A Boy and his Monster

A Boy and his Monster

My wife really wasn’t interested in adopting the rottweiler I found on Petfinder. She said she was “ugly”.

I will admit, it wasn’t a good picture. She was sitting with her mouth  half open and there was a distinct drip of drool on her teeth.

However, she was a full breed rottie and was a female so I was interested, particularly after having so much difficulty finding a rottie to adopt. I had been looking for some time for an adult female rottweiler dog.

There were animals available but I found myself jerked around by the individuals who were fostering these animals. They were very demanding and picky, I had to fill out multiple forms and questionnaires and interact with a bunch of different people before I even saw the dog. I would jump through their hoops, but typically I would get to a certain point and they would stop responding to me.

I remember one person in particular, who pulled a possible dog from me because she was concerned about my other dog, Cody.

I was honest with her, I told her that Cody wasn’t great initially with new dogs and could be snappy and defensive, but once he met them and processed it, he was fine.

She decided that because of what I said, Cody was aggressive with other dogs,  and we could not have the dog I wanted to adopt. Mind you, this person had promised me we could meet the other dog and see how he did with Cody before we moved forward, but apparently my description was all she needed to judge me and my dog, and find us lacking. I was very disturbed by that experience, and it sat wrong with me for a long time.

So I was excited there was a rottie available. I didn’t want this one to slip through my fingers as well.

I called and spoke to a rep at the SPCA. She explained I would need to bring my current dog with me and see how he and this new dog got along.

So I packed my wife and Cody into our car and drove up to see this dog.

I met her and a male representative from the shelter in a small room. The dog came up to me and was friendly and interactive. The guy produced and tennis ball and her eyes lit up. She was a cool dog, friendly but not overly affectionate, bright and observant.

We took her and Cody for a walk together. They got along fine. Everything was looking good. I started filling out the paperwork to adopt her and noticed it did not indicate she was spayed, in fact she was post partem. I asked about this, and they were like “Oops, must missed that one, we will need to spay her then.”

So I couldn’t take her home, at least not that day. So we went home.

Finally 3 days later, she was ready to pick up. It was December 31, 2013.

“Pepper” as I decided to call her, was a reserved, but friendly and intelligent dog. It was obvious that she was used to being in a crate as she always found ways to tuck herself into the corner or under a table. We introduced a crate to her and she took to it happily, sleeping in there when she was tired or needed to be left alone.

She was a wonderful companion, very friendly and interactive.

Like all of my dogs, I came up with a name based on her look and personality.  I christened her “Pepper” but would also call her a rolling roster of nicknames including, “Monster”, “THE Monster”, “lil’ Monster”, “Monsteroni”, and both my wife and my favorite “Pepperoni”.

I gave her the nickname “Monster” because of a very interesting trait where she seemed to purr in delight when you petted her. Initially, I didn’t know what this was, as I thought she was growling when it first happened. It was like that, a low rumble. But once you heard it a few times, you could hear the distinction between her purr and a growl. It was an adorable trait, and she sounded like a cute little monster when she did it.

My wife was a little hesitant around Pepper at first. Pepper was reserved if she didn’t know you. She sat very still and watched. Because she was a rottweiler, this could be an intense look.  However, over time my wife became more receptive to Pepper, and eventually grew to love her almost as much as I did.

I was told by the SPCA that Pepper was living with a family in an apartment with 2 other dogs. Supposedly, they had to move and couldn’t take all three dogs so Pepper got the short straw. I was skeptical about that, as she was clearly post partum and had  just given birth to a litter of puppies before I adopted her.

Pepper LOVED attention, and LOVED gifts. If I gave her a bandanna, or a new collar or especially a new ball, her eyes would light up, her eyebrows would start twitching, and she would look almost in shock as if she was thinking… “Me??? That’s for me?? Wow!”

She had a large rubber ball we used to call her “psycho ball” because she would go psycho every time we gave it to her. She would throw it around, guard it, and hoard it. She was completely obsessed with it. It was cute, except that she would do this in the middle of the night and wake us up constantly. Eventually we had to take it away from her for good, it just made her bonkers.

Pepper enjoyed marijuana. Well she did the one time she got it from me and ate around a quarter ounce.

I couldn’t believe that happened. She took it off my night stand and ate the whole thing. I had it sitting on a small end table next to my bong. I happened to go into the room where it was, and saw the baggie laying on the ground, clearly chewed up and missing the marijuana. At the time, I had 2 dogs, so I didn’t know for sure that Pepper ate it, but after a few hours it became clear that she did.

She became lethargic and bleary eyed. If I reached out to touch her, she would twitch, her eyes would flutter, and she would act like things were flying at her. I panicked and was conflicted as to what to do. Part of me felt I needed to take her to the vet, but I was concerned how they might respond. I didn’t think they would call the cops or anything, but I knew it would make me look like a complete irresponsible pot head that I had let my dog eat almost a quarter ounce of weed. I frantically searched the internet looking for credible information as to what to do. Eventually, I learned that for dogs, marijuana was only toxic in large doses. I did a quick calculation on what Pepper weighed and how much she ate, and I concluded that the dose she had was benign.

However, that did little to calm my nerves. Eventually Pepper just crashed on her dog bed. She would wake up if I shook her, but she was lethargic and sleepy.   I didn’t sleep well that night. I woke up repeatedly to check on her, sure she would be dead.

However by the next morning, she was fine. She got up without issue, and she was definitely thirsty, but other than that, she behaved normally. It was an enormous relief.

My wife and I never told anyone about it as it was clearly embarrassing and not something we wanted everyone to learn about.

Pepper blew out her ACL at some point that summer. She no longer used 4 legs, but pulled her lame leg and ran on the other 3. When we took her to the vet, I was stunned to learn that it would cost thousands of dollars to repair it. We shopped it around and the best we could do was around $3000 to repair her ACL.

On the day of the surgery, I was unable to get off work, so my wife took Pepper to get her operation and pick her up the next day. My wife took care of Pepper as I was unable. This was the point where Pepper and my wife bonded.

Pepper was completely helpless after her surgery. It was a long scar, she could not walk on that leg, plus she had the indignity of being forced to wear a “cone of shame” to prevent her from chewing on the scar.  My wife shouldered the burden and cared for Pepper the first few days, feeding her and helping her get around. Fortunately Pepper was a fast healer and we were able to remove the cone after only a couple of days. That helped a lot, and she was then able to get around better.

Once her leg healed enough, we needed to walk her every day, multiple times a day with increasing frequency. This ended up being a good bonding experience for me and Pepper. I took her every day, several times day, almost without fail. It was enjoyable, Pepper loved walking and exploring and she and I got into a nice routine while her leg healed. Within 4 months, she was putting her full weight on it and could trot along happily on our walks. She healed well, and from that point forward it rarely caused her any distress or problems.

Pepper fit into any situation. You could take her anywhere, and she instinctively knew her place and what behavior she needed to adopt. I recall bringing her down to my parents house and introducing her to my parent’s dog, Mac.

Mac was not happy about another dog coming into his turf, and reacted poorly, snapping and growling. Pepper was taken aback at first, but quickly adapted. She ignored Mac, and went about being sweet, friendly and engaging to myself and my parents. Within 30 minutes, Mac started getting jealous, and shortly after that, was happily following Pepper around and they spent the rest of the day chasing each other and enjoying each others company.

Every Christmas Eve, my wife and I host my family for Christmas Dinner. I recall when my cousin brought their toddler one year to the dinner. She was a cute, precocious girl and in her exploration of our house, came across one of Peppers’ aforementioned, “psycho balls”. When she grabbed it, I was quite concerned as Pepper could be pretty crazy and territorial with her stuff. I didn’t think she would bite my cousin, but I braced myself for Pepper jealously taking the ball away, knocking my cousin on the floor and the inevitable tears and drama this would entail.

To Pepper’s immense credit, she did nothing of the sort. She sat patiently until my cousin was done with her ball, and then grabbed it when my cousin put it down. I could not have been more proud of her behavior. She just instinctively knew to be deferential and careful in this moment.

Pepper was a great comfort when we had to put down our other dog, Cody. It was a very difficult experience for my wife and I. We had Cody for a long time, and I comforted myself with the knowledge that Pepper was still young and I would have her for several more years. Little did I know that even as I told myself this, there was a tumor growing in her that would take her from us, merely 6 months later.

My last great memories of Pepper are when my wife and I took her to the city to stay overnight at “Hotel Monaco”. Hotel Monaco was a ritzy hotel in Center City, that was extremely expensive but they let you bring your dogs. Because Pepper really seemed to appreciate and thrive on attention, we decided to bring her for an overnight experience.

It was such a wonderful time. As previously mentioned, Pepper was very versatile and instinctively knew how to fit into any situation. Hotel Monaco and the city were no different. She had a great time. She loved walking around the city with us, and she loved all the attention she received. The hotel staff knew her by name, and would say “Hey, Miss Pepper!” when we brought her around. She pranced around happily, tongue hanging out and the biggest smile I have ever seen on a dog.

We went to a “dog friendly” cafe for lunch. Pepper sat quietly next to our table and didn’t disturb anyone. Even when another patron dropped food right in front of her, she knew not to go after it, and instead stayed right with us quietly and respectfully.

We walked her along Independence Mall, and everyone exclaimed “Look at that big rottie!” which was adorable, as Pepper was a petite rottie, “only” about 85 lbs. A small child came running up to Pepper as his mom shouted after him to leave Pepper alone. He didn’t, and came right up and grabbed Pepper. She turned and looked at him, smiled, and let him knead her fur for a minute until him Mom grabbed him. Again, I was very proud of Pepper’s behavior. She just “knew” what to do, we could always count on her like that.

In retrospect, it is clear Pepper started having problems that summer. Many times while my wife, myself and my other dog were downstairs, Pepper would go up to our bedroom and rest on her dog bed. We used to joke that she was “retiring to her bedchambers”.

At times, I would go up and get her to take her out so she would use the bathroom. She started getting resistant to that, and I had to be firm with her to get her to get up and go down the stairs with us.

In the fall, we noticed that Pepper struggled to get up and walk, she started hobbling badly. I took her to our vet, and he dutifully examined her and took some x-rays. We could see on the x-rays that while Pepper had lost some cartilage, but her joints were stable and fairly normal for a rottweiler of her age.

We were relieved and already having several dogs with this exact issue, we were prepared for the inevitable, slow decline we experienced before. I figured we had several more years before it got bad.

However, at the end of October, one Friday evening, we called Pepper down to eat her dinner. When she came down, my wife and I were shocked.

Pepper could barely walk. She lurched awkwardly and unsteadily to her bowl, and struggled to stay upright while she ate. It was a dramatic decline, and I remember feeling a pit of despair in my stomach.

We gathered her up and took her back to our vet that night.

He was dumbfounded. After examining her, he recommended we take her to a specialist at the University of Pen Vet medicine. They had more diagnostic tools, and could probably offer more information as to what was going on with her. He suggested it might be a tumor. Because her problem seemed to be limited movement, he gave her several steroids in an attempt to help her feel better.

They actually worked. Within a day, Pepper was much better and moving around more normally.

We dutifully took her to the University of Pennsylvania’s Animal Hospital, and had her tested for a variety of issues.

After a few hours, the vet sat down with us and explained her findings. To her, it seemed that Pepper’s issue was probably located in her neck. She speculated that perhaps she had some nerve damage, or possibly a tumor. Her recommendation was to get her an MRI, so she could see more and offer a more accurate diagnosis. The cost for this was several thousand dollars. Keep in mind, this was only a diagnosis, whatever was found would have to be addressed. If it was a tumor, there was little we could do unless we wanted to spend thousands of dollars on chemo and operations.  The vet also suggested a chest x-ray as a cheaper alternative to verify if it was a tumor.

Alternatively, it could also have been a pinched nerve that could be healing because of the steroids we were giving her. We could continue to give her the steroids, monitor her progress and go from there.

We went with the second option. It gave us hope. If she had a tumor, my wife and I both knew it was a death sentence and it would only be a matter of time. At least with this, we had a diagnosis, a prognosis, and a course of action.

She actually seemed to get better. My wife and I exhaled, and began to believe this was the “new normal”. Pepper was better than she was, albeit a little slower and more tentative, but we were ok with that.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Pepper once again took a turn for the worse the week of Thanksgiving. She couldn’t stand, she couldn’t walk, rather she lurched about, stumbling and clearly in pain.

We took her to our vet again. He gave her another regimen of steroids. Initially, it seemed this would work again, but within a day, she was back to where she was.

Actually, she was worse. She couldn’t get up without help, I had to help her up and down our back porch stairs and she was obviously in agony.

I was in denial. I was holding out hope she would improve and clung to that hope.

My wife was more pragmatic and fatalistic. However, she noted Pepper seemed to rally when I came around and I couldn’t let go of the faint hope that she might still improve.

On Thanksgiving Day, with some misgivings, my wife and I left Pepper in the house alone with a full course of steroids and pain killers in her system. I checked on her periodically through our cameras, and could see she didn’t move much at all. At some point, she left the camera range and I was unable to see her.

When we got home, it was clear she was way worse. She couldn’t move at all. When she attempted to get up, she yelped in agony and laid back down. She was clearly happy to see us, but could not respond.

I spent that last night with her downstairs in the living room. All night, Pepper would start to get up, cry out and lay back down. Finally, after several hours, her bladder let go, and she peed all over herself. She stopped crying after this and just laid there.

My wife and I took Pepper to be put down on Black Friday. We carefully slid her onto a large car met and carried her to the car and then to the vet.

He euthanized her that morning, on the floor of the vet’s office. I remember one of the vet techs, who liked us and liked our dogs coming in and exclaiming “What happened??” She was shocked to see Pepper that way, as just a few months prior Pepper was happy go lucky, friendly and bouncing around. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe this had happened so quickly.

The vet noted a massive growth in her shoulder and it was clear this was the tumor the vet at University of Penn had speculated on. It was a relief to know that this was what happened and there was little we could have done. Perhaps the only misstep was to wait as long as we did, as Pepper was in a lot of pain at the end, but I am glad it wasn’t something that we missed and we could have saved her.

In the end, I was very sad and dissapointed at how little time I got with Pepper. She was a wonderful dog, sweet, friendly, devoted, and fun. I didn’t even get 4 years with her. It wasn’t what I expected, and her rapid decline and death was a shock to me.

But I am glad for the time I had with her. She was my first full bred rottweiler and through her I learned that I absolutely loved this breed of dog, and it was worth my while to take the time to find and adopt this kind of dog.

It was my pleasure and honor to own such a dog, and I will never, ever forget her or what she brought to my life.

 

Thanks for reading….