At somewhere between 6 and 8 weeks old, a puppy was brought to the shelter here in Rutland County. She was brought in with a 17 yr old dog by someone who had too many pets and didn't want the burden of the oldest or the youngest. This was late June 2000. At the time I had been volunteering at the shelter for awhile, and had seen many dogs come in and leave with new owners, and I knew puppies went quickly. Three weeks prior to this meeting of fate, we had put our old dog to sleep due to his inability to walk likely due to spinal problems. It was the first time I'd ever remembered experiencing the loss of a pet, and I begged shortly there after to get another dog- the house was empty without one, and I didn't feel safe staying home alone. My father resisted much more than my mother- it was hard on him losing a dog and though he won't admit it, I think the pain was too much for him to think of having to endure again. Our persistence wore on him though, and he eventually relented and let us go see if there were any dogs at the shelter.
It isn't a day I forget easily. My mother was watching three little boys- who were quite busy- for a friend of ours, and we all piled into the van to go see what might be at the shelter. Still relatively naive about dogs, dog breeds, and personalities we were just going for looks and and how they interacted with us. When we strolled down the cage row there was not an empty cage. In the second cage sat a small, big eared puppy- silently watching as we meandered down the row. We stopped and looked at her, but kept going to see what else was present. The kennel had erupted into barks and frenzy as we walked by dog after dog. When we turned back to go to the puppy's cage, she sat quietly. I asked my mom if we could take her out. The staff at the shelter led us out to the outdoor pen and we sat down on the ground. The boys were running and playing and making fast motions- none of which phased this little puppy. We melted, and filled out the adoption application. Really, the rest as far as her adoption goes is history- we brought this black and brown speckled puppy home- named Nonie (pronounced Non-E), short for Anonymous as she had no name when she was left by the original owner.
For the first few days she was quiet, and afraid of men. My father would enter the room and she would cower, seeking comfort in myself, or my siblings. After about a week she came out of her shell and she was playing with toys and and causing puppy trouble. She loved her crate, and was accepting of it almost from day one. She had accidents in the house, but was quick to learn house breaking. Through spending time at the shelter and gaining more knowledge of dogs and behavior, I wanted to raise this puppy right. I spent a lot of time working on simple basic things with her, but I wanted to take her to puppy classes, and my mom agreed to drive us since I was too young to drive (or pay for the class).
Nonie enrolled in the basic manners obedience class. I was a shy kid, I hated being put in front of people and I never wanted attention on me. As classes started I would make my mom take Nonie out to the center of the room to work with her because I didn't want people focused on me (nevermind that I knew the instructor from the shelter, and was comfortable with her!) Nonie quickly changed our plans though, refusing to focus on my mother frequently, and instead would look at me sitting in the chair on the side of the room. It was pretty clear she had picked her partner in crime, and I was it. As Nonie and I went to the front of the room and worked class after class it became a bit easier for me. She made me worry less about what others thought of me, and more about what we were doing together. She set the foundation for our relationship in these early classes, and really started her teaching of us humans at this point.
Once Nonie had made it through a couple of basic obedience classes, and life at home was getting more simple with her and her manners things fell into place. I won't lie and say she didn't have problem times-- she stole shoes, remote controls, broke open pens on beds (ink is a fun stain to get out), and did general puppy activities. Her early years went by, marked by swimming and fun- but also by being by my side. As she matured, she seldom was not glued to me side. If I went to the bedroom, she came... if I got up in the morning so did she. I could ask her almost any command or teach her a new trick and simply because I asked her, she would do it. She was not disobedient with other family members, but she was not as quick to respond to them either. She came to field hockey games, and was generally out being social wherever I was.
Though I didn't know it at first, I eventually learned that Nonie's social skills were enviable. There is almost no one she met in the 12 years she was with us that she didn't touch in some way. She got along with dogs, cats, people, not shy and not pushy- just a presence. Over the years I could take her anywhere- her behavior was never questioned. In her later years she accompanied me to Kelly's house to spend time with his dogs, to my apartment to spend time with the dogs I was living with at the time... she was an adaptable dog- content to be where I was.
Nonie was there for a lot of big milestones in my life. She was two when I went to my junior prom, she was three when my parents got divorced. At age four she was living with my mom while I went to Maine for freshman year of college, and by five she was thrilled I was back at VTC pursuing my goal of being a vet tech. She was there when my grandfather got ill and was put in a nursing home, she was there when I was happy, sad, angry, sick. There isn't a time in the last 12 years where she wasn't there. I may have ventured to school and been away from her, but every time I walked back into the house she was smiling, tail wagging and forgiving of my absence. There are not many people who I can say the same about.
Cliche though it might be to say that a dog has taught you lots, in her case it is true. In May 2009 Nonie and I went out hiking with a friend and her dog. The hike down was great with the two dogs playing and enjoying the early, nice spring weather. When we reached the bottom of the trail by the water the two dogs continued their romp and play. Nonie slid on some loose dirt, and let out a whimper. I could see her leg was swollen, and she was hesitant to weight bear on it. Lacking a good cell signal, and not much battery life- I called my mom to see what she could suggest we do. She tried to get a hold of game wardens to open the gate to the road so we could be picked up- but no one answered. So she drove out to the trail, hiked down and met us with a blanket- in the hopes of carrying Nonie back up the mountain. Nonie simply refused to stay on the blanket. She wanted to walk even though she was clearly in pain. Slowly, we made the hike back up the trail. If she laid down, I waited for her to get her strength again. If I stepped up to the front of the pack she would step her pace up- not wanting to be too far away. After three hours we manged to make it to the cars, and thankfully the vet I worked for agreed to come meet us at the clinic.
Nonie had torn the tendons in the back of her front leg. It boiled down to a splint, a trip to the orthopedic surgeon and more time in a splint. Nonie was a good patient- she laid still for splint changes, didn't fuss with her bandage or her sores when she got them. She showed me that with her drive and perseverance she was going to get better. Eventually as the leg did not heal after being splinted, we opted for surgery to put a plate in. Leaving her at the specialists was about all I could stand- it was like leaving a child! When we picked her up she was sore, and I was on the edge of crying at seeing her so doped. We went home to begin the recovery process. Again, Nonie was a good patient- at least until the day before her splint was due off. She begain messing with the bandage which was a first. I should have seen that as a warning sign- I should have caught onto her signals. We took the bandage off thinking she was tired of it, took an x-ray of the leg and went home. That night she chewed off two of her toes. I do not know why- neither do the surgeons, or other vets. I was heartbroken- here was a dog who weighed in at 80 lbs, and already had some arthritic changes- and we were facing amputation or euthanasia. I fought with the decision internally but knew that in my heart if we didn't try the amputation, I couldn't live with myself. The week before I was scheduled to go back to school to start work on my Vet School dreams, we amputated the leg. I went to school, anxious to hear how she was doing and her progress... fighting the images from after surgery where she struggled at first to adjust balance and habits. Nonie proved that she was a strong dog, a fighter- pulling through her surgery with flying colors, and making excellent progress in healing. By the time I moved home to change college she was a pro at maneuvering three legged.
People always stopped to watch her when we went out places after her amputation. Children sometimes noticed the leg missing but often adults commented first on it. Nonie didn't care what people thought or saw when they looked at her- her purpose was to just be her. She still loved seeing people, going places with me, being around other dogs. She proved to me that it matters not what people think of you, and not what ailments you have, but that you continue living your life without regard for differences. Nonie still swam, and played and enjoyed her life- and had she been a human she would gladly have told us to not pity her, but enjoy every day.
The last year had not been kind to Nonie's body. She began leaking urine, so we started medication to treat that. She developed hypothyroidism, so another medication was added. She began coughing and through x-rays she was diagnosed with COPD-- more medication. She struggled with her arthritis more and more, so two more medications were added, followed eventually by a third. Last September she collapsed and would not get up. I brought her to work hoping that there was something we could do, but fearing the worst. We x-rayed her back and found she had some spinal fusion and changes, something we could only support but not fix. We changed her pain medication to a steroid to stop the inflammation. At 11, if she had to stay on a low dose of steroids we could live with that. Unfortunately she developed urinary tract infection, and bloodwork showed a large increase in her liver enzymes. I brought her to the internal medicine specialist who said it was likely the steroids doing it- and he recommended we stop and go back to non-steroidal anti-inflammatory. I altered her medication again and things improved- her values dropped back to almost normal. However in March she developed a skin condition that is rare- though related to liver and adrenal gland mal-function. Though we never could sort out exactly why this occured, and it never really healed it also didn't bother her.
In May, just at Seth's graduation time Nonie stopped eating. We left her in the good hands of my friend and vet tech, who reported while we were gone she ate better. I didn't think much of it, but when we got home she was refusing to eat again. More bloodwork showed her liver enzymes rising again. We treated her for the obvious signs, and she improved. Repeat bloodwork the following two months showed increasing trends again, so we changed her diet and altered her medications to be less liver toxic. Because I have been accepted to school and was going to take her, when her last panel showed still an increase in values my boss suggested repeating her ultrasound. Monday August 6, I drove her up for her exam with my mom. She maneuvered well in the clinic, and then again at the pet store, and practically pulled us to get ice cream after dinner at Al's. Her ultrasound report was good- no obvious signs of cancer! I couldn't have been happier!
When we got home Monday night she could not get out of the van. While not surprising because of the amount of exercise she had gotten, I was worried when she began knuckling on her front leg and not supporting her weight. We carried her into my bedroom for the night, and hoped that Tuesday morning would bring improvement. When I got up Tuesday she couldn't stand by herself, but after we supported her she gained her balance, and outside she seemed to get around ok. She came back into the house on her own accord, and my mother and I left for work. When I got home Tuesday night she was where she had been when I left for work. I was not surprised she wouldn't get up for my mother- more stubborn with age she frequently would only do things I asked her to. I couldn't get her out to the go the bathroom without helping her- but again once outside she seemed better. Tuesday night after my mom and I went to bed I heard Nonie struggling to get up and come be in my room. She fell, dumped water on herself and when I saw her she was mortified and defeated. I pulled the futon mattress onto the floor and slept in the same room as she did, hoping that Wednesday would make her better.
Wednesday AM my mom and I carried her outside. She was completely unable to support her weight for more than a few steps. She fell in the breezeway into my arms, and I knew we had to say good bye. Nonie and I had been through a lot in our time together, and I knew this dog inside and out. She would never stop trying as long as I stood there telling her to give it another chance, and for that reason I had to be the one to tell her to stop trying. We brought her into work and carried her out back to say our good byes. It was in that instant I knew my heart was breaking- losing a vital piece that had been with me for as long as I could recall.
Nonie has been gone from the house for 5 days as of tonight. There is a large hole where she used to be. For her, there isn't anything I wouldn't have done, and I know she had the same feeling for me. In two short weeks I will be busy starting the next chapter of my life working towards becoming a Vet. I had planned to start this chapter with Nonie- but I will settle for doing it FOR her instead. RIP you old goose, I know you are watching me, and we will meet again.
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