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Brutus was
born in May of 1995. He began his life with
another family, as a stud dog. He came to us
when he was four years old, the family that
owned him had decided to no longer breed
Rottweilers, and sold him papered and
intact. We immediately had him fixed. He was
93 pounds, very exuberant, very puppyish and
truly loving. He didn't have an aggressive
demeanor, he loved people. The former owners
didn't allow the dogs in the house, other
than the basement kennel area, so he was
probably not treated like one of the family.
We found him to be a snuggler, always
wanting to be cuddled and loved, he
certainly became one of our family.
A year after we got
him, in May of 2000, he was up to about 110
pounds, very athletic, and still our loving
dog. I have never had a dog that picked up
so much of the spoken word as he has. He
seems to wait and listen to what we say, and
does exactly what we ask. He is always eager
to please, wanting to be involved in
whatever is going on around him. The
neighborhood children love him, especially
when he sits on their laps. The more they
laugh, the happier he is. In June of 2000,
he was diagnosed with Heartworm, a very mild
positive, our Vet assumed that he must have
been mildly positive when we got him, and he
didn't test positive that first spring, and
although we used the preventative, if he
already had the parasite, it developed over
those first 12 months. Upon investigation
through his former Vet, we also found out
that he'd had parvo as a puppy. We went
through the heartworm treatment, and he was
in a lot of pain, yet, he never got
aggressive and always was happy to visit the
clinic. Twenty-one days after the first part
of the treatment, the deep muscle shots, he
had an embolism, we rushed him to the Vet
and almost lost him, yet again -- he
survived. With little after affects, other
than a little shortness of breath, he
survived the treatment and was fine.
Things were quiet for
the next two years, but in the summer of
2002, during a terrible heat wave, he became
quite ill with a stomach disorder that
seemed to knock him way down. We went
through multiple courses of medications,
blood tests, etc. We bought an air
conditioner, and that was Brutus' favorite
room for a few weeks. All of his blood work
came back normal, we were just dealing with
a sensitivity to the extreme heat and the
resulting upset stomach and complications of
diarrhea and vomiting. By the Fall, he was
happy and healthy again.
Now we come to the
spring of 2003. He developed a limp on his
left front leg in May. After 2 sets of
x-rays, Deramax and Rimadyl, our local Vet
diagnosed him with OCD, also known as
Osteochrondritis Dissecans, a disorder of
the cartilage and in his case, in the
shoulder. We tried to treat with the drugs
and rest, but he continued to get
worse.
On June 30, a day that
will live in my memory forever, I brought
him to a hospital an hour and a half away,
for a consult with a Veterinary Surgeon who
would most likely perform the necessary
surgery that afternoon. I brought the two
sets of x-rays, and after looking at those
films, he asked to take another set. It had
been 21 days since the last set. When he
came back, he put the most recent films and
those he'd just taken on the board, and it
was obvious. There was a growth. And I
immediately knew. My brother-in-law's
Shepherd had been diagnosed with
Osteosarcoma three years prior. I knew the
signs and I knew the prognosis. I was
devastated. We discussed the options, of
which there were few. 1-Euthanasia (not an
option); 2-Do nothing, wait for complete
invasion of the leg, weakening to the point
of breaking, or lung infiltration and
suffocation (30-90 days), or 3-Amputation
and chemotherapy.
I drove home, trying to
figure out how to tell my husband that his
baby had this terrible disease. We have no
children, and Brut is VERY bonded with my
husband, as my husband is to him. We
were both so stricken that neither of us
were able to work that day. It was just the
beginning of making adjustments for Brutus.
On July 9, 2003 he
underwent surgery to have his left front leg
amputated. He weathered the surgery, and was
doing fairly well, for a dog of his size,
losing a front leg especially. Brutus came
home to us on July 11, both Ron (my husband)
and I took the day off to pick him up and
welcome him home. He was pretty sick and had
a lot of problems with fluid build-up in the
surgical area. We had one emergency visit
almost two weeks post surgery, for a
seratoma that burst at the suture site,
requiring another stitch and a nervous
breakdown on my part.
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Brutus:
after
having his front leg amputated due to
the cancer
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Brutus started
Chemotherapy on July 29, although it
should've been two weeks post surgery, he
was having stomach upset, and rather than
aggravate that condition with the Chemo, we
tried to get him feeling somewhat better
before making him Chemo sickness. We went
thru five treatments of Adreamycin, one
every two weeks. For the most part, he
weathered it well. Of course, with his
history of stomach problems, he had the
normal vomiting. It was almost like
clockwork. Chemo on Tues., during which he
was given Prednisone and Benadryl to stem
off any reaction he might have. Tuesday
night and Wednesday the Prednisone always
"perked" him up, he was playful
and energetic. By Thursday morning or
mid-day, he would begin to get picky about
his food. From then on, it was boiled
hamburger, 2-3 ounces every 2-3 hours until
Sun. By the second treatment, we were given
injectable Metaclopramide, that seemed to
help a lot. Brut only had one episode where
he became sick enough to return to the Vet
for rehydration.
Our last treatment was
on September 23, and from then on it was the
occasional blood test. Throughout all of
this, he kept good blood levels, except for
a slight showing of anemia, which he still
has, so we're considering the possibility
that he normally runs slightly low for red
blood cell counts. Currently he's going
through a bit of a cold, that has him off of
his food, which in turn has aggravated that
darn stomach again. But we're surviving. We
were lucky that our jobs allowed for us to
take the time we needed for Brut, and that
we could afford the treatment. We're very
luck in many respects.
We know that every day
with him is a gift, and we treat it as such.
That he visits his Vets (and we have two,
one regular, and one for the cancer) with
his butt wagging (they call him "Mr.
Wigglebutts") and his head held high,
is a testament to his personality. He is a
friend to all who know him and can't wait to
convince those he hasn't yet met what a
wonderful friend he can be. Our friends and
co-workers check his status regularly, and
he loves those visits. The Vets marvel at
what he's gone through and his tenacity. We
all know that the prognosis is still not
great, there's a 50% survival rate to 1
year, and after that the statistics are even
more depressing. So we hope and pray, and do
what we can. We make sure he's happy and
comfortable, and we love him.
I hope this helps
people to have hope and not give up in the
face of a devastating disease such as
cancer. We should all learn from Brutus, no
self pity, persevere. I mostly feel bad that
I can't explain to him what is going on,
yet, he seems to weather just fine without
that knowledge, taking the good with the
bad. I can't imagine our lives without him,
and I'm not ready to live without him yet,
as if I will ever be. Writing this has been
cathartic, yet it brings me to tears to
think that he won't be here a year from now.
Thank you for "listening".
Update from the
Roberts - March 25, 2004 -
I thought
you'd want to know that Brut passed away
March 20, 2004. Not long after my first
letter, the anemia became worse. We ended up
at Angel Animal Hospital in Springfield,
Massachusetts where it was discovered that
he had a tickborn protozoa called babesia
gibsoni. This parasite destroys the red
blood cells. It took advantage of him when
his immune system became compromised. They
also found a small amount of pneumonia in
upper lobes, but no sign of the cancer in
his lungs. They did however find small
tumors on his ribs, penis bone, and his L-2
vertabrae, which explained the weakness in
the hind end. They estimate that the babesia
would take over, compromising his ability to
carry oxygen in his blood, and he had about
two weeks. Two weeks later, we'd cured the
pneumonia, had one babesia treatment,
developed a high fever, and ended up at the
vets again. But, they kept him on IV
antibiotics over night, and he came home,
doing quite well. Unfortunately, during that
visit, the lung x-rays showed a 1 1/2"
met in the lung. We knew at that point that
we literally had days. As he became more
compromised, we struggled with the decision.
His babesia and cancer became overwhelming,
and he was unable to rest comfortably, move
around on his own, and generally enjoy life.
But he still loved to be loved and gave us
butt wags 'til the end.
We miss him very much,
and feel lucky for the time that we did have
with him. But of course, I wish it could've
been so much longer. Below is a portrait that my husband's
brother had done of Brutus for us for
Christmas a couple of years ago, with my
addition of the text. The artist is Laurie
Gayle, in Raleigh, NC. She works in many
mediums, but this is colored pencil.
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Rottweiler
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