... she was euthanized when it got to the point that we feared she would be unable to swallow.
She was born in March, with the sunshine and warmer days -- and she lived in the brightness of summer. Born "Zory" and named Rosalie Pokeybottom by Marcella but called "Poke" by her friends, she was a puppy of sparkle and light. She died as autumn came to the northwest, on a morning with spiderwebs and dew.
At first we, foster mother Cassi, Heather (the breeder), our vet -- all of us believed her stiff little legs were a result of an injury. An x-ray showed nothing, and we began a course of physical therapy including swimming and massage, plus steroid injections. She seemed to improve at first but soon we noticed deterioration. Her walking and balance seemed compromised.
(Thanks to Mike for the photo.)
We stayed in touch with Heather, who notified us right away when she learned that probably what was happening was called Neuroaxonal Dystrophy (article below the jump). This awful hereditary disease has been seen in rottweilers and only fairly recently has come to light among papillon puppies. Heather was broken-hearted and determined to do the right thing. She contacted the national papillon people and learned all she could. We corresponded with Leona Domino who is the genetics chair for the national papillon organization. She sent us some descriptions of the course of the disease, and we learned that Dr. Giger, a veterinarian at Penn, is working to find a genetic marker. There is no treatment, and the disease is invariably fatal. We agreed to send blood and her tiny body to Dr. Giger when the time came. This was done and we take comfort in the hope that Pokey's little life can help combat this horrible disease.
Maybe it would have been wiser to euthanize her the instant we learned of her condition. But by then we loved little Poke deeply and we considered her part of our family. So we did our best to give her a life full of joy and good feelings. The disease took something from her almost daily. She lost the use of her back legs. She developeard spastic head-throwing, diffriculty eating and swallowing. She gradually lost the use of her front legs. She lost her vision.
We had a little cart made for her and she taught herself to sort of paddle her front legs from the shoulder to scoot it around; we fashioned little booties from the thumbs of garden gloves to give traction. She loved the grass, whipped cream, our lab mix Joyful. She did not like being left alone to sleep and would have a little temper tantrum if you tried to make her do it. She wanted to sleep in our lap or with us in bed. She LOVED parties and being wheeled around by the kids. And strawberry ice cream. And going out on the boat, smelling the sea and freshly-caught fish and crab. And oh how she LOVED Marcella and would just wiggle with delight when she heard her voice. She loved being the office dog at George's office and being fed and held by so many nice people.
The little cart is still now; her small butterfly crinkle toy lies abandoned. For such a tiny dog with a life measured in mere months, she has left a papillon-sized hole in our house and our hearts. Little Poke, we loved you so much.
