Sweet Bella

So this is a picture of my sweet Bella.  I got her about three years ago, when she was a little over four years old.  We had a newfoundland (Baxter) and an infant at the time.  Luke was working long hours and I thought that Baxter having a playmate on our half acre might ease some of the guilt I had for not getting out there myself [[completely logical, right??....]]

Luke had always spoken so highly of german shepherds, but I thought they were ugly- swore I would never get one.  Yet I remembered seeing an ad in the Bulliten Board for a reasonably priced full blooded shepherd and for some reason calling Luke to see about getting her.  It didn't take much convincing (maybe that's why I was keen for it?) and that evening I was on my way toward Fairmont to pick up this shepherd named Bella that I had never met, but was assured over the phone that she got along well with other animals and liked children [[note: my experience was the exception-- I think the rule should be that it's INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT TO MEET A DOG BEFORE AGREEING TO TAKE IT HOME.  YOU CAN GET STUCK WITH A DUD!]].

So I pick up this dog who is obviously (shaking) frightened, but with the most loving eyes I have ever seen.  They just begged me for something...I didn't know what-- calming? affection?

As soon as Luke got home to meet her, we both quickly realized: this dog had obviously been physically abused.  She was not, and is not, at all aggressive.  Rather, she was scared around women (me and my mom) but she was flat out TERRIFIED around him (and other men in general). 

In fact, we also noticed that she had a huge, untreated hot spot and was significantly underweight:

She cowered around Luke (who tried so hard to win her over, but whoever had her first had done so...much..damage.  In fact, she wouldn't even eat in front of him for two years!...) but stuck to me like glue.  Where I went, she went.  I'm not talking about taking her with me to the mailbox or whatever.  I mean, if I went to the bathroom she sat outside of the door.  Every room.  Every time.  She became my shadow, as anyone who has been to my house could tell you.  She is truly the sweetest, most gentle, wonderfully behaved dog a girl could ask for-- .  She is THE BEST. I didn't even train her; she just began doing whatever she thought would please me.  She has  been by my side through a couple of birthdays, a couple of moves, a number of triumphs, a couple of hardships. For the past three years, if I've been home, she's been almost constantly by my side.

Until Wednesday morning.  She didn't eat her breakfast, nor did she follow me from the lounge room to the kitchen.  The day continued and I did a few things, and noticed more and more that she was not acting like herself.  She didn't bark at the mailman, she didn't play with Poncho, she didn't follow me upstairs when I went (she ALWAYS follows me upstairs).  When nighttime came, she stayed exactly where she had been for most of the day.  It was absolutely sad and scary.

The next morning I called my mom to ask her what she thought I should do-- if it was something serious, then of course I wanted to get her in to see the vet...but what if it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass quickly?  I was leaning toward the former because her behavior was SO unlike her, but I just wanted some confirmation that I wasn't being stupid for going ahead....

With my mom's encouragement, I went ahead and set up a vet appointment for that afternoon at 4pm (and now, after the fact, am so glad I did).  He did some bloodwork and was able to give me the results before I left.  Based on the tests, he diagnosed her with Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia (IMHA), which basically turns the immune system on healthy red blood cells.  Red blood cells carry oxygen through the body, so her muscles and organs are oxygen deprived.  There's no known cause, and symptoms can appear almost instantly (she displays almost all of them, and each one only began to show on Wednesday).

The disease is a 'rapidly life threatening disease'... in fact, within two weeks, 50% of dogs diagnosed with IMHA die.  Beyond that, mortality rate due to this disease is up to 80%.

So she's on two types of medicine: one that surpresses her immune system so that it hopefully retriggers itself to work properly while allowing the regeneration of healthy red blood cells, and another that helps ward off infections in the meantime.  But even with appropriate treatment, the situation is dire.

I am beyond sad.  I have cried over this time and time and time and time again, because I hate the thought of losing her.  And chances are, I'm losing her.  She is so weak and her breathing is so fast and she just looks so....tired. Every time I look at her I do a double take to make sure she is still alive.

I hate this.  I hate not knowing 100% which way this is going to go, because I don't want to give up hope but I also don't want to get my hopes up. I'm pretty much an eternal optimist, so it's quite easy for me to interpret her slightly wagging her tail, running after Poncho, or eating (all of which she did today!) as indicators that she's getting better. 

But the vet made it very clear to me that this diagnosis is not good.  There is a chance, but not an expectation.  And every time I look at her and think about that, I start crying all over again.  My sweet Bella is so very sick, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to help her.