When I arrived in Forks one week ago on Friday, Pat greeted me with the news that Boo was really sick. He. Was. Really. Ill!
Our 11-year-old Labrador of Love had turned into the Miserable Mutt of Mystery Malady. He was curled into a tight ball in the back corner of our spare bedroom. If he got up, he couldn't keep his balance. When he stood for brief periods, he hung his head, standing splay footed and swaybacked, moving as little as possible.
We pondered and speculated. Could dogs have strokes? Heart attacks? Was poisoning was a possibility? Was it something he ate? (He has a habit of eating really gross stuff out in the woods with Pat and he recently snacked on slugs and a frog). Since there isn't a vet in Forks, we went to bed with heavy hearts, hoping he would still be with us in the morning.
Saturday morning he seemed to be a bit more responsive, so we just let him be while we did chores around the house. The next morning he was showing signs of perkiness and went for his usual walk to get the Sunday paper. After acting relatively normal most of the day, he was seriously ill again by nightfall.
Early on Monday morning, I took him to the vet in Port Angeles on my way to a meeting in Seattle. Boo had a fever and a heart murmur, but blood work and x-rays were normal. He was a bit dehydrated, so they gave him an IV and he remained there under observation until Pat picked him up after work.
He remained one very sick puppy on Tuesday, refusing to eat and drink, with spittle hanging from the sides of his mouth. On Wednesday night, Pat realized that his tongue was paralyzed and he was unable to eat or drink. He was still hanging in there on Thursday morning, so I called Boo's vet, Dr. Christine Johnson of Neighborhood Pet Clinic. She has treated most of his medical oddities since puppyhood and she asked me to get him to Vancouver as soon as possible. I finished my work day, attended the retirement happy hour that was being given in my honor and then made the four hour drive up to Forks.
I pulled into Forks about midnight and encountered a shocking sight in the mudroom that I can only describe as the Forks Dog Food Massacre. There was wet congealed bits of dog food all over the walls, the floor, the washing machine and the dog. Boo had decided to fight for his life and was using his poor paralyzed mouth like a shovel to scoop up moistened kibble and water and toss it back down his throat, flinging it far and wide in the process.
I grabbed a couple hours sleep and then headed back south with Boo. He spent Friday at the vets, being hydrated with IV's and fed bits of soft dog food as the vet and her colleagues tried to figure out what was going on with the paralysis, which seemed now to be mostly on the right side. There was no sign of a heart murmur or fever.
I brought him home Friday night, and hand fed him morsels that ended up being several cans of soft dog food. Boo was a hungry boy! He also worked at the slow process of lapping up water with his lopsided tongue. Saturday morning, he was much spunkier and both sides of the tongue seemed to be starting to work again.
As I write this on Sunday, he is definitely on his way back to normal. The cause is still a mystery. The Labrador of Love is back. However, I think he is really into being hand fed meals of soft premium dog food.
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