I am deviating from writing about gardening today. I have a post that will come up Saturday or Sunday (depending on how the Native Plant Sale goes) but I want/need to write about my Garden Buddy.
A Wirehaired Pointing Griffon.
The dog. The dog loves to help garden. When I dig up sod, he picks up the pieces and shakes the dirt out of them (everywhere – I’ll be picking up pieces of sod and dirt after he’s finished). He steals weeds out of the weed bucket. He walks in front of me and places his nose in whatever hole I am digging. Or he drops his purple indestructible ball in front of me and wants me to throw it. He also walks through all the little wire fences I put up to KEEP him from walking through tender plants.
Sometimes (a lot of the time, really), we play “Hot and Cold”. He can’t find whatever toy we’ve tossed for him and we tell him if he is “hot” (near) or “cold” (wandering away. He knows the difference and often zeroes in on what was right in front of his nose all the time. It’s funny.
We also play “Squirrel!” where we point to where a squirrel is on the fence or in the yard and Ruger looks the other direction. We have come to the conclusion that certain squirrels are paying him off to not chase them. And, sometimes, he lands right under the fence after them, chasing the length of the fence after them – often in the opposite direction of the squirrel. He’s an Idiot.
Or so we thought.
What he is, aside from being epileptic, is brilliant and blind. And we did not know he was blind until his neurologist came into the exam room and looked at both of us and asked, “You do know he’s blind, don’t you?”
Jaws dropped. Denial set in. Surely, she didn’t know our Ruger, a dog who was on his second Vet visit of the day and who had wowed everyone he came into contact with, the dog who just had his Rabies vaccination completed and didn’t run into a door or any object in the first vet’s office. Surely, she hadn’t just watched him leave our side to go with the Vet Tech to her exam room, confident and pulling at his leash?
Then she asked how long did we think he had been blind? Did it coincide with his first epileptic fit in April of 2024? Had we noticed anything before then?
And were we willing to shell out another $5,000 for a doggie MRI to see if he had a tumor in his brain or not.
They did more tests. The inside of his eyes are “normal” according to the doggie ophthalmologist onsite. The blindness seems to stem from his brain, confirming (to the neurologist) that he probably has a brain tumor. We really should just borrow the money from Care Credit and pay for the MRI.
So we asked questions: if he has a tumor as proven by this Very Expensive procedure, what would be the prognosis and treatment? Quality of life? If we refuse that test, what is his prognosis?
Honestly? They’re the same. Steroids (prednisone) and more pills and lethargy for a very active doggo. We’d just be out the five grand and however much money it costs to keep pumping him with drugs to feed out need to have a companion and beloved dog. And we’d be making huge credit card payments on top of our HELOC and Mortgage, all with our Social Security income and static pension. And the bigger question:
Would Ruger even know if we denied him the MRI (a test that would stress him further)? Does he even know he is blind, or does he think that this is just the way things are? He navigates just fine, he jumps on the bed and off the deck (and occasionally falls off the deck), and we have already banned him from coming up to the second floor because he has a tendency to go too quickly back down the stairs, losing his footing, sliding into the wall of the small landing and crashing into the pantry at the foot. Which has a mirror.
This is so much to absorb and come to terms with. I have already decided that the first person to Troll us for deciding against the MRI can pay for the MRI (not a loan, but a gift of $5000). I expect there will be those people who think we should “spare no expense” for our fur baby, but – Hell – we’ve buried a human child which is a pain unlike the loss of a beloved fur baby (and I don’t mean to dismiss that pain – I still cry for a cat I lost 30 years ago).
The gist of this tale is this: blind animals don’t know they are blind. They navigate by senses so much more attuned to the world around us that they can hide their blindness for years. Ruger has no idea he is “handicapped” by a lack of the ability to blink when a flashlight is shined into his retina. We had no idea we were dealing with a dog that plays “Hot and Cold” because he can’t SEE the object he is hunting for. Or that the reason he looks the wrong way when we point is because HE DOESN’T KNOW WE ARE POINTING. He only knows there is a squirrel out there, somewhere, and it’s up to all his other sense to “find” it – even if it runs the opposite direction than he does (along the fence that he never seems to run into).
When I told the neurologist that I think he’s been blind a LOT longer than a year, she felt there was some hope that he doesn’t actually have a tumor. He’s on a regimen of prednisone to see if any of his sight can be recovered. He’s on a regimen of Phenobarbital to stop him from having epileptic seizures (which could also be a brain tumor, but we aren’t going there – not yet). He’s going to be dopey and stumbly for about a week, but then he should just be his normal adjusted-to-downers self.
He’s four years old. We got him a month before we buried our son. He’s been a therapy dog without knowing that is what he is. He’s beautiful and has these deep (unblinking) brown eyes that stare into your soul (probably his nose smelling your soul, but – hey!). And he still likes to help garden.
And – PS – if you don’t like our decision to not pay for what we cannot afford, I take PayPal or Venmo. 🙂
Jaci Dawn 