caught between door and footwell
His leg was caught twixt door & footwell
This even proved true after the accident. His spine was fractured badly, and at first he had feeling. I had to free his leg from the debris, and at first he tried to get to me, but the way was blocked, so he dragged himself to the nearest clear-looking door (poor boy was wrong). There were a lot of people around (leaf-peepers?) and they helped a lot. Called 911, kept me calm, got my bag and phone, helped with Dervish, explained what happened to everyone. And Dervish did his best to tell me who was talking as I slightly borked my back huddling over him trying to keep him from moving. (Aside: I have bruised ribs, strained muscles, and some bruising. I got off easy and am thankful for the seat belts and airbag. Dervish took all my hurt.)
Our ambulance crew was stellar. The EMT even had a deaf son, so I didn’t have to educate him while slightly dazed, in pain, and worried sick about my service dog. They carried Dervish, so gently, and placed him on top of me. The EMT mentioned his surprise that a hurt dog would still work. I wasn’t, and praised my pretty boy (granted, none of us knew the extent of the injuries; shock was a good bet).
The hospital was just as good. Dervish shared my bed. Everybody worked around and with him, and when I went for a CT scan and X-ray, a nurse held and snuggled him through the entire thing. And they marveled that he would not stop alerting, even when they accidentally hurt him (his hip as well as his back was injured, and at this point he still had sensation).
Then my doctor came in. I asked what was going on. He looked at Dervish and said (paraphrased), “We’re hoping it’s shock, because he can still feel, and he has a bit of movement. Do you consent to us seeing if he can stand, so that we can see where he is? We won’t let him get hurt.” My doctor. Taking the time for a service dog. So three nurses tried the experiment. He could not bear weight at all. :(
Soon, two nurses came in, including the one who had held him. They offered to bring them to the vet. They ended up bringing him to two (the first on their dime, the angels). The first vet confirmed the spinal fracture and said they couldn’t handle, and sent them to one of the best animal hospitals in the state. And away they went.
I did get a ride this morning, and received Dervish’s prognosis. He had lost all sensation and control from mid-body down. There was no more pain in his legs and feet, but neither was there anything else. It was affecting his brain as well.
The only time they saw him animated was when he saw me. Other than that, my very active dog had just stayed in whatever position they put him in and maybe, once in a while, put a muzzle on the screen of the kennel. His eyes were dull and hardly tracking (and they’d stopped the pain meds as unnecessary), and only focused on me. I had to leave the kennel area quickly (they were busy), but they’d wanted me to see him before they went into more detail.
And the detail. A wheelchair was possible, if I could afford one. He’d never be able to control his bladder or bowels. They would work to a point (a small miracle), but maybe a catheter and definitely diapers would be needed. His bowel function would not be enough for solid fecal matter or distinct bowel movements. The effects on his brain could already be seen. He would be depressed—he was an active dog who loved to climb. Could I keep him from trying? I had already been crying. I’d known the answer as soon as I’d seen him and he hadn’t even tried to get up. The neuro hugged me, and they brought Dervish in, on a large dog bed with a nice cuddly fleece blanket and put him on the bench next to me.
He dragged himself using his front paws until he was mostly on my lap, rested his head on my arm, and sighed. A nurse in my peripheral vision turned around. Another arranged his hind legs. Any further damage didn’t matter anymore.
He licked and nudged my arm, and I pet him and talked to him. They left us alone in the room until his breathing started getting scary-bad (I could feel it through my hands on his chest), and I put him on his bed and started calling for someone, quick. They came and as soon as they entered the room they knew why I called, and they said it was time.
The neuro said she would have done the same for her dog. It really doesn’t help. I miss him so much.
I miss him so much.
I sat back with him and he tried to get in my lap but couldn’t. We helped him. And I told him he was a good brave boy and much too quickly it was over. But it was painless, and he wasn’t alone, and it was thanks to all of you.
I held him for a touch longer, and then let him go. He was gone, after all, but he was still warm, and that made it difficult. Checking his gums helped.
He’s being cremated singly, and I’ll get his ashes, a paw print, and some of his hair. Maybe it’s creepy to some people, but he was a service dog, and I want a part of him close.
They will hold his cremains until I pick them up or I call them to mail them. I’m hoping to pick them up. Mail seems so impersonal.
Even with Pùka here, the house feels empty. And Pùka spends most of his days sleeping now. :(
I’m not happy about it, I don’t want a dog other than Dervish or Pùka, but I have an email in to Telling Tales about a hearing alert dog I know they had available at least last week.
This, on top of the loss of my uncle Sunday, is just not fair.
Thank you again everyone. I don’t know what I would have done if Dervish couldn’t have gone to the vet. At least now he’s at peace and not struggling with his own body and unable to understand. Thank you.
Sun Oct 18, 2015 at 5:13 AM PT: I've read your comments every morning since I posted this diary. For some reason, without my puppy alarm (Púka only wakes me after 1000, he's pretty well retired) I'm being more careful to keep my eyes uncovered for the alarm.
And then I remember.
Your words help. They pull me from what I could be thinking
I'm sorry that I'm not keeping up with the comments. They are read and loved.
Sun Oct 18, 2015 at 5:14 AM PT: I've read your comments every morning since I posted this diary. For some reason, without my puppy alarm (Púka only wakes me after 1000, he's pretty well retired) I'm being more careful to keep my eyes uncovered for the alarm.
And then I remember.
Your words help. They pull me from what I could be thinking
I'm sorry that I'm not keeping up with the comments. They are read and loved.