Walking the Path of Love, Devotion, and Grief

This is a story that does get to the money point… hang tight to the end…

We lost our sweet Georgia.

Now, most people who met Georgia, especially the vets and vet techs who dealt with her, would say, “Sweet Georgia my ass!”

You see, Georgia came to us as a puppy with a built-in self-protection mechanism that made  her growly, cranky, and always on guard.

You know when you have a new eight-weeks-old puppy and you want to introduce her to your vet with her first appointment and happily start a new long-term relationship? Not so much.

Georgia snarled at Dr. Janet Ross with a vengeance like she’d had thousands of appointments  and wasn’t having it. No way, no how.

It was Sid Vicious bad…

It wasn’t until months later, after she’d torn her CCL in her back right knee, that our other beloved vet, Dr. Steve Atwood, after taking X-rays to confirm the torn ligament, found that at eleven months old Georgia had severe hip dysplasia in both hips. No wonder she was guarded. She was protecting her sore body.

We have been blessed with excellent veterinarians over the years, so we knew where to go for help. Dr. Ed Kochin, an orthopedic specialist whom we’d worked with for over twenty years, had repaired both of our other dog Jake’s knees and was now charged with fixing Miss Georgia cranky pants’s knee too. The question was also how to fix or manage Georgia’s hips?

Dr. Ed was able to fix the knee, but there was nothing to do for the hips except watch for signs  of discomfort, medicate her when needed, and give her the best life we could.

Now since she was so incredibly reactive, we did a summer-long 1:1 training with Marc Street. I learned how to handle Georgia and teach her commands like sit, stay, come, down, heel, and to do in-town walks to socialize her. She did great with commands, always wanting to please her mama, but if a little kid or another dog came along? Sid Vicious came out again.

The thing about my husband Ed and me is, once we have a dog in our home, they stay. No matter what. So now our job was: How did we give Georgia (aka Sid Vicious) the best life we could and keep her safe from herself & others while keeping her comfortable and giving her a good life?

For years we balanced the needs of Georgia and the needs of our other dogs too. Ed installed amazing gate systems so Georgia could have her own space in the living room, where she lounged happily on the couch. I say happily because she felt safe, but I will never know if she was lonely or loved being alone. That question mark still hurts my heart—what if it was the former and not the latter?

We met new friends along the way, Becky and Sean, who also loved Rottweilers. After lots of long walks in the woods and in the town of Oak Bluffs with their dog Moe, Georgia got to see how a dog should behave in public (calm, happy, and loving people), and her world began to expand just a little.

Fast-forward almost eight years, and both Ed and I had noticed over the last several months that Georgia seemed off. She’d been shedding profusely and really slowing down. We knew something was wrong.

I’d noticed on our walks how she would take her time going potty—lifting her nose in the air, watching every little thing, sniffing thoughtfully, feeling the breeze in her fur, not rushing the  potty process as usual. She was taking this potty walk all in. It made me pause and think… OMG, are you soaking this moment up because you know you’re leaving soon? Please don’t let  it be so!!! I just can’t imagine our life without you.

About a month ago now, she’d begun to have diarrhea, and then it stopped. We’d had her vet  appointment with Dr. Steve to do biannual blood work to make sure all of her organs were in good shape to continue with her daily Galliprant meds that helped her hips. Her diarrhea had  begun again that morning, so Steve put her on the usual meds for diarrhea, cleared it up within twenty-four hours, but this time it didn’t.

Dr. Atwood and I spoke many times about what to do next: X-ray or just meds for severe GI distress? I chose the meds. I didn’t want her to undergo sedation at her age. Looking back now, I wished we had followed Steve’s first recommendation to X-ray her. But sadly, we did not
have the crystal ball of knowing the right thing to do at the time.

It was a week later, on a Friday afternoon, when she started vomiting, that we knew she was in trouble.

A stick or rock in her gut? Some kind of blockage? God damn it! Why hadn’t I had that X-ray done!

Because it was a weekend and emergency care is tricky where we live, Ed and I decided we should take her to the emergency vet in Bourne, Massachusetts: Cape Cod Veterinary Specialists.

Right from the start, she had a team at CCVS look after her. Because Georgia had been sick for a few weeks by that time, Dr. Emily Picciotto (whom I absolutely love ) suggested they keep her overnight for supportive care and to try to get to the bottom of what was going on. I told Dr.
Emily that I was worried that there was a mass in Georgia’s belly, and unfortunately later that
night Dr. Emily confirmed I was right.

The CCVS mission was to investigate into Georgia’s condition to determine how we could treat her successfully so she could go home, or give a definitive diagnosis so we could make a clear choice on what to do next.

As her owner, the round-and-round questions in my head started. How could I have missed this? What should I have done sooner? Was this my fault somehow? I attempted to decipher all the medical information from the vets so Ed and I could make the right choice for Georgia. Curative or palliative care?

Okay, we know knew that Georgia had a mass on her spleen… but how did that play into the GI issues? Was that mass cancerous, or could Georgia be one of the 30% of patients whose masses were benign? I also wondered if the GI tract issue had saved her life… because without that distress we never would have known about the mass in the first place.

Round and round Ed and I went on determining the next right treatment for Georgia. My head trash of woulda, shoulda, coulda was loud and had me on pins and needles, driving me crazy. How could we save her? Should we save her? Did she want to be saved? I couldn’t sleep or get any kind of peace, that quite frankly I am used to and quite fond of having.

I emailed my coach, Jeanna Gabellini (whom I also love) explaining my difficulty. And true to her brilliant self, she wrote this:

“When it comes to animals and humans… it’s literally not what we do or don’t do that  saves them. It’s just doing what feels best at this moment… and they still might die cuz  it’s really not OUR choice. So you have to make micro choices right now. It’s not your  job to figure it out.”

I got some peace. Kinda.

Thankfully, while Georgia was at CCVS, Dr. Grady Bailin was our primary vet throughout. Boy was she working hard trying to pinpoint what was going on. Was this cancer, or did Georgia have Addison’s disease that was and that’s causing the GI havoc? Would Georgia be the lucky one who would be saved and got to go home? Why did she have fluid in her belly? Did we take the spleen now or wait? Bloodwork, CT scans, and ultrasounds were not giving us a clear diagnosis.

The ups and downs over the next few weeks were tough. Georgia stayed in the hospital initially for five days and was sent home while we waited for her body to recover enough to go back and  have the splenectomy.

While she was home, a clear diagnosis of Addison’s disease came in. I was relieved. This surely was the problem, I thought. Once on medication to support her adrenal glands, Georgia was like a puppy again; she was a brand-new dog. I hadn’t seen her that perky and happy in years. I looked and at her with relief and was like, “Thank God! Why was I so worried? She is the 30% who has a splenic mass without cancer! And I’m not going to lose her. Thank God!”

Sadly, I was wrong.

On Monday, May 21, 5 days away from our 8-year anniversary from the day we got her, Georgia’s body started to decline quickly. At 11:30 am that morning, Dr Grady, Ed and I knew for sure she wasn’t going the be in the 30%, she almost certainly had cancer, and she wasn’t coming home.

I suspect Georgia would have died on her own within the next twenty-four hours, but she had started to struggle. That was excruciating to see but made our decision clear—she needed to be humanely euthanized.

A soft goodbye, a good death, the hastening of a patient to prevent future suffering. No matter how you put it…

We were losing our sweet Georgia. I am sick, I am in shock and I know to my core this must be done as soon as we can.

Ed was able to get on the next ferry so he could be with us… It was now noon and he got on the 12:20 freight boat. Georgia came along for the ride… she really didn’t like being at the vet’s, and we figured she’d rather spend her last moments with us. I spent the last car ride with her in the back seat, trying to caress her or distract her from her visible discomfort.

We arrived back at the vet at 2:00. We signed all the forms and paid in advance. They offered us a very lovely room to be with her as long as we liked… and we said, “No. It needs to happen now… she’s in distress.”

True to form, she growled pretty loudly at Dr. Grady. As the meds went into her system, right before she went down, she looked me dead in the eye as if to take in that one last look at her mama. In that one glance, that one second, she said, “You and Daddy fought valiantly to keep me safe and loved. I feel loved and cherished… and I don’t want to leave you.”

Through my husband Ed’s efforts, we were able to pack up and get on the 7:15 ferry that night. If it were up to me, I’d still be walking in circles, on the Cape in a puddle of tears.

With Caitlyn and Fran in attendance, we buried Georgia Tuesday afternoon in our front yard. She was placed in between her best friend Beba (aka The Bebarama) and the bench I meditate on every morning.

Beba was the only dog Georgia ever really bonded too. He was one of our puppies that we’d taken back at 3 years old. Also a Rottweiler, weighing in at 135 pounds (after losing 15 since we’d gotten him back) and a head the size of a bowling ball. He was truly a bundle of pure love and an ambassador for the breed. Georgia at 8 weeks old, brand new in our house, walked right up to him, grabbed his collar, and proceeded to drag him around the house… and he let her. He died suddenly in the night a few years later, and she’d never connected to another dog since. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever recovered from his sudden loss either.

To say Ed and I are heartbroken, would be an understatement. Neither of us is sleeping, we both weep at the site of Georgie’s grave. Her crate still standing empty in our bedroom, I don’t know how I’ll find the strength to take it down. Not today that’s for sure.

That sweetness we got to witness in Georgia will always be missed.

Our lives will never be the same.

The money piece?

Life is short.

Money is here to support your journey. Support what you love. Support you.  How does this story of Georgia and money connect?

Because of our money, we had choices to give Georgia the very best care during her life, and into her last days.

We didn’t put her down because of lack of funds, as so many have to do… that fact breaks my heart.

It’s worth it to figure your money shit out so that when the shit hits the fan, the last thing you  have to worry about is money.

It’s there to support you and your loved ones when you need it.

Life is short.

Sadly, our money couldn’t save this one life, Georgia’s life.

Your story could be different.

I pray that it is.

My advice?

Get pet insurance when your pups are babies.

Set up an emergency fund.

Then…

Love and cherish your family pets every day.

P.S. A Special thanks

Ed and I are deeply grateful to everyone who helped us with Georgia.

Dr Steve Atwood at Animal Health Care, who even after her death continues to offer support.

A huge thank you to everyone at Cape Cod Veterinary Specialists. Barbara, Emma (who sat
with us for 3 hours, on her day off, to be able to help Georgia), Katie, Melissa, Becky, Rebecca, Dr. Emily Piccitto, Dr. Noel Vezzi, and Dr Josh Zuckerman. I apologize for not including the many others I never met, or I am forgetting.

We especially thank Dr Grady Bailin who fought hard for Georgia and grieved our loss with us.

To those of you who sang “Georgia on my mind” to Georgia so she could feel more at home while in your care… you are sure angels. I know it lifted Georgia and everyone who heard it.