Otis

I have learned many valuable lessons on grief over the span of my career. One of the most helpful is the ability to express your feelings during a time of loss.

We lost our beloved Pug, Otis last week. It will eventually transition into a celebration of his life but the pain is raw as I write this. He had a great life. He was nearly 16 years old at the time of his death. This is an extraordinary length of life for a Pug and I will always be grateful.

My wife and I returned home from work. As was our custom, we would be greeted by our five year old dog, Marley. Otis had been completely deaf for several years so Marley would say hello and then go to Otis’ pillow and wake him up to let him know we were home. This time, Otis wouldn’t get up. It was heart breaking to watch her try to wake him. My wife, Debbie immediately broke down. Even from a distance, I knew he was gone and his life had ended peacefully in his sleep.

We picked up Otis when my youngest son Adam turned six. His older brother had a pug named Wally and I had my lab Sabrina. Adam was especially bothered by the fact that if he threw a ball to Sabrina she would bring it back to me and not him. He was entitled to his own dog and we all agreed. The thing I love about Pug puppies is that they look like miniature adults. The only difference is their face is all eyes and believe me when I tell you, they know how to use them. Saying no to those eyes was a difficult task.

He quickly fit into our family and wasted very little time in grabbing more than his share of attention. As he approached maturity he developed a habit that I would not describe as endearing. He was nicknamed the “mad humper”. Fortunately, he earned this title by mounting Wally and not anyone else in our family. Old Wally put up with it but he proved to me that dogs are able to wear a look of disgust on their face. I had always told owners that the behavior would usually reduce within a couple of weeks of being neutered. Otis didn’t read the same books I had.

Otis used to sleep with his chin on Wally’s back every night. After Wally passed away he would rest his head on one of us. It is one of the many things we are missing now. He also became attached to Debbie’s hip. When she would go anywhere in our house he would follow. We used to laugh because if she would stop suddenly he would often walk into the backs of her legs. As he aged, the attachment grew as is often the case. By the time he had lost his hearing this became a real challenge for the little guy. If we moved downstairs when he was sleeping, he would eventually wake up and we could hear him running from room to room to find her. It wasn’t unusual to go upstairs and find him standing in front of the closed door to her walk in closet. He was never frustrated, just eager to find her. Many of us have asked, what really goes through their little minds that allow them to be so incredibly happy all the time?

I am very sure, as his doctor, the fact that we always gave him exercise, several times a day for his entire life allowed him to live so long. As he got older we carried him to the park several times daily to allow him the short walks he could tolerate. He was always slow going away from the house but had renewed energy when we turned towards home.

I know I will not remain sad about his passing. He had a wonderful life and he reinforced every single good thing I can think of about having a dog in your life. I treasure his memory and am reminded to enjoy all my blessings every day.

Thanks for listening.

“I’ll help you doc”

Early in my career I worked at a small hospital with two doctors. We shared emergency calls with a few of the neighboring hospitals. Today most people are near veterinary emergency hospitals. In those days they rarely existed. As a result, I was usually on call one day each week and one out of every three weekends. We had no available staff for the emergencies so I relied on my clients most of the time. My young wife, Debbie was also pressed into service when needed.

One thing I noticed right away was that puppies were never born during the day. I received a call around midnight one evening. As I talked on the phone it was apparent that my night of sleep was going to be shortened at best. Mr. Duarte was a breeder of miniature schnauzers. He had a young mother who had been in labor for hours and hadn’t produced a puppy. I asked him to meet me at the hospital. Given the likelihood of a caesarian section I asked my sleepy wife if she would mind coming along in case Mr. Duarte couldn’t provide any help. Debbie is a sweetheart and she agreed to join me.
I examined the mother after we arrived at the hospital. I recommended surgery immediately and Mr. Duarte anxiously agreed. He asked if he could watch and I said I would be happy to have him take the puppies from me during the surgery. We had a quick class and he indicated that he was good to go. Debbie had helped before so she was a willing backup.

As I started the surgery, the ever talkative Mr. Duarte asked a question about what he was looking at and became very quiet. I was getting ready to remove the first puppy and glanced up at a face that was covered in sweat and losing color by the second. “Mr. Duarte, are you OK?” He wobbled and before he could respond, Debbie took him by the arm and gave him a chair and some water. From that point forward it was the efficient work of Mrs. Carpenter that helped to produce four live puppies.

After the surgery Mr. Duarte’s color returned and he felt much better. He was thankful that the whole Carpenter family decided to come down for the surgery. Young doctors today are rarely exposed to anything without a hospital full of excellently trained staff. I wouldn’t have it any other way because these people are the lifeblood of the hospital but there are days I miss handing a puppy to my wife during surgery.

Gretel and the Family Volkswagen

I began my career in a small town and as was common at the time found myself on emergency calls frequently. One such Sunday afternoon I received a panicked call from the owner of a German shepherd. They had been working in their yard on a beautiful afternoon. To allow Gretel to enjoy the day they tied her leash to the bumper of the family Volkswagen. All was well and the husband needed to run to the store for some yard supplies. To the horror of his wife, he forgot that Gretel was still attached to the car.
The wife screamed on the phone to please come quickly. I told them I would meet them at the hospital and jumped in my car.

I arrived shortly before the family and the Volkswagen. I was relieved to see the dog walking out of the car. The husband was white as a sheet and the wife rushed to me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “The leash didn’t break until he hit second gear!”
I tried to calm them down as I began examining Gretel. She was a sweetheart, trying to kiss my face as I looked at her abraded foot pads. Her physical exam showed only the effects of the pavement scraping the bottom of her feet. I had done much the same during college by playing too much basketball on Saturday mornings.

I explained the minor nature of the injuries and set about cleaning and dressing all four feet. During this time I did my best to ease the guilt of the husband and relax the harried couple. As I began to lighten the atmosphere I asked them if they had seen the recent movie Vacation where a similar situation had a much worse fate for the family dog. They had and I could sense the lessening of the tension. The husband finally began to relax. We talked some more as I finished and he calmly leaned toward the wall as the guilt and embarrassment faded. Unfortunately, the wall was a couple of feet to his right and he leaned into a swinging door. Have you ever seen an accident where it looked like it was happening in slow motion and you still couldn’t stop it? I reached to grab him but missed by inches as he fell flat on his back. Now I have to admit, my first emotion was laughter but I struggled to contain it. His wife however made no such attempt. Shortly thereafter we were all three sitting on the floor with tears streaming down our cheeks. I am sure Gretel was quite confused by all of this as she moved among us. About a year later, perhaps around the anniversary of the accident I received a copy of the movie Vacation and a picture of Gretel. The movie was a great reminder of a well spent Sunday afternoon.

Oki

Oki was not a pet of mine but over the years I have to admit I feel very close to a dog I have never met. If you drive into our hospital you can’t miss him. I am very proud to tell you he is buried on our grounds.

Oki was the third most decorated dog in World War II. His story is one of bravery and courage. I am not qualified to tell you the story but will give some details. What really hits home about Oki is that along with his owner, Robert Harr, they are the shining example of the human animal bond.

Oki was assigned to Robert and another marine on a demolition team. He was trained to detect the enemy as they moved through the jungle in Okinawa. He warned Bob of trouble by silently pressing into his leg. A situation developed that resulted in one hundred and fifty marines being trapped behind enemy lines. Oki had their location attached to his collar and managed after being shot to deliver their location to the troops waiting on shore and no lives were lost. He later lost part of his jaw due to a machete wound.

During this time the military dogs were normally euthanized at the end of their service. Robert and his friends had another plan in mind. They arranged passage home for Oki. He made it back to New Jersey and after being reunited with Robert he was demilitarized over a nine month period. Oki and Bob were invited to the white house to be decorated by President Harry Truman. Bob tells me that when President Truman entered the room with the medal in his hand, Oki got serious look on his face and silently leaned into Bob’s leg. Oh, oh. Fortunately, President Truman was a very perceptive man. He immediately handed the medal to an assistant and left the room.

Although the story can be told better, one has to sit with Robert Harr to really understand the bond they shared. I sat in a restaurant one afternoon with Bob and asked him to retell the story. By the time he was done we both had tears in our eyes and I noticed the entire restaurant had grown quiet and everyone was listening. It isn’t just the heroism of Oki but the lifetime of devotion between a man and the dog he loved. To this day, every Memorial Day Marines will quietly arrive at our hospital to pay tribute to their hero.