I’ve got some bad news, but first I want to say that Lucinda the dog is comfortable and happy and, as I write, she’s laying out in the sun in the backyard, looking very content.
Today, I learned that, very probably, Lucy, our beautiful, gorgeous brindle girl, has Degenerative Myelopathy. Now, I want to emphasize that, right now, she’s very comfortable and, as I write this, she’s walking just fine, and getting up and down just fine. But that was not the case this morning, and a visit to the emergency vet gave us this diagnosis. And it means our time together is not going to be quite as long as you would expect when your dog is only seven years old.
Degenerative Myelopathy is a neurodegenerative disease in dogs, and it causes a progressive and irreversible deterioration and loss of function of the nervous system, especially the neurons in the brain. In essence, it “short circuits” nerve pathways from the brain to the limbs so that, over time, the dog loses its ability to feel or use its limbs.
This could take a year. This could take as much as three years. This could happen in months. It usually happens over six months. We just don’t know.
The good news is that DM is not painful, in and of itself, and it can be quite gradual. But there is no cure for this disease and it is fatal. Most owners choose to euthanize their dogs when they can no longer take care of their bodily functions, rather than allowing the disease to progress all the way.
We are, of course, devastated at the news.
For the next four-eight weeks, we have to deprive Lucinda of what she loves most: walking and interacting with other dogs and all her human friends. We have to see how she’s doing and if this was just a first sign of her disease, one that will slowly progress, she’s going to get to resume our walks. But no more hiking, since we need to always be ready for the possibility we have to get the car for her. And no more playing with other dogs, at least not the dogs she loves most, because that could risk injury. The vet told me specifically: “no more sprinting.”
I’m now home, having been at the emergency vet for five hours. They saw her almost immediately to make sure she wasn’t about to die, then did a more thorough examination three hours later. Stefan had to carry her to put her into the car, and she was gurneyed into the examination room after they tried to walk her through the lobby. For at least three hours at the clinic, she was lethargic, couldn’t stand, and her eyes were half-closed, because her brain wouldn’t open them wider. And now, she’s walking through the house, bright eyed, like it ain’t no thang, all medded up and wondering what the fuss is all about.
Huge shoutout to Tanasbourne Emergency Veterinary for having tables and chairs and big gazebo covers all around the sidewalk of its office. I had had the wherewithal in the panic to bring the dogs’ beds, so we were comfortable, in the shade – but I had no food, and my phone had 10% power, so I had to turn it off and use it only to tell Stefan when to come pick us up (he works quite nearby the clinic). It was just me, Lucy, Kobe (our guest dog for the next several weeks), and my thoughts for five hours. Not a good Monday. But I was glad not to have to be in the lobby. We were on the side of the building and left quite alone, and it was nice.
Huge shoutout also to Kobe, who just grooved along with it all, perfectly content, happy to be included. Got in and out of the car on command like he’s been doing this with us for years.
So, I won’t be going on that big motorcycle trip in September after all, which is incredibly sad, as it’s for Stefan’s 50th birthday, and we were so, so looking forward to this. I hope he will still go and enjoy the Colorado dinosaurs without me. But I’m not going anywhere for a while. I’ve got a Mexican princess to look after. She’s now on her bed next to the couch, enjoying the sedatives. I think I’ll take some.
Tuesday, August 24 update: She’s fine today, the day after. Walking around like there is nothing wrong at all. We’re not crating her, as the doctor suggested, but we are keeping her on the sedatives and not taking her for walks while she’s on those meds. And I’ve reconfirmed I’m not going on our motorcycle trip, which is devastating, but not as devastating as this diagnosis. I’ll be very, very sad to miss this trip. I would be shattered if she took a turn for the worse in the three weeks I’m gone. I’ll consider it a gift if she’s fine for all of September.
I’ve learned that “The variable presentation between breeds suggests that there are environmental or other genetic factors responsible for modifying disease expression” from this resource. So her lack of good nutrition in the womb could have, indeed, contributed to how this disease has manifested. “Genetic testing remains the only reliable way to detect neurological disease associated with this mutation prior to death.” We’re going to get her a genetic test – ordered it today – and if it turns out that it’s not DM, then I think the only other thing it could be intervertebral disc disease – which is also lousy. But given her droopy eyes yesterday, in addition to the back legs, I just don’t see how it could not be DM. It’s not common in greyhounds, and we are relatively certain that’s her dominant breed. In one study of 33 greyhounds tested, 3% had two copies of the mutation and were at-risk. However, maybe her dominant breed is boxer, and if that’s the case, in one study of 3934 boxers tested, 29.9% were carriers of the mutation and 57.4% were at-risk/affected. And, no, I’m not getting a genetic test for breed – everything I’ve read says those are often inaccurate and meaningless – you would have to do tests from at least three different companies to see if they all said the same thing. And, honestly, now, it really doesn’t matter. Her breed is Lucinda of Northern Baja, California, Mexico.
Leave a Reply