Mystery Malaise

Over the next two days, Nicholai looked alternately better then worse, declining most meals, vomiting, and shedding syrupy diarrhea (I know, too much information). I made organic chicken soup for him, backed off his medicine, let him rest. Deeply sad, I realized that our time together might be permanently shifting from hiking adventures and buddy-ship, to care-giving and to walking our last mile together. Not the Christmas I had imagined.

On the afternoon of the second day, I sat at the computer, half working and half contemplating next steps with my boy-dog when I noticed that it was unnaturally quiet. When I'm at the computer, our youngest, dog – another foundling - comes to me with her toys constantly. She bumps a tug-rope or a chew bone into my thigh then stares at me "Whatcha gonna do, mom? Huh? Huh?" If I don't respond – say I'm actually trying to get some work done – she bumps me again or jumps up, landing her front feet onto my back, looking over my shoulder at the computer. "Whatcha doin'? Gonna play – are ya, are ya?" Patience is not her strong suit. This afternoon, Kelley hadn't bothered me once; I glanced around then assumed that my partner had taken her on errands. Later when everyone arrived home and still no Kelley jumping on me, I asked "Hey, didn't Kelley go with you?" "No, I thought you had her," came the reply. At that, I pushed away from the desk and walked upstairs. Kelley lay on the bed and barely lifted her head when I came in. Heat radiated off her head, I felt it before I touched her. What the heck . . . . older immune compromised Nicholai suddenly ill, young healthy Kelley suddenly ill . . . was there a connection?

Back to the vet, and hopefully, the drawing board. Kelley's examination revealed that she was indeed running a fever, her white cells were low, and her lymph nodes were swollen. Her fecal exam revealed no evidence of parasites (Nicholai's hadn't either). The vet speculated that Kelley had the flu and that she and Nicholai's illnesses were not connected, just coincidental. "Could they have eaten something that's making them sick?" I asked. I couldn't let go of the niggling feeling that something other than Nicholai's lymphoma was getting him down. "With all the things he's devoured over the years?" Nicholai's reputation preceded him. "I don't think so." He prescribed an antimicrobial, immune-boosting tincture for Kelley and sent me home.

As the weekend progressed, Nicholai was up and down; Kelley, on the other hand was sinking, her ship was going down. Still suspicious that the two suffered from the same mystery malaise, I stopped giving the tincture to Kelley (who couldn't keep it down) and gave it to Nicholai instead. Kelley stopped eating altogether, squeezed out liquid poop and threw up every last drop in her little-girl system. Her condition deteriorated and we switched our focus to her; Nicholai could at least keep down some chicken soup and putz around the yard.

Monday and Tuesday, I checked Kelley into the veterinary office all day long, where she received IV fluids and antibiotics for a possible bacterial infection, though it couldn't be found. By Tuesday evening, she was still slipping and so we took her to the local animal ICU for more intensive care. Their diagnosis was uncertain; on their list of suspicions was lymphatic cancer. "Lymphatic cancer, what's the chance of that? My older dog has it, but it' not contagious, for heaven's sake." An image of Nicholai and Kelley disappearing from view on the beach where the seagulls had flocked came into focus. What if they had found some old rotten salmon? Certainly Nicholai would have eaten it, might have Kelley also? Had all the rotten, stinking things Nicholai had eaten over the years rendered some strange immune strength that helped him now?

According to the veterinarians, contaminated salmon carries a fluke that passes bacteria to the dog. It takes a few days for the infection to set in, but when it does it creates fever, lethargy, lack of appetite, vomiting and diarrhea, and swollen lymph nodes. Untreated, it can be fatal. Sometimes the flukes cannot be found in the dog's stool. I gave the go ahead for a biopsy of Kelley's lymph nodes and also to place a feeding tube and initiate IV fluids and antibiotics. Kelley didn't have a lot of time before it would be too late to worry about the correct diagnosis.

Over the next twenty four hours, Kelley's biopsy came back negative and treatment for presumptive salmon poisoning began. I returned to the vet with Nicholai and finally the fecal exam revealed the flukes that carry the infection, diagnosis confirmed – salmon poisoning. Sad that I had let him struggle for over a week, I was impressed by his internal fortitude. Fighting off a potentially lethal infection with little help, it appeared he was winning the battle.