Pixie was my miracle puppy from the moment she was born. She was born the runt of the litter, and she was so small she fit in the palm of one hand. We knew immediately that she was sick and my stepfather (a farmer and dog breeder) believed we should let nature take it’s course. I looked into her eyes and knew right away that she wanted to live, she just needed help. Her back legs didn’t work very well; her little body would shake so badly when she stood up that she couldn’t make it over to her mother to eat with the other puppies before they were finished. Her first vet visit was at two weeks old and we were told not to get our hopes up, that she would probably not last the month.
In a gesture of compassion, we were given a partially used tube of vitamins to give to her daily (the vet didn’t want to charge for the vitamins since he believed it wouldn’t work). I took my little girl home and started giving her the vitamins, along with bottle feeding her as she was severely malnourished. Every night my mother and I would lay a towel on the table and do little exercises with her – we would work on her back legs and try to strengthen them. At the eight-week checkup that we brought all the puppies to, the vet was amazed at the difference in my little Pixie. She could stand steady and walk normally. That wasn’t the end of Pixie’s battle, though. At eight weeks she was diagnosed with a grade 4 heart murmur (heart murmurs are graded from 1 to 6).
We were told that it was unusual to have such a high grade heart murmur at such a young age, and it didn’t bode well for her future. We were determined though. I brought her home, and continued to give her vitamins. She was eating on her own by that point, and she started to sleep with me. Because she had had such problems with her back legs, she was afraid of a lot of things – heights, falling, etc. I actually managed to house train her by letting her sleep in my bed. She was too afraid to jump off the bed and go to the bathroom on the floor so she would run around and wake me up and I would bring her outside. I spent quite a bit of time traveling around the state we lived in to spend time caring for my grandparents in one town, visiting my mother in another and going to college in another. Pixie went on all my trips. She was terrified of the car.
It got so bad that I would have to trick her into the car. She would see me loading stuff into the car and that was it – she wouldn’t come near me. I would have to tell her that it was time to go in, and walk towards the house and when she got close I would grab her and put her in the car. I finally realized that it wasn’t the car she was afraid of – it was the floor! She was terrified of falling off the seat and onto the floor. I bought a hammock for the backseat and after that, I couldn’t keep her out. So many times if we were visiting somewhere, I could leave the car door open and she would lay in the backseat and nap. If I was going somewhere and opened the car door, she would jump right in. We became travel buddies and went everywhere together.
We took road trips all over Maine, we went to Tennessee to visit relatives together I don’t know how many times, we went to Ohio – she was the best co-pilot anyone could have. And still, any time I brought her in to the vets, they were amazed at how well she was doing. They cautioned me that she could go at any time, and that it was a miracle she was still here. As a year old, she had her first ultrasound and the grade 4 heart murmur had escalated to a grade 6. The vet visits became not only about examining Pixie, but also teaching visits, so that the students and assistants could listen and hear what a grade 6 heart murmur sounded like. I wasn’t the only one who thought my girl was a miracle. She knew that she wasn’t healthy – she would play, and run, and have a great time, but as soon as she started to feel tired she would always stop and come back to me to cuddle up against me and take a nap until she was ready to go again.
At one point, my cousin (who I was living with) brought home a dog for herself. When she got her, she was told that she had kennel cough, but neither of us knew what that was, or how dangerous it could be. Soon enough, Pixie began to get sick. She wouldn’t eat, didn’t have any energy, and lost a lot of weight. I had brought her with me on our yearly road trip to Tennessee to visit relatives, and my mother and I ended up bringing her to another vet. This time we were told not only about the grade 6 heart murmur, but she also had pneumonia.
We all really thought this would be the end – that her poor heart and worn out body would not be able to come back from the stress of everything going on. We fed her baby food and rice, I gave her shots of antibiotics and we cuddled her close to make sure she was comfortable and comforted just in case, but once again – she proved us all wrong. Soon enough she was back to her normal weight, eating well and playing as much as she ever did. She again proved what a miracle and a fighter she really was.
Pixie had to be on medication her entire life for her heart condition. I’ve heard so many people talk about how they have to trick their dogs into taking pills, or force them to, but that was never the case with Pixie. She got to the point that all I had to do was shake the pill bottle and she would come running. She performed tricks for her pills – I could get her to shake, lay down, roll over – all for a pill. She was my little pill-head. Later in her life we had to add Lasix to the Atenolol she was taking, but she never missed a beat – two pills were better than one in her opinion. One of the vets I took her to ended up making a mistake on the dosage of Lasix, and once again we were on the verge of losing her. Her healthy weight was between 65 and 70 (this was to keep the strain on her heart as low as possible) and after this overdose of Lasix she dropped down to 40+ pounds. She didn’t even have the energy to get up to get a drink – she was now in kidney failure. I brought her to another vet who didn’t hold out much hope, but told me to immediately put her on the Kidney food diet for dogs, to get her potassium levels back up. The first time I opened a can of that food I knew there was NO WAY she would eat it – it smelled worse than any animal food I have ever smelled, and it looked like a lump of clay. You would think it was ambrosia to Pixie though, she went through one and a half cans before she was satisfied and could manage to step away from the food. She slowly began to improve until finally the test results all came back normal. For the third time, my puppy showed just how tough and determined to live she was.
We had so many good years together – we were told she wouldn’t last the month and each year she proved everyone wrong. She was spoiled and loved by everyone who knew her. She had such a gentle look in her eyes, and even as a puppy she was mild-mannered and calm. It could be deceptive though – her tail could wipe out a person if they weren’t careful, and she never really figured out where her feet were – she stepped on everything! She was more curious than any cat I knew, always having to know what was going on in any part of the house. When my mother and I moved in together, she began to split her time between the two of us. My mother was home with her all day, but as soon as I got home from work she would be at the door ready to greet me. At bedtime, she would always come and cuddle with me for a few minutes before it was time for bed and then she’d head upstairs with ‘grammie’ to her own bed.
After a 7 year struggle, Pixie finally wore out. My mother woke me up to tell me that Pixie wasn’t breathing very well. When I went to check on her, she couldn’t lay down because the fluid in her lungs kept her from being able to breathe, and she just couldn’t get enough air. We brought her to the animal hospital where we were told that she would need to be admitted to the hospital for at least 12-24 hours, put on oxygen, fluids removed from her lungs and abdomen, full run of tests, etc. I would need a deposit of $800 and the rest would be due on discharge. What wasn’t said was that at the end of the hospital stay, she wouldn’t be getting better. The fact that she had fluid in her lungs indicated left-heart failure, and the fluid in her abdomen indicated right-heart failure. When I first took Pixie on and decided against ‘letting nature take it’s course’ I determined that I would fight for her as long as I possibly could, as long as she could fight too and it wasn’t hurting her. I wanted her to have quality of life, even if she couldn’t have quantity. I spent her entire life making sure she had everything she needed, and knowing that she was loved more than anything. I couldn’t have her put in the hospital to extend the length of her suffering just because I wasn’t ready to let go – even discounting the fact that I didn’t have the kind of money they were asking for, it would have been cruel to put her through that. I asked them to give her something to make her comfortable for the rest of the night until I could get her to her regular vet in the morning.
Once morning came, my mother and I got Pixie ready for one last car ride (hoping, but not expecting, that we would still be able to bring her home – after all, this amazingly strong miracle puppy had proved us all wrong before). As soon as her vet saw her, though, and I saw her face I knew that that hope was not going to come true. Pixie’s struggle needed to be over. She couldn’t lay down because she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t sit because she couldn’t breathe, and she had a look in her eyes that I had never seen before – even with all the other scares over the years. It was a look of fear, of panic, and a plea for help. The vet, my mother and I finally had to make the decision to give Pixie
the help that she was asking for.
I lost Pixie on the morning of April 26th, and my world is already a darker place without her here. Everywhere I look I see things that remind me of her, and think of what she would be doing. I try to get comfort from the fact that she is now breathing easy, and she can finally run and play as long and as hard as she wants to without taking breaks or feeling sick. Despite the pain I feel from losing Pixie, I don’t regret making that decision 7 years ago against letting nature take it’s course. I made a promise to my miracle puppy that she WOULD have a quality life, long or short, and I hope and pray that I kept that promise to her, because the quality of my life was improved beyond words from having her with me.
Rest in Peace my little Pixie, and breathe easy,
| Pixie Lucille |
| Stephanie Sweatt |