Our dog Jake died this weekend.
If you know us, then you'll also know how special our pets are to us. And you'll know about Jake -- we loved him and talked about him like he was our child! We adopted Jake when he was just 9 weeks old in Jacksonville, Florida on February 14, 1998. We'd only been married 4 months at the time, and he was how we celebrated our first Valentine’s Day as newlyweds. He's been through everything with us for the past 8 years, so it’s hard to imagine life without him. He was our first furry baby...and a loyal, best friend.
Laura and I had a very difficult weekend – one of the hardest we’ve ever endured. Thanks to everyone who expressed support. We know he was only a dog, but it's hard to describe the hole we have in our hearts. Jake enriched our lives every day, and there are very few relationships like that. We loved him so much, and we miss him terribly.
If you are asking the question "How did this happen", the details are below. Be careful -- it's difficult to read what this angel dog went through.
Jake's Last Days -- Thursday
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Last week, Laura was in Tampa, and her sister Cara was visiting from Houston. I was in Virginia finishing the 3rd week of a 5-week training course from the Navy. On Thursday, Apr 27, Laura and Cara took Jake (our 110lb "gentle giant") and our other weimaraner Grover (a year and a half old puppy, and at 90lbs, he's not so little either) to a nearby dog park. Grover LOVES dog parks because he loves playing with other dogs and making new friends. He runs himself ragged and sleeps for hours after we get home. Jake, though, usually keeps to himself at dog parks, sniffing the trees and watching for squirrels. We always joke that since we spoil him so much, he thinks he's a person and finds playing with "DOGS" beneath him! But on this night, he was energetic, youthful, and even social! He found and played with all kinds of other dogs. He even found two lab puppies and played with them (VERY out of character, since puppies REALLY irritate him). He didn't wear himself out, but he enjoyed his playtime thoroughly!
Friday
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On Apr 28, Laura and Cara's day began without any sign that there was something wrong with Jake. When Laura woke up, Jake and Grover went potty outside like normal, ate their breakfast like normal, then plopped themselves on the couch to sleep the rest of the morning away (like normal). After such a hard day's work, they always want a nap! Laura and Cara left the house about noon to run some errands. They put Grover in his kennel like normal, and put Jake in the same room as Grover's kennel like normal. There was nothing unusual in Jake's behavior -- nothing at all to indicate what came next.
When Laura and Cara returned to the house 5 hours later, Jake didn't meet them at the door. That was a little strange. Normally, Jake's so happy when we come home that he stands and stamps his feet and wags his little tail off until we let him out of Grover's room. This time, he remained laying on his pet bed and only picked his head up to look at them. The sisters thought that was strange, but thought that Jake was too tired from yesterday's dog park activities. Some time later, they called Jake to climb up on the bed with them in the master bedroom. Jake didn't respond right away. He eventually came, but he was lethargic. When he finally walked into the room, he needed a lot of encouragement to climb up on the bed. THAT was strange -- normally he can't wait to get on the bed. About an hour later, when Jake had opted not to join Grover for a romp in the back yard, Laura got concerned. She noticed that Jake’s chest didn't look right -- it looked a little bigger than normal. Alarm bells started going off in her head. She called the emergency vet (Florida Veterinary Specialists) and described his slightly enlarged chest and lethargy. They told her that Jake might have BLOAT, a life-threatening condition, and that she needed to rush him to their hospital right away.
Laura and Cara loaded Jake in the truck as quickly as they could, and rushed to FVS (Cara called me on the way to give me the news). The vet examined Jake immediately, found him to be in shock from bloat, and performed a procedure to de-gas him through a tube down his throat. This would relieve the immediate condition (which was putting stress on all Jakes internal organs including restricting blood flow to his heart), but the bloat had caused Jake’s stomach to literally twist up; and that would require surgery to fully repair the damage. The surgeon explained that given the seriousness of Jake’s condition, it was a risky surgery, but without it his internal injuries would certainly be fatal. Laura and I kept in close contact over the phone, so without hesitation, we elected the surgery and anxiously awaited for an update from the doctor.
What the vet found during surgery was awful: Jake's stomach was shredded on one lobe and parts of it were necrotic (much of his stomach had tissue damage beyond repair). The bloat had inflated and twisted his stomach so badly that blood could not flow to his internal organs. She removed his spleen, and when she had repaired as much of the damage as possible, she tacked the stomach to his side (a common practice for this surgery) so that if he should ever become bloated again, the stomach would physically be prevented from twisting again.
Prior to his surgery, the doctor explained that if Jake survived the surgery, he would likely have a long road to post-op recovery. We learned that with the ever-growing advancements in veterinary medicine, many dogs are able to bounce back from this kind of surgery and never look back. However, for dogs that present with as much damage as Jake had, the risks were high and we had to start preparing ourselves for a difficult outcome.
Saturday
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Once Laura called and told me that our little guy was in critical condition (after midnight at this point), I knew I needed to fly home. Brian Larder, my classmate from CENTCOM who'd been in class with me for the past 3 weeks, and I were returning to Virginia from an Orioles baseball game we'd seen in Baltimore. He dropped me off at the Norfolk airport ~3am on our way back into town, and I caught the 7am flight to Tampa.
By 2am Saturday morning, Jake was finally out of surgery. He survived, but he was in pretty bad shape. His heart was still wracked with arrhythmias due partially to damage from a lack of blood flow, and it indicated stress on his system. His blood pressure and temperature were dangerously low and post-op blood work indicated that his blood was having difficulty clotting. However, the good news was that he was a real fighter and we were assured he had some very good pain meds to keep him as comfortable as possible. We felt fortunate that he was in the care of the good people at FVS, a top-notch vet specialty hospital, and throughout the entire ordeal we felt their competent support.
Later that morning, they moved Jake to a 24-hour Critical Care Unit and watched him closely. They treated him with drugs to stabilize his heart rate and blood pressure, they gave him blood products like albumin and plasma, they drew blood every 4-6 hours, and they kept us updated on his condition. They said that, although he was in bad shape, they'd seen dogs worse than him recover fully with a few days in intensive care, although the odds were against it. The cost of all this wonderful medical care was tremendous, but at this point we just wanted our boy back.
Laura picked me up from the Tampa airport ~10am, and we drove to the hospital right away. When they took us to the back for a visit, Jake was laying on his side with tubes and wires running everywhere. On his nose was an oxygen cone. But when we went up to him and called his name, he opened his eyes and picked his head up right away! No kidding, all the vet techs in the critical care unit cheered for him (and us). It was a good sign. He was alert and his color looked good. We stayed there with him, petting him and talking to him. Even Grover was allowed to see Jake – he was gentle and sniffed Jake’s muzzle. Dogs are pretty amazing; and Grover seemed to have needed that visit too, as he seemed much more relaxed and calm after seeing his brother Jake.
We could only stay with Jake for ~15 minutes; then he needed his rest. During that time Cara was in the waiting room watching Grover for us. It seems Grover had been entertaining people in the waiting room – in his own way, ministering to them – with his wiggly, loving personality and a hilarious fixation on the giant fishtank. After Grover’s much needed comic relief, Cara drove us home to nap, since neither one of us had slept much the previous night.
We awoke ~4pm to a phone call from Jake’s Critical Care Specialist (Dr. Klein). After a long afternoon, Jake wasn't doing well after all. His heart rate was still erratic, his blood pressure wasn't stable, and his blood tests showed dangerously low levels of blood sugar and proteins. He had now developed a very serious, life-threatening blood clotting condition called Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation (DIC). His conditions were worsening despite the best veterinary care available. Dr. Klein wanted to know our intentions: should she continue to provide care? After a long and anguished discussion, we told her to continue, and we would re-evaluate his condition after his evening blood tests came back. After we hung up, Laura and I spent a long and tearful few hours discussing what we should do. Jake was in bad shape, but didn't seem to be in pain. His pain was being managed very well by the FVS staff. So how do people make these kinds of decisions? We finally determined that we would decide to continue treatments if Jake's evening blood tests showed even a little improvement, giving us some hope that he was getting better. If Jake was getting worse, we would not want to prolong his suffering.
We engaged ourselves in some mindless activities in an attempt to stop dwelling on our heartbreaking situation. There was nothing more we could do until FVS called us with the evening blood test results. Cara, who supported us sweetly through this whole ordeal, cooked us dinner while we ran some mindless errands and watched some TV. The phone rang ~9pm, and, after a couple hours of distraction, the weight of the situation came crashing back. My heart stopped in my chest. Laura put Dr. Klein on speakerphone so we both could hear. Jake's latest blood test results were back…and they were better!! Not on all counts, but on many! With very little extra intervention from the FVS staff, Jake's blood numbers were improving! We were soooooo relieved and happy -- Jake had given us hope that he could get better! We told Dr. Klein that we definitely wanted to continue his care, and she said (I could tell she was smiling through the phone) she thought that was a great decision! She would administer several more blood products throughout the night, and we would get back together with tomorrow morning's blood test results. We hung up with Dr. Klein and eventually went to bed feeling so much better -- we knew that he was still a sick little guy, but we had hope.
Sunday
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Hope – it was just what we had needed to get a good night sleep. It was good that our minds were well-rested because when the alarm sounded Sunday morning, our hearts felt the anxious weight of reality. There was only one wet nose that aroused us from our slumber where there should have been two.
Against our better judgement, we were optimistic: although we knew this could have an unhappy ending, we chose to assume the best until proven otherwise. We took Jake’s pet bed to the laundromat so he’d have a clean soft bed to lie on when he got home, and somewhere between the rinse and spin cycles, we decided that we would spend whatever it took to give Jake the best chances for recovery. Not everyone would have made this decision, but it was right for us.
About 11am, as we were driving to FVS for our morning visit, Dr. Klein called us. She was holding Jake’s latest blood tests, and despite the encouraging improvement from yesterday, Jake wasn't doing well this morning. Given that we were already on our way in, she thought it would be best for us to talk in person. We were stunned. Wasn’t he beating the odds last night? On the way there, we tried to stay positive, but it was hard not to fear the worst.
After a brief waiting period, we were escorted back to the critical care unit where we got our first glimpse of our sweet boy that day. We had not yet spoken to Dr. Klein, but we didn’t need to see test results to know that Jake had taken a turn for the worse. His breathing was labored and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. When we approached his side, he picked up his head briefly as if it had taken all his strength. Our hearts completely sank. The monitors beside him showed massive fluctuations in heart rate and he showed signs of swelling around his belly and in his thick swollen paws. We stroked him gently, taking turns by his side and every now and then, he would let out a small grunt. He was clearly more than just a little uncomfortable – we feared he was in real pain despite the meds – and it absolutely broke our hearts.
Dr. Klein explained that over night, Jake had received all the best medicines and blood products available, but that he had not responded as well as she would have hoped. His liver was failing, fluid was collecting in his abdomen and extremities, and his lungs were also at risk. He was still suffering from the life threatening clotting problem, and now there were indications of internal hemorrhaging. His heart arrhythmias were uncontrollable, confirming the continued stress on his system and damage to his heart. In short, Bloat had completely destroyed this beautiful dog, and not even the best veterinary care in Tampa was able to change that.
The next decision was quite possibly the hardest thing either of us has ever done. We sat in a private conference room and sobbed. Dr. Klein was willing to continue treatment if we wanted to and even after seeing all of Jake’s suffering, every fiber of our being wanted her to keep trying to fix our boy. Yesterday had been so full of hope – maybe he would make a miraculous turn around. Maybe he just needed more time … or maybe his body had simply fought as hard as it could and it was time to put an end to his suffering. That’s the thing about a decision like this – the wishing and the uncertainty make it next to impossible. We prayed. We cried. We asked all the scenario questions and Dr. Klein was amazing – competent, informative, helpful, thoughtful, caring, and patient.
But she couldn’t tell us what to do – it was not hers, but our decision to make. As pet parents we know we have a tremendous responsibility. These innocent little family members can’t speak for themselves, so they’re relying on us to do “the right thing” – but it’s amazing how hard it can be to determine what that right thing is. And there are just no guarantees. Our love for Jake and our desire to have him back with us had to be balanced with an unselfish decision making process.
We knew what we had to do. Really, we had known it an hour earlier when we heard Jake’s small groans … it’s just that we hadn’t wanted to accept it. God answered our prayers for peace and clarity regarding our decision in the form of a wonderful vet tech named Stephanie. She had been assigned to Jake in the critical care unit and she knew how tragic this was for us. Laura had brought in a small photo album with pictures of Jake, and Stephanie had been genuinely interested in seeing the pictures of Jake’s life with us. She knew he was once a healthy, beautiful, loyal friend and she offered such comfort and sympathy to us as we told her our likely decision. Every word from her was exactly what we needed to hear to find peace with our decision to cease treatment and end Jake’s suffering. Also, she said something that I’ll never forget – she said many people ask “How do you know when to make a decision like this?”, and she said it’s a strange analogy, but it’s a little like knowing how you’re in love. No one can tell you how to know whether you are or not – you just know. There are no words – you just know if this is the right thing to do or not. Of all the bits of wisdom we could have heard, it sounds the least helpful, but really it was the most profound. We felt it – we knew this was the right thing to do – but our hearts were breaking.
Dr. Klein offered us consoling words and given Jake’s rapid deteriorating condition even within the last half hour, said she really felt we were doing the right thing. She explained the procedure for euthanasia and escorted us to a quiet, private room with large sitting chairs. Shortly after we settled into the room, they wheeled in our big boy. He was draped in a beautiful, blue Mexican blanket and the staff had done everything possible to make Jake and us comfortable. Before she left the room, Stephanie had slipped us a little treasure – it was a clay impression of Jake’s pawprint, still soft and fresh - and it was such a thoughtful gift.
Then, it was time to say goodbye. The details of what followed are perhaps too private for a blog posting, but you can imagine our agony. The last moments of Jake’s life were tender and pain-free and we showered him with our love and tears. Dr. Klein offered us her professional, compassionate support and after arranging for a private cremation, we left the FVS emergency hospital feeling numb.
Monday - Current
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I guess that’s how the mind works when it’s processing grief and tragedy: it allows you to feel as much as you can take, then it goes numb or gets distracted for a while to allow you time to heal. That’s what these last few days have been like for us … we’ll be flooded with memories that seem to put life on hold. We’ll laugh or cry and then when it’s time, we slip back into our lives. Remebering Jake's last romp at the dog park is especially touching -- he was so full of a love for life.
Life without Jake seems emptier. Even Grover, who is always Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, seems to feel the loss of his big brother and I wonder how much he understands. They’re both weimaraners, so naturally there are similarities in their personalities, but when I see Grover doing things that Jake used to do, it makes me so thankful that our big boy had the chance to pass on a few things to our little guy. Grover is a goofy, wonderful puppy and it’s comforting to think that Jake left his mark on our youngest companion.
The grief is still fresh, so sometimes we wonder if this hole in our hearts will ever feel mended completely. The support and understanding of our friends has been such a blessing. Our relationship with Jake taught us so much about love, humor, patience, gentleness, kindness, and forgiveness. In a significant way, he even taught us about communication with each other, leadership, and sharpened our parenting skills for our future children. He really was an angel to us, and he brought joy to each and every day of our lives. Thank you for sharing your memories of how he’s touched your lives and for allowing us to share our memories with all of you.
May God bless you and keep you always,
Laura and Matt Moore
EPILOGUE: This article calls bloat the "Mother of All Emergencies" because of how quickly it appears and how fatal it is. It contains critical information for anyone who owns large breed dogs. We have always known about bloat, and we fed both Jake and Grover from a tall table their whole lives to reduce the risk (dogs that bend way over to eat and drink are more likely to trap air in their stomachs). Bloat is not a disease and is not contagious, so Jake did not contract it from another dog. He was simply a large older male dog with a deep chest, so he was at high risk.
