Fuji
It seems like yesterday. I was headed for Winchester, Va. with my wife, daughter and our dog, Bandit. We were going to visit the breeder we got Bandit from and hang out for a while. After exiting our car, the first thing I remember seeing was the face of this little, beautiful dog and I was immediately drawn in. To say I fell in love instantly would surely be a complete understatement. I asked several questions about this little dog. Fuji was her name. She was a Champion show dog that had been retired and was now enjoying life in the slow lane.
I knew she was going to join my family and would be coming home with me. My daughter was on board, but my wife said we didn’t need to add to our current number of furry family members. Besides Bandit, we had 2 cats and my wife put up resistance. We spent several hours in Winchester that day. Bandit met some of his relatives and he enjoyed romping through the property that day. He also met Fuji and they got along well.
I sadly said goodbye to Fuji and we got in the car and drove back home. It was now time to convince my wife that Fuji had to become part of our clan. She eventually gave in to my incessant whining, begging and pleading. Arrangements were made to purchase Fuji and I soon found myself driving back to Winchester to pick her up and bring her to her new home. Fuji fit in from the get go and seamlessly became one of us.
Everything was great until the day we took Fuji to the doctor because she was getting thin and seemed to need to go outside quite frequently. Long story shortened… Fuji was diabetic and would need insulin twice a day. I remember thinking, “A diabetic dog? Really? Dogs can be diabetics?”. It also scared me tremendously. Two insulin shots per day. I didn’t know much about diabetes or shot giving. I just knew that I hate needles and getting shots almost as much as anything else I can think of. Ignorance can be a very bad thing.
It wasn’t so bad giving her the daily shots. I do know that I wanted to kill the veterinarian when he recommended 8 units of insulin twice per day and this resonated with me as entirely too much. I had done some research about diabetes in dogs and the suggested dosages based on weight. 8 units was what I calculated Fuji needed daily, not in each dosage. I questioned the doctor and he assured me that he was right. It was confirmed that he was almost deadly wrong about the dosage when later my wife found Fuji unresponsive in our basement.
I scooped Fuji up, put her in a towel and we jumped in the car with my wife driving like a maniac to get us to the animal hospital as quickly as possible. I talked to Fuji and begged her to stay with us. On the way, Fuji went limp in my arms. I feared that she was dead. I listened to her chest and couldn’t hear a heartbeat. I shook her slightly and she opened her eyes, but it was obvious that she was in bad shape.
Fuji was rushed into the back room and given glucose and put on a respirator. I told my wife in a not very quiet voice that if Fuji died, the doctor wouldn’t be alive for long. Fuji pulled through and seemed OK. I told the doctor he screwed up badly and that he prescribed far too much insulin and that he almost killed Fuji. I remember him saying, “I was trying to get her blood sugar under control rapidly so I prescribed a dose at the high-end for a dog her size. I have never seen a dog so sensitive to the amount of insulin given to them before”. Really, doc. You almost killed one of my family, put her through Hell and caused considerable grief and anguish to my family and that is your response?
As time went by, Fuji’s vision clouded which is a byproduct of diabetes. She was no longer able to go down stairs by herself. She would go down most of the way and then launch herself into the air and attempt to fly over the last few stairs. Her daredevil act only lasted a few times and then she was carried down the stairs. Her vision got worse and I believe that she became totally blind a month or so ago. She once was able to see shadows of people walking or moving near her and would move accordingly to get out of the way. That ended and she would just sit or stand there when activity was around her.
She soon just moped around. Wandering aimlessly and looking like she was sad, confused and lost. I felt that her days were coming to an end but didn’t have a clue when that would be. The answer was Friday, February 24, 2012.
On Thursday, the 23rd, my wife took Fuji to the vet because she was sort of crying and couldn’t really stand up. She just kind of moved in circles. The vet checked her out and said everything appeared OK (i.e. the vet couldn’t find anything wrong). Fuji slept until the afternoon when I took her out to go to the bathroom. I carried her downstairs, she did her business and I carried her back upstairs. I attempted to feed her, but she had no desire. An hour or so later, she started this sort of crying or vocalizing again. I put her in a confined area as the vet recommended if her earlier issues started again.
Fuji’s vocalizing lasted several hours. I left to take my daughter to a basketball game so she could participate with the Pep Band and my wife took over. Fuji eventually settled down and fell asleep. My wife had called the vet well before closing time to relay her concerns and to talk to the vet on duty. Her call wasn’t returned until well after closing time and the vet told my wife if she was concerned, she should take Fuji to the Emergency Vet Clinic. No attempt to hear what my wife had to say and certainly no attempt to call back while the vet office was open. This particular vet is not well liked by our family and her callous attitude only adds to our contempt for her.
That may be the subject of a future posting. Now is not the time.
Fuji started her crying again in the morning and my wife took her to the vet and dropped her off so they could monitor her. I received a call with an update and it wasn’t good news. It was believed that Fuji was undergoing a neurological event (paralysis among other things), probably threw a blood clot and almost certainly had a stroke. They could try this, that and the other thing. I cut off the doctor and asked if what she was eventually getting to was recommending euthanasia? “Yes”, I was told. I told her to keep Fuji comfortable and that my family would be in at 4:30 to say goodbye.
I called my wife and shared the devastatingly sad news with her. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset her and especially at work. She needed to know. After sharing tears we hung up as she needed to go to a meeting. In a perverted way, I was jealous that she had something to possibly take her mind off Fuji’s impending death. I sat in my chair completely numb. Completely numb with tears running down my cheeks and onto my shirt. I needed to talk to someone and called my mother to let her know we wouldn’t be making our customary Friday evening call to her due to the tremendous sadness we were facing.
I completely lost it and started to hyperventilate. My mother, God bless her, did her best to verbally wrap me in her arms and comfort me. I hung up and felt terrible for putting my mother in a bad situation because she is 2,000 miles away and no matter how badly she wanted to ease my pain, she couldn’t. Alone again. Sitting alone in my house. Weeping. My cerebral neurons firing. Pulling memories from deep within me.
The many memories I have of Fuji began to flash through my mind. These memories form a timeline of my life and my family’s as well. They also serve as a reminder that time keeps marching on and refuses to yield. I am getting older. My wife is getting older. My daughter is getting older and soon will be out forging her own life independent of my wife and I. I sat there lost. I was pulled back to reality when the phone rang.
It was the vet calling to let me know that Fuji had taken a significant turn for the worse and she suggested that we get there as soon as we could. I called my wife and shared the latest news. Again, I felt so bad for causing her to became upset. She had sort of reconciled the fact that at 4:30 we would be saying goodbye. Now I had unfairly and without warning shifted the time on her and now the dreaded event would occur much sooner. Not to mention that the time shift indicated that Fuji was in very bad condition and potentially suffering.
I was standing on the front porch as her car flew into the driveway. She came out crying and asked if Fuji had already died. “No, not that I am aware”, I replied in a monotone. We headed to the vet’s office and they had a room set up for us and Fuji.
A vet tech carried Fuji in and laid her down. We spent a few precious minutes with her saying our goodbyes, stroking her soft fur, and trying to fight back a torrent of emotion. The vet asked if were ready and I found myself incapable of uttering any words. I eventually was able to get a simple “Yes” to force its way from my unwilling voice box. The meds were administered and Fuji was gone. It was quick. So quick that my wife was shocked. I was shocked and saddened that the previous 14 years and 7 months of Fuji’s life were so rapidly concluded.
Not sad that it took such a short time for Fuji to go after the last med was injected. I was relieved and thankful for that. I couldn’t and still can’t comprehend how things went so bad so quick. I knew Fuji’s time on Earth was coming to an end sooner rather than later. I just didn’t know or even suspect it would be so soon. No matter how prepared you think you are, you never are.
When my daughter got home from school, I told her that Fuji was gone. She shed tears but outwardly seemed to take the news much better than I thought she would. It wasn’t because she didn’t care as much as my wife or I did. It also wasn’t because she didn’t love Fuji. Fuji was loved by all of us immensely. We all grieve in our own way. Perhaps it was easier for her because she wasn’t at the vet’s office when Fuji was euthanized.
I know there are people who will read this and say to themselves, “Why all the emotion and drama? It’s only a dog”. If that line of thinking works for you, good for you. I love my pets tremendously and they are certainly part of my family. Fuji was a big part of my family. She was a trusted and nonjudgmental companion for many years. She made me laugh. She made me smile. And in the end, her death makes me cry.
Until next time,
Mark
3 Comments
After 30+ years of marriage, I find myself alone as a recent widow. I always have enjoyed photography and have been the unofficial family photographer for family reunions, parties, etc. I decided to bite the financial bullet and buy a Nikon D5100, a purchase way beyond my means. None the less, it’s really the only form of enjoyment, that is, except my dogs.
My two dogs are both rescues. I was surfing the net regarding photography and came upon your article about Fuji. I read this article last night and that was the last thing that I could read since it is totally impossible to read through tears. Your article touched me so deeply because like you, I feel my dogs are my family.
Dogs have always been an integral part of my life. At a young age, maybe 8 or 9, I begged, no tortured my parents to allow me to have a dog. Finally, most likely due to a neighbor telling my parents to get me my “own damn dog” because I was always in his backyard playing with his dog, did they finally relent. On my 11th birthday, the head of our small town’s Humane Society hand delivered a female puppy of her choice with a pink ribbon. I named her Astro, after the dog on the Jetsons. Astro was the perfect family dog for both me and my 8 year old brother. She allowed us to dress her in capes and sunglasses and we played for hours with her inside and outside. I proved to my parents that I was a responsible dog owner taking very good care of her.
A number of years passed and one day the “city drunk” was walking, no yanking a miniature poodle that he had purchased after he won some sort of settlement. He abused the dog and my Father couldn’t stand the site of the poor helpless animal being abused. Although we were very tight on resources, my father approached the drunken man and offered him cash for the dog and apparently beer money was more important to him that his dog and he gladly handed over his dog.
We named him Napoleon, Nappy for short. Nappy smelled of alcohol and Old Spice, but more importantly, he had difficulty walking. One of his back legs didn’t seem to work correctly. He was immediately taken to our vet and he determined that poor Nappy had a broken pelvis that hadn’t healed properly and the vet recommended a specialist in a different city. The specialist determined that it was simply too late to do anything about Nappy’s broken pelvis because too much time had lapsed. He would just have to live with that.
That wasn’t Nappy’s only issue. He became totally nuts during thunderstorms. We tranquilized him and held him like a baby and walked the halls at night until he settled down. Nappy also didn’t like being left alone. He had major separation anxiety. He relieved his anxiety by relieving himself everywhere throughout the entire house. The centerpiece on our dining room table was his favorite place. He also didn’t particularly like my brother’s white sousaphone (tuba) used during marching band season. The white instrument was covered with yellow spots. Our house was destroyed. This was 45 years ago and at that time we never heard of crating a dog. That’s unfortunate because it would have been a great option. The one thing that Nappy seemed to love was my brother’s leg. I can still envision my brother running through the house with Nappy firmly attached to my brother’s wildly shaking leg! After taking him to a behavior specialist, we had no choice but to euthanize him because we couldn’t live under those circumstances. It broke our hearts. We then had to replace our carpet and purchase new furniture.
By this time, I had finished college and had moved to NYC. One day while on an elevated part of the subway, I noticed a dog precariously near the edge of the platform. I called the dog all the way home to my apartment. Her first meal was left over turkey from Thanksgiving. I placed an ad in the newspaper and waited for someone to call me but no one did. So, I now had a new dog, Lady. Lady spent many hours alone in my NYC apartment while I worked. The moment I returned home we went for long walks and the first thing in my morning as well. I went back home to Ohio during one of my Father’s serious cancer complications and brought Lady with me. As I was getting ready to leave to go back to NYC, my Dad told me, not asked, but told me that dogs do not belong in apartments in NYC, they belong in a home with a large yard with HIM!!!
I gladly left Lady with my parents. Lady was incredible company for my Father, particularly when he became bed ridden. My Mom would bring his meals upstairs and he would take a bite and give Lady a bite. She spent hours with him. I came home again from NYC and by this time Astro was nearly 15 years old. Her hind legs gave out on her frequently and when it happened at night, Lady would bark incessantly until someone woke up to pick up Astro and put her in a better position. Astro’s kidney’s failed and it was time. My Mother and I took Astro to the vet and I felt badly for years that I made my Mother go in by herself. I didn’t, couldn’t go in. That day and for days and days afterward, Lady ran through the house, up and down the steps, inside and outside, as if she was in a panic looking for Astro. How sad. Lady knew Astro was gone and she mourned, I’m convinced of that.
After my Dad passed away, Lady was my Mother’s constant companion and wouldn’t leave her side. Since Lady was rescued, I have no idea how old she was when since passed away but that left and huge void in my Mother’s life.
I married in 1979 and in October 1984 I was about 3 months pregnant with my third child. From the beginning of our marriage I begged, no I did the torture routine again, trying to get my husband to agree to let me have a dog and for my little ones to grow up with the love of a family dog. As luck would have it, during one night, someone attempted to break into our house while we were sleeping. This was my opportunity and I knew it. I struck while the iron was hot and carefully planned my modus operandi! I first called an alarm company to provide me with a quote for a home security system. As I watched the company’s salesman add up all the costs for the windows, doors and areas that needed sensors, the motion detectors, the key pads and the monthly monitoring costs, I knew I was “In like Flynn!” That evening I presented my husband with the alarm company’s quote in conjunction with an ad from the local newspaper for free Lab/Golden retriever mix puppies! A puppy won!
The next day I went and picked out Shana. She was completely black and shiny. That evening, much to my surprise, the first thing that my husband did when he came home from work was to sit on the floor and play with the new member of the family. With every pregnancy, I could not get comfortable in bed, so I slept on the couch hugging Shana in my arms. The moment she moved, no matter what the time, we went outside. She was housebroken in days. She was very gentle to my two little ones and about 6 months after adopting her, I brought home our third child. The moment we brought home the baby, I had Shana sniff her new brother because I assumed that was what I was supposed to do.
It must have been the right thing to do and as the baby and the puppy grew up together, they were inseparable. Shana would drape her body across a chair adjacent to the highchair and rest her head on the tray. She would only take a nibble of food if the baby offered it to her. Of course, I would never leave the kids and the dog together without close supervision, except one time when I had my back turned, the baby attempted to explore the upper most portion of Shana’s nose. The baby, now a toddler, wanted to see how far his finger could go up the dog’s nose. Shana simply walked away, bloody nose and all.
As kind and gentle as she was with the children and anyone we knew that would come into our home, she did prove herself as an excellent watchdog. One day, the alarm company salesman decided to pay me a visit to see if perhaps I might have changed my mind. It had been quite a while since his last visit. He ran the doorbell and Shana barked so furiously that her saliva turned to white foam on her black face. He turned around and as he left he said, “Lady, you don’t need me!”
The years passed quickly as they always do and one day when Shana was about 11 years old, my husband noticed a lump on Shana’s head. A vet visit proved our worst fear. Shana had cancer. The vet said that Shana had at 11 years old, already reached her life expectancy. “Excuse me, what exactly did you mean by that?” He said she was old and might not do well and we should just make her comfortable. Both my husband and I didn’t think she was that old and we wanted her to have surgery. I dropped her off at the vet by myself because my husband was too upset to go with me. I guess that was payback from so many years ago when I wouldn’t go in with my Mom when we put Astro to sleep. Several hours, which seemed an eternity, the call finally came in that Shana’s surgery was over and she did very well. She would spend a day or so in the ICU unit and advised us that it wouldn’t be wise for us to see her.
When we were finally allowed to pick her up, I went in and of course needed to pay. I handed the lady at the front desk my “gold” credit card and the lady said she needed another credit card!!! So, my two “gold” credit cards were charged to the maximum but Shana had a good prognosis after all.
During surgery, because of the location of the cancerous tumor, a nerve was damaged and she was not able to blink so eye drops were required very frequently. In addition, the bill was so high due to the plastic surgeon that needed to participate in the surgery since the size of the tumor was so great in order to cover and close the gaping hole, skin needed to be pulled up from the side of her face. She basically had a facelift on one side of her face.
Shana lived well for more than two years after the surgery until 1997, so it was definitely the right call to make. Now, I’m without a dog and I was for many years.
In 2007, I saw a German shepherd on a website. As a child, I had wanted a German shepherd after reading My Little Golden Book of Rin Tin Tin and Rusty hundreds of times. When the lady from the Humane Society hand delivered a puppy of her choice for me for my 11th birthday, it didn’t matter the breed of the puppy. Now, I did want to fulfill my dream. But, I had a huge obstacle. My husband wasn’t going to budge this time and I couldn’t pull the prank of needing an alarm system because we HAD an alarm system!
I communicated frequently with the lady from the rescue organization. She actually ran a pug rescue organization but had a soft spot in her heart for shepherds. One day, I got a call and she said that if I promised to go and pick up this young German shepherd from her, she would pull it as it was scheduled to be euthanized that day. I gave her my assurances that I would definitely pick her up. My husband over heard what he thought was a conversation about me going to get a dog, which I denied fervently.
All day long I sweated it out! How was I going to bring up this topic? In the end, I couldn’t bring it up so at around 5:30PM, I advised my husband that I needed to go to the store to get a few things and would be right back. I had to drive an hour and a half each way and after about forty five minutes, I had to turn off my cell phone. I was in deep do do! As I drove closer to my home, I was dreading the scene that would happen when I brought in this dog. I posted a cleaned up version of what happen on the Happy Ending site:
http://www.compassionatepugrescue.com/index.php/HappyEndings/more/baby/
That’s not EXACTLY how it went down.
If you remember George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television,” then you will have a more accurate assessment of how my evening went. I explained that this poor little creature was going to be killed and that I simply had no choice in the matter. I either did what I did or she would be DEAD! He calmed down and we “agreed” that this was a temporary stop gap measure until we found her a home and she was to be placed on the patio immediately! I agreed, put her outside in the screened in patio and my husband started calling his family members to tell them that I had gotten a dog for them. Everyone said they would think about it.
After about an hour or so, my husband decided that the patio might not be a safe place for the dog that by the way he wanted nothing to do with! He said that perhaps an alligator would come and kill her. I agreed, that could happen… (we were so far away from a canal, that could NEVER happen) and he decided that it would be safer to place her in the cabana bathroom.
In the morning, I let her out and she did her business and it seemed like this dog was housebroken. I played with her for quite some time and put her back in the bathroom to run some errands.
I came home, went to the bathroom and she was GONE! I screamed. My husband comes out of the master bedroom and said he thought the cabana bathroom was too small so he put her in the guest bedroom. I, of course, agreed. Off to other errands and when I came home, there my husband was on the floor in the den with the dog! He did truly love her, it just took 24 hours!
That was August 2007. In June, 2008, I was handed a dog and told if I didn’t take it, it would go to the pound. I hadn’t planned on another dog…especially one that didn’t seem to like me too much. She immediately took a dump in the house within 30 seconds. OK, good start! The floors were tile so no big deal.
I decided that I would have the shepherd teach her the ropes since it was obvious that this little dog had been abused by people and not by dogs. We all went outside and we all came inside. At feeding time, the shepherd would be given her bowl first. The little dog sat on the far end of the couch and looked at me. I ignored her. She gradually warmed up to me and ever since then has slept with me under the covers and kept me warm. My husband wasn’t thrilled, but what’s another dog?
In 2010, my husband passed away and both dogs were with him when I found him on the floor. Now, it’s just the three of us. They are everything to me. They are the reason I get up in the morning. They are the reason I get any exercise at all. They are the reason I have met people. There was definitely a reason that I chose to completely go against my husband’s wishes and rescue my shepherd. There must have been a reason I found your blog last night as well.
Thank you.
Susan,
Thank you for your story. Saying goodbye to loved ones, especially the four legged ones, is so hard and emotionally draining to do. Lots of luck and happiness in your photographic pursuits. PLease stop back by my blog any time. I am trying to be better about posting more regularly. Knowing I have readers like you will help me to be more productive.
Mark
Mark,
I have talked via the internet to Dana about the loss of your treasured companion. My heart went out to the Siek family when I heard the news and yet again when I read your blog. No, let me rephrase that. I found myself sobbing as I read your loving story about Fuji. My oldest four-legged child (Bailey my English Spring Spaniel) has been sick for almost three weeks now. I won’t go into the details; but it is making me sad. I know that he has brought me endless memories from puppie days and springing over fences, to miles and miles of being my long distance running companion, to the excellent pheasant hunter that he has always been. I find myself wishing that he could tell me how he feels and why eating is no longer something that interests him. At night when he is restless and trying to get comfortable, he looks up at me with these large imploring brown eyes and I wonder what he is trying to ‘tell me’. I can only imagine the void that you, Dana, and Christina feel. Thanks for sharing your story. You have a great gift in both photography and writing!