9

 

While Carmen is here this morning, I can take Nick to the vet. David had to go to Weaverville to see about completing a house that another contractor walked away from. He’s a great negotiator, and he thinks he can strike a good deal with a client who wants the house finished and has the money to pay for it. Fingers crossed!

The vet couldn’t do a morning appointment until today, and in the three days that have passed since I discovered the pain in Nick’s right hip, he seems worse. Truth be told, I’m happy to get out of the house and go somewhere with my companionable dog, even if it is just the vet’s office. Dad enjoyed our outing yesterday, even thanking me for “a beautiful day” when I kissed him goodnight.

Nick will be happy to get out and go for a ride, although he’ll voice his regret when we pull into the vet’s parking lot. Who can blame him? His visits almost always involve a needle.

When I tell Nick we’re going for a ride, his eyes light up and he does his happy dance, which includes a fast-wagging tail and hip-hopping feet. I open the back door of the old Jeep we use for off-road treks and doggie transport and he springs inside.

That was quite a vigorous move for the old boy. I rethink my vet visit and the cost; but no. His excitement in going for a ride overrode any discomfort. He still needs help.

I lean in to give him a rub on the head. “My good boy.” His wagging tail picks up speed.

 

 

Dr. Angie Froman is bent down, probing the area where I detected Nick’s pain. Nick flinches ever so slightly, but doesn’t make a sound.

“From watching him walk,” Dr. Froman begins, “and from his response and reaction to my exam, there’s definitely some hip pain.”

“What do you think is causing it?”

“I could name any one of five things it could be, but I believe it is hip dysplasia, and probably arthritis that’s developed because of the dysplasia.”

So Debra was right about Nick’s hip dysplasia.

“I’ll need X-rays to confirm.” She looks up from her notes and says, “I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to develop these symptoms.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s old, he’s large breed—and hip dysplasia is genetic to certain large breeds. In fact, he has likely lived with the condition since he was only a few months old.”

“Really? Then why didn’t I notice it years ago?”

She tells me he’s grown up taking the chronic pain for granted and has learned to live with it. Dogs suffering such pain rarely exhibit acute signs of it until they get to where Nick is now. “Plus, I know you’ve thrown thousands of tennis balls for him over the years.”

“But it’s never enough,” I laugh.

“Well, I suggest you stop it. It has put a lot of stress on his hip joint over the years, and he can’t take that anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop years ago?”

“Would you have?” she asks with a knowing smile. “Or would you have looked at him and thought he looked fine and thrown it anyway since he enjoyed it so much?”

She’s right. Whether on land or water, Nick is a retriever, and he retrieves and returns the ball, retrieves and returns, retrieves and returns. It can be as monotonous as it sounds, but he is genetically wired to do it. And then there’s the most obvious reason—it’s fun for him.

I nod my head in acknowledgment but tell her it will take a lot of fun out of his life.

“He’s had years of fun. His remaining years have to be about treatment and comfort.”

This makes me sad for Nick. “Will the X-rays show how much the hip joint has disintegrated?”

“They will, but every dog is different. Some X-rays I see, I wonder how the dog is still standing. I’ll know more about how we should approach Nick’s treatment after I see them.”

“Can you do them now?”

“Yes, and I will need your help.”

“My help? Sure, what can I do?”

“We get the best results if the owner holds the dog’s head. I use a radiolucent tray to provide greater support and stability for the dog during the radiograph. I position the dog’s hips, a technician runs the equipment, and you control the head. It’s much better than giving him anesthesia just to get X-rays, and I often get better film.”

“I like it.” Oh, yes, I like she’ll get better film, and I also like saving the cost of the anesthesia.

I bend down to pet Nick. “This isn’t going to hurt,” I promise him. His eyes tell me he understands, and that he trusts me. There I go anthropomorphizing again.

But I know I read him right.