Farmington Valley Golden Retrievers

Today we had to euthanize our special needs puppy.

There are no proper words to convey the anguish, the pain, and the sense of heartbreak that Barb and I had to endure today. Saying goodbye to that very small  innocent being, tore right through whatever defenses Barb and I have developed to withstand the all too often losses one faces at our stage of life. Very few of the several hundred posts I have written over the past three years have necessitated drying my leaking eyes repeatedly, so I could see the computer keys.

Monday seemed promising. The final two puppies were picked up by their excited new owners, and Mr. Black appeared to tolerate his new solo status without any trauma.

He always seemed to be focused inward in his own special world, rather than outward looking like all his siblings. I assumed wrongly that it was his deafness that was the cause of this behavior.

Tuesday brought evidence of seizure activity in which he would froth at the mouth, and wander in circles, with intermittent crying that you could not relieve with cuddling his small body. Wednesday, Barb brought him for extensive lab work to see if Dr. Feldman could pinpoint the cause. While Barb waited for the results, and I was away on call, the seizures increased in frequency and duration. Poor Barb had to sit with him overnight, unable to do anything to help this sudden downturn. Thursday morning I rushed home and we waited for the call from our vet and friend. It was not good. The lab work indicated something called hepatic encephalopathy where toxins in the body were not being processed by the liver, and thus were building to dangerous levels. Other lab work indicated dysfunction of his kidneys and bone marrow systems. His little body was failing his gentle spirit, and there was to be no hope for a miracle surgical cure, or magic potion giving him a sustainable existence. We thought upon Dr. Feldman’s news and his professional advice for a kind ending without further suffering. An ending that nature would deny him if we staid our present course.

So we spent the next two hours, bonding in the ways that we could, knowing that he would soon be in a better place without pain or suffering. Happily he did not have a seizure during this time, and we watched as he played as he deserved in the grass and flowers, carefree for the moment and happy.

He even got to enjoy his last dip in the water bowls, straddling them with a paw in each, and relishing the cool wetness against his fur.

Theresa our friend, neighbor, and dog midwife came over for her last puppy hugs and shared our grief. Then it was time for that very difficult ride and ending moments at Animal General.

We had never found the right name for him, and so he will be known to us all here simply as “Black”. His colored collar will be retired forever, and his ashes will be taken to our Vermont home in a few weeks so his spirit can join our other departed Goldens, who await us when we meet at that unknown destination sometimes called in dog circles as the “Rainbow Bridge”.

Most times there are no answers as to why our Creator makes what seems such cruel decisions about its most defenseless subjects. So we will just continue to struggle and trudge forward on our life path, a little more scarred and saddened about what we had to endure these last eight weeks. Someday on the other side there may be answers. For now we will be bolstered by the memories of our special puppy with the Cocker ear and the silent world he shared with us for the past two months.

All week I wondered what I would find for solace when it came time to write one of the final blogs about puppyville here in Farmington. Like a small windstorm that you sometimes come upon on a walk, happy thoughts, sad moments, puppy hugs, golden smiles, medical worries, new friends, closing credits .. they all banged around in my skull like the leaves, sand, and twigs that are caught up in the swirling vortex of this windstorm. Which emotion would surface most strongly and which would be pushed under by these invisible currents. But then on Friday, the sun came out, the weekend continued on a summer’s path, and we lived in the moment.. And it was all good.

Rocky continued his war on my plants and pots. And he even taught his older sister Lucy how to join in.

We and the puppies were able to enjoy the warmer weather on the outside patio.

Riley has made a complete recovery, although she bears some scars where the dressing cover rubbed against her side flanks. She has absolutely no interest in the pups.. a severe case of postpartum pyschosis I guess. But she has survived those horrible days and nights of her infection, and we are grateful.

Saturday morning, the activity in the whelping box was frenetic. The puppies’ energy level has grown exponetially with each passing day.

We gave everyone their baths Saturday morning early, because we had a final vet appointment for their shots and physicals.

Mr. Black has continued to gain weight and strength. His unique left ear is showcased here with his bath.

The visit to see Dr. Feldman then got off to a crowded start.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the visit, except for that moment when the “boys” had their testicles checked.

Everyone then came home and snuggled together in one big pile as usual.

Mr Black continued to impress us with his improved motor skills and awareness. Still deaf though.

We let everyone out of the pen later in the day, and it was then that I was struck by how ready our pups were to join the outside world.

Of course with any going away party, we had to take some “formal photographs”.

Today dawned sunny again, and after a flurry of cleanup, puppy pampering, and baths, three of our special families came by to start their own golden adventures.

The final two puppies will leave tomorrow. Mr. Black will not be placed for another month or so, and Rocky looks to extend his visit here by about four weeks as well. So of course, how can you get lonely when you still have seven goldens underfoot in the house!!

So while Barb and I realize that a final chapter may have just been written this weekend, an epilogue will follow.

Thank you for your interest in our world here..

Golden Hugs to you all!

This Sunday morning finds us in Dogville up early as usual and watching the coming dawn with hope for some needed sunshine and warmth. It is Mother’s Day, and I am typing this and trying to keep the big dogs quiet so that Barbara can enjoy some much needed extra rest. The whelping  box is still quiet downstairs so I will not disturb the puppies until some loud squeaks and barks notify me of their impatience for company and breakfast. Yesterday was a full and fun day here. We had our first full day of visitors from family and friends and clients. Smiles and puppy hugs were enjoyed from morning until night, and sitting around the whelping box once again was an experience of joy and wonder at nature’s miracles.

I have to finally report that all the puppies except Mr. Black are finally spoken for. I was dreading this moment, as I know how disappointing the news will be to many. The last chosen family had filled out their questionnaire last March 2008, so we never got to those who had signed up last summer or fall. If we had a litter of normal size, we would have been able to satisfy most everyone, but this was not to be. If anyone wishes Barb and I to aid their search for that perfect puppy, please email us. I expect that most everyone who is disappointed will not want to speak to us for awhile, but if you can step back from your disappointment, you will realize that we made a herculean effort.  Our efforts started over two years ago with Riley, and there have been a good number of families starting back then who were disappointed that she didn’t even conceive the first two years we tried.

If anyone had told me a year ago that I would rather spend 20 dollars on a bunch of bones instead of a movie ticket somewhere, I would have been a disbeliever. However, that is what we did this past week, when I took out the stored supply of buffalo bones so that we could have some peace to catch up on some quieter matters besides dog business.

Rocky had some more adventures this weekend. First I tried to bring him again to my office to keep me company while I made calls and did paper work. While I was distracted he scoped out each room and every office plant, and before I knew it he had found a baby deer statuette that was in one of the planters.

He was so rambunctious that I just had to bring him home and my work with me..

When we returned home, Barb was trying to repair some wall damage from the barrier gates. Rocky had never seen paint or a brush before, and you can see he was very intrigued by it all.

We have a rather amusing story to tell about Rocky today. We were baffled at how he could go through the invisible fence as if it wasn’t on. There would be no reaction as he crossed that line in the yard. We finally checked the transmitter and found that the tone was ok. Then Brian was brave enough to get a shock himself and found that it was not delivering any electricity. A closer look revealed that the safety caps were still on the prongs and so no message was being given at all when he closed the lines. We thought he was a supercanine there for awhile, but it was simply a human oversight on our part.

Our son Brian and our daughter Kristen were able to come home for the weekend. They were extremely helpful to us with the bigger tasks in the yard, and of course they got their puppy fixes. Kristen’s pug, Pearl,  was also introduced to the pups and seemed right at home.

We would like to say hi to our son Michael Jr, who is now working in Italy, his wife, Emma, and their boys Ethan and Alex, as well as our daughter, Lauren, who is working in China for two weeks. Skyping and phone calls are great, but not the same as having them home.

One reward for all these many hundreds of hours of work, is seeing the smiles and inner glows that puppies automatically bring out in people. As soon as people reach the bottom of the stairs, you can see the excitement and happiness that immediately emanates from every one.

Mr Black has made some progress in his development this week that is encouraging. He is just so much smaller than his sibs it is hard to judge. Is his behavior developmental delay or just a slower growth rate? So we expect to have him here after his siblings leave while we sort out these issues.

He will join Rocky as a boarder with no certain departure date, but a visa that will always be accepted here until all the safeguards are in place for the next phase of their lives.

The rest of the week was spent in feeding and bathing and monitoring the puppies growth.

Several of the pups are now big enough to climb out of their little white box and explore.

This brings me to some more serious thoughts about this weekend. In my opinion, Mother’s Day should be at least a week or maybe even a month and surely not just a day. I would guess that 99 % of the male population on this planet does not know and/or appreciate the sacrifice that mother’s to be make in giving up their bodies for nine months. Followed by the hardest physical labor that they have ever undertaken. Then this being just a prelude to the months of sleepless nights and constant anxiety over the safety and well being of their children through the many years until adulthood. In my role of an obstetrician, I can well appreciate the sudden dangers that can waylay even the healthiest pregnant mom. As you can see from our Riley’s issues, only a difference in hours meant the difference from recovering from a severe infection and death. And that was with her already on an effective antibiotic. I am happy to report that her wound is healing well and she has her energy back. The evidence is obvious in the pictures of her today out for exercise.

My Mom always used to tell us that she almost died giving birth to me. I will leave out the medical details except to say that I arrived in this world as a vaginal breech. Feet first to face the world, a predicament that today is an automatic cesarean section. I never really appreciated her statement until I became an obstetrician and found myself delivering breeches that came too quickly to do the standard thing. And getting more gray hairs because mother nature decided once again to not play fair. So today I would like to acknowledge you, Mom, for your stellar efforts on my behalf all those years ago. My sisters and I are very blessed to still have both our parents living. Last night we spent some quality time around the whelping box with my Mom, and I think from the photos you can see she inhaled some of that magical puppy dust that makes you feel younger and happier.

I have to give a mountain of kudos to Barb on this her special day too. She has been amazing. While we have gotten on each others nerves at times these last few weeks, the fact that she didn’t hand me my head on a platter when the dogs brought all that mud through our entire home two weeks ago spoke volumes. She said it was my birthday, and it was, but the fact that she just pitched in to help clean up the mess without saying a word was just unbelievable. So I had to do something special for her morning. I went shopping, made a sign, and waited for her to wander down to check the puppies. This is what she saw..

I think she was very surprised.

Lastly I would like to speak of those unfortunate mothers giving birth in third world countries everyday. As I found out firsthand on my first mission trip three years ago, being healthy and delivering in a hospital does not guarantee a safe outcome. While our mission team congratulated ourselves on delivering a beautiful baby to this first time mom of twenty-six years..

None of us were prepared for the shock and despair at learning that she lost her life overnight to a stroke. A complication that could have easily been prevented with a few dollars worth of an IV medication that was unavailable to the poorly trained staff on call at that country hospital outpost. And we, being ignorant and seeing the world through our advantaged American eyes, had wrongly assumed that the staff in white that we turned the patient over to, was competent to handle obstetrical emergencies. That woman’s death has prompted a spiritual change in me that I hope will continue until my time on this world is done. The appalling statistics are that a women dies in childbirth in a third world country every minute of every hour of every day. They have done nothing wrong, except to be cursed to be born in a place where their efforts at birthing a child puts their very survival at risk. And oftentimes it comes down to the odds of luck rather than medical care being on your side.

Some days I am not sure who I write this blog for anymore. Sometimes it is for our clients, sometimes it is for our family, and sometimes I am just having a conversation with myself. A good way to decompress for the pressures I have to face everyday. I actually have no idea how many folks even read this, as I forgot my password for the program that could tell me that several years ago. But I do know that occasionally I bump  into someone who comments on something that I wrote on here that made them think and appreciate the world in a slightly different manner. So with that hope in mind, I will close with a prayer that everyone who can, make an effort to help our less fortunate mothers, whether here or abroad, whether covered with skin, fur, or feathers, and whether for Mother Earth or for your local community. From recent world events it seems that the old American mantra of God, Family, Country, should now include God, Family, Country, World. If you turn a small part of every day into being a participant at making a difference, rather than cruising as a spectator, you will change your life onto a simpler yet more fulfilling path. I have found this to be so.

I will leave everyone with a song that my son Brian wrote in the Dominican Republic on our last mission trip in November 2008. The audio file is too large to paste here so I will just add his lyrics. You can also click the link below the picture to download it. This is a photo from one of our teams and the “Yellow Bus” that means so much to the patients seeking care, as well as for us, the missionaries who ride on it.

“Las Matas” By Brian Bourque

Click here to download / stream the song

Holy days in the mountains of San jose de las Matas, From Far away, from Hartford to LA, come and join us.

Helping out our brothers around us, Bringing hope with a yellow school bus.

Modern days, yet dirt roads pave the way to Las Matas.

Culture decays as the workers move away to the city.

Help us out the people are hurting, The lights go out, the water ain’t working.

Have we changed a life, saved from an early death? They have changed mine, changed mine..

Patients make their way to the hospital we make in Las Matas.

Helping out our sisters around us, Bringing hope with a yellow school bus. ”

God Bless Mothers Everywhere for the sacrifices they make on behalf of all of us!

I live an unusual profession. Guarding the unborn and their mothers from the random and often senseless strikes of mother nature against the survival of our kind. It is a world that hopeful parents to be and their family members are best ignorant of. But the battle goes on ceaselessly every day I put on my cloth armor of a white coat or scrubs. Our best weapons are the skills that have become second nature when you work 80 hours per week for thirty years doing the same thing every day. And my closest friends are the medical personnel who work side by side with me trying to accomplish as a team what you could never do as an individual.

But even to us seasoned and weary veterans, sometimes an event will occur that defies expectations or reality. After the fact, you sit back and reflect that what happened was beyond belief, and that meant there was a power higher than yours that made the difference.

This is one of these stories, and it has a happy ending that I will share with you first. When you are blessed to be part of a miracle, you need to let others know. Crazy as the world is, maybe there is a purpose for it after all..

This photo was taken in my office a week ago. I have permission from Ursulyn and Andry to share their story. The flowers reflect our happiness that she and her son have made a complete recovery from…

It started with a phone call while I was working in the Delivery Room. One of my partners phoned and told me one of our full term pregnant patients had arrived for her regular OB visit, and was having serious trouble breathing. He had called 911 and he told me she was being sent to the Delivery Room. I alerted the staff and we made preparations for whatever might be wrong. Minutes went by and no patient arrived. Then the ER called and said that she was being kept there for a serious medical condition. I hurried through several attached buildings to the ER and found bedlam.

In a regular examining room there was my patient, unconscious and trying to be ventilated by the ER staff. Staff from the Delivery Room and Neonatal Intensive Care Unit had just arrived and were watching with shock as she coded and CPR was begun. Like a preposterous scenario from the television series “ER” or “House”, I found myself in a situation where literally a minute or two was to make a difference whether that mother and baby lived or died. The fetal heart rate was present but dropping. Her husband was standing there watching in shock as I asked for a scalpel. Without taking time to do anything but put on a pair of gloves, I delivered the baby. The sound of a newborn cry was a very welcome sound to the large multitude of staff gathered outside the patient’s cubicle. Veterans all, but many crying from the reality of what was happening with that mother to be.

Without being overly dramatic, let me say that this was the first time that I had done an operation where there was no bleeding. Her heart had stopped and her blood was black. This was going to be a very bad outcome. As I closed her incision, the resuscitation team kept on with their heroic efforts. Multiple drugs were given at intervals to get her heart started. And then, someone called out that she had a heart rhythm, and then a pulse. The blood turned bright red again. But nine minutes had passed since her heart had stopped. The question was: would she wake up, and what kind of condition would she be in?

She was transferred to the ICU where a battery of specialists determined that she had developed a very unusual heart condition called peripartum cardiomyopathy. Her heart muscle had slowly weakened over the week prior to her arrival in our office, and she was in heart failure. She was literally drowning with fluids building up in her lungs. The treatment is delivery and allowing the heart muscle to try and recover. That had been accomplished in the ER.

For three days her husband kept a vigil outside her room in the unit. The enormity of the potential problems facing that young man with the reality of raising a new baby without his wife humbled me. But on the third day, she started to become alert. She gradually returned to the world of the living and her faculties slowly recovered. We all held our breath when the neurologist did his battery of tests and reported that she was “neurologically intact”.

Another week went by, and my daily routine in the office kept me busy out of the hospital. With my next hospital duty, I inquired of her location and was told she had just been discharged to the Hospital for Special Care for rehab. So after my weekend on call, I decided to pay this very special person a visit. I brought one of the puppies to cheer her up, since I wasn’t sure what sort of mental state she would be in. I got to the hospital and found she had just been discharged the day before. I called her husband and asked if I could see them in their home. He gave me directions. This is what I found.

Thankfully she has no memory of the events of that day, or even being in our office for her prenatal visit. But outside of her memory lapses, her personality, and sense of self is intact. Her hug and smile made me know that I was part of something very special. I told her God must have very special plans for her.

George Strait recently wrote a country song, ” I saw God today”. It goes..

“I’ve been to church, I’ve read the book, I know he’s here, I don’t look as often as I should. His fingerprints are everywhere, I just need to slow down to stop and stare, and open my eyes. I saw God today.”

It wasn’t so long ago that two of our clients and golden friends were debating whether to add a new puppy for companionship to their beloved ailing older golden. There are no real rules, but the reality is that just as we irresistibly are drawn to that puppy smile and energy, so are our canine brethren. So young “Rosie” from our 12/2006 litter went to be a friend to aging “Holly”. From the photographs you can see it was a winning combination.

Even at the end when Holly was ailing, I am told, Rosie wouldn’t leave her side.

So when our last litter arrived, Ken and Mary Ann were  wondering how “Rosie” would do as the now older mature leader in the household. Would she accept a younger companion in a definite reversal of roles. I will let you all be the judge…

Both Rosie and Autumn have the same mother and father (Emma and Mulder). With only a year and a half or so in difference in age, they should look very similar when Autumn is full grown.

I would like to give Ken kudos for his fabulous photographs. I am self taught, and use a very small digital camera so I can have it with me at all times. When Ken sent me this last photo, I finally knew why the resolution of his photos was so much better than what I have been getting. He has a cannon (not Canon) for a camera!

Thank you Ken for your help with adding so much life and color to our blog! You have captured the spirit and pure essence of our dogs so well.

Two houses down from us another of our puppies is finding companionship with an older buddy. Lion-like “Bo” has had his domain invaded by little “Minnie”. Bo has only three legs now following his battle with cancer. His spirits seem soothed by the presence of this little ball of love.

Thank you for your photos Barb. I just noticed though the date is off on your camera screen.

Another of our puppies has landed in a family with much younger folks. “Lola” is not quite sure what to make of sharing her space with a larger Niko..

But I am sure she will find plenty of excitement going forward.

Thank you for sharing Shayna. Lola is the first golden yellow jacket I have ever seen.

Then we are back to dog ville here and the last week of “Rocky” before he travels south to be with my son’s family. Our pack is more accepting of him now, but they can be an intimidating bunch. His convalescence with us helped Emma adjust to the loss of her pups. And that is the lemonade from his lemon of a surgical adventure.