My husband and I got divorced in 2001. I had three dogs, a part-time job and a mortgage I couldn’t afford. To say I was worried about taking care of all of us is an understatement. I remember sitting down with each one of my dogs and swearing we would make it through this. I remember crying many tears in their fur, most especially Nanda’s. He was my best friend, my rock, the one who had always been there.
In 2003, Cierra had a series of strokes and became very confused, stopped eating and was in pain from severe arthritis. We had to let her go. A short six months later, Ms. Oprah got bloat in the middle of the night and died on the way to the emergency vet. I was beside myself with grief. Nanda was there for comfort.
During my period of morning for my girls, I found a female Chow/Lab mix on the Internet, Whoopi, and sponsored her. It seemed a fitting tribute to my two rescue girls who were now at the Bridge. She had not been adopted 90 days later, and, unfortunately, was scheduled for euthanasia. She came to live with us in January of 2005.
Ferdinand began slowing down dramatically around the time I lost Cierra. He tore a rear crucia ligament - something common in Chows - and with a strict diet for weight loss (he had blossomed to a whopping 90 pounds!) and gentle daily walks I got it under control, and it healed somewhat without surgery. Every night before I went to bed, he would come to my side of the bed for scratches and then lie down for the night. He loved sleeping next to me. In the morning, I would sit down and we would say hello to each other. Never much of a licker, he would spend a good five minutes trying to groom me every morning when we started our day.
In late January, 2007, Ferdinand started to weaken, and seemed unable to walk as far as we had been. I sort of let him set the pace and where we walked, and found him turning back for home sooner every time. At one point, he fell over when I tried to get him to go on a certain path toward home. It took a good five minutes to get him up and moving again. I knew our walks were finished.
Ferdinand began having trouble breathing. Short distances seemed to exhaust him. I found a huge lump under his front leg one morning when we were doing our morning greeting. He lost interest in food. I started buying him canned cat food, hand feeding him fish - anything to get him to eat. I spent so much time on the floor with him I told my new husband we should get a dog dish with my name on it.
Less than a week after the breathing problems started, I took Ferdinand to our vet on February 16, 2007. He was so weak at that point, I didn’t know if I’d leave the vet’s office with him or not. Randall, who by now was 10 years old, turned down a chance to play Wii for the first time at his best friend’s house and insisted on coming with me to the vet’s office. Ferdinand had been his friend his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a life without him. Neither could I.
Contd
In 2003, Cierra had a series of strokes and became very confused, stopped eating and was in pain from severe arthritis. We had to let her go. A short six months later, Ms. Oprah got bloat in the middle of the night and died on the way to the emergency vet. I was beside myself with grief. Nanda was there for comfort.
During my period of morning for my girls, I found a female Chow/Lab mix on the Internet, Whoopi, and sponsored her. It seemed a fitting tribute to my two rescue girls who were now at the Bridge. She had not been adopted 90 days later, and, unfortunately, was scheduled for euthanasia. She came to live with us in January of 2005.
Ferdinand began slowing down dramatically around the time I lost Cierra. He tore a rear crucia ligament - something common in Chows - and with a strict diet for weight loss (he had blossomed to a whopping 90 pounds!) and gentle daily walks I got it under control, and it healed somewhat without surgery. Every night before I went to bed, he would come to my side of the bed for scratches and then lie down for the night. He loved sleeping next to me. In the morning, I would sit down and we would say hello to each other. Never much of a licker, he would spend a good five minutes trying to groom me every morning when we started our day.
In late January, 2007, Ferdinand started to weaken, and seemed unable to walk as far as we had been. I sort of let him set the pace and where we walked, and found him turning back for home sooner every time. At one point, he fell over when I tried to get him to go on a certain path toward home. It took a good five minutes to get him up and moving again. I knew our walks were finished.
Ferdinand began having trouble breathing. Short distances seemed to exhaust him. I found a huge lump under his front leg one morning when we were doing our morning greeting. He lost interest in food. I started buying him canned cat food, hand feeding him fish - anything to get him to eat. I spent so much time on the floor with him I told my new husband we should get a dog dish with my name on it.
Less than a week after the breathing problems started, I took Ferdinand to our vet on February 16, 2007. He was so weak at that point, I didn’t know if I’d leave the vet’s office with him or not. Randall, who by now was 10 years old, turned down a chance to play Wii for the first time at his best friend’s house and insisted on coming with me to the vet’s office. Ferdinand had been his friend his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a life without him. Neither could I.
Contd
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Poetry
Ferdinand's Story
ONE MORE DAY WITH FERDINAND
She talked about hemangiosarcoma, a very aggressive form of cancer that starts in the spleen or lungs and breaks off, using the circulatory system as a mode of transportation and attaching to various organs along the way. She said there was a minute chance he might have pneumonia, but she felt it was a secondary symptom, with something more serious going on. She gave us antibiotics and pain meds for Ferdinand, and sent us home that Friday awaiting test results. Although I was very sad and upset at the diagnosis, I was grateful to have just one more day with Ferdinand.
I received a phone call from the vet’s office on Saturday morning. They had a radiologist look at the x-rays and they felt it was cancer. The fluid from his lump showed abnormal cell growth, but was inconclusive. His liver enzymes were high and his white blood count was high, which meant he was losing blood somewhere. The tumors which grow with this type of cancer are very fragile, and often rupture and cause internal bleeding. I was so worried about my Nanda Bug.
Saturday and Sunday Ferdinand seemed to do okay. He spent a great majority of the day outside, surveying all the goings on in the neighborhood like he loved to do. He didn’t move around much. Monday morning, when he woke up and walked down the hallway from the bedroom, he had trouble navigating and fell over. That night, just like he had done for 14 years, he made his way down the hallway to sleep by my side. It was to be our last night and morning together.
Tuesday, February 20th, I could no longer deny that Nanda’s time was up. His stomach had started to harden and swell, and he could not move on his own. We released him with much love and sadness that afternoon. I was by his side, holding onto his big head and telling him we would meet again. I comforted him as he left this earth.
Who would comfort me now? Humans cannot provide the comfort that our four footed friends can. Seeing Nanda’s dish, his leash, his kennel, the special places he liked to lounge all broke my heart. I saw him out of the corner of my eye many times those next few days.
Whoopi has appointed herself my guardian. She follows me everywhere, sleeps by my side, and seems to know how much I need her help. She is not Nanda, is hardly like him in personality at all. They are both black, and that’s where the similiarities end. She has Chow blood, but the Lab parentage seem to overtake all. Chows are usually dignified, reserved and calm, as was my Nanda. Whoopi is filled with Lab exhuberance and seems to have the attitude, ‘why walk when you can run’? She has helped me immensely in my grief over losing my 14 year old friend.
My son and I have made a scrapbook of our memories of Ferdinand. It provides comfort to us both. We have room for another furry friend, but at this time not the emotional fortitude to add another furkid to our home.** The day will come, and it will be in honor of Ferdinand, the Chow who loved me.
Rest well, good Nanda, until we meet again.
Mom
** - On Easter weekend of 2008, my son and I found a starving Rottweiler running near a golf course in my home town. Despite 'not being ready' to get another dog, Easter has been with us for two years. That is, of course, another story :)
Sandy Lassman
I received a phone call from the vet’s office on Saturday morning. They had a radiologist look at the x-rays and they felt it was cancer. The fluid from his lump showed abnormal cell growth, but was inconclusive. His liver enzymes were high and his white blood count was high, which meant he was losing blood somewhere. The tumors which grow with this type of cancer are very fragile, and often rupture and cause internal bleeding. I was so worried about my Nanda Bug.
Saturday and Sunday Ferdinand seemed to do okay. He spent a great majority of the day outside, surveying all the goings on in the neighborhood like he loved to do. He didn’t move around much. Monday morning, when he woke up and walked down the hallway from the bedroom, he had trouble navigating and fell over. That night, just like he had done for 14 years, he made his way down the hallway to sleep by my side. It was to be our last night and morning together.
Tuesday, February 20th, I could no longer deny that Nanda’s time was up. His stomach had started to harden and swell, and he could not move on his own. We released him with much love and sadness that afternoon. I was by his side, holding onto his big head and telling him we would meet again. I comforted him as he left this earth.
Who would comfort me now? Humans cannot provide the comfort that our four footed friends can. Seeing Nanda’s dish, his leash, his kennel, the special places he liked to lounge all broke my heart. I saw him out of the corner of my eye many times those next few days.
Whoopi has appointed herself my guardian. She follows me everywhere, sleeps by my side, and seems to know how much I need her help. She is not Nanda, is hardly like him in personality at all. They are both black, and that’s where the similiarities end. She has Chow blood, but the Lab parentage seem to overtake all. Chows are usually dignified, reserved and calm, as was my Nanda. Whoopi is filled with Lab exhuberance and seems to have the attitude, ‘why walk when you can run’? She has helped me immensely in my grief over losing my 14 year old friend.
My son and I have made a scrapbook of our memories of Ferdinand. It provides comfort to us both. We have room for another furry friend, but at this time not the emotional fortitude to add another furkid to our home.** The day will come, and it will be in honor of Ferdinand, the Chow who loved me.
Rest well, good Nanda, until we meet again.
Mom
** - On Easter weekend of 2008, my son and I found a starving Rottweiler running near a golf course in my home town. Despite 'not being ready' to get another dog, Easter has been with us for two years. That is, of course, another story :)
Sandy Lassman
Page 3
Nanda
Easter