Godspeed Merlin, a.k.a. Best Boy Ever (Canine Degenerative Myelopathy Disease and The Final Year)

Merlin was our first boy dog. He won me over thirteen or so years ago when I was "walking" him while he served time at the city pound. I continued visiting, walking, encouraging, hoping he'd find a forever home. No such luck. It wasn't for his lack of trying. He was an incredible flirt. The minute I'd bring him out of his cage, he'd literally nudge me into a corner, sitting like a good boy, and wag that darn tail. I was won over immediately, but we had a house full of dogs by then and I didn't think we were ready for another one, much less bringing a boy into the mix. Our interludes went on like this for about two weeks (me begging the shelter to keep him "off the list". . . he's totally adoptable, just give me time) until one morning I went in and was confronted by the staff and told, and I quote, "Your boy's time is up." Wow. I had no other alternative. In the car with me he went. We had our first boy.

We re-named him Merlin. Actually this was Dr. Thyme's pick. (I was good with girl names.) The name fit him perfectly. He was like a magician. Super smart. Could out maneuver and out run any of his other canine mates. A total pushover for him--we both dubbed him smartest dog we'd ever had. 

He was my running buddy for several years, too. He loved our runs. I kept him to only three miles at a time. One morning during our run, I fell. (My clumsy self again.) Somehow his leash had come free from my hand. I was on a hill and just at the crest so I could not see over it. He kept running. I thought he'd disappear forever. I panicked. I had tears in my eyes. Then I said his pet nickname over and over again as if nothing was wrong (Buddy, buddy, buddy)--trying desperately to remain calm because I know if you emote, they emote and then they panic. I lay still for a minute (but it seemed like an eternity) and sure enough, over the hill he came, kissing my face, tail wagging, me now holding onto his leash for dear life. He never got out of my reach again.  

A year ago, Merlin began limping on his back leg. We thought pulled muscle--he was forever jumping, leaping and running and chasing his sissy. The limping continued, however. We told our vet about it. We watched it for a bit. We took him in for a check up and by this point, we could see he was also dragging this back foot--the top of it along the ground, but exhibiting no pain when the leg was manipulated. When the vet gave us the news: degenerative myelopathy, we'd never heard of this before. (We've had every other canine ailment known to man afflict our dogs as they've aged, but this one was new to us.) 

The vet explained it was like having Lou Gehrig's disease in humans. There is no cure. It progresses on through the body. Onset is usually after the dog is eight years old. Oh. God. We were most concerned about his quality of life and any pain management we needed to conduct. The vet said the best we could do for him (after all, he was no spring chicken, but still. . . if he could live FOREVER, that would be our choice)--was give him daily exercise. Well lucky for us, Merlin would never NOT want to go out and walk and explore. So walk we did. Every. Day. We also started him on glucosamine supplements and added fish oil food to his diet, exercise and tons of massages and tons of hugs. 

I can tell you the vet was spot on with his diagnosis and slowly, we watched the disease work its way through our boy's body, doing everything in our power to make him as comfortable as possible until we knew it was time to make other arrangements. 

I came across several web sites with information about canine degenerative myelopathy. One piece of work stood out for me and really helped me clinically understand this problem. First of all let me state that my personal opinion on the matter is that if the puppy mill industry weren't so pervasive and irresponsible and frankly the scourge of society, the chances of this disease creeping through the genetic lines of breeds it affects would greatly be diminished. If PROPER breeding occurred, countless numbers of animals and their human companions wouldn't have to go through this horrible end. 

Here's the article by Dr. Joan R. Coates, DVM, Associate Professor, Department of Veterinary Medicine and Surgery at the University of Missouri, Columbia, Missouri, that I found to be incredibly helpful in understanding what Merlin was experiencing. Notably, the breeds most affected by this disease include: Welsh Corgis, Siberian Husky, Miniature Poodle, Boxer, Chesapeake Bay Retriever, Rhodesian Ridgeback as well as Labs, Irish Terrier, Bernese Mountain Dog, Collie, Kuvasz. 

Given Merlin's mix, we would assume one or more of these breeds were in his genetic make-up. He was a perfect dog breed to us no matter what line he descended from. 

I could go on and on about him. There just wasn't a better dog on the planet. He was a human reincarnated, we were certain of it. His shadow never left my side. Wherever I went, he was right behind me. Forever protecting, forever within reach.

Well, Buddy, this post is for you, my handsome little Frito-Bandito (another nickname because he had this adorable little mustache above his lip). We will miss you always. Thank god for my iphone because I have some wonderful video of him romping around (as early as January of this year--so it took ten months for the progression of the disease to move from his rear leg up through his spine). 

You made us better for having been a part of us. Okay. More tears. More memories. 

And this very moment. . .

I glance out our back window to find her (him?) watching me. Okay, maybe I am a bit too animal-centric for most, but I could only think that somehow this was brought to me by my favorite dog spirit in the world: Merlin. (He loved spotting deer in the back--he'd go nuts barking.) This just sent shivers down my spine. Uncanny. 

Godspeed Merlin. And thank you for everything, we are so lucky you found us.