Priscilla Diane

I wanted to start my blog with introductions to all of my critters or maybe even one about me. But in the end I decided to start by introducing you to the most important animal that has yet to cross my path.

Priscilla Diane.

Priscilla Diane was born 14 days after my little brother on Jan 27th, 1997.  I was 8 years old at the time and as any child that age I was in love with the fuzzy puppy. She was my playmate and cuddle bug. But as she got older, and showed no sign of potty training, she spent more time outside. It's sadly the case with many dog owners. The puppy loses the cuteness, accidents get bigger and they get put outside.

About a year later a set of tragedies would change things. Our other two dogs suddenly died, from what we believe was poisoning. It happened so fast my Mom barely got them in her arms before they took their last breath. Prissy (aka Priscilla) seemed fine, though mournful. My Mother thought the other dogs must have eaten whatever it was before she could get to it since she was the smallest.

But after my father left for the work the next morning, she stopped breathing. My mom left her in our dog run on the side of the house because there was nothing she could do with 3 children around. I spent the entire day mourning the loss of my 3 dogs. I kept thinking how we had no pets left and how awful that was. 

Towards late afternoon my Mom took us into the backyard to play, doing her best to distract us. But all I could do was stare at the stockade fence where our dogs used to play. Suddenly my little brother who could barely walk wondered over to the gate shouting "doggy!" This brought on a new river of tears. How could I explain to my brother there were no more doggies? My mom went to retrieve him as he repeated "doggy" over and over. When she reached the gate and began to scoop him up we heard a yelp. We both froze. She looked at me and I at her. I quickly scooped up my brother as my Mother opened the gate. 

As the gate opened we watched a delirious toy poodle crawl on her belly out of the gate. We both started crying again, but this time with joy! Prissy was far from okay, but she was ALIVE! 

Prissy made a full recovery and we became inseparable. I took on the job of training her when I was only 9 yrs old. I read every training book I could get my hands on. Within a couple of years Prissy knew sit, down, come, stay, wait, shake, shake with the other paw, high five, over (jump over something), up (jump on something), twirl, spin, dance (twirl on hind legs), out (go out of this room), outside, Potty(on command!), heel, bed, kennel, roll over, leave it and several more! By the way, she was strictly taught by me with no help from my parents. 

We became such a team that people would buy her presents on my Birthday or for Christmas. Sometimes she got more than me! But I was fine with that. She was my girl after all. 

At times I believe she could read my mind. Before I would even ask her to do something she was already in motion to do it. She followed me no matter where I went, even if it meant leaving the soft couch to lay on the hard floor by a desk. 

When I turned 13 years old it was with great excitement I groomed her for the first time. The ever patient girl she was let me make mistake after mistake on her. I experimented with haircuts, tools, even colored her several times with kool-aid. She became such an expert at being groomed she'd often fall asleep standing up as I finished her. She gave me the love of grooming.

Another thing I loved about her was the way she played "Lassie." If she wanted or needed something she knew how to tell you! One night me and my brother were in the kitchen talking. She ran in very excitedly and began dancing around, then howled. My brother and I laughed while watching her. "Did Timmy fall down the well??" We asked her. She danced some more, ran to the doorway and back. A perfect imitation of Lassie! We began to follow her as she repeated her dance, ran in a certain direction and then back. We followed her all the way to my room where she gave a triumphant howl as she nosed the bed. We burst out laughing as we realized the clear message here was "It's bedtime!"

It's hard to explain to people the bond we shared. Only people who have had a "heart dog" (as we dog lovers call them) truly understand what it feels like to have a dog be a part of your heart. When Prissy was about 9 1/2 years old tragedy struck again. I remember the morning so clearly.

Prissy would often leave the bed when my Mom got up, in hopes of sharing some breakfast with her. I could hear her walking down the hall and something in my heart cinched. I knew deep down in my soul I was close to losing her. Trying to deny it I went back to sleep, hoping it was simply a fear. After all, she was walking around wasn't she? When I awoke again about an hour later she was in my bed. I stood up and put her on the floor, which I never did as she could easily get down herself. As soon as I placed her on the floor she began to have a seizure. Already feeling the hysteria coming over me I screamed to my Mother to come quick because Prissy was dying. My Mother, not understanding, tried to convince it was only a seizure. Lots of dogs have seizures and it's not life threatening, she said. But I knew. I don't know how, but in my heart I knew this was not just a seizure.

I could not force myself in to the vehicle to go with my Mom to the vet. I couldn't watch her like this and I knew if she was seeing me freak out she'd be even more upset. I was unable to keep myself calm. I kept the phone with me at all times and kept my Mom on the phone as much as possible. My Mother drove to 2 different vets who could not figure out what was going on. Finally, the 3rd vet decided to perform exploratory surgery and discovered she had pancreas cancer that had spread to her spleen. All of this was causing her blood sugar to drop, which is why she was having seizures.

During the surgery they removed her spleen. When it was over they told us they didn't think she'd live longer than 4 months due to the spread of the cancer. And that was if they could find a way to stabilize her blood sugar so that she could even come home. Obviously, the discussion of euthanasia was brought up. But after extensive discussion with the vet by me and my Mother we decided she was not suffering. The vet said they could keep her on an IV that would stabilize her blood sugar while starting medications. They could then remove the IV fluids, test her sugar to see if it dropped and administer fluids if it did. Prissy was with the vet for a week while they tried every medication at their disposal. We made visits as often as we could. When we weren't there family and friends took turns stopping in to see and love on her. The staff at the hospital constantly complimented her behavior, she seemed unafraid and willing to let them do their work. During the week she was in the hospital I neither slept nor ate. All I could do was sit and think of life without a piece of my heart. She was too young and this was happening so fast! Just a week before she was wrestling with our cat and acting like a puppy. How could this be?

Every day ticked by unmercifully slow as I contemplated more and more the thought of letting her go. But every time I saw her happy wagging tail and dance in the ICU I couldn't bring myself do it. The devil that is cancer is so cunning and well-disguised. If it hadn't been for the IV in her leg you would never know she was sick. She ate with gusto while I petted her and told her I missed her being at home. She was happy to see everyone as always. Why did it have to be like this?

About 7 days later we got a call from the Veterinarian saying one of the medications finally worked. Her blood sugar was staying at a good level and she could come home. But she reaffirmed the fact that she had a serious form of cancer that was incurable. 

I must reiterate that Prissy's comfort was always at the forefront of our minds. We discussed at length with the vet if she was in pain or suffering in any way. The vet said no.

Thus began the final leg of our journey together. Because  Prissy's pancreas  was not working correctly she had to be on a special home cooked diet. No dog food for her! The vet recommended cooked chicken and easily digestible vegetables. She was also to have twice daily medications that we were told she could never be taken off of. The medications stabilized her blood sugar keeping at bay the seizures. 

Bringing her home was bittersweet. Knowing that I would have time to spend with her and to say goodbye, but knowing that it would be so short. However, Prissy was not going to let her last months be full of depressing thoughts. She immediately went straight back to her old self, if not better. 

Because of the stitches from her surgery she had to wear a cone (Elizabethan collar). Which she quickly discovered had many advantages. If a treat were thrown on the floor she could prevent other dogs from getting it by simply sticking her head, and thus the cone, over it. She also figured out that she could catch food in it, then tilt her head forward and back to slide it right into her mouth. 

Once the cone was removed she went back to her routine of wrestling the cat and keeping the other pooches in line. You would have been hard pressed to convince her that she was ill. To her, the world had suddenly gotten better! If she was spoiled before I have no idea what term you would use for the treatment she received after her diagnoses. She was granted anything she even seemed inclined to want and she no longer ate dog food. Every morning she rushed to the kitchen to await her food preparations and her evening meal was always prepared before my own.

After a couple of months on this special diet I noticed that her cataracts (which had been getting bad) were completely gone and so were her tear stains. We were also able to completely wean her off of all medications without her experiencing another seizure. 

It was difficult sometimes to see her so full of life but to know her time was ticking away quickly. I do thank God for that extra time and the ability to say goodbye to her. I had lots of time to come to peace with her leaving me. 

Even with the seriousness of her condition and the grim diagnoses, Prissy lived 16 months after her surgery. The vet said it was the longest they'd seen a dog live with pancreas cancer in that stage. She was happy and full of life up to the very end when she passed quietly in her sleep.

She was truly a once in a lifetime dog for so many reasons.  She taught me how dogs who misbehave just need a chance and guidance. They need love, just like we do. She helped me learn to groom and train dogs. I also learned a lot of dog behavior from her. She was always the one our other dogs listened to, but she never had to bite or even growl to make them do so. She was my best friend for 10 years. She helped me deal with all my growing pains and was there for all my tears. She held my heart and when she passed took a piece with her.