Saturday, September 23, 2017

Louie's Last Day


A Couple of Photos Leading up to, and The Story of Louie's Last Day

This first photo is with Todd at Fountain Vet on the day he was diagnosed with cancer.
Louie with his buddy, Dr. Todd























This second pic is Louie enjoying the warm and sunshiney porch in June.
Louie in a sunny spot, June 2017






















My son Dario is incredibly empathetic for only being three  (almost four). He has been so sweet and gentle with Louie, and very kind to me as I have been coming to terms with Louie's cancer diagnosis and the difficult decision to put him to rest.
Dario pets Louie 'so gently'. 9/22/17
"It's okay Louie, I love you." 9/22/17
Resting in the sunny car on the way to the vet 9/23/17

The last car ride. 9/23/17

Louie's Last Day

Louie's car ride to the vet today was so bitter sweet. He still loved getting in the car with me, but it was so hard for him to lay down with the gigantic tumor taking up all the room. I laughed as Louie sniffed around to find two stale old lost french fries on the floor of the car. He had just settled in when I saw his nostrils begin to flare. He flopped himself onto the floor or the car to sniff around. This guy never lost his appetite even with all his pain and discomfort. You just can't hide food from a blind dog.
Still excited to arrive at the vet! 9/23/17

This photo of Louie standing in the car really shows the size and scope of this tumor. We really let Louie go on as long as he wanted, and he was so tough. He had joy and happiness right up until the last day or two, and even those days were not without joy. They were just sprinkled in between being exhausted and uncomfortable.



So exhausted from the journey from the car into the building.
Full snuggles.


Louie was so relieved to finally get in to the vets office after it took him 10 minutes to limp up the wheelchair ramp. People kept stopping and asking me what was wrong with him, was his leg broken? Does he need help? Do you want me to help carry him?

I sobbed and could barely answer. I couldn't look up. I have no idea who these people were. I stood in the sun outside that building as tears streamed down my cheeks. "He has cancer. This is our last walk together and I just want him to be able to take his time."

I knew he would be scared and uncomfortable if we lifted him. He had to do that on his own and at his own pace, like I have let him live his whole blind life. He did it on his own, and I was proud of him.


One last fish lip shot. 9/23/17
Don't mind him breaking my knee with his love. and jaw bone.


When we got inside Louie immediately collapsed on to the floor. He was so worn out from just getting up the ramp and inside. He let go as soon as he felt carpet under his paws. We staying the waiting room for a few minutes until it was our turn.

I got a hug from a perfect stranger who could see why we were there and had felt that pain before. It was so nice for someone to reach out in such a personal way, even though we had never met.

When we were called back it took a long time just to get around the corner and into the room. Inside there was a pad and a soft blanket lying on the floor. I started to cry again as I guided Louie with verbal cues to find the blanket and lie down.

I sat on the floor with my legs crossed at the ankles and Louie leaned against me. He put his head across my legs as he often did. I took a few more last pictures of him before putting my camera away and waiting for the doctors footsteps.

I held his heavy square head in my hands and kissed his velvety face a few more times. Our vet talked about how there are only a few dogs in his career that will always be with him, that he will always remember, and Louie is one of those dogs.

This remarkable dog thrived against the odds and did it without ever even considering if the odds were in his favor or not. Louie is an inspiration and has made me choose a better path than I would have found had I never met him. I am forever grateful for the teachings of the Tao of Lou.
One last photo before the vet comes in. So peaceful and so tired.

Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Big Sad News

June 6th, 2017
Louie, about 7 weeks old.

This has been a hard post to write, and as I begin, I am still not sure how I am about to say this, so bear with me as I tear this opened:

Louie has a birthday coming up. He will turn 11 on June 23rd, 2017. Louie has been my dog for all but the first 6 weeks of those 11 years, when he was still just his mommy's puppy.

In those 11 years spent with Louie I have learned and grown so much as a person. So much has happened, so much has changed. I have Louie to thank for helping me develop such a strong resolve and a positive attitude, even when life gives me lemons.

Young Louie before his eye surgery.
Blind Louie has an inoperable cancerous tumor. We found out today, June 6th, 2017. There was a lump at the top of his front left leg. In his armpit really. It started to grow quickly and began interfering in the way he was walking. We took him to our vet. Louie's longtime friend and veterinarian. The one who suggested the gentamicin injections to save his eyes from enucleation and stop the pain of glaucoma (Read about that Here and Here). Todd changed our lives that day and we are forever thankful.

Today Dr. Todd said Louie has a cancerous tumor. It can't be removed or stopped. It might grow very rapidly, we can't be sure. He may only have a few weeks. I don't know how to handle this. I don't know how to talk about this. I don't know how to write about it either.

September 21st, 2017

Louie's adorable fish lip, 2012
Louie stayed happy and content for months after his diagnosis. Some pain medicine at night helped him sleep more comfortably. Anti-inflammatory drugs seemed to shrink the tumor some at first, but just for a week or so. The tumor continued to grow. Louie limped more and more until he couldn't move his paw, it just drug on the ground. One day in August, my dad called me crying saying it was time. I went next door to find Louie sunning himself on the porch. When I approached he started wagging his tail and 'looked' at me, he got up and licked my face. He was happy. He ate food, drank water and could walk himself outside and down the stairs to go to the bathroom. I didn't think it was time. He still had joy. I talked to my husband and my parents and said I would know when the time came. I would know when we needed to give him permanent relief from his pain and suffering, but it was not that time yet.

The last few days, the tail wagging is so gentle it barely moves. He doesn't lick me. His paw is raw and bloody from dragging on the ground and his back legs are now weak. He is skinny, although he is still eating. He is sick and so very tired. My heart aches for him. I keep telling him it's okay to go. I'm hoping that he just leaves us in his sleep. I don't think he will. He is too strong willed. With everything he has been through in his life. Living with constant pain is something Louie has always known and accepted. I just can't see him giving up.

Now it is up to me to decide when it is time to let him go. This is one of the hardest decisions I will ever make, I'm sure. I love Louie more than I ever imagined I could love a dog. 

Louie's Thank you card after surgery.

Thank You

I want to thank Michael Nichols (The Dog Guy) for teaching the one and only training class Louie ever took. He taught the class that Louie and I attended in 2012 that earned Louie his AKC Canine Good Citizen title. I was so proud of him when he passed that test, blind as a bat and still the leader of his class.

I also want to thank Todd at Fountain vet for always treating Louie and I like family, and for thinking of a creative way of treating Louie's condition. We are forever grateful.

Thanks to my husband, Paul for accepting blind Louie as his step dog when we got together and always loving him like his very own pup pup.

And so much thanks to my mom and especially my dad. When we moved next door to them Louie decided he liked their porch and house better after we had a small human crawling around the house. My folks never even questioned letting Louie spend so much time there the last few years as he has aged. He went everywhere with my dad and his dog Budde. I appreciate everything they have done for us over the years.

Louie meets Meatloaf, 2012
Thank you to my good friend Meegan, who carefully convinced me to adopting a puppy when her 2 awesome dogs had a litter. Best.Decision.Ever.

Lastly, to fate who allowed me to pick the puppy with the 'blue' eyes who had the best personality. Unknowing that his eyes were not blue, but riddled with glaucoma and rapidly going blind.

Thank you to blind Louie for showing me that life is beautiful no matter your circumstances. We can all choose to be happy. 

Thank you, Blind Louis Bernard Swift Waschke.

I love you, now and forever.


Most handsome and shiny blind dog contest winner.
Through the years we have helped a lot of people who just discovered the adorable puppy they had adopted had glaucoma and would be blind. Through this blog I was able to reach people all over the country and beyond and spread the word that there was another option for treatment of glaucoma in dogs other than removing their eyes. While this treatment did not stop the dog from going blind, it stopped their pain and discomfort.

For most dogs, being blind is no big deal. It's always harder on their humans. Louie has taught me, and hopefully the readers of this blog as well, to take everything in stride. To do your best with the circumstances you are given and be thankful for every moment you have.


Louie being gentle and patient for his 1 year old buddy, Dario. 2014