My Goose

The sweetest dog alive

A month ago, my sweet precious white lab mix, Goose, had his eyes.  Now he doesn't.  But he's still the same lovely pup that has been my unwavering companion for 10 years, and I wouldn't change a thing.

So first, a bit of background.

It was 2002, I was in college and living with my boyfriend, J, and we had discussed getting a 2nd dog but had no solid plans.  We were in PetSmart looking for a new collar for our first dog, Nelson, since he had outgrown his puppy one.  It was a Saturday, and the Humane Society adoption crew was out in full-force. 

We hadn't gone in there with the intentions of adopting, we just wanted a $10 collar. 

But as we walked past the cages of sad, yet hopeful, looking cats and dogs, we stopped at the cage of a white lab pup.  Nelson was a black labrador, and we had hoped to get another dog close to his size.  This white pup was the right size, or at least he would be once he was grown.  He was small then, only 4 months old, and the notecard on his cage told us of his story, how he had been very sick and his owners couldn't afford to treat the parvo.  That he was probably a pure bred lab - which his current vet doesn't agree with, but he's mostly lab either way - but it was hard to tell definitively, and I don't care about getting purebred dogs anyway. 

His front legs were shaved where they'd had to put him on an IV, where he'd been given a blood transfusion. 

My heart ached for this baby who had it so hard.  Only 4 months old and already he had tasted death, and come out on the other side.  We asked to see him, so the volunteer got him out of the cage.  We walked him around a bit.  He was so calm for a 4 month dog of any breed, much less of a labrador.  Having a lab at home I knew how incredibly hyper-active they could be, but Goose was calm and observant. 

And that was that.  He was mine.

We sat down to fill out the paperwork.  Goose sat contentedly in my lap, watching people walk by, and I'd like to think, knowing that he was soon going to a place he could call home.  He seemed to belong there, sitting in my lap, being mine.  This is the closest I've ever come to love at first sight.

Then came the waiting.  It takes a couple of days for them to verify that your other animals have their shots, and that you've paid a pet deposit with the landlord.  So after a 48 hour waiting period, we finally got to take him home. 

We brought him into the house and Nelson went NUTS!  He was running circles around Goose, who was tentatively checking the place out, probably wondering where he was.  For the next two years, these two were the best of buddies.

And then, my boyfriend and I broke up.  It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  I couldn't afford both dogs and I knew it.  I was so angry for putting myself in this situation, knowing I would have passed fairly harsh judgment on others who did the same.  Lesson learned.

I was in a fragile state.  Broken hearted over my lost relationship, and even more upset that I would eventually have to find another home for one of my babies. 

Truth be told, though, Nelson was always J's.
 
When I asked him to take one of the dogs, there was no question which he would get.  He showed up 3 hours early to get Nelson, and I was crushed.  Even though he was J's, I loved that dog.  I had planned an afternoon of walking and playing, so that we could say our proper goodbyes, and I wouldn't be so vulnerable around this man that I had been with for 5-1/2 years.  Instead, much sooner than expected, I loaded Nelson into his truck, threw my arms around his neck and bawled my eyes out.  I told him how sorry I was and that I wish it were different, but that he got to go live with his dad now.  I haven't seen him since, and since J never kept in touch, I don't know what happened to Nelson.

I kept Goose.

From then on, it was just Goose and I, and he went everywhere with me.  He missed Nelson, I knew and could tell, but he adapted surprisingly well, a trait that has served him well throughout his life.  I began making new friends (said ex wasn't too keen on me having friends, part of the reason he carries the Ex title), and Goose got to go see them.  He got to go to the bar with me, since they had a pet-friendly patio.  He got to go camping.  Where I went, Goose went.

I graduated in 2006.  Finally.  And moved back to Mesquite.  I was renting a bigger house, and we got settled in.  I began dating Dr. B, and then we got engaged in 2007. 

Then one day, Goose's eye started to get red.  I waited a couple of weeks, thinking he'd just whopped it or something, but it didn't go away.  Expecting a minor eye infection, I took him to the vet.  The vet said that something wasn't right.   She didn't know exactly what it was, but she knew she couldn't deal with it.  She sent us across town to get his eye pressure measured.  We went, and it was 25.  Normal is around 10.  We were referred to an animal ophthalmologist.  The first visit alone was $100.  This all happened in a single day.

And then, this.  My 6 year old dog was going blind, and fast.

I couldn't find my breath.  Blind?  But....how?

He was my buddy, my only pet, and had been through 6 years of struggle and pain and tears and laughter, and now he was going to lose his sight.  He'd done nothing but be the best companion a single girl could ask for.  I kept thinking, he won't be able to play fetch any more - his favorite game - and he won't be able to.

HELL NAW.  I wasn't giving up without a fight, but his disease was progressing fast.

Goose was born with a birth defect that decided to make itself apparent in his 6th year.  In a normal eye, there is a constant flow of fluid going in and out.  Goose's eyes had lost the ability to regulate that flow.  Fluid could flow in, but it couldn't flow out fast enough, and so the pressure in his eyes was building up, and higher than it should have been.  This is, essentially, glaucoma which = blindness if not controlled.  He also had cataract issues, and some other problems that...well...basically, he had shitty eyes, okay?

So we came up with a game plan.  The doctors hadn't seen this before, so dealing with it was tricky. First, we tried eye drops.  There are a lot of great drops out there that control these kind of problems.  They aren't cheap, but they can be effective.  We went that route first, but it simply wasn't good enough and didn't control his eye pressure.

Next, a laser surgery that would lessen the flow of fluid in his eyes.  There was no guarantee that this would work, but if we didn't do it, he would be blind in a matter of 2 to 3 months.

This is where my amazing Dr. B stepped in and shocked me.


All this stuff, it wasn't cheap.  The vet visits were expensive, as were the eye drops - there was one that was 2.5 mL (basically enough to fill the lid on a soda bottle) that cost $90.  One bottle would last us 1 to 2 weeks depending on the dosage.  All of this I had barely been able to afford, but paid for nonetheless. 

The surgery, though, that cost a lot.  I had been saving to take the CPA exam, so I put all of that towards the surgery, but still didn't have enough. I could have borrowed it, but Dr. B - and this makes me tear up just thinking about it - Dr. B told me that, since we were engaged now, Goose was part of his family.  As such, he didn't see why he couldn't help pay for the surgery.  I was floored.  If that wasn't a sign that he was meant to be mine, I don't know what was.

WHAT A GUY.  He should get laid tonight, if only for that.  Four years later, and he's still getting booty off of that one act of chivalry and generosity.  It's not about the money necessarily, it's that he did it without hesitation.  That he didn't balk at the fact that I was considering this surgery to begin with.  That he was ON MY TEAM.

Goose had the surgery.  And it was awful.  Eye surgery is so incredibly traumatic LOOKING.  The eyes heal quickly, but in the interim, they're very hard to look at.  The area around the eyes is shaved, and afterwards, it looks like you've have a "discussion" with Evander Holyfield's fists.  Bruises and seeping.  I cried a lot that day.  I tried to keep it quiet so that it didn't upset Goose, but it was hard.

Post surgery, things were looking good.  We weren't able to take him off of all the eye drops, but most of them.  It was still expensive, but it was do-able.  I got married, bought my first house, and we got another dog named Everett, a French Bulldog.

Hi, I inexplicably dig holes with my face.

For about two years, we had a regimen.  Drops every morning and night, and eye pressure checks every 6 months.  Good times.

Then, things started changing.  His eye pressure in the right eye went up.  That had always been his bad eye anyway, so no surprise there.  The doctor explained that sometimes the body adapts to the medicines.  We added a different drop, and things smoothed out.

Another 6 months.  Then the pressure in his LEFT eye went up.

SHIT.  That was his good eye.

Over the next 6 months, My Goosey Bear went blind.  I'm glad it was slow and not sudden, giving him a chance to adapt.  First, his night vision started to go. Then I noticed him bumping into things during the day.  Thought, this can't be good....

More vet visits.  More $$$.

And then....

"Beyond a very expensive experimental surgery, there is nothing we can do.  There are no other drops we can give him, and his pressures are too high.  We need to take out the left eye."

Goose kept his sight for almost 3 years longer than he should have, I have to remind myself of that often.

At this point, he had completely lost sight in both eyes.  His body had adapted to the medicines, and every time we took the pressure in his left eye it was higher than the last time.  When the doctor mentioned surgery, it was up to 35 -  dogs are in pain past 34, so at that point, if the dog is uncomfortable and completely blind, removal makes sense.

And then the hardest decision of all, should we remove one or both eyes?  He had already lost sight in both, that much we knew.  But his right eye, which was traditionally his bad eye, had a somewhat healthy pressure of around 15.  But there's no telling when that could change, it could be tomorrow, it could be 3 years from now, or possibly even never.  After a lot of deliberation, I decided to remove both.  Keeping them was pointless because he was already blind.  As a friend said succinctly, "Gin, he'll wake up from the surgery, and be like "hey, where's my headache?""  So true.

And then there was this.  We were supposed to leave for Europe in a week.  We had been saving for this trip for ages, pretty much since we got married, and now as we're getting ready to leave, my dog needs surgery.  His pressures had climbed 10 points in the last week, so waiting 3 weeks wasn't an option.

C was supposed to be watching Goose while we were gone.  I called her, and through tears, told her what was going on.  I told her my parents would watch him if she felt it would be too much to handle.

But she didn't.  She didn't hesitate, she WANTED to help.  And I owe her.

We removed both eyes two days before we left for vacation.  For the first time since we began this journey 4 years ago, I cried as I told the doctor it was time to remove them.  I felt ashamed for crying.  This was a new doctor we had only seen a couple of times, but she was wonderful and SO very supportive, and told me I was making the right decision.  I don't know what I thought she would do (tell me I was a cry baby and to suck it up, they were just eyes).  In all of this 4 year battle, I needed to hear that I was making the right decision, and that it's what she would have done.

I dropped him off at 7 AM for the surgery.  I cried in the car.  I went to work.  I picked him up that afternoon.  I  lost it again when they brought him out, stitched up, looking like a macabre version of my Goose.  They took the pressure in his eyes just before they were removed.  His left eye was up to 54.  FIFTY FOUR.  Normal is TEN.  Again, reassuring me that we made the right decision to do this before we left.  If we'd waited another couple of weeks, I can't imagine how awful he would have felt.

I brought him home and babied him with everything I had.  The next day, I took him over to C's, who also cried.  She held it in at first, but I was there for a little while, and she eventually lost it.  She apologized and told me that she'd tried to hold it in until I left, but it was just too much.  I don't blame her, I love her for it.

He just looked....awful.  I didn't take any pictures.  Didn't need/want to.  I will never forget.

Over the next two weeks, the guilt racked me.  We were gallivanting around Europe, and C was back home nursing my baby.  I cannot express how thankful I am to her for what she did.  It gave me such comfort to know that he was in the best of hands.

And now?

Goose, he's fine.  He was already blind when he had the surgery, so the surgery was merely a formality.  He gets around SO WELL, sometimes it freaks me out.  He'll be plodding along, and you'll SWEAR he's going to run into something.  Just as you reach out to stop him, he swerves around it and keeps going.

Also, did you know that in terms of doggy senses, sight is the 3rd most important?  Smell and hearing are first and second, respectively.  That gives me a great comfort. 

I've also noticed that I get a LOT more kisses from him now.  He was never a big kisser, but now, when I nuzzle him, he gives me sweet kisses almost every time. 

Still the same Goosey Bear.  Still my sweet companion, ever true and loyal.

And to you naysayers who think things like dog eye surgery are stupid or a waste of money, fuck off.  You JUST. DON'T. GET IT.  Here's what you do.  You adopt a dog that is the perfect yin to your yang, and you spend 6 years raising and caring for that dog.  You spend 6 years watching that dog be your faithful companion, who thinks you're the best thing EVER.  ALWAYS.   NO MATTER WHAT, THEY THINK YOU ROCK.  And no matter how shitty your day has been, you can come home to your pup, spend some time walking or throwing the ball with it, and things are suddenly less shitty than they were.  You do all that, and then tell me how you can - with a completely clear conscience - tell me that putting my dog down would have been a better option.  I would rather put PEOPLE like you down.  I feel sorry for you.