Sadie

I know better than that. Dogs don't handle heat the way that humans do. I know better. Yet I still had the brilliant idea to go for a walk in the mid-day sun with the family, dog included. And even though the temperature outside was in the mid 90's, I thought the breeze was enough to warrant a nice walk for everyone. Jason and Dallas would ride their bikes, I would push Keegan on his tricycle and Kenny would walk our family dog, Sadie.

Kenny immediately let Sadie off her leash allowing her to run free. She resembles an overstuffed sausage at this stage in her life. Exercise is hardly in her daily routine. So a free run would be good for her. And she seemed overjoyed to be out and running along side Jason and Dallas as they pedeled through the neighborhood streets.

At about 3/4 of the way into our walk, we realized that we should have brought her a bowl for some water. Instead, we led her to a garden hose and turned it on where she drank what she could between her heavy pants. She layed down on a cool spot of grass as if to tell us that she had gone as far as she intended to go. I told Kenny that I would run her back to the house and get her inside where it was cool and where she could get some fresh water, which is exactly what I did. But instead of drinking the water, she wandered around our house seeking an area that would cool her off quickly. She wouldn't take any water.

I immediately Google'd signs of heat stroke in canines. The symptoms were, rectal temperature of 106 or more, staggering, vomitting and diareah. At this point, Kenny was back at home and watching Sadie alongside me. We both jokingly shrugged at the idea of checking her rectal temperature, but agreed that she needed to be cooled down. He decided to lead her outside so that he could drench her with the water hose. As they headed downstairs, I noticed her staggering...sign #1. As she exited to the front porch, she immediately vomitted...sign #2. At that point, Kenny grabbed her and rushed her to the vet's office just down the road.

It didn't take much to confirm that she was indeed suffering from a heat stroke. Her temperature was 109...the highest that they had seen. She was immediately pumped full of fluids and every attempt to bring her temperature down was made. As Kenny headed off to work, I headed down to the vet's office to stay on site. Thirty minutes later, I was led back to see her.

She looked horrible. Her eyes were sunken and droopy. She barely made an attempt to raise her head to greet me. As they opened the kennel door, I stooped down to sit with her and found myself climbing into the kennel to sit beside and pet her. I supported the weight of her head by holding her chin so that we could have eye contact. All the while, the only thought running through my mind was "I did this to her. This was my stupid idea. I did this to her."

The vet came in and confirmed my fears. She was at a very critical stage and they didn't know if she would be able to pull through. She was facing an inability to clot, which if not conquered, would cause her to bleed out. In addition, she may have permanent organ failure.

They suggested taking her to the Animal Emergency Center down the road for overnight treatment. So after getting her stabilized, off we headed. When we arrived, the vet ran a couple of blood panels and confirmed that she was not clotting and would need plasma transfusions. When they brought in the cost estimates ($1,400-$2,500)along with the news that she had a 50-50 chance of survival, I immediately called Kenny and began sobbing. I asked him what he wanted to do and then asked what he thought we should do. Obviously, he wanted to do anything to save our dog's life. And 2 seconds before he began to tell me what he thought we should do, I stopped him from uttering the words. I told him that I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that this was my fault. I told him that if she pulls through, she's got several years of joy that she can bring. And for those reasons, I wanted to take our chances...no matter the cost. So, I signed the release and gave her over to the care of the staff. They told me that no-news was good news and that if she could make it through the night, it would be a huge accomplishment.

The first words our of Jason's mouth as I walked through our home's front door were, "Where's Sadie?!?" He began crying immediately, fearing the worst. I tried to comfort him and assure him that they were doing absolutely everything possible to save her. Needless to say, it was a rough night last night for everyone.

At 11:30pm, the phone rang. I immediately flashed back to "No news is good news." As I grabbed the phone and saw the caller ID "Animal Emergency Center", my legs and arms went numb and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. It seemed like a slow-motion movie as the voice on the other end began to tell me "No no...it's good news! Sadie is responding to the plasma. She is clotting and showing signs of improvement. I just thought you'd want to know." Whew!!

This morning, Jason and I hopped in the truck and headed down the pick her up. We were simply transporting her back to our vets office for further fluids and observation today.

Just now, the vet called to say that indeed, she has improved. Yet he is still concerned about possible kidney damage. She is still extremely dehydrated. At this point they are trying to flush out all the toxins from her body...those that are attempting to damager her kidneys. More blood panels are scheduled for this afternoon. But hopefully, she will be able to come home tonight. We are all obviously keeping our fingers crossed.

I never thought I'd be one of those animal nuts that spends thousands of dollars on their pet. But here I am....one of those nuts. Perhaps my guilt is the reason why $2,000-and-counting later, she is still alive with a fighting chance. I would like to believe though, that we said, "do whatever it takes." because she is such a huge part of our family. She is an amazing dog. Gentle, obedient, smart, loyal, trustworthy...everything that you would seek out in a person, let alone a dog.

Get well, Sadie. Get well.