Lucy Heard
Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 6:58 pm
From Susan Heard:
I have not been a regular contributor the last couple of years as I have gotten more involved in rescue. However, I want to share this news with those of you I came to know back when I still owned my life.
I haven't mentioned this to many people because it is hard to say without crying but we lost Lucy on Saturday. She would have been 10 years old next month, and we adopted her as a 7-week-old. She struggled very hard these past two years against her autoimmune condition and had been on cyclosporine for two months with excellent results. Her skin and coat were the best it has been since all this started, and she was in her first week away from the prednisone, which I felt was doing her real harm. Throughout her ordeal, even when she did not seem to feel very well, she retained her spirit, dignity, and an incredible will. She inspired us. When we adopted her, I hoped for a good 15 years with her, since that is not uncommon for Chows. I came to realize that wouldn't happen because the pemphigus and consequent suppression of her immune system to counter it seemed to take years off her life. I grieved then for the Lucy we had known but she was still my Lucy-Lu.
Friday evening, without warning, our other female attacked her and seemed intent on killing her. Sally, a pretty 5-year old yellow Chow mix, is not at all an aggressive dog but she has long coveted Lucy's role as Queen of the pack. Funny, because of Sally's elongated nose, I used to tease her that she is a wolf. Wolf-like, I think she sensed Lucy's vulnerability and decided to make her move. Lucy, with her arthritic limbs and prednisone belly, was unable to defend herself, and I was unable to break up the attack before it went on far too long. I cannot erase the violent images and Lucy's cries of pain. It was really horrible.
I got her into the car and to the emergency clinic where her injuries did not seem too serious. However, she was unstable and bordering on shock, so the vet kept her overnight hoping for enough improvement to safely suture her lacerations. I made sure she was given what she needed for pain. They shaved all around her head and ears and it was a pitiful sight. The emergency clinic discharges at 7:00 AM and when I arrived, she still had a very rapid heartbeat and a temp of 103. I took her immediately to her vet to discuss the situation. It was clear that even with excellent care, she would have a long fight ahead because of her age and medical compromises. She was sedated but conscious, and for the first time I sensed that she no longer wanted to fight. Perhaps knowing that she had lost her powers and was no longer Queen or that one of her own pack would attack her, or maybe she was just tired - I don't know but I decided not to make her go through anymore. All through her struggle with the pemphigus, I looked to her to tell me when it was no longer worth the effort, but she always let me know she wanted to carry on. This time it seemed different.
I decided to let her go and she died peacefully except for some snorts as her life was leaving. The vet said it sounded like she had fluid in her lungs, but I knew those snorts - Lucy's typical Chow comments. It felt like a last good-bye. I got to put my nose into her fur one more time and smell that distinctively sweet Chow smell and then it was time to go. She is being cremated and when I feel ready, we will bury her ashes with Sylvia and the cats, Lucky, Spike, and Callie.
It has been hard, particularly because my husband is working in the South Pacific until September. Lucy was his favorite. He is the one who went and picked out a black female Chowling, my first "dog." (I knew I would not be able to choose one and leave the others behind and would end up with the entire litter!) He always called her "a fine specimine of a canine" and our Head of Security. He is the one who chose the name Lucy. It was hard to email him (our only means of communication) that she is gone.
Lucy's AKC name was Chang's St. Lucy's Comet. I know when I don't feel so sad I can look up and see in the starry night sky her bright happy eyes in the black velvet of her face and remember how much fun we had when times were good. She made us laugh so much when she was a youngster rummaging in my daughter's stuffed animals and choosing one to drag around the house. Or she would grab the end of the toilet paper and run down the hall with her white streamer flying behind her. She always denied snacking from the cat box when there was a clear "litter mustache" around her mouth. When I wasn't fast enough serving up "chow" she would snort and grunt and finally poke me with her paw. And boy she could walk in the woods with me forever. She was a Chow with the little hook on her tail and was a petite girl. Until the prednisone, her normal weight was just 48 pounds. I wish now I really had knit a sweater out of spring blow like I always thought of doing.
Well, it helps and hurts to remember but there will never be another like my Lu-Lu and I will never forget her.
Susan Heard
I have not been a regular contributor the last couple of years as I have gotten more involved in rescue. However, I want to share this news with those of you I came to know back when I still owned my life.
I haven't mentioned this to many people because it is hard to say without crying but we lost Lucy on Saturday. She would have been 10 years old next month, and we adopted her as a 7-week-old. She struggled very hard these past two years against her autoimmune condition and had been on cyclosporine for two months with excellent results. Her skin and coat were the best it has been since all this started, and she was in her first week away from the prednisone, which I felt was doing her real harm. Throughout her ordeal, even when she did not seem to feel very well, she retained her spirit, dignity, and an incredible will. She inspired us. When we adopted her, I hoped for a good 15 years with her, since that is not uncommon for Chows. I came to realize that wouldn't happen because the pemphigus and consequent suppression of her immune system to counter it seemed to take years off her life. I grieved then for the Lucy we had known but she was still my Lucy-Lu.
Friday evening, without warning, our other female attacked her and seemed intent on killing her. Sally, a pretty 5-year old yellow Chow mix, is not at all an aggressive dog but she has long coveted Lucy's role as Queen of the pack. Funny, because of Sally's elongated nose, I used to tease her that she is a wolf. Wolf-like, I think she sensed Lucy's vulnerability and decided to make her move. Lucy, with her arthritic limbs and prednisone belly, was unable to defend herself, and I was unable to break up the attack before it went on far too long. I cannot erase the violent images and Lucy's cries of pain. It was really horrible.
I got her into the car and to the emergency clinic where her injuries did not seem too serious. However, she was unstable and bordering on shock, so the vet kept her overnight hoping for enough improvement to safely suture her lacerations. I made sure she was given what she needed for pain. They shaved all around her head and ears and it was a pitiful sight. The emergency clinic discharges at 7:00 AM and when I arrived, she still had a very rapid heartbeat and a temp of 103. I took her immediately to her vet to discuss the situation. It was clear that even with excellent care, she would have a long fight ahead because of her age and medical compromises. She was sedated but conscious, and for the first time I sensed that she no longer wanted to fight. Perhaps knowing that she had lost her powers and was no longer Queen or that one of her own pack would attack her, or maybe she was just tired - I don't know but I decided not to make her go through anymore. All through her struggle with the pemphigus, I looked to her to tell me when it was no longer worth the effort, but she always let me know she wanted to carry on. This time it seemed different.
I decided to let her go and she died peacefully except for some snorts as her life was leaving. The vet said it sounded like she had fluid in her lungs, but I knew those snorts - Lucy's typical Chow comments. It felt like a last good-bye. I got to put my nose into her fur one more time and smell that distinctively sweet Chow smell and then it was time to go. She is being cremated and when I feel ready, we will bury her ashes with Sylvia and the cats, Lucky, Spike, and Callie.
It has been hard, particularly because my husband is working in the South Pacific until September. Lucy was his favorite. He is the one who went and picked out a black female Chowling, my first "dog." (I knew I would not be able to choose one and leave the others behind and would end up with the entire litter!) He always called her "a fine specimine of a canine" and our Head of Security. He is the one who chose the name Lucy. It was hard to email him (our only means of communication) that she is gone.
Lucy's AKC name was Chang's St. Lucy's Comet. I know when I don't feel so sad I can look up and see in the starry night sky her bright happy eyes in the black velvet of her face and remember how much fun we had when times were good. She made us laugh so much when she was a youngster rummaging in my daughter's stuffed animals and choosing one to drag around the house. Or she would grab the end of the toilet paper and run down the hall with her white streamer flying behind her. She always denied snacking from the cat box when there was a clear "litter mustache" around her mouth. When I wasn't fast enough serving up "chow" she would snort and grunt and finally poke me with her paw. And boy she could walk in the woods with me forever. She was a Chow with the little hook on her tail and was a petite girl. Until the prednisone, her normal weight was just 48 pounds. I wish now I really had knit a sweater out of spring blow like I always thought of doing.
Well, it helps and hurts to remember but there will never be another like my Lu-Lu and I will never forget her.
Susan Heard