Liam, our Toy Poodle

We did not receive our Liam from a shelter, but the story of his life prior to moving into our home is still a pretty harrowing one.

I worked at a veterinary clinic near to our home for several years. Having a particularly soft spot and a drive to save even the most hopeless cases, the veterinarian who owned the clinic gave me the more heartbreaking cases to care for.

Liam was one of them... Liam came to us one wintry February day. He was severely dehydrated. He was emaciated, weighing only 2.5 pounds at 9 months of age. He was matted and tangled, having never been bathed and groomed. He was terrified of people, fighting us (although weakly) every step of the way through our initial exam. He could barely hold his head up and he didn't just tug at my heartstrings, he yanked them. I already had 3 small dogs at home at that time. A Toy Poodle, a cockapoo, and a Bichon / Something / and Something Else!

Upon taking his history from the owners, I learned the following: Liam, apparently, became as emaciated as he was in a matter of a "couple days". This, I could not believe, but kept my thoughts to myself... Prior to becoming ill a "couple days ago", he was perfectly healthy, had all his inoculations, was never exposed to any other animals except the much bigger dog who lived at their home, and ate well. They could shed absolutely no clues as to why he became suddenly so ill. Had not gotten into any poisons, had no access to any house plants, or anything else he shouldn't have.

OK. So, out come the permission to treat forms, I explained what our game plan for diagnosis was to be. CBC, Chemistry, tests for Parvo, etc... Their reply: We have three children, one on the way. No can do, we can't afford it, couldn't we just give him some antibiotics? So, a great deal of time went into explaining how this could not be done, we could not treat what we did not know, we could not run tests without permission (or funds!), and we truly needed to find out what was wrong with this little guy, as his hours certainly looked numbered.

In the end, they agreed to leave him for observation for the night, contact us in the morning and go from there.
Well, I stayed overnight at the clinic, watching this little guy go from bad to worse. Couldn't even establish an I.V. line, as his veins kept collapsing. Had to administer fluids subcutaneously (under the skin for the tissue to absorb), and tried giving glucose by mouth. Even if I gave him only 1 ml of fluid, it came back up. He had diarrhea even though he hadn't had anything by mouth for hours.

Three days later, after many excuses by his owners, we got them to come in during our lunch hour. I brought out this poor pup, who by then could not hold his head up and had a matter of hours left in this world. I asked his "mom" if she would like to hold him. The distasteful look on her face was answer enough for me. I sat across from these people with their dog cradled in my arms while the veterinarian told them point blank he would be dead before the following morning. He gave them three choices: Give us permission to test and treat, they could take him home, we could not stand to watch him suffer and did all we could do for him, or they could have him euthanised. They chose immediately to have him "put to sleep", when they heard it was so "cheap" in their words. The doctor looked at me, knowing what was coming...

"Or," I piped up, "you could relinquish ownership of him to me, and I will do all I can to save his life. But, he would be mine then, and you would not get him back." They said they would think about it, and left. I was heartbroken. It took them mere seconds to decide to end his life, but would think about whether or not I could try to save him, not to mention I would pay his accrued expenses as well.

The day dragged on, the wind freshened and shortly began to howl. A blizzard blew in, and the temperature dropped drastically. I could no longer see across the road. The phone rang, and it was Liam's owners, they decided since I would pay the accrued expenses that I could have him!!!!

I relayed the news to my boss, who told me to hit the road, he knew what the plan was. It was too late for our small clinic with our limited lab abilities to save him, he needed a bigger center, and I would see to it he had the best. It was 3 p.m., and I dialed my very patient husband at work.

"Um, hi, honey... I have to drive to the city right now, so won't be home for supper. Taking a patient in..."

He knew about this poor pup, for he was all I could think about since I first laid eyes on him three days prior. "Ah, so, we have a new family member, eh?" he asked.

Well, long story a bit shorter, he met me at home a few minutes later, and drove the two hour trim with me through the blizzard, me with a stethoscope on him the whole time, listening to his heart grow weaker and weaker... We took him to the veterinary college and left him in their hands. They were pretty certain they were going to lose him, and didn't hold out much hope. They were given all our numbers to contact us, and we drove back home, much slower than we did coming in.

6:30 a.m., the following morning (a Saturday), the college called. I held my breath and braced myself to hear the news... But, he was alive! He tested positive for parvovirus, was given I.V. glucose, was alert and doing much better. His ears were very badly infected, he was in a great deal of pain, but, he was ALIVE! I picked him up that afternoon, took him back to our clinic, and back into the kennel he occupied in our isolation ward. He stayed there for 2 weeks, and each day with him was a struggle. He bit, he clawed, and he cowered every time we came near him. It was heartbreaking, but slowly he came around. By the time I brought him home, he trusted me. At our home, it was a completely different matter. He was frightened by the other dogs, the cat, our children and my husband. A lot of patience went into our acquainting him with everyone and everything.

Almost seven years have passed since that awful time, and Liam is a very healthy eight pound bundle of love. He is so loving, gives tons of hugs and many kisses... Oh, how we love our little man, and nothing is too good for him. He still bears emotional scars from his rough start in life. He is fearful of new situations, new people and some men. But, with patience and time he gets over these things. A few years later, he was running around and hurt his leg. I took him to work, where we took x-rays of his hurt leg. Fortunately, it was not broken, but we did see something else that disturbed us... it appeared that in his past, three of his ribs had been broken and mended together. We believe he had been kicked, as in his early days with us he was desperately afraid of all men... So sad, it makes me cry when I think of it.

And that is the story of our little Liam, one of our rescues, and one that I will be forever grateful that I was able to save.