Remember, I’m a newbie at this blogging thing! I failed to mention in my last post (https://myredhairedlogic.com/2018/03/18/redhaired-dogs-my-first-love-part-1/) that I was newly married to my first husband, hereinafter called James, had no children and we had just bought our first house.
…Now for the continued story of Lady and Brutus:
Though Brutus had been at the Humane Society for only a few days, as I was finalizing the adoption paperwork, I could see in his eyes that “please-just-get-me-out-of-here” look as he rested his head on my lap. You know — THAT look! The big, adorable, puppy-dog-eyes-that-will-melt-your-heart look! I was already in love, again!
Driving home, I reassured him that I really wasn’t trying to get us both killed (though my gear shifting skills were improving). I wondered about his previous home life and why his former owner would give up this beautiful, well-mannered dog. I have no idea what his life up to then had been like, whether he was an indoor or outdoor dog, or even if he was house-trained. I didn’t care! I knew that once he saw Lady, he would forget about his former life and relish his new one with us. She would help to get him acclimated and assist us with any training, or lack thereof. And one day, I would be blessed with a litter of Irish Setter puppies!
When Brutus and I walked through the front door together for the first time, it quickly became apparent to him that he was “home”. His very laid-back personality changed into that of a joy-crazed puppy! He was frapping around the living room, bucking like a bronco, very comfortable, as if he had been-there, done-that, in-THIS-place, many times before.
What is a FRAP, exactly? Veterinarians call it a frenetic random activity period — also commonly called the zoomies, zooms, or puppy crazies — any of those words describe the bursts of exuberant, unbridled energy just itching to get out of their systems. Sometimes it’s on cold, crisp mornings, sometimes just after a bath — if you’ve ever been around puppies very much, you know what I’m talking about. I simply call it frapping.
Lady was now 9 or 10 months old and wasn’t sure what to make of this crazy newcomer in “her” house. She studied him, a little cautiously at first, and then waited for him to regain his more dignified persona. She promptly showed him all around the house; her bed, her bowls, her toys and her back yard. Oops! In my haste to be the first at the shelter, I had failed to get another bed, bowl and more toys. Lady was more than willing to share everything that was hers. In my defense, I wasn’t even sure if there really was an Irish Setter up for adoption! No sense in buying things before I needed them.
Uh, there is one other thing I forgot… I didn’t mention to James that I might be coming home with another family member! Thankfully, Brutus was accepted with open arms! Our little family was happy and content with two redhaired dogs who got along beautifully!
In the 70s, most animal shelters didn’t have the spay/neuter requirements of today, nor were they equipped to handle the veterinary care of the animals they took in. Brutus was thin, lean and lanky, but not really underweight. However, not knowing his previous medical history, I had resolved to take him to our vet right away for a checkup, which I did the next day.
Fast forward to the early summer of 1975. The 1973-75 recession was in full swing. Layoffs happened; the economy was the pits! We had just learned that our little family of 4 was going to be adding a human mouth to feed in early 1976! To make ends meet, we sold our house and moved to the family farm in another state.
Moving was a whirlwind! Trying to get everything packed by the movers in a short amount of time is quite hectic. When it came time to head out, we were traveling in separate cars, on a tight budget and had to beat the moving van and utilities people to the new house. The option of breaking the trip into two segments was NOT an option, though we had never taken the dogs on a 14+ hour trip. Our vet suggested sedating them to make traveling a little easier. The trip was uneventful, the dogs slept in the back of the van, which had, by then, been converted into quite a nice camper. We arrived at our new home, introduced the dogs to their new surroundings and got moved in to where we could at least sleep.
(You might want to stop reading here and get some tissues before continuing.)
Sometime after midnight on our 2nd or 3rd night there, Brutus woke me and asked to go outside. He was panting and in obvious distress. When I finally figured out where the switch was for the back porch light, I saw why. His abdomen had swelled up to well over twice its size and he was having difficulty breathing. Here we were, on a farm, in a tiny town that I was not yet ready to call my home, with a very sick dog and not a clue who to call. I grabbed the phone book and found ONE veterinarian listed (remember, there was no internet and no emergency vets back then). I dialed the number, really expecting to reach an answering service. Instead, I was speaking directly with Dr. Sanders who told us to load Brutus up and bring him to the clinic immediately; he would open up and meet us there. Wow!
James drove. Brutus sat next to me in the passenger seat with his head in my lap the whole way into town. He knew something wasn’t right and couldn’t get close enough. When we arrived, Doc introduced himself and immediately got to work to try and diagnose the problem. He never asked how we were going to pay or mentioned emergency fees. He just worked on that sweet redhaired dog to make him comfortable. As he hooked up an IV, Brutus didn’t utter a sound. He knew this kind man was doing everything he could for him. After hearing Brutus’ medical history as we knew it, and of our recent trip with sedation, it helped confirm the diagnosis he was already pretty sure about. Heartworms! What the-? How? We had him tested and the results were negative! He was on preventative medicine! And we never leave him outside!
As Doc explained, some things started making sense to me. A lean, lanky dog who hadn’t gained weight in spite of a good appetite; in his previous life he might have been an outdoor dog, or wasn’t given (or regularly given) meds to prevent heartworms. Any larvae the preventatives were supposed kill were able to grow into adult heartworms that were now causing heart and lung heart failure. The sedatives on the trip just exacerbated the problem. Regarding the negative heartworm test a few months back — sometimes false negatives happen if adult heartworms are present, but larvae are not. He gave Brutus an infusion of a diuretic, wrapped up his IV needle and told us to take him back to the farm until morning. If he made it through the night, Doc would consult with a few other colleagues for advice on a treatment protocol.
When we got Brutus back to the farm, Lady wouldn’t leave his side. James and I took turns staying up with him. When it was my turn to go back out at around 6am, James was sobbing. Our sweet boy had lost his battle shortly before I came outside. Lady knew that her beau was gone. We called Doc later that morning to give him the sad news and to make payment arrangements. You know, he never would let us pay him for that visit. He just said he’d like to earn our business with our other animals and welcomed us to town.
I don’t want to leave this post on a sad note, nor dismiss the impact that losing Brutus had on all of us. It was utterly devastating. So, I’ll continue with a very brief summary of this story…
A few months after our son was born, we got another male Irish Setter puppy and named him Brutus II (a.k.a. “Brute”), as a tribute to our first boy. Brute grew into a magnificent adult. He and Lady were smitten with each other and produced a beautiful litter of 13 puppies and another of 12 puppies. Of course, Doc became our vet for all future creatures, both great and small (of which there were many).
I had finally achieved my dream of raising redhaired dogs!