Torteval Irish Wolfhounds

Julie McGill had visited the Humane Society three times, looking not just for any dog, but for the one meant for her alone. As she walked out for the third time after wandering around for 90 minutes, she turned . . . and there he was! Scared and dripping from his tick-dip, Julie knew he was hers. He had just been checked in and put into the last kennel before the exit, just for her to see! He would become the heart of her home; her Colby.

He was about two years old, an Irish wolfhound/German shepherd mix, weighing 67 pounds, tall and thin (elegant, even!), big enough that everyone said, "Wow! He's big!". Although a cross-breed he was a "real" wolfhound, with all the traits and characteristics of the breed.

Soon after he came to live with Julie, he snatched a sandwich from the kitchen counter. Julie knew this was a lesson he had to learn quickly: she put his paws back on the counter and gasped loudly in horror, jumped back and gasped again. Colby was confused and got down. She praised him and told him "Momma's" and patted the counter. Again, she put his paws on the counter and gasped and he got right back down. More praise. Never again did he steal from the counter. Never did he destroy anything except his own chew toys. (One exception - he loved rolls of toilet paper!)

One of Colby's habits was "bumping" things. When he was excited about an impending walk or food he would find something to bump. The floor-standing candlesticks were his usual target, but the toilet plunger or anything else that would move and right itself could be used. He would bump Julie's arm while she was driving or eating just to remind her he was there in case she should drop a crumb.

He would lay down and put his whole face and neck into his water bowl and bite the water from side to side. Julie couldn't see how he could breathe, but it certainly kept the floor clean!

In March 2003 the family moved to a new home. New carpets had been fitted just before they moved in. Both Colby and Julie felt unwell and listless for a couple of months. Julie did some research and realized the carpet adhesive was probably causing the symptoms. She used an air cleaner which helped a lot, and thought no more of it.

In September, Colby developed a cut on the top of his nostril that wouldn't heal and then suddenly shot out a fine stream of blood. He was in no obvious discomfort, but it was difficult to get the bleeding to stop. This went on for about two months; Julie would come home to find the apartment covered in blood, but Colby appeared fine in himself. The vet diagnosed autoimmune disease (Colby's body was treating his own tissues as foreign) and after a lot of research Julie concluded that it had been triggered by the carpet adhesive.

Colby was precribed Prednisone, as a result of which he gained almost 40 pounds and was constantly thirsty. He would drink about a quart (litre) of water and then run outside. He would come in, drink more, then run out again. The McGills lived with their patio door open 24 hours a day - it got cold in the winter, but Colby needed to get out.

They had lost their car a year before and had just saved up enough to replace it, but had to decide: car? or help Colby? No need to think: Julie and Elizabther kept walking, while the vet seemed to do nothing much but charge them more.

In January 2004 the clinic changed hands; when the new vet walked into the examination room for the first time and said "Hi there, Colby McGill!!" Julie started to cry - she cared!! She sat with Colby and Julie for almost two hours listening to the story. With trial and error, Colby's nose cut was brought under control, but his immune system began to attack the tissues in his nose and he would bleed directly from his nose. Then the pigmented areas (lips, nose, pads and around his eyelids) began to lose pigment. He got blistery bumps on his abdomen and then his lips and tongue developed ulcers. Through all this, he was well in himself; although he was so bloated that it was hard for him to get up on the couch and he panted all the time, he was happy and full of personality.

Then one evening his front leg became swollen. It improved with treatment, but two days later there was a thumbprint-sized hole where the pressure had caused the fluid to blow through his paper-thin skin (another side effect of Prednisone). He wasn't in pain, and the on-call vet told Julie to keep the wound open to allow the fluid to drain, but over the next few hours Colby rapidly deteriorated.

Julie had worried all along about whether she would know when to let him go, but she knew now the fight was over and it was time to do the right thing. Colby could barely get into the car for the drive to the vet's, but on the way he was laughing and sticking his face out of the window, just as usual. It broke Julie's heart, and she wanted to say, "Wait! Maybe if we just . . ." but she knew that it was time.

Colby was put to sleep on 16 April 2004. Julie and Elizabeth were able to lie on the floor with him, hold him, scruff him up, talk to him and look into his eyes until he was gone.

In spite of all she and Colby went through, Julie still feels that it's a blessing to live with animals, and believes that although the profound love we feel for them makes it hard to lose them it is a privilege to have them share our lives and our homes.