By: Jessica O’Connor
It’s been several weeks since I introduced The Press and Standard’s readers to my beloved foxhound, Chief. At the time of the initial article, Chief had made a trip to the emergency vet due to some concerning symptoms.
At that visit, the vet discovered that he had a mass in his spleen that was causing abdominal bleeding. The gentleman presented me with a bleak prognosis. It was his belief that Chief was most likely a victim of hemangiosarcoma, a cancer that has notoriously short survival times upon discovery.
Knowing that I was slated to be at Tryon International Equestrian Center for the remainder of the week, I frantically made an appointment with my regular vet at Animal Hospital of Kingstree. I have complete faith in Dr. Coker, and I needed his opinion to set my mind at ease. I simply refused to believe that my dog had cancer, but I also knew that a $7000-9000 surgery was not in the cards for me financially.
The vet at the emergency clinic had prescribed Chief a Chinese herbal supplement called yunnan baiyao to help with the abdominal bleeding. By the next morning when I loaded him up to head to Kingstree he was feeling much perkier. My mind was spinning and my heart hurt. The night before I’d told myself I’d never let my dog have a “bad” day if he did have cancer, but there seemed to be many uncertainties.
Dr. Coker assured me that he was fine for the time, and that I had a few options. We decided to continue with the yunnan baiyao and let me take the rest of the week to decide if I wanted to pursue exploratory surgery. By the next morning Chief was feeling well enough that he wanted to rejoin his brother in the kennel. I reluctantly left that evening to go to Tryon, begging my husband to take good care of him. Every morning and evening he sent me videos of Chief, and I could see he was returning to his normal self.
Upon my return, I decided to schedule the exploratory surgery even though I was terrified. The spleen and mass needed to be removed regardless because I knew at some point it was bound to rupture. But, the question of if I was doing the right thing plagued me.
They worked Chief in a few days earlier than I expected for surgery, and the morning we headed back to Kingstree he felt amazing when I collected him from his kennel. It was obvious he thought we were going hunting. For that reason, when a younger vet (actually one of my Clemson classmates) suggested in the pre-op consultation that if multiple organs seemed affected we should not wake my friend up, I simply lost it.
I knew that was the kindest thing, but my mind battled with the thought that I may be seeing Chief’s face for the last time as he was walked out of the exam room. I was sobbing when I reentered the reception area, and a young lady behind the desk took the time to speak with me and reassure me things would be ok. She was a wonderful measure of support during our visits.
That was one of the longest days of my life. I took refuge in downtown Charleston, trying to ease my mind with a creme brûlée martini and a piece of Tollhouse pie at Kaminsky’s. Closing time for the vet’s office was approaching, and I’d still not heard any news. I was meandering back to the parking garage, dejected and worried, when Dr. Buckner called.
I stopped against a window sill, heart pounding. When she told me that they were successfully able to remove the spleen and mass, and that it didn’t appear any other organs were affected, my knees almost buckled in relief. I asked to have the mass biopsied and began eagerly counting down to when I could pick up my boy the next day.
Two weeks later, Dr. Buckner left me a message to give her a call-that the news was good, but that she wanted to talk to me personally.
The mass was benign. On top of that, his blood work was perfect-a fact the vet wanted to relay to me due to his time as a running dog. It confirmed one fact I already knew. I have taken excellent care of my hound throughout his 7 years.
I’ve never tried so hard to remain positive as I did in this situation. Fitting all the pieces together in my mind, my own medical knowledge surrounding dogs made me feel in my heart that there would be no cancer. There was such a stark contrast in the diagnosis of the emergency vet and the findings of my own that it was hard to keep the faith at times though.
This experience with Chief renewed my faith in humanity. I can’t count the number of people who supported me in some way. Some were friends and acquaintances, some were strangers. The staff at Animal Hospital of Kingstree was excellent. They recognized how much I loved this dog and I truly believe ours was a case they prayed would have a good outcome. Everyone involved could clearly see how much this dog meant to me.
Speaking of prayers-prayer is so powerful, and God is good. I told Chief every day how many people prayed for us. Other pet owners in the waiting rooms at various appointments even prayed with me.
We’re now 3 weeks out from Chief’s surgery, and he is doing splendidly. These days he sleeps in the bed and goes to work with me. He even tagged along to photograph a weekend long horse show! We also find interesting places to go on long walks daily. Being confined to the leash when he wants so desperately to hunt is hard on us both sometimes, but we enjoy all of our time together. Saturday he saw the marsh for the first time, and our next bucket list stop will be the beach. We may even stop for one of his newly favorite treats-a pup cup from Starbucks.
Chief will most likely never hunt again due to his immune system being slightly compromised in the absence of his spleen. It’s a sobering thought, because seeing him run was always a light in my life. I can’t count the times I stood in the morning sunlight with tears slipping down my face as he and his brother ran. I was, and always will be, so proud of all we accomplished together.
Lord willing, I will have some of Chief’s offspring later this year to carry on his legacy as a running dog. I hope to be hunting dogs that carry his and his brother’s blood until the day I leave here. They will always be my measuring sticks.
Our next goal together is to get him certified as a therapy dog. While my father was alive, he loved being visited by therapy dogs during his hospital stays. Ever since, I’ve hoped to have one of my hounds certified to visit hospitals and nursing homes.
Chief is kind and gentle. He enjoys meeting people at my office and on our walks, and people are naturally drawn to his sweet face. Now he has his own story to tell of how he beat the odds in a tough medical situation. Perhaps through that he can help lend hope and comfort to those in need, the way so many people did to us.
This dog is not “just a hunting dog” to me. Was he a fine one? Yes. He still would be if I could safely let him. Equally importantly, he’s my friend. He’s emotionally intelligent when it comes to me, and having him close by throughout the day brings me great peace. I can relax into sleep when he snuggles beside me at night, a companionship I’ve missed sorely since I lost my beloved Treeing Walker, Waylon.
We have done our best by each other, this dog and I. I’m so thankful to have this time with him.
I only thought that first vet visit was his chance to be the light. I feel certain that the number of lives my little hunting dog lights up will continue to grow.
