"Mr. Wiggles, I will Love You Forever"!

He is my precious wiggler enduring yet another condition, unheard of, during his later years. His breathing became raspy earlier this year then morphed into other problems. He certainly did not deserve it, no dog does. As I wrap my thinking around it all, I wondered till I wondered no more.

It all began this year, in February. His hollow sounding, croupy voice came out of nowhere. It took me by surprise. Cool air, a common thread at this time of year in Canada, soothed throat and breathing. upon examination, the doctor asked me to time his respiration rate as he slept or napped. A rate faster than 30 beats per minute spelled trouble.  His was always lower and quiet. And so I watched, timed and counted from that moment on till this day. How could I not perform this simple act while my puppy slept. I needed to know if things could get worse.

There were surgeries galore listed to ameliorate this larynx problem. All acted a harsh penalty: in one case, post operative death rate was 60%. No thank you. The dog had to be silenced for several weeks during recovery. Really? No barking for a animal who communicates through his barking? How do I explain this ridiculous notion to him.? 

No collar. That was easy. Immediately, a harness was bought and used immediately. No time like the present. A food stand was used to keep all his food at eye level preventing the strain on his neck, back, larynx. All were positive actions to be taken to keep that other thing from happening. Nothing heroic was ever undertaken, just easy, make sense ones.

Everything was going according to plan till an unexpected visit to the doctor to plan for his future turned dire. A few minutes after arriving home my dear precious wiggler, still wiggling as he always did, died at home desperately trying to breathe. Frantically I tried to get him back into the car to get him the lifesaving help he needed. But time ran out. My 86 pound Mr. Wiggles, died courageously, with me by his side. I am heartbroken and will be for a very long time....... Good bye my precious little pup. 

The Body, A Miracle Machine

It was the year 1979. At the time, I thought his sudden birth was unimaginable. Yet, today, I wondered, had his early traumatic arrival saved his life? The study of preemies had not begun till !980.

I was talking to our newest member of the the mother-to-be group. Like me she was not much of a meat eater, relying solely upon fruits and vegetables to 'build' her baby. Protein is a primary body builder for the successful outcome in any healthy pregnancy we discussed till I had the epiphany.

As a mother to be in 1979, I was sick, every minute of every day, as I emptied the critical contents of my body's nutrients  down the drain. This constant 'flow' of food relived the stress upon my body, day after day, but did little to nourish the baby growing inside me, I thought. I worried, non-stop. But worry did nothing to change anything so I devised a simple plan: sleep whenever possible.

With two retrievers to care for, I slept when time allowed. Keeping food inside where it belonged became my top priority. Nothing else mattered or worked. Cravings of pickles and ice cream did not exist. Simple nutritious foods did, yet could not reserve a spot in my body. Violent episodes of losing food ruled the day. Today, the child of this pregnancy, my first, is a strong man, having beaten the odds of death when he was born 27 weeks into the pregnancy.

Little food remained while our son developed and grew inside me, I told 'Sally' (He is a strong man today.) For me there was no such thing as cravings. I simply detested most foods but somehow managed to eat some worthwhile products such as eggs, buckwheat kasha. Though very little food could be tolerate, my fetus managed to grow and thrive, I guess, because at birth the doctors remarked how big our first born was for being just over 3 months early. 

Three pounds, 2 ounce was the final score. I had managed to deliver a healthy, underweight preemie while discarding all food during this 6 month pregnancy. Remarkable! Mother nature knew what she was doing 'cause I certainly did not.

Had our son entered a healthier period of life after being born 13 weeks too soon? Who would dare say such a thing? Upon arrival, a preemie struggles to survive. In my case, our son struggled for 6 months in utero waiting to be born, from a diet of tiny morsels of food being lost within minutes of being eaten. Vomiting had served its purpose.

I knew then that any healthy diet helped  the baby. The terms of the stay meant nothing 'cause Mother Nature seemed to know what she was doing. Always has, always will.