Fighter Like Me

She had kidney disease. It wasn't food sensitivity. It wasn't something that just wouldn't go away.

No, it was bigger than us both. The enemy was inside her, and it was going to take a lot more than a simple prescription to help her.

I adopted Daphne knowing she wasn't like other dogs I'd owned in the past. While most dogs are skittish in the first couple of weeks after adoption, her's didn't seem like it was going away any time soon that first year. When I signed the adoption contract, they told me she had hot spots; either an infection from a previous bout with fleas or just an allergy. She was allergic to gluten and wheat, and so she needed special food that ended costing me 50 dollars for the biggest bag, and 13 for the smallest.

I didn't care. It was love at first sight...for me anyway. She was more interested in my shoe the first meeting. They were cool shoes, I couldn't blame her.

When I brought her home, she stuck to me like glue. The beginning of our bond, no pun intended. Where I went she followed. Where she went, I probably wasn't too far behind because she rarely left my side.

Soon after her adoption it became clear to me that whoever had Daphne prior to me didn't teach her much of...well anything, aside from going outside to potty. She was, and still is, a very smart dog. Except no one knew that, because they hadn't bothered to teach her the very basics. She was two when I got her. She knew one command: Potty. The rest? Well we had to work on those.

The first year came and went. The second year...things changed. Not in a good way either.

She started having periods of time where she would constantly throw up. A simple diet of baby food and Gatorade to keep her hydrated usually did the trick, and it was a cycle we went through a couple of times, each time with success.

Until it didn't work. The throw up didn't stop, she was like a walking skeleton, and I knew something deeper was afoot. So into the vet we went. Bloodwork taken, answer given; Kidney disease, and everything that came with it:

• A two day hospital stay.
• New medication the first week post hospital stay.
• A switch to new food that she loves, and has helped her put on weight.
• Plus a whole lot more loving and reminders of how much she means to me.

Right now, she's okay. Compared to where she was at the time of her diagnosis, she's perfect. That doesn't mean our fight is over. It never will be. Perfect is not a word I can use to accurately describe her now (though she is always perfect to me, and always will be).

She doesn't have complete function of her kidneys anymore. Nothing drastic, but enough. She won't get that function back. The goal right now is to keep her from getting as low as she was, or else she'll lose more function. The goal is to not lose more function.

You couldn't tell she's sick by looking at her, not anymore. She's back to her bubbly self, and putting on weight like a little piggy. She loves her new food. She's okay with her changes. She's adapted.

I always joked that she was basically me in canine form. In the whole debacle of learning this latest curveball life threw at us, it seems to have been confirmed to me.

I'm a fighter, and so is she. She might be tougher than I am though, and I'm the one with training.

Wouldn't have that any other way.

Like owner like dog, right?