Xena's story Part II

Xena's Story Part II

 Xena has never been an easy dog, if there is such a thing? She was so full of energy, being a Border Collie/ Spaniel cross, she should have been a working dog. But her spaniel side let her down - without a doubt she has always been a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic. Having said that she tuned into me straight away and has always loved me deeply. More, much more than I deserved. I am an unreliable owner, I blow hot and cold with most things, I am not consistent. Having said that I always did my best to exercise her as much as I could. Single parenting is the hardest job in the world, I truly believe that and I am always mindful of how hard it is when I meet other parents in those circumstances. Single parenting with two young children and a neurotic collie is enough to drive anyone crazy and I think it did.

In 2004 I decided to get Xena spayed and this is where her remarkable story really begins. I had decided that it was necessary because her seasons sent us both over the edge! She would be running off trying to find any available 'man'. Perhaps I was jealous??

Having got her home from the op she started bleeding from the wound quite heavily. I took her back to the vets immediately and they kept her in overnight. I had to borrow a large cage (yes of course I had got rid of the other one - couldn't keep her in that!!) and she had to be kept quiet and only allowed out to do any business on a lead. She hated it - I hated it - she was so miserable - I was so miserable.

The vet had tested her blood and it turned out that she had a very low platelet count. Platelets are little cells in the blood that help it to clot. The vet was amazed at her results, in the tiny sample that they had taken they were hard pushed to find a platelet. She would bleed at the slightest thing. He warned me that he would book an appointment for five days later for a further test to see if the steroids were helping but that I should be prepared that she may not make it to that appointment. The chances of an internal bleed which would kill her were extemely high.

 

The next year followed in a blur of monthly blood checks, expensive tablets and steroids. I could not afford it but she was my third child (if you don't have a dog you probably won't understand that). It was better to get in debt than to lose her. Her condition did not improve, on the contrary, she became more and more distressed and 'crazy'. I decided to try and reduce her tablets and she seems a bit better in her 'mood' - I went to the vets for the next blood test and said that I had tried reducing her tablets and that she had improved so much. He phoned me up that evening and told me to increase the dose again immediately as her platelet count had gone dangerously low again. I despaired but did as I was told.

It was at the point that Xena had to take extreme measures to get through to my thick head and lack of understanding about her true energy and spirit. She ripped up several carpets - my sons bedroom carpet and the door, my new hall carpet, the stair carpet, the kitchen door. Shredded. I was so so mad. I am ashamed to say that I lashed out at her. I could not speak to her for two weeks my partner took her home with him and took her to work every day in his truck. I was deeply upset and didn't even ask him how she was.

Then it suddenly clicked. It clicked what she had been trying so hard for the last YEAR to tell me. How could I have been so far away from the language of energy? The language of animals. A dog that understood my every mood was screaming at me to try and understand her mood and her energy.

Xena came home and I started to think very hard about the right move forward. What makes my slowness of action even harder to understand is that I had been through the SAME thing. At 18 my platelet count was 18,000 per cubic centimetre of blood. I think the correct count is 350-500,000 per cubic cm. I was put on steroids, I felt miserable, the steroids did not work and I ended up in hospital at 19 having my spleen removed. Let me tell you that I would not let them do it now. But at 19 and told that I could bleed internally and that the operation was urgent, I just went along with what I was told was necessary to live.

 

Despite this, why could I not understand my dog? HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO STUPID??

 

Final Part III tomorrow.