As You Like It: Snoop-a-Loop

Our dog, Snoopy, has routines that he follows religiously. Every morning he performs his yoga stretches, visits the trees, then has breakfast. After begging for his extra piece of cheese, he goes back to sleep for the rest of the morning. Upon awakening he drives Steve crazy until our neighbor, Cheryl, comes to take him for his walk and play time with her dog, Princess. Upon his return, he bounds up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were after him and barks for his dinner until he gets it. The routine is sacred.

So a few weeks ago at dinner time, when instead of hearing a rambunctious, bounding pup all we heard was silence, we were worried. This was not our Snoopy. There was no running, no enthusiastic barking, and absolutely no interest in his dinner. And then, when I reached down to pat his back, he screamed.

I pulled my hand back as if it were burned. Five years ago Snoopy had a herniated disc in his upper spine that caused him so much pain that he couldn’t breathe without whimpering. So Steve and I gave up vacation money that we had saved for years (farewell Italy) and used it to make our pup better. After an operation and six weeks of rest, our dog seemed fine.

The doctors warned us that Snoopy would eventually suffer from another disc problem. They also told us that he was no longer allowed to climb stairs, jump, run, or do anything that could exacerbate his condition. In other words, he had to give up being a dog and spend his days sitting around the house reading the paper and watching the soaps. We knew that there was no way that we were going to force him to give up his doggy life, so we let him be happy, knowing that one day we would have to pay the price.

For years, every time he had trouble climbing stairs or winced when picked up, we were transported back to the painful week when we thought we had lost our dog. And each time we wondered if this was the day that we had dreaded for so long. But then he would seem fine, so we did some convenient forgetting until the next instance. But this time it didn’t look like the pain was going away.

The next morning before leaving for work, I sat on the floor with my arms around Snoopy saying goodbye. I was sure that he was not going to come home from the vet. I tried to imprint the feel of his ears and his furry smell into my thoughts. I kept wondering how we were going to tell the girls, especially Mariel, who hadn’t been home in months and was coming to visit the next week.

At work I tried to keep busy and not check my phone every few minutes. I knew that Shatz would call when he had news. I kept rewinding the tape of putting our pup to sleep, in my mind. When my phone finally rang, I was afraid to answer, but unbelievably the news was good. Snoop did have a herniated disc, but this time Dr. Holmes didn’t recommend surgery — just rest, vitamins to build up his bones, and physical therapy.

“Physical therapy?” I yelled at him, wondering what kind of expensive crackpot cure for dogs this was, for heaven sake. But Steve told me that right after Snoop had been x-rayed they had gone to the Sterling Impression Animal Rehabilitation Center of New England in Walpole for his first session.

“If I hadn’t seen it, I never would have believed it,” he told me. “I had to carry him in there, but after they finished his therapy he walked out on his own, looking a lot like his old self. It was unbelievable.”

That night Shatz elaborated: “The first thing they did was put a heating pad on him to loosen his muscles. Then they massaged him and he absolutely loved that. They stretched him out on a ball, did all kinds of core strengthening exercises and even gave him laser treatments.”

“I saw this guy walking around in a bathing suit and I couldn’t figure it out until I saw the doggie swimming pool for hydrotherapy. You never saw so many happy dogs in your life, and Snoopy was one of them. Of course, he was pretty loopy on pain meds at the time, but still, all I could hear during the massages were his pleasure groans.”

When Snoop and I walked into his next session, the therapists called out, “Hi ya Snoop a Loop!” It seems that they give every pup a nickname as well as amazing patience and care. By his third and last session I had fallen in love with them all, and though I was relieved that he didn’t need any more therapy, I realized that I would miss watching them work. Snoop was his old self, and neither I nor his vet could believe he had healed so quickly. She told us that we had to make sure that from now on he didn’t jump down from anything, so we’ve been busy keeping him off couches. But for the first time in years I know that if this happens again, it only means rest and therapy — no panic, no surgery, no last goodbyes. Our Snoop a Loop still has a few good years ahead.

Short URL: https://www.thecantoncitizen.com/?p=9241

Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Nov 2 2011. Filed under As You Like It, Featured Content, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.