Goodbye my friend

It's now been almost a couple of weeks, so I am beginning to smile when I think of Oscar, rather than cry! But I can still be surprised by a wave of sadness. The bottom lip can tremble when even only mildly stressed.

Oscar's posh KC name was "The Wild Child" but in reality he was always the mild, kind one. The whole litter were given names to signify how their mother made a break for freedom while heavily pregnant, causing a very urgent search to find her before her pups were born.

One of my family Beardies, Poppy, had once been missing for several days and as with every lost dog I hear of, my heart was in my mouth until Chatta, Oscar's mum, was safe.

And when the litter was born there was one large brown pup with the exact same unusual markings that my childhood Beardie Chi-Chi shared.

It was fate. And breeder Wendy Hines entrusted him to us. And when we looked at the pedigree, deep in the generations, there was Chi-Chi's posh name - Champion Edenborough Sweet Lady (that's her and me aged 13 below).

Oscar was the most gorgeous boy, a brown fawn tricolour. And our Tess accepted him, even though he wasn't a clever gundog like she was. In reality he was daft as a brush. He fell in the pond twice and she pulled him out each time and probably saved his little life. He would always follow Tess until he became embedded in brambles! And there was that time he fell off the top of the slide and just bounced.

While he wasn't ever going to pass an IQ test, the tail never stopped. He was just the happiest, gentlest boy.

And then many years on, Tess started to go a bit mad. We thought she was ill, we were having all sorts of tests. At night she would try to take down walls.

When she came to us as a tiny rescue pup she had a strange little hole in her head, had she been shot - was there still some metal in there? Was it finally making her mad?

Around this time Oscar became depressed. He took himself into the garden and found a hole and wouldn't get out.

We took him to the vet and when he stepped on the scale it was obvious, the weight had dropped off him. Other signs showed he was slipping away. His pulse was very weak. Our brilliant vet, Wolfgang, felt sure this was probably Addison's disease and there was no time to wait for the test results to confirm it. We had to treat him and keep everything crossed that we were not already too late.

It was a brilliant and inspired diagnosis and Oscar was saved. And we were soon on a steep learning curve to discover what life would be like without a functioning Adrenal gland. We were to import the best medicine from America and Oscar would soon have the same meds that had kept American President JFK alive.

As soon as Oscar was stable, Tess stopped trying to do DIY. She had obviously been very aware that he was slipping away and she was trying to tell someone, we just weren't clever enough to decipher her code! Just like she had saved him from the pond as a pup, she was trying to signal to us but she couldn't help him this time.

The chemistry of Addison's was complicated to grasp, but we got him stable in no time. We discovered via Dr Jean Dodds in the US (the world blood genius/expert) that lots of Addisonians (human and canine) are also hypothyroid and when we medicated for that (despite only marginally off test results) his terrible back end issues cleared up quite magnificently and his weight stabilised.

He would become very, very ill when he was dehydrated with the squits as his Addison's meds didn't work. And being a very hairy dog producing liquid poo tinged with blood, well it was a challenge to deal with every day.

We decided to add young Betty to our mix, a rescue pup who was supposed to be a cross between a Springer and a Beardie to complete our family. DNA confirmed she was actually a Golden Retriever crossed with an Old English... and she grew and grew, and so did our love for her.

Oscar adored her and spent all of his time trying to impress her. It really cheered him up. Later as he got more poorly, Tess stepped in and became her friend.

Oscar sadly had other issues, weird fast growing lumps and big scary operations. Gall bladder problems. A possible Ragwort reaction - Wolfgang made me laugh by calling it Hogwarts - but with Oscar almost anything seemed possible.

But despite his frequent intra-muscular injections and blood tests from the neck, Oscar still loved going to the vets and never minded any of the interventions. He was just so laid back and trusted everyone.

And then he started bumping into things, even more than usual. He was always clumsy. Shorter hair didn't help.

Wolfgang looked and his eyes appeared good for his age. We were sent off to a specialist who could look deeper.

It was quite a shock to hear that he had retinopathy. He was going to be completely blind very soon, he would see no light, no movement - the lights would just go off. No one knew why.

As with everything else, Oscar stoically took it all him his stride. Never became fearful - would just bounce off things and keep walking. We tried a halo (a brilliant device for blind dogs), but he really didn't need one. He was already a saint! He would just bravely explore the garden with his nose first. He found the pond once, Tess by this stage didn't have the strength to pull him out but Betty told us all about it and we showed him the exit. He just had a shake and carried on. He wasn't put off from exploring.

Two years into blindness and four years of Addisons - at one of our routine monthly visits, Wolfgang listened to Oscar's heart and could detect something new, a murmur. At this stage we had no other symptoms.

Scans revealed as we always knew, lovely Oscar had a very large heart. Sadly it was abnormally large - the left atrium especially was working very hard and had become thickened.

Miracle drugs slowed the ravages, but we were aware that we were well into extra time.

Here's just some of his morning drugs before we added his heart meds. He had drugs four times a day by the end.

Three months of the miracle heart drugs and suddenly it was like his batteries were running out. He didn't finish his dinner, he was dramatically slowing down.

Was it an Addisonian crisis? It certainly looked like it. Maybe the heart meds were interfering with his vital Sodium/Potassium ratio?

A day at the vets on a drip and the first tests came back. It was a shock Addison-wise everything was perfect.

This was something new. Pancreatitis.

I've just written an article on this, it's much under-diagnosed in humans, and my experience of it was it's horrible. If the pancreas gets inflamed all those powerful enzymes can start leaking and attacking all the other vital organs. It can be mild or it can be fatal.

We got him through it, but he was never ever quite the same again.

In the middle of the night last week he told me he'd had enough. His love of life was much diminished. The tail was much slower to wag, the parts that still worked were now very few.

He has always been so brave; it was time for us to show courage.

We were pretty anonymous at the emergency vets as I held him in my arms. I'd had to fight to stay while they put in his cannular. They didn't know us. They didn't know how much we had already been through together.

I knew it would be a struggle to find a vein, his blood pressure was so low.

I'd rather hold him close and tell him everything was alright rather than leave all this happen discreetly behind closed doors. His comfort was the most important thing and I made sure he knew what a very good boy he had always been. He didn't complain as they struggled, he never did.

As the drugs started to work Oscar suddenly looked alert again, like a young dog seeing someone he knew. The eyes that hadn't worked for years suddenly focussed.

And then he relaxed into my arms and he was gone and the silent tears bounced off his woolly head. Even though the vet and the nurse had never met us before, they were moved, too.

Oscar had 12 plus years of being the best dog anyone could ever have wished for. Even more beautiful on the inside and just gorgeous on the out. So easy to love.

He left us in the early hours on the same day as an award's dinner.

I had foolishly had Russian eyelashes applied which were not meant to get wet for 24 hours. Well that didn't happen, as you can imagine.

Betty and Tess sniffed us hard when we got home, they knew.

Tess hasn't done any DIY since, but she is missing finishing Oscar's dinner, so we now scatter some food instead so she still gets extra rations. And I suddenly have so much extra time on my hands. Just sorting his drugs for the week ahead was a regular job. I had a video to explain his routine if ever I needed to miss a meal. But he was a joy to look after. He was such a happy dog.

Everywhere I look I still see photos of him. He's on my laptop screen and my phone.

I know there's no hiding, but there are a finite number of tears that have to come out before I just smile when I think of him, so Russian eyelashes or not, I'm letting them flow.

Goodnight Oscar, you probably had more lives than most cats. Your joie de vivre was inspirational.

Here's some lovely tributes from the team who helped keep him so well for so long and always looking lovely.

His vet, Wolfgang Dohne, said of him, “He was one of my most laid-back, friendliest patients – just consider all the tests and treatment he went through and never even blinked an eyelid. I learned so much through his treatment over the years, which can now be put to good use on all my other Addisonian patients. I will really miss him.” 

Anita Bax and Tracy Edney have groomed Oscar since he was a pup. Anita said, “Not once in all those years did we see a snarl or hear a grumble from this lovely boy.

“You never stopped wagging that big tail of yours; you were always happy to be groomed and even though you often had little surprises, like dead frogs, tadpoles and spiders, to scare us, we loved you so much, Oscar. 

“As a groomer, many, many dogs have passed through my hands and some leave a lasting joy that makes me feel so blessed to have spent my life doing a job I love. Rest in peace, my lovely sweet boy. I will never forget you."

Photos by Tim Rose, Penelope Malby, Richard Horsfield and Philip Ide.