Remembering Toby

He was one of us. I never realized how much until it was time to bury him.

Toby: January 26, 2007 - February 3, 2014. Thanks for the memories, boy.

      This morning I woke up to the song of birds outside my window. But this was a new song. I've never heard it before. Like all bird songs it was happy and chirpy. I had to look out to see two or three cream-chested fat birds perched on a cable wire. Oh. I've seen those birds before. But they had a new song this morning. 

      Last night was a difficult night for us here at the house. Outside in our garden on a wrought iron table, the remains of our second Dalmatian, Toby, laid in a large dog food bag. I had made the decision last night to put the dog to sleep. When we got home from the vet clinic, it was too late to dig a hole in the backyard. So we had to wait for tomorrow.

      Toby was a difficult dog to live with. In one of my past blogs ("The Lesson of Toby About Separation") I wrote about how he came to live with us. He was rehomed to me. I accepted him because I thought he could follow in Spot's footsteps as my next agility dog. I had come to love Dalmatians because of Spotty and I had wanted another one.

      But the problem with adopting dogs that come from another home is that they come to you with issues if they were not happy in their first home (worse if they were maltreated). Toby did not do well with his first family because they could not understand him. He had a severe separation anxiety. They punished him for that. The dog was also hyperactive, excitable, and nervous.

      I had a dog school that time at a local park so dogs was my business. At home life revolved around them too. When Toby came to live with us, he had three rowdy playmates he was happy to see. At his first home he had no playmates. He was alone and was often caged. At my house, he ran about freely. He could run in and out of the house. Every morning when I went to my dog school he would hop in the car for a day in the park. I'd teach him the obstacle course. He'd come home hot and exhausted. But happy. 

      On days I don't bring him to the park Lourdes or I walked him around the neighborhood twice a day. Oh yes, I know enough about Dalmatians. Toby was a young dog and this breed needed plenty of outlets for their bounding energy.

      But on other matters, the dog was difficult to manage. He had fear aggressions. His attention span was seconds. He didn't like strong handling. He was very sensitive. When we run him on the obstacle course he must be leashed. A split-second distraction and the dog will stop and bark wildly at another dog. Or when he feels like it he will just stray away. He was difficult to command. 

      One day he latched himself to Lourdes and followed her around wherever she went. He refused to be separated from her. Lourdes was home all day. I used to leave the house everyday and come home at night. That's when I lost the dog from my control. He preferred Lourdes infinitely more.

      Dog behaviorist Fred Alimusa helped a few times in my trying to understand Toby. He taught me how to introduce the dog to others. He explained that Toby's aggressive behavior around new dogs was simply based on fear.

Expert dog behaviorist Fred Alimusa shows how a fearful dog like Toby can be introduced to another dog.

      As the years passed, Toby demonstrated his utmost loyalty and preference more to Lourdes. When we watch television in the evenings he loved to snuggle beside Lourdes, claiming her for the night. I would call it Toby's "bonding time" with his mama. This was when Lourdes could check his fur but to the dog it was his nightly body massage which would send him to blissful sleep.We had very few "bonding" moments. But when I plan a walk out to the fields with Spot, Toby gets to come along. It's always a visual delight to see two spotted dogs frolicking in the green. They stand out in the scenery.

      Though caring for this dog was burdensome, he had his antics. He emerged as Packy's "back-up singer" whenever the church bells in our neighborhood rang everyday. He howled passionately and with all his heart. It was amusing to watch the dog stretch his neck to the high heavens as he delivered his best song for the day.
      When I thought of training the dogs tricks, I started with what mannerism each dog tends to do naturally and Toby was the one who suggested the "High 5." I just had to refine it. It turned out to be his best trick. In public when I'd show his admirers what he can do, he'd look fittingly like a circus dog sitting on his hind legs delivering the High 5.
     I also remember the struggles I had trying to teach the dog how to stand on his haunches.  I was just learning how to teach and I remembered Fred telling me that there is no canned way for a dog to learn a trick. It's more to find a way how I can make Toby understand what I want him to do. Finally Toby understood and during one session he just sat up. He looked so cute that he'd sit on his haunches every time I would give him treats. 

      He was a gentleman too, whenever he'd get his treat: always carefully extracting the biscuit from my fingers -- unlike Spot's tendency to always grab that you sometimes feel you might lose a finger.

     In 2009, when we had our first experience with a robber before dawn, it was Toby who chased the intruder, his low voice booming up the driveway as the frightened robber fled out our gate. He had the voice of a big dog. It was very effective. 

Toby shows his enjoyment for chorus singing with Packy.

      But late 2013, his health problems started. It started with a constant ear itch. We thought it was either a flea or dirty ear wax, thus our failure to have his complaint looked into by a vet at once. I don't know now if that ear infection had any connection with his seizures. One day the right ear flap bloated. We brought him to the vet that October.

      It was during treatment of that ear he had his first seizure. We went back to the vet for tests. He received his first dose of phenobarbital where he remained seizure-free for the whole month of November.

      But this was not to last. In December another vet that handled Toby's case pointed to the possibility of the ear infection triggering the seizures. So his approach was to treat the ear infection first. He took off the phenobarbital. This was before the holidays. 

      We had a horrible time during the holidays as Toby's seizures returned. Once, he had them 3 times in one day. Soon as the university vet hospital opened that January, I brought the dog back. The phenobarbital prescription was returned. It also revealed Toby had renal failure already.

      After a week the dog started to have seizures again. It's heart rending to watch a dog in convulsion. The first time I saw him break up into spasms up close it was pitiful. My heart went out to him. He feels no pain but to see the whites of his eyes bulge as he foams at the mouth, urinates, and convulses uncontrollably is a clear sign of terror. He can't understand what is happening to him.

      During this period, when he was visibly sick, I noticed Toby always coming to me. Any change of behavior I take note and for the dog to always want to be near me was somewhat disturbing. He never recognized me before as anybody special in his life. A friend of mine warned, "He wants to say good-bye." 

    The dog was seizure-free for a week. But he whined a lot. Lourdes demanded impatiently, "What do you want?" He was also restless and sometimes agitated. We could find no reason. I thought maybe the phenobarbital was affecting him somehow and planned to ask his vet about it. Then on the week before our follow-up visit the seizures started again. I called his vet at the university hospital and made an appointment for the following day.
      But by afternoon, the dog was clearly in distress and I couldn't wait for tomorrow. The university vet hospital was already closed. So I paid a visit to a veteran vet, a by-word in the industry, who was Spot's puppy vet. I wanted to compare notes. It turned out Toby was under-dosed but I was advised to ask his vet why. Maybe there was a reason. She mentioned maybe Toby's kidneys could not process the phenobarbital anymore.

      We never made it to that university vet hospital appointment. That night, Toby had more seizures. I called up the veteran vet asking if I could up his dose. She recommended two tablets at once. Lourdes gave them to Toby. But it seemed they didn't work anymore. The dog would try to relax under a table because every episode was exhausting. But we'd get surprised when suddenly we'd see him convulse an hour later. Then the next hour. And the next. And the next.

     Finally I got up from my chair in mid-dinner. I was noting down the hours in my smartphone and noticing the frequency was too much. His first was at 2:30pm, followed at 4:00pm, then 5:25pm, 6:30pm, 7:15, then at 8:30pm. The dog was visibly exhausted. How could he recuperate if he convulses every hour? He might not last the night. His strength was ebbing but the convulsions were violent. I cannot stand to see another seizure as it was heartbreaking. I knew it in my heart -- it was time. I made the call to a nearby vet.
      As I was making the preparations for that trip to the vet, I saw Toby rise weakly from under the table and limp towards the front door. I thought he might want to pee, a behavior all my dogs do. But the door was closed because the other dogs we had shepherded to go outside when Toby started his seizures. Fearing they might pounce on him should that door open, I directed Toby to go out the garden and drew open the sliding door. But I suddenly closed it at the thought that he might crawl under some nook outside and we may not be able to pull him out. Toby stopped and wedged himself between the wall and a large military trunk near the entrance going outside.
      We were about to go already, the back of the SUV covered with a blanket. We had to get Toby in it for his last car ride. Lourdes reached down in that tight corner where the dog had inserted himself, coaxing him to come out. The dog refused to inch forward.
      "Come out now," I heard her say. "Time to say good-bye."
      I realized now there was a significance in that last moment of the dog in our house. Toby had tried to go away, to die away from us. He too, knew it was time.

Toby during better days.

       Toby made no resistance as we lifted his weakened body on a rug and Lourdes and I loaded him into my SUV. Riding in my car was always his favorite and much-awaited experience. He always rode it together with Spot. But this time he was going to ride it alone. I spoke to the dog cheerfully, as if we were going on a trip he always looked forward to. He raised his head when I shut the door then laid it back down again.

      At the clinic, Toby rested on the table exhausted as the vet inquired on his health situation. Maybe our twice monthly visits to the university vet hospital helped because Toby was used to going to clinics. Though this was his first time at this particular clinic, he laid quietly. I talked to him encouragingly, stroked his head slowly, and praised him for what a good boy he was. Then the vet administered the sedation shot. The dog drifted off peacefully, relieved probably that now he could rest. Then the shots to the heart until it stopped.

      Lourdes stayed outside the car because she couldn't bear to be there with Toby. We had brought an empty sack but when the remains were carried out, it was slid inside a big cheerful dog food bag. The vet assistant looked like we had just bought a big sack of dog food. It lightened our spirits for awhile.

      When we got home, I let the other dogs see what had happened to Toby. Though I did not open the bag I let my boys sniff so they will understand that Toby will be no more. That's their closure to one of their pack members.

 

Summer fun: Spot (second from right, in blue backpack) and Toby (foreground, in orange harness) with Dominic on a day trek up Mount Makiling in Laguna with other dog owners with their pets.

      The next day as my household prepared a hole in the back of our house, I realized I have to be there too. Though I was not close to him, he was one of us, a member of the family. I followed Lourdes and her son Dominic carry the bag of remains to the site where Dominic had painstakingly dug a hole. I stood as Lourdes first shoveled in the earth. Then Dominic, his dog walker, followed.

     

      I didn't know how much Toby was a part of us until it was time to bury him. Even if he was a difficult dog to care for, his presence filled a place in our home life. Even if he was rowdy and noisy during meal times, hard to control when he's excited, refused to obey commands, peed at the wrong places (especially at the rim of my car!), hard to walk because he kept getting out of the "Heel" position, barked too much at times, and failed in my plans for him to be my next agility dog because of his emotional issues, even those irritating habits filled a place in our life at home with him.

      Now the house is quieter. His big barking voice and high singing howls we will hear no more.

      Run free now, Toby. Your seizures are over.

Toby frolicks in the meadow off leash.