Spencer the Coon Hound's Disease Survivor

We lived in the middle of the woods. Literally, the middle of the woods. Up on a hill with a creek running thru the front “yard”. Spencer and Emma were outdoor dogs. They had the run of the woods. They were huge, shaggy mutts. In the summer, they were smelly and crusty and in the winter, Spencer actually had snowballs hanging from his butt. I know, to many this would sound cruel, but they loved it. They hunted raccoon and skunk and got their fill of deer guts the hunters left in the woods. It was heaven on earth for those dogs.

They had no boundaries. When they were tired, they would come and lay on the front deck. Bliss I tell ya. They slept in the mud room when it was really cold out.

The fall that Spencer was four, I noticed that his back leg was giving out. I thought he was to young to be getting old. Being outdoor dogs, they occasionally limped or hobbled but it always went away after a day or so. Within the week, he was unable to get his butt of the ground. So, off we went to the vet. He was diagnosed with Coon Hound's Disease. This was a disease that hounds used to get from raccoons, hence the name. When a dog would eat a raccoon, they would be infected with a virus that would systematically paralyze the dog. Starting with the hind quarters and working it's way all the way thru the dog's body. The internal organs would be unaffected. Many hunters would simply put the dog down despite this being a temporary affliction. The vet said once the dog was totally paralyzed, then the virus would slowly start working it's way out of the body opposite of the way it started. Notice I said slowly.

The vet said Spencer would make a complete recovery barring any secondary infections such as bed sores. This is 120 pound mutt we are talking about. So, we decide that we will take care of him thru his illness. He will recover. In FOUR MONTHS!! The vet kindly offered to take care of him there, at the hospital, for us, for a measly 50 bucks a day. We didn't even have 50 bucks a week (hello, our dog was eating raccoon for a reason!!)

So, we bring Spence home. And he deteriorates right on schedule. It was sad to watch, but I didn't let him know I felt sorry for him. By the end of October, he was down and he wasn't getting up. He would lay there and bark. I had to spoon feed him as he couldn't lift his head. Have you even thought about how a paralyzed dog goes to the bathroom....or where? Yup, wherever he is is where he goes. So, I got all sorts of plastic tarps and absorbent pads. Which saved the floor but remember the vet said be careful of bed sores. So, although he wasn't eating as well as he had in the past, what with the deer and the skunk and all, he was only down about 10 pounds. So, there I am hauling his dead weight out to the back deck and hosing him off. But it was starting to get cold.

The shower was up two flights of stairs. 110 pounds of whining dead weight, up the 2 flights of stairs. And even on a good day, Spence HATED showers. I mean, he would throw a tantrum. He would bark and whine like I was pulling his nails out. He would jet out of the shower while all soapy and shake all over the bedroom.

So, one day I get him up the stairs and I turn on the shower to warm it up and I leave him there while I run down to get his towels. Yes, HIS towels, at that point he did have his own set of linen. All of the sudden I hear this rolling crash. I go flying up the one flight of stairs thinking part of the roof fell in and there he is laying at the bottom of the second flight of stairs. He inch wormed his way to the top of the stairs and then threw his paralyzed body down them. I was both impressed and horrified. How badly this dog hated showers!! And now I had to get his paralyzed ass back up the stairs to the shower. Jerk.

After that, he took a turn for the worse and lost his bark. All he could do was blink. I had to lift his head and squirt water down his throat. I turned him over every hour. I tried to duck tape diapers to his butt. I bought him wet dog food which made me gag. And the weird thing was how Emma reacted to him.

You see, Spencer was the alpha dog. He ruled the woods, the house and Emma. As he started getting sick, she would go over and give him kisses and lay with him. After about a month of that, she gave up and wouldn't go near him. She wanted all of my attention and she would bark when I would take care of him. The vet explained that in Emma's mind, Spencer should be dead. He was sick, she said her good by and couldn't figure out why he was still hanging on. Or why we were paying any attention to him. So, Emma was no help whatsoever.

By about Thanksgiving, he started figuring out that he could lift his head and then drag his body to where he would toss it. That was when he dragged himself over to the dining room table and started chewing the legs. And then there was the day I came home and he had chewed the leg clear off and the table was laying on top of him. How can I be mad at a paralyzed dog?

Then he started a squeak/bark. Probably the most annoying sound I have heard bar none. But he was getting better!! Eventually he regained the use of his front legs and he would drag his hiney all over the living room. That was entertaining for him and for us. But he didn't know enough to drag it out the door if he had to pee and there in ended the entertainment. Ass.

I took him back to the vet a few times during his FOUR MONTH illness. I was always given high marks for cleanliness and care. If the vet could have heard the names I called that mutt as I dragged/carried his fat ass up two flights of stairs, I'm sure my marks would have been lower.

And then, as if by destiny, on Christmas Morning, he took his first shaky steps!! I was so proud and happy, relieved really. He was up! He was walking!! He was slipping....down the hill...the steep hill that leads to the creek...the cold, wet creek. Damn it!!! Spencer and I took a swim in the almost completely frozen but still flowing creek. Merry Christmas!!! Love, The Dog.