Faith - Norman Carman - Sunshine Finch - Otis Crowell - Jenny & Tinker Miller

A Christmas of Faith

Written by John Crowell, D.V.M

I was between office calls at the veterinary hospital, standing in the pharmacy checking a drug dose for a patient.  Janae, the receptionist on duty at the time, called to me with a question.

"What do I do when the shelters won't take an injured stray kitty cat?  I have a couple of university students on the line that found a cat in the yard in front of their apartment building and they think it's been hit by a car"

"Oh, tell them to call the Animal Kindness Hospital" I mumbled over my shoulder trying to find the reference for the drug.

"They already called there and they said they don't do that!?" Janae said.

"Well how about the county shelter or the humane society?" I replied.

"They already called around and nobody will help them," her frustration starting to show on her face.

I looked at my technician and shook my head.

"Tell the kids to bring her to us if they can get a ride.  We can't just let her lay in the street and die."

I had been busy lately.  As Mert our former mailman is fond of saying; eat-sleep-work.  Shopping, trying to plan for the holidays.  My sister had just been diagnosed with a recurrence of breast cancer for the third time.  Another close friend had just been diagnosed with cancer and lately it seemed like all the patients I was seeing were quite ill.  It seems like this happens every year around the holidays ? but maybe I just become more sensitive to this.  End of the year bills were stacking up.  My daughter was coming home from college in a few days in a car that is prone to break down at the most inopportune times.  Our house was a mess from having the interior painted, including spraying the ceilings and my clothes were in a pile in the bedroom so they could paint the closets.  I was feeling the stress and any holiday spirit would have to wait for business.  I just wasn't into it.  You see this happens every few years.  I become self-absorbed and Scroogish (if I can be allowed to coin the word).

A few days later my wife Mary-Jo asked if I would play Santa Claus for some underprivileged children.  I had a Santa suit but had only played Santa for my own children and my nieces and nephews.  It had also been quite a few years since I had done it.  I knew where the suit was but wasn't sure what shape it was in.  Maybe this was just the thing that would make Christmas special for the kids ... and me.  I shopped for the Santa performance and that helped a bit.  My wife and I had filled some gift wishes at church that also helped a little.  But I knew that the phone call that Janae had relayed to me was what was missing in my heart and I knew exactly what I was going to do.

"Faith" is pleased to announce that she has found a loving home with one of our technicians, Heather.  She is extremely spoiled and only comes to visit us every now & then (against her better judgement).  We all miss her very much!! 

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"Norman Carman"

Written by Bruce and Sue Carmen

"Norman", our 10-year-old Golden is convinced he's a cat. He truly believes that he has 9 lives to live. To date he has lived 3 of them and we hope to finally convince him that enough is enough. His first adventure occurred when he was 4 years old. One day, when we came home from work, we noticed that he was acting a bit tired and sore. He was off his feed, but we felt he had "overdone" it or that he had a virus. The following day his limp was considerably worse and he was more lethargic. He even experienced a nosebleed and refused to eat or drink. The next morning he was unable to walk.

We immediately called Dr. Crowell who opened his office for us at 7:30 A.M. on Sunday morning. Dr. Crowell began treatment but was unable to diagnose "Norman's" problem. We ran through the litany of possibilities, none of them too promising. Dr. Crowell decided to begin antibiotic treatment and send out blood work for testing. "Norman" spent the next three days at the hospital undergoing treatment, while we waited for the results of the test. On Wednesday the results were in. Lyme disease was the culprit. Thankfully, early treatment with antibiotics, and use of arthritis medication, Rimadyl, prevented any long-term complications from this disease. "Norman" came home and recovered within a few months.

Life Number 2:  This adventure began on a bright, sunny day, down at our beach house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. "Norman" began to vomit and have diarrhea. We thought he had probably eaten something he shouldn't have and didn't think much of it. By the next morning he couldn't keep food or water down and was having bloody diarrhea. We rushed him to Martin's Point Veterinary Hospital. An x-ray was taken of his abdomen and we were shocked to learn that he had a mass in his spleen the size of a softball. Again, the outlook was grim and we were prepared for the worst. Surgery was performed that afternoon and we were relieved to learn that he had a benign tumor of the spleen, which could have ruptured if it had not been removed. Again, "Norman" returned home, a little thinner, minus one spleen, but soon recovered to run on the beach again.

Life Number 3:  His latest adventure occurred two months later. We just returned from a weekend trip to Baltimore. "Norman" was starving so we fed him and then took him out in the woods for a run. Hours later he began to salivate, and attempted to vomit. Nothing would come up. He was obviously in some pain and his stomach started to look distended. Having read something about "Bloat" in large animals we knew that this was a life threatening disease. We rushed him down to Valley Animal Hospital where Dr. Wittner examined him and took an x-ray, which showed that Norman did have a bloated and twisted stomach. She immediately determined that he needed surgery and that the best place to have it would be the Cornell Veterinary Hospital. "Norman" was stabilized with an IV and tranquilizers and we put him in the car for a mad dash to Cornell. When we arrived at the Cornell facility he was immediately admitted and the doctors concurred that surgery was necessary. He underwent surgery that night and, thankfully again, he was successfully treated. Three days later he returned home, and although he had some minor complications, he is well on his way to recovery.

"Norman" came to live with us in 1991 during the Persian Gulf War, and that is why he is named after General Norman Schwarkoff (although my husband swears he is named after Normie of Cheers fame). He is as brave, as loyal and as spirited as that General. He also is blessed with the good friends that Normie of Cheers has: Dr. Crowell, Dr. Wittner, Dr. Herne (North Carolina), and the entire doctors at Cornell. Without these friends he wouldn't be with us. We thank them every day for their knowledge, their care, their commitment to animal health.

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"Otis Crowell"

Written by John Crowell, D.V.M.

On January 12th 2000, I had just finished packing to go to a conference when I noticed Otis' lip was sticking out more than usual. I pulled down his lower lip and noticed a small red lump at the edge of his gum line that was smaller than a pea. It looked to me like thousands of other little pink lumps on the gums of patients that I have seen over the years called an epulis (a benign tumor usually caused by chronic gingivitis and chronic periodontal disease). I knew there was an opening in my schedule the next day for a dental/surgical procedure, so I fasted him that morning and took him to work with me as I usually did. I removed the lump and sent it to the pathologist for analysis.

I took Otis home to recover and left for the conference the next day, Friday.

While I was at the conference, my partner, Dr. Wittner, called and left a message that the biopsy had showed more than just an epulis. She wanted to let me know there was a problem but down-played the report hoping to spare me some worry and concern. When I returned home, one of my first acts was to check the surgery site in Otis' mouth and saw that the area very inflamed and the growth was back -- only this time, it was 3 times the original size of just 10 days before. I knew at that point that I was dealing with an aggressive carcinoma of the mouth. The thought that ran through my mind was well stated by a dear client of mine, named Karen, who said, "Things like this are not supposed to happen to your dog." I went to work and read the pathology report trying to orient my mind toward this thing that was happening to my best friend of 6 years. I was becoming quite depressed and less optimistic that this was going to have a positive outcome as time went on. As part of a workup protocol, we took an x-ray of Otis' chest to make sure that there were no lesions of the cancer in his lungs. The small gathering of medical personnel around the x-ray viewer became very quiet as my partner and I noticed a suspicious area in Otis' lung. I forced the lump out of my throat and decided to do the best thing I knew how to do for him.

At that time, the nearest CAT scan was approximately 150 miles away, so I called and made an appointment with an Oncologist at the referral practice and to have the CAT scan done. I left one evening after work and reserved a room in the hotel near the hospital. The whole time, Otis remained his usual self, very bright, optimistic, and very happy. He loved to ride in the car so we had no problems on the trip. He wasn't feeling really well so we stopped a couple of times to walk, drink some water, and have a light snack. When we got to the hotel, I fed him and later that night walked him. He was a little concerned about being in unfamiliar territory. Around the hotel that night he watched the cars, trucks, and traffic go by on the highway. But he has always been a resilient guy and when we got settled down in the room, he got used to people walking by. The next morning as we went and sat in the waiting room of the veterinary hospital, he was a perfect gentleman as usual and I was struck by the irony of being on the other side of the exam room than what I am used to. Soon it was our turn to see the Oncologist and we discussed what was going on with Otis. I had a full schedule that week and they consented to keep him there to do the CAT scan, planning that I would come back and get him towards the end of the week. I checked on him throughout the week by telephone to find out how he was doing. Naturally, he did fine.

I went to pick him up on Friday and talked to the Oncologist. The news was good. The lesion on the lung did not appear to be a tumor, but probably a calcification within the bronchi. There was no evidence of metastasis to his lungs. The surgeon at the practice was very busy and could give me no time when they could perform the surgery. I knew that that was not going to be a problem because the surgeon that I used for my patients was much closer to home and someone I had a great deal of faith in, so I called and made the arrangements. It was a very long weekend and naturally the thoughts on my mind were the same as any pet owner, wondering if I would have Otis a couple of months from now. We had recently started building a cabin in the mountains and hiking in the fall was one of Otis' favorite things for us to do together. For the previous Christmas, my wife had bought Otis his own backpack and the thought of never being able to hike the mountains together haunted me. I spent the weekend paying special attention to Otis. He would cock his head curiously and lick my hand, wagging his tail. I checked his mouth much too often.

The day finally arrived that I was to take Otis to the surgeon, but we first had to stop by work and all of his friends that worked at Valley Animal Hospital gave him a present of a stuffed dog named "Molly" and everyone had signed Molly's bandana. It was a fairly snowy nasty day so Otis and I arrived a little late, but it didn't seem to be a problem. The kindness and compassion in the voices and faces of the people in this hospital were evident and most comforting. The doctor examined Otis and told me what his plan was for surgery. I was barely able to speak at the time and my colleague knew this. We closed the conversation with some difficulty, shook hands, and I went home. Otis went to surgery that night. I received a phone call that said that he was doing well and would probably go home in 2 days. He had a screw in the end of his jaw, and 1/3 of the end of his mandible (lower jaw) was removed in order to ensure the complete removal of the tumor and prevent recurrence. He would have to be hand-fed for about 8 weeks since he would not be able to use his jaw, but he had always been a good eater and I knew that feeding him some meatballs of canned food was what I would have to do at every meal. I really didn't know what to expect when I went to go pick him up. My handsome retriever with part of his lower jaw gone. My good friend, a veterinary technician of 17 years, went with me to pick him up. We didn't know how ill he would be or how much assistance I would need. When I saw him, I was shocked to see how good he looked and was very happy to see him looking so well. Without looking closely, you couldn't tell he had any surgery. It was only when he lifted up his head and you looked under his chin that you could tell. He was very happy to come home and very happy to ride with us, yet he was also very tired.

This was not a type of surgery that I had ever dealt with. I had never done the surgery before which is why I had taken him to a surgical specialist. It is not a surgery that is done very often. I had never participated with the first hand nursing care of a dog with this type of surgery. So for the next few days, Otis learned to eat and drink and I learned how to take care of him. I wiped his mouth and cleaned his chin. I checked his incision and loved him all I could. He had lost a lot of weight but his enthusiasm and zest for life was still evident and it was hard to feel sorry for him because he still seemed happy. Otis made progress steadily for the next couple of weeks so it was hard to hold him back in terms of eating, but his full strength did not return for several weeks. By that time, it was spring in the mountains and my wife and I and our other dog Gabe took Otis for his first walk in the mountains in almost four months. Otis has always been a very smart dog and learned to use his mouth almost as well as he ever had. He picked up sticks, in a different way but he still picked them up. He still ran in the stream and stuck his head in the water. He still charged up the bank and splashed into the pond. He bulled his way through the thick brush and ran along with Gabe almost as if nothing had ever happened. It's been a year and there has been no sign of the return of the cancer in his bloodwork. After a recent snowfall, he was outside making what we call his "Dog Snow Angels" just like he did a year ago. Otis' and my days are different now. We got a second chance and I will never forget it.

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"Sunshine Finch"

Written by Debbie Finch-McMichael, L.V.T.

I had just returned to work from my honeymoon when I met Sunshine. She was an 8-week-old bundle of blonde fluff that snuggled against my neck as soon as I picked her up. Lucky for me, she was up for adoption, and there was little question where her new home would be. Sunshine grew into a beautiful collie-type dog with a sweet and gentle disposition. She was always content to just be near people, and was very patient when those crying two-legged little people called babies came along. Though not formally obedience trained, she was a quick learner and was part of a canine square dance group that we put together for demonstrations. She seemed to just take everything in stride.

Halloween night 1995, everything changed. She had a seizure-type episode while home with my husband. I rushed home as soon as I got the news. She seemed weak, but okay. I took her to see Dr. Crowell the next morning and he diagnosed a mass in her abdomen, probably on her spleen. We took her to Ithaca for an ultrasound, which confirmed the spleen tumor. After x-rays of her chest showed that the tumor had spread and was inoperable, her future was very grim. Dr. Crowell consulted a cancer treatment book, which said that this type of cancer was not responsive to chemotherapy. We decided to keep her as comfortable as possible for as long as possible. Four days later she refused to eat for me and was very weak again. Dr. Crowell was not content to let things go and did find a chemotherapy protocol which claimed a 20% success rate. After all the love and companionship she had given me, I owed her the chance and we began her treatment that afternoon.

She responded well and her tumor shrank in size. Her appetite would be poor three days after her treatment and then would pick up again slowly. I brought her to work with me everyday and she was my constant shadow. She would lie quietly outside of surgery or an exam room and wait for me. It was very special quality time for us, as I didn't know how long we'd have together. She had a treatment on December 21st and I knew she would be weak and not feeling well by Christmas. The 23rd was my daughter's birthday and Sunshine seemed to enjoy all the activity--as well as a few pizza crusts. I was hopeful that her chemo hadn't made her sick this time, but the next day proved rough for her. After I returned from Christmas Eve church services, she was unable to climb the stairs. I carried her up and outside, where she was too weak to stand. I put a blanket next to my bed, which she struggled to get to while I tucked in my kids. About 2:00 AM, she woke me by falling against the bed. I got up and moved her so she couldn't hurt herself. By 3:00, she had slipped into a coma, and died peacefully at 5:00 AM. I had decided at 2:00 that I couldn't make her go through anymore and would euthanize her on Christmas Day when I could leave the kids. She gave me a final gift by not making me leave my kids on Christmas for such a sad reason.

Because of my dear Sunshine, I have taken a special interest in cancer and chemotherapy. I can understand the feeling an owner has when she/he gets the diagnosis. I've learned a lot since Sunshine, and I know there are things we can do to minimize the few side effects of chemo on pets. Do I regret my decision to "put her through" chemotherapy? No. The last 8 weeks we had together is time that will always be precious to me. She had a few bad days, but overall, was in good spirits until the end. She would watch the squirrels and there was a spring in her step with her tail held high whenever she went outside. I owe so much to my boss, my friend, Dr. Crowell, for not giving up and giving Sunshine a chance. She will always be a part of me.

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"Jenny" & "Tinker" Miller

Written by: Pat Weber

These two little ones were found abandoned in a field. The female ("Jenny", black and tan) kept running out into the road and then back to the field almost like she was trying to get help.  A passer-by called S.A.D. (Save-A-Dog), who responded.

The volunteers found the little dog but she kept running away from them and then back again as if trying to get them to follow her. She led them to her little friend (Tinker) who was huddled in the high weeds back off the road unable to get up.  Both dogs were emaciated and dehydrated, the little boy had an injury to his hind leg.  As afraid of people and weak as this little girl was, she mustered her courage and was brave enough to approach people in order to help her buddy.

After much Vet care and TLC in a foster home, these two little ones, now named "Jenny" and "Tinker", responded very well. They were, and are, inseparable so S.A.D. needed to find them a home together. We're happy to report that a wonderful couple adopted them both.  "Jenny" and "Tinker" are now living like royalty, much deserved, in their forever home with new parents who love them dearly.  They are very loving and affectionate little Doxies.  To know them is to love them.  They will never be abandoned, hurt or scared again.

Pat Weber is the director of Save-A-Dog (S.A.D.)

Save-A-Dog Headquarters, Route 209, Brodheadsville, PA   18322

Web:  http://members.petfinder.org/~PA152/index.html

E-Mail:  saveadog@epix.net

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