Dog’s with big feelings Oh how I love them

Seamus, my first “reactive” dog

In 40+ years of owning dogs, I am not sure one has ever loved me as fiercely as this dog did.

Seamus the working line GSD was the first dog I had as an adult. The first dog I picked the breeder of before I knew he existed. The first puppy I waited for and didn’t just scoop out of a pile or from a shelter and take home that day like we did when I was a kid. The first dog from a responsible breeder that matched puppies to people rather than just let you choose. By the time I was looking for Seamus I had a full list of things I wanted, by that time I had a decade of performance dog sports under my belt done with rescue dogs and this time I was going to get a dog that had all of the things I wanted to succeed in competition. Hahahhahahaha. If there is one thing in all of these years of being “a dog person” who competes in multiple dog sports is that is a great way to set yourself up for disappointment. Not that I was disappointed with him at all, but when you get a dog with one thing in mind, well you get everything else that comes with that, which you might not have considered. For example getting the highest drive GSD you have ever met might also mean that dog looses his mind every time he sees a body of water or is on a dirt road because he knows that means play, so he screams in your ears for 18yrs.

The breeder and I had many talks about “do you think you can handle this” as the litter evaluators for police and protection work all said he was the boldest drivey little pup that doesn’t come along often. I wanted the drive, I wanted the dog that would want to do everything with me. I had no idea I was going to get that and so much more. She tried to talk us out of him many times, but since she did take our deposit and had promised us a pup and I wanted him so badly, and I was the most experience of all the buyers she had for the litter so she said yes. We laughed about that many times over the years.

I had never heard the term “reactive dog” when Seamus was around, that term came along after him. He was not actually an aggressive dog, he was mostly indifferent to other dogs and was very people social, back then people didn’t really let dogs play with each other, our area did not yet have dog parks. So he was fine around other dogs and mostly ignored them after a brief period during adolescence when he would bark and whine at dogs he saw when he was walking on a leash out of frustration that we fixed by having him carry things in his mouth like a stick or toy. He was in group training classes from 6 months old on and was quite used to being around dogs and people without issue. But now looking back it is easy to see all of the ways in which he was a dog with mega big feelings and struggled to handle himself during those times of excitement or frustration. And if he had to live in today’s world with dogs rushing into his face while playing or out for walks I imagine I would have had a much harder time.

He did everything big! His recall for obedience competition he cleared the 40ft space between us across the ring in no more than 3 strides, launch stride, one huge full body length extended stride, into a sliding stride into the front sit position, stopping just in time to not flatten me. It literally made people gasp to watch him barrel at me like that. When we took our first tracking test, it was with me at a dead run, just picking up my feet as fast as I could as he dragged me along the course with lightning fast precision. I had to wear gloves and basically hang on like I was water skiing. He was a toy hoarder and would lay on every toy we owned like a dragon on treasure and would threaten to eat any of the other dogs if they tried to get one. He would eat his favorite toys, over the 18yrs he had 12 bowel obstructions! Thankfully never requiring surgery, but many close calls waiting as he hurked up or pooped out kongs, jolly balls, nylabones and all those “indestructible” toys. He was huge, a lean 110lbs, his head resting above my waist, no reaching necessary to pet him. He had a full vocabulary of groans, whines, barks and various sounds to keep you posted on his feelings at the moment.

And he loved big. So big. When he was 13 on his final hike with us, we were 2 miles down a mountain, the trail starting at the top and looping down and back up again, his back went out and as it happened he started to fall backwards down the steep hill as his back legs collapsed, so I wrecked my back diving to catch his 110lbs to keep him from falling. I caught him, and before I could fall with him right as I lost balance, Hikerhubby grabbed me, and pulled us both back up. But both our backs were wrecked. Hikerhubby tried to lift him, but he couldn’t, because Seamus was like no way in hell buddy and was fighting him on that. So HikerHubby took off his shirt and used it was a sling under Seamus’s belly to lift his rear legs so he could sort of walk. But Seamus refused to walk and was now worried about me. HH had me shuffle ahead so Seamus might cooperate to get to me, which worked, he would let HH use the sling to help him catch up to me. He would not walk unless he was moving to me, and I could barely walk myself, so I would shuffle walk as best I could, and then Seamus would get up with his assist from HH and he would walk to catch up with me and then flop down again. No matter how hard he tried HH could not get Seamus to go past me and Seamus would only get up if I was in front of him and he was worried about me leaving him. We got up the mountain that way, it took forever, the two of us shuffling our broken selves up together. The vets all thought I was not thinking clearly when I opted to spend a fortune on spinal surgery for him, because at 13 a dog that size and breed is generally in their last days as it is. But I could not give up since every single thing else about him was still strong and healthy.

I had to drive to Seattle to find a vet that would do the surgery, because again, they all thought I was putting him through something too intense when he would likely only live maybe a year since he was already at and passing life expectancy. I was a vet tech and knew how intense the surgery and recovery would be but I just couldn’t give up on him, he drug himself up that mountain to stay with me. I drove the long drive up converting the back of my ford escape into one giant bed for him. He still could not walk, so they used a stretcher to carry him into the clinic when we arrived, they needed to do another MRI to make sure nothing had changed from the original one before agreeing to do the surgery. I checked into the hotel next door as I waited to hear if they would move forward with the surgery, knowing if they said no that was likely it for the big man. The specialist was a good friend with my vet at home, who I worked for as a tech, the only reason why he was willing to consider the surgery. He called me about an hour later to let me know, that he was willing to do it, but as the others said, suggested I was about to spend a lot of money and put a dog through a very big surgery when he would be an extremely lucky gsd to live to see 14.

“You know you are probably just saving him for a few months and then a splenic tumor will take him out”.

“I know, but the ultrasound shows his spleen is still perfect, as is his liver, and so on. Can I really just let him die because he’s old? Is that fair when we can fix this”.

“Maybe fix this. Spinal surgery is never a guarantee, the spinal cord could already be too damaged for him to fully recover, so it is surgery to give him a chance. And a lot of things can go wrong, it’s a delicate procedure. I cannot guarantee you he won’t end needing to be put down anyway. But if you want me to try, I will”.

I agreed, I just could not give up simply because it was expensive. And we by all means could not really afford it. I’m probably still paying off that credit card bill 🙈.

“We will call you after surgery to let you know how it goes. You can probably expect to come get him in 2-3 days. It is best if you don’t visit because we want him to stay quiet and calm during recovery.”

“Ok, but you need to know, he will probably drive you nuts, he will voice his displeasure. If you need me to, I can come sit with him, he will listen to me if I tell him to “stay” and he doesn’t really do calm and relaxed, by he will stay still if I ask him to, I am staying next door and can be there if you need me.”

“It’s probably best you don’t plan on that, we can sedate him and he needs to be calm.”

“Ok, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you”.

They called a few hours later, he was in recovery, his vitals were strong and he handled the anesthesia well. They would be calling to give me twice daily reports, no news is good news, and they would let me know when it would be ok for me to come see him in a few days.

2 hours later….

“Ummm, can you come sit with him?”

I could hear him before I opened the door 😂 his shrill whine, a high pitch whine that cuts through your ears like piano wire. They had set up cushions on the floor next to his kennel. Thump, thump, thump. His tail hitting the wall of the kennel. Despite the pain of the surgery that tail still thumped, I repeated “stay, stay” as I sat down next to his kennel. He listened, staying still, his shrill whine giving way to a soft groan as he let the pain meds and sedatives he had been fighting take hold as I sat next to him stroking his big velvet ears.

“I’m heading home now, if he settles and you want to sneak away to get some sleep they have your number and call you to come back if he needs it, so do take care of yourself too. I’ve briefed the night shift. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Seamus slept for a little bit then was restless again, I could tell he needed to pee and wanted to go out, but he couldn’t as he was not supposed to move yet. “It’s ok moose (his nickname) you just have to pee right here, but we will clean it up. It’s ok, go potty”. The floodgates of IV fluids turned into warm yellow flowed out drenching the kennel. I helped the techs clean him up, years of practice at this task. We each grab a end of the blanket he’s laying on and pull him out onto the floor, slide a clean blanket next to him, gently lift his hips and shoulders “stay, stay” I assure him so he will let us lift him without trying to help, as we move him onto the clean blanket. Clean the kennel out, then “stay, stay” as we lift both sides of the blanket again to lift his big prone body back in. Feed the IV tubes around the kennel doors. She handed me the canned food I brought for him since he ate a very specific diet or would get the raging rhea, he happily gobbled down what I offered.

This time when I stroked his ears he slipped into a very deep sleep. Knowing he was comfortable and out I slipped away making sure he did not wake as I snuck out to go get some sleep, it had been a very long day that started in the wee hours of the night so we could make it in time for his appointment, and the dull ache of exhaustion was taking over my head. I came back before they called, brought some coffee and snacks for the staff to make up for my big pain in the arse dog, who had slept the whole time I was gone. I read my book in the waiting room until they needed me. The vet arrived and said he would come talk to me after he had a chance to do his rounds. He called me into a room, where Seamus was laying on a blanket. He told me he was very happy with things so far, his incision looked great, his attitude was alert and happy, his neurological responses were improved, though it would take time for swelling to go down, and we might not know right away how successful it was or wasn’t until we saw if he was able to use his legs to walk. The plan was to keep him quiet the rest of the morning so he had a full 24hrs post op rest then see if maybe we could get him to stand using a sling to help. And that I could stay in that exam room with him if I wanted to or they could put him back in a kennel if I wanted to leave. I sat with him all morning, he was NOT a cuddly dog, so the ear stroking was met with groaning and an eye roll now that the sedation had worn off, prior to his back going out this would have been followed by him getting up and walking away from me, laying down across the room and looking at me.

It was always frustrating to me that I was not welcome to wrap my arms around this big beast and cuddle him like I wanted to. I mean I could and he would let me for a moment, but he clearly did not appreciate such things. He liked a good noggin scratch, but mostly he liked to lay a few feet away where he could see me and the whole room, like a sentry on duty. He was super clingy in the sense he always wanted me in sight, but he always preferred there be a bit of space, Lookie no touchie was his M.O. He followed me around the house every step I made and always wanted to be in eye sight. But my wanting for being able to wrap myself around him was always left unfufilled.

They had the exam room door open so I could get their attention easily if we needed anything and I watched as they worked with the other back dogs, they had 3 other dogs that were recovering from spinal surgery, two dachshunds and another gsd. All had surgery in the days before we arrived, one sort of walking, it would move a leg but needed help picking it’s foot all the way up as the foot would not right itself after a step. One could stand but like the other dog needed it’s feet set right or it would stand on it’s knuckles, but would not yet take steps. One was still not attempting to stand at all with it’s back legs. The vet told me that likely the two that were making moves would likely recover, but that the one that would not move, it was still too early to tell, but he was worried about that one. He would come chat with me when he was not too busy, mostly we talked about our mutual friend who had sent me here. But I did also ask him a LOT of questions, because I am like that, I want to know all I can about how this all works.

At lunch time he said “ok let’s see if we can get him up” as he and a tech walked in carrying a muzzle, a belly sling, a floor mat and a leash.

They put the muzzle and the leash on, I assured them he didn’t need the muzzle, but completely understood them wanting to use it. Dogs in pain can be unpredictable and while he had not shown any aggression at all, I understood when he said it was just the protocol for the first attempt incase the dogs react defensively to having the sling put under them. He was fine in a muzzle as I teach all my dogs to be comfortable with them. The thing about Seamus though, he didn’t like being physically manipulated, he wasn’t a cuddly touchy feely guy and I taught most everything hands off so he just wasn’t used to be physically made to do anything, so when you did that he would just sit down and look at you like wtf is this now. They put the sling under him, had me stand in front of him and encourage him up as they used the leash, their hands and sling to help him up. He immediately resisted, pulled back and nearly toppled backwards out of the sling, even with them holding the leash, he pulled back strong enough they had to grab hold his body to keep him from throwing himself onto his back, that had just been cut open to expose his spinal cord the day before. They tried several times to the same result. I offered to take the leash to see if that would help, and it was a little better as he didn’t flail so hard backwards, but he refused to move.

“It feels like it’s not about being painful, but more like he doesn’t want us telling him what to do” the vet said.

“yes, that sounds about right” I laughed.

“Let’s try carrying him outside so his front feet are on pavement so he feels more secure and maybe the allure of fresh air and being outside will help him want to get up, we can try again out there, I will get the stretcher.”

“stay, stay” I repeated as we carried him out the doors so he wouldn’t try to get off while in flight.

We had the same result outside. He was happy to be out, but any attempt to get him up he would pull back. At this point they are noticably winded.

“Let’s take a break. He can just sit here and enjoy the sunshine and fresh air while we think of another plan. Obviously he is not going to let us hoist him up and he is too big to treat like a dachshund and just lift up. We need his cooperation”. He let go of the sling and the tech dropped the leash.

I was standing out in front of him a few steps away where I had suggested I call him from when we were trying. As soon as the leash hit the ground, Seamus pushed all his weight onto his front legs. Lifted himself up and walked over to me on his own, using all four legs as if he had never been injured or had back surgery. Walked past me to the bushes, and lifted one leg and peed, a big long pee, staring right at the doctor. Then walked to my car in the parking lot.

“What a stubborn ox” he burst out laughing. “He’s going to be fine, that dog is too stubborn to stay down. I can see why you felt like you should do this, that dog has so much heart. If you wanna head home we can load him up now. I’ll get you the follow up care and rehab handouts.”

So a little over 24hrs after surgery we loaded up and drove the long drive home. 5 more years. He never did get cancer.

Stop reading here if you want to skip the part where I say goodbye.

My husband was in rehab, where he had been for a couple months. Life was a mess. Seamus was getting pretty senile at 18 years old and though he got himself up and out the door on his own, it was getting harder and harder for him to do so. And Fuck right off would be the response if you suggested a position of trying to help him. For months he had been slowly declining. One day I came home and found him stuck, at that point his dog bed was a twin mattress as he would slide off smaller dog beds and couldn’t get comfortable, so I drug the spare bed mattress out into the living room and made it his throne which he so loved. That day he had somehow slid between the mattress and wall, with his feet in the air he couldn’t get up and I as my nose discovered first, he had squirted diarrhea everywhere and then flailed in it trying to get up. My walls were literally painted floor to ceiling with poop. It was freezing cold outside, but I opened up all of the windows because it smelled so horrible. I threw the bed outside the door, put Seamus into the shower and bathed the poo off him, it was everywhere the poor guy, he was so indignant. When he was clean I scrubbed the walls, mopped the floor, washed off the mattress, which was freezing as I did so using buckets of hot water from the sink inside since it was in the low 20’s out and couldn’t use the frozen hose. I could see my breath inside the house.

Our house had no heaters, we used a woodstove that I still had not yet taken the time to build a fire in. One of the baseboard heaters the house came with burst into flames one day long ago so we tore them all out. Thankfully, discovering at the time they were wired so poorly it was a nightmare waiting to happen. Our house lived in this limbo, half remodeled, half frozen somewhere between. Our bedroom floor, just subflooring, waiting for us to decide between carpet, wood or laminate for 10 years (it burned that way FYI). 😂. Our kitchen cabinets missing doors, holes in walls. One weekend I came home from a dog show and HH had removed an entire interior wall with a hammer and a screwdriver because he decided it just had to go, right then. We had done a lot, but since we were always just financially scraping by, our projects just sat in permafrost, along with me in that moment.

I finally finished operation unpoo the house and went to start a fire in the woodstove. It was a typical winter where inversion layers would push the air down, making starting fires particularly challenging. But I finally got one going. I shut the door and hit the damper and the entire stove pipe came apart, it separated from the ceiling and fell off, filing the house with smoke as I dosed the fire with water. FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK. In desperation I called my best friend Cary. I needed help with this giant hole in my ceiling now letting all of the cold in. She came right over and after trying for hours to put it back together we finally had to give up and just patch the hole with plastic. Thankfully she had brought a little space heater.

Ok, once again your warning, stop reading if you don’t to read about the end.

The cold winter was passed and spring had sprung. Seamus had not painted the walls again and I had sorted out how to fashion the bed so he couldn’t fall off it. I went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. These days he no longer followed me for every step, he would wait for me, knowing I was coming back into the living room, only getting up if I moved to the bedroom or front door. I was in the kitchen and I heard his steps coming my way and then I heard him make a noise I have never heard before, it was like a cross between a howl and a scream. This gutteral sound that sounded like panic. I raced towards him, we met in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes wide and wild, scrambling towards me. Falling as I reached him. My arms around his chest keeping him from slamming to the floor. His head falling into my chest and onto my arm limp. He was still, his body limp in my arms. I raced my hands to his chest to find his big heart, it was still. He was not breathing. “NO NO NO NO” I screamed at him. “Don’t you fucking do it, DO NOT leave me. NO!!!!” He laid motionless and heavy in my arms. I screamed and screamed at him not to die.

THUD, I felt his heart beat against my hand once, his eyes, still and glazed over. No reflex if I move my fingers to his eyes. “please” I begged. THUD.

Then I heard it, thump, thump, thump. His tail hitting the floor. His eyes blinked. I buried my face in his ears, “You asshole. You scared the shit out of me, you cannot just up and die in an instant like that without saying goodbye.” I sat there crying and holding his giant head. He couldn’t get up, but he let me stroke his velvet ears and even snuffled his muzzle into my forehead, snorting into my hair. Puppy grunts and groans singing into my ears. Big dope.

I called my vet, it was a weekend, and she was out of town at a horse show, soon on her way home, but it would be hours. Seamus was clearly down and something had happened making it clear that awful day had come, the day I would have to say goodbye. She asked if she needed to call her other vets and see if someone could come right now. “no, he is comfortable right now, he just can’t get up. We will wait for you”. I called my best friend Cary. Always there when I need her, my rock in the middle of life’s raging rivers. Asked her if she could help me move him somewhere more comfortable. He wanted to go outside. So we set up a comfy spot under the giant maple tree and just sat with him in the grass for hours, sharing tales of his life, ridiculous stories of his BIG LONG Life. He was here when I got married, he was with me when my Mom died, at my side during those awful days before depositing HH at rehab. As I sat with him, close enough so he knew I was there but also not in his face since he so hated that, I felt more and more at peace with was about to come. We both just settled into the grass and enjoyed the day. Cary staying with us, she had also known him for a very long time and was saying her own goodbyes. Every hour or so the vet would call to give us an update on when she thought she would arrive. The last time she called I told her I really felt like he was just going to go on his own, that he was so peaceful and didn’t seem to be in pain, he was always so good about making his feelings known and he seemed peaceful. “Ok, you have my number, call and I can come at anytime tonight if that changes and he seems to be suffering.” Once home she only lives 3 miles away.

While Cary was there sitting with him I had gone inside and arranged his mattress alongside the couch so I could “sleep” next to him. I fed the other dogs and made sure they had all been out while she sat with the big moose. It started to get cool as the day was saying goodbye, so together we carried Seamus back inside onto his mattress and got him all comfortably set up with pillows and cushions to keep him from rolling off if he moved around. Propped his head up so he could keep watch over his kingdom for one final evening. Cary asked me if I wanted her to stay, I said it was ok, we would be ok alone. Well as alone as a person can be when they live with 6 dogs! I laid on the couch, my arms drapped down on him stroking those velvet ears, sorry bud, I need this. I talked to him a lot. Telling him what a good boy he was, apologizing for all the years I wanted him to be some different than he was, thanking him for not ever changing. I could feel him drifting deeper and deeper into himself. His tail would still thump when I said his name to check if he could still hear me, but his eyes drew more and more distant. I laid there with my hand on his heart feeling the THUD growing softer, slower. His breath also getting slower. I eased myself off the couch and pulled him onto my lap, “If you are dying, you are going out with me hugging and cuddling you whether you like it or not”, thump, thump, thump his tail answered. It was the most beautiful and peaceful death I’ve ever witnessed. He just gazed out as his heart slowed and his breath slowed. He took one last big aginal breath and was gone. Everything he ever did was big, except leaving, that was as soft, gentle and graceful.

I’ve had many dogs over the years, and he lived the longest, and I swear that last year was him just hanging on to get me through that rough patch with HH. 18 years is a long time to have padding feet following you. All of my 20’s and most of my 30’s he was there, a steady constant of big energy. He lived before the digital age, only a few snaps of him remain, the ones I had shared on FB, the rest lost to the fire along with his collar and trophies. The witness of his life only in our heads now.

Seamus was the gsd of my dreams. I had waited and wanted that dog my whole life. And he was the biggest challenge of them all. He was so much dog. He was all heart and overflowing emotions. He did everything full on. He also brought me into the world of professional training. When all of our instructors failed to help us and suggested harsh punishments I walked away from dog sports as I knew them. It lead me down another path to finding my own answers and that in turn led me to teaching others. He brought me to my best friend as I searched for new mentors and looked for ideas from those outside of the competition world.