grieve not...
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if i were beside you...
i loved you so-
'twas heaven here with you.

-isla paschal richardson

on tuesday, september 6, my dear husband whispered in my ear, "i have to run to the bank before i go...i'll be right back". nothing unusual about this: he was on his way out of town, off to visit his family whom he had not had a chance to see all summer long. upon his return from his errand, he opened the door to our front stoop, keeping it ajar.

"honey, this is something you have wanted for a long time. i hope you like him. i know it's a little early, but happy anniversary. our lives are about to change."

i could hear the whimpering and rubbed my eyes in disbelief. he'd done it. i had not a clue HOW, but he'd done it. he brought in the tiniest puppy crate you've ever seen, and at last, i had my pup in my arms.

my beautiful pup. my dream. my little fawn french bulldog puppy. i was scared, overwhelmed. i had wanted this for so long--years--and i had wanted to be prepared. to finish reading my books. to slow down a little. to book my airfare for kentucky or virginia, to the breeders i had researched. to hold out and see if, against the odds, a rescue would finally accept our application, or petfinder would have an ad that would pop up with just the little guy we'd wanted.

i asked brian, "how did you do this?"

"well, i contacted elle, and she went to the kennel in brooklyn with me last monday to check them out. i knew he was the right one. he was kind of by himself....not running around and barking like the other pups. he just seemed mellow."

--heart sinking a little, yet still overwhelmed with puppy love--

it's called trusting your gut. i did not. could not. i was immediately attached.


last winter, i went over to elle's to visit her new pups. they were absolutely adorable. i took photos. i told brian, "you should come with me to see elle's pups soon!" i spoke incessantly of my love for french bulldogs, as i wanted brian to become as hooked as i was. i asked elle about her dogs, where she'd gotten them...."right here in brooklyn!" was her response. furthermore, she told me that they had a few different breeds of dogs at the kennel (red flag number one) and, excitedly, that she believed her dogs were from hungary (red flag number two). silently, the decision was made that i would be going elsewhere when the time came for me to purchase a dog.

yet, here i was. my husband had done this beautiful thing for me....and he believed that he had gone about it the right way: he had interpreted my enthusiasm about my friend's new dogs as an endorsement for her decisions to purchase them from this kennel. he had taken her advice, someone whom he believed to be a trusted friend, an intelligent, knowledgable and well-informed, loving pet owner. he went to visit the dogs first, and he deemed the facilities to be clean. of course, he didn't know that it was not a good sign to have several different breeds for sale (how can one breeder know all there is to know, and truly dedicate themselves, to so many different breeds?). he also didn't know that it was not healthy for the dogs to be in the same room together, constantly being handled and passed around at such a young age, while being so susceptible to disease. he didn't know the questions to ask--about the sire, the dam, their health, the line, the health history of the line, the correct and necessary papers, information about their veterinary care.

the only sign of negativity from brian was his slight annoyance at t, the owner of the kennel. apparently, t was very friendly and helpful when brian was deciding to purchase the puppy...much less so when brian was making arrangements to pick the puppy up. their plans for him to get the puppy on labor day were nixed by t, who pretended that they had never had such a conversation. instead, brian had to run out and get him on tuesday, just an hour before he was to leave for his trip, and in his last personal dealings with t, he congratulated brian on purchasing a female, telling him that he made the right decision. that females were better. (brian had purchased a male puppy).

he was sent home with a barely ten week old pup, his crate, a small baggie of dry food, a baggie of mysterious pills, and a baggie with a single pill that he was to take that day, plus a couple of toys and treats. i gave the puppy the single pill, a dewormer called "drontal plus" (labelled as "dronst plus" by the kennel) which he happily gobbled up with a piece of meaty puppy pill casing. the baggie of mystery pills were flagyl (though the kennel had written "fragel" on a piece of paper). "take every day for ten days". this was confusing. there were clearly more than ten pills in the baggie, yet no dosage instructions.

i stared at the puppy. the puppy stared at me. i loved the puppy. he loved me back. i began to call friends, send emails, send text messages requesting their best male puppy names. i couldn't stop referring to the little boy as "piglet", for he was so tan and chubby and sniffly.

so sniffly, this little piglet. sniffly and beginning to get a little snotty. my little boy had a runny nose! i tissued it off, and immediately made an appointment with our veterinarian. luckily, they could get me in on thursday.

elle wanted to stop by that evening, as she had gone with brian to the kennel and wanted her boyfriend to meet our new addition. she and her boyfriend arrived with presents, little things her frenchies had outgrown. i was advised against the ills of rawhide (which i did not buy for the puppy....he was sent home with a baggie of these, too), the need for high nutrient puppy food, the fabulousness of greenies and nylabones.

"he's so sniffly," she said. "i think he has a cold."

"i know. he definitely has a cold. i have a vet appointment for thursday," i replied.

"yeah. puppies get colds, they get all kinds of stuff" she forewarned.

that night, my sister in law, heather, came over to help me out. i was so overwhelmed, and brian had left hours ago. i felt like i couldn't leave the puppy alone for a second, like our apartment was a landmine. what if he chewed a cord? swallowed a penny? got scratched by the cat? i frantically attempted to puppy-proof. i tried to speed read the remainder of _the art of raising a puppy_ by the monks of new skete. we ordered in.

i attempted sleep. i knew the first night would be the hardest. i didn't want him to sleep with me- what if he fell off the bed?- and i had no way to block off an area, no method of tethering him to the bed on the floor, as the monk's suggested in their book.

i stuck his crate beside me on the bed. i slipped my fingers into it, and attempted sleep that way. so long as he had contact with me, he didn't cry. he sniffled and sneezed all night. i didn't sleep a wink. i loved him so.

wednesday. i was beginning to feel really overwhelmed. i had to work (so much for my dreams of good timing and a long vacation with my new dog- the time to potty train, to bond, to frolick). i was exhausted. i had been up all night with a sniffly dog. i felt abandoned. i felt as if it were entirely my responsiblity to arrange for care for my puppy, when all i wanted to do was be there to care for him, twenty four hours a day, myself.

i got a call that i would have to work on thursday. i called brian in a panic. "i'm at work, and i need you to take care of this! how could you get me this dog and then split??! i need help!! i have a sick dog here, i have to work tomorrow, and he NEEDS to get to the vet!"

the pup continued to sniffle and sneeze, we continued to think of names: hugo, pomme, finn, ollie. none seemed to stick as much as the piglet. i went to petco, so elated that i could buy the puppy bed, the puppy leash, the puppy food, the puppy treats. no more picking up the bag of cat litter and staring longingly at the happy doggies trotting through the store. soon, milo would trot around petco at my side. soon, i would be an active participant of the dog run from the inside, not just a dogless onlooker from the outside. next week we would be going into our socialization period, a good time for us to have people over, for the pup to learn his manners when meeting people at the door. after that, i could bring him to work, introduce him to children so he wouldn't be afraid.

as for now, we were just working on housetraining, and he was picking it up like a champ. accidents were few. the pup knew me, and i knew the pup. he knew he wanted to please me. he tried so hard. he understood.

we were on a schedule. we went out for a pee, got a treat, chewed a bone, took a nap, drank some water, took a pee, got a treat....i loved it. every second of it. when i couldn't do it, my sister in law, whom we nicknamed "the nanny", took over, even leaving me little notes of when he had an accident, when he made it, when he ate.

i became the woman who carried treats in my pocket. i wanted to shower the world with treats.

the gods smiled on me. i only had to work briefly in the morning on thursday, and was able to keep the vet appointment. the pup seemed to like his travel bag. i definitely liked carrying him in it. he was perfectly content so long as he was close to me.

dr. schwartz examined the puppy. his temperature was normal. his mucous was not. the puppy was diagnosed with kennel cough. dr. schwartz declared him "a very sick dog". my heart sank. according to her, he was not moving around enough, not active enough for a puppy. he was prescribed oral antibiotics (amavox), as well as erythromycin ointment to ward off an eye infection. on top of all of this, the pup had fleas (easily prevented by a good breeder who cares enough to give them a $10 tube of flea medicine) so he was given frontline, the poor thing.

most troubling to dr. schwartz was the mysterious baggie of flagyl, as well as the rampant misspellings on the sheet from the kennel. not a vet record--just a sheet of paper scrawled with a record of vaccines, including:

on 7/25: neopar-"strait" (sic) parvo shot.

-the parvo virus is a big killer of puppies. it is recommended that they receive the parvo vaccine at or about 42 days of age (not once, at 35 days, as was the case with our pup), and again every 14-21 days until the puppy is of a certain age, as "there is potential for maternal antibody to interfere with the immune response to the original vaccination" (from vetvax's website).

on 8/12 and 8/23: van"gard" (sic) 5 plus

-vanguard five plus is a vaccine given to immunize, again, against parvo as well as canine distemper, hepatitis, adenovirus cough, parainfluenza, and coronavirus.

again, on 8/23: "panager" (panacur) 3- a dewormer also used to treat giardia.

on 8/29: "duptpuz". i still cannot figure out what this vaccine was for, or the name of the medicine they are describing: duramune, for distemper, hepatitis, influenza and parvo? does it mean "distemper"?

and a vaccination for "bortella" (sic)- meaning bordetella- which is kennel cough. this vaccine is considered inaffective among most vets, as the disease is often caused by multiple organisms, not just the bordetella bacteria, and the vaccine is not long lasting.

on 9/1: "ivernecting" (sic)- meaning ivermectin, a heartworm preventative/broad spectrum anti-parasite medication. ivermectin should be given very precisely, and in the opinion of some vets, should NOT be sold though catalogs. it has the potential for serious side effects if incorrectly used (from marvistavet.com).

as previously mentioned, the pup was sent home with drontal plus, a dewormer, which i administered to him, as well as the mysterious baggie of flagyl. one pill of flagyl was attempted, but this little puppy learned fast. he gobbled up the meaty casing and promptly spit out the pill.

known as metronidazole, flagyl is an antibiotic which is used in dogs and cats to treat protozoal infections including giardia, entamoeba, trichomonas, and balantidium. dr. schwartz found it alarming that our dog was sent home with this medication. what was it for? did our dog have a protozoal infection which we weren't told about? if our dog had giardia (which dr. schwartz considered as a possibility due to the administering of panacur coupled with the flagyl) we, as well as our cat, could potentially become infected.

due to our little puppy's sad state, and the amount of medication he had been given, dr. schwartz advised that i first find out what the flagyl was for before i tried to give him any more of it. she suggested that i be rather vague with my inquiry to the kennel, for fear that the kennel may not be honest with me should i seem too concerned. she also prescribed lots of rest for my sick boy, and warned me that he would very soon be developing a cough, which she demonstrated and described as dry and hacking.

brian had made it clear that should i decide to call tony at the kennel, i should not expect for him to be courteous and understanding....at this point i had lost track of all of the red flags, the chain of events that led me to this place of tending to a sick puppy, feeling like i was at the mercy of an uncaring kennel owner, and fearing the worst.

my conversation with t went something like this:

"may i speak with t?"

"WHO'S THIS?"

"my name is noelle, and my husband, brian, bought a french bulldog puppy from you."

"WHAT DAY?"

"um...this was on tuesday."

"YEAH?"

"the puppy is adjusting nicely, but i attempted to give him the flagyl--you had written it as "fragel"- and he spit it out. i thought i could get something he'd like better from my vet. what was the flagyl for?"

"JUST GIVE HIM THE PILL. HE HAS TO HAVE IT. HOW MANY HAS HE HAD?"

"well, i tried to give him one, but he spit it out. what's it for?"

"HE NEEDS TO TAKE IT! TWO OF THEM A DAY!"

"two a day? it says to take for ten days..."

"HOW MANY PILLS ARE THERE?"

" i haven't counted them...quite a lot"

"WELL, IF THERE ARE TWENTY PILLS, THEN TWO A DAY!"

"can you tell me what they're for?"

"FOR PARASITES AND WORMS AND STUFF"

"for giardia?"

"JUST PUT THE PILL IN A PIECE OF CHEESE AND GIVE IT TO HIM!"

"ok. thanks. bye."

i hung up and cried. i tried to reach brian, but i couldn't. i had a sick dog who could have had giardia....brian just paid a large sum of money to a guy who could obviously care less about this animal. the lump in my throat grew larger.

i called dr. schwartz. i was beginning to panic. she assured me that it was highly unlikely that the puppy had giardia. that if he did, the damage was done. that if he did, he would likely have diarrhea and be vomiting. later, i would come to view this as feeling spared, that with so much agony, at the least my dear cat of nine years remains safe and healthy.

she said that we'd watch him, that there were medications he could take later if he needed the flagyl for anything.

watch him i did. like a hawk. later that evening, as if on cue, he developed the dry, hacking cough. we continued our routine-- water, pee, treat, nap, water, pee, treat, dinner-- but without the play. he needed to rest.

friday. we spent most of the day together friday. antibiotics were administered with care. again, heather -"the nanny"- was available to watch him for the few hours i had to work.

his cough worsened. all he wanted to do was lie down with me. he still followed me around, even though too much movement started him coughing again. he still went outside, pooped and peed, and received great accolades for his accomplishments. i learned to balance the dog, the leash, the paper towels, the plastic bag, the treats. his cough began to look as if it was coming from a deeper place, further down into his stomach and lungs. nothing was coming up, as is the case with kennel cough.

i knew to expect a cough, but this cough? this cough looked like it hurt. this pup looked tired. i tried not to move him too much. he slept in the kitchen, in his crate, with very little protest. all i was thinking was that i didn't want him to move around. we both needed rest. i was wiped. brian was coming home. we would be able to manage and tomorrow would be better.

saturday i didn't have to work until four. brian watched him for a bit, followed by "the nanny" and her friend. somehow it seemed to work out and he was never alone. i am so grateful for that.

saturday consisted of wiping his nose, trying to get him to eat and drink. feeding him drops of honey on a spoon to ease his cough. he was beginning to look skinnier, dehydrated. his breathing seemed fast and labored. i kept trying to bring myself back to all of the advice i had gotten from so many different people:

.... "my dog had kennel cough. it can be rough, but it'll be ok."
...."he's on antibiotics? you're doing everything right. think of all of the dogs in brooklyn who don't have shelter and food tonight. he''ll be fine"
...."dogs and cats bounce back so fast. after a couple of days, they perk up and feel fine."


work was rough. a late night. i missed my boys, all members of my menagerie, including my husband. it was officially september 11, and on the way home my driver took the long way around lower manhattan, directly passed the world trade center. i took it as a bad sign.

at home, the littlest one wasn't doing well. once he was calm enough, i began to count his breaths per minute. 66 at their slowest....i was too frightened to count them at their highest. he hadn't eaten much. we were really worried at this point. it just seemed like the air wasn't getting in.

we made the decision to find a 24 hour veterinary facility and take him there. we put him in his bag and were off to the fifth avenue veterinary specialists. i assured him that after this, we would drive up and down the street once a day, so that the car wouldn't always mean thermometers, poking, prodding, and cold steel tables.

the next day at work, our littlest guy somehow named himself. of all of the names, the preferences of my most trusted friends, the adorable options.....he was "milo". it just seemed right, and i didn't want to have the people in the hospital view him as some anonymous "new puppy". he was named. milo.

here is the email i sent out to all of my peeps; everyone whom i'd asked about names, everyone who congratulated me, who send me treats, gifts, picture frames, nylabones:

"dear friends and family,
as you may know, brian recently surprised me with the
light of my life, a french bulldog puppy whom we have
affectionately named milo.

sadly, little milo (and i do mean little) has had to be
hospitalized for what appears to be aspirated
pneumonia as a result of bordetella (kennel cough).
milo is currently at the fifth avenue veterinary
specialists, where he is quiet and stable.
radiographs show his lung lobes to be hazy (indicative
of pneumonia), and he is receiving oxygen, as his
oxygen levels were at 88% last night, as opposed to a
healthy 95-99%. he is on IV fluids, which should
produce the most marked change in how he is feeling,
and he has also been given nebulized droplets (similar
to the effect of a humidifier) coupled with massage
from the vet techs. naturally, he has quickly become
a favorite of the staff, as he is 100% irresistable.

he is truly under excellent care, and his prognosis is
good. fifth avenue veterinary specialists are among
the best in the country; members of their staff have
been awarded directorial positions with the aspca, and
they are known for their charity work with abused
animals throughout new york city. the facility itself
is impressive-- essentially a people hospital!

we'll keep you updated as to milo's recovery. he is
scheduled to have a transtracheal wash, in which a
culture will be obtained in order to determine what is
causing his pneumonia so that the absolute best course
of treatment can be determined. he will need to be
sedated for this, so please keep him in your thoughts,
prayers and good intentions. ...and give your vet a
hug; these people do amazing things for our animals
and for us.

xo,
noelle"

sunday morning was rough. the thought of sleep was laughable. i could do nothing but cry, though i was confident in milo's level of care. that fact never changed.

work on sunday, wherein i spent most of it trying to find out everything i could about what was going on with my dog. i was terrified. google searches began to turn up french bulldog message board posts like, "beware of may's kennels in brooklyn!". i felt completely hopeless. what could i have done differently? where did i go wrong? why didn't i tell brian what i thought of the kennel after i visited elles's new puppies last winter? i didn't want to play the blame game. it was impossible not to. i am not without my faults. i was angry at so many people....i'm ashamed of this. i am more ashamed to admit that this hasn't completely gone away.

i heard from dr. patillo, the veterinarian who had taken over from the overnight e.r. vet at the specialists: the transtracheal wash was successful, despite the risks involved with anesthesia. huge relief. he was getting fluids, getting the nebulizer, still on oxygen. his oxygen levels were still too low. i could visit him tomorrow--though he was in isolation, i would be permitted to peek through the glass door, as if he were a baby in a nursery.

that night, for the first time since i'd gotten milo, i slept. i believed--enough-- that everything would be ok. that's what everyone was telling me, and it allowed me to sleep.

i hadn't heard from the vet on monday....i called in the afternoon, and the vet tech was letting me know that he was doing better. she was "happy for me". i spoke with dr. patillo, and we scheduled a visit for a peek at milo for 7:15.

when i arrived, dr. patillo was frank with me: earlier in the day, she was a little concerned, but he really seemed to turn a corner this afternoon. he was perking up- eating, drinking, pooping, peeing. i was led downstairs to see him. he was in a glass kennel that was being pumped with oxygen. dr. petillo took him out to peek at me through the glass. i was overjoyed. he looked healthier. the gauntness was gone: he was revived, he looked supple. he stood steadily on the table. she wiped his nose. he coughed and coughed. when she put him back into his "tank", he sniffed and sucked down the air like he meant it. he wanted to get better. he would get better. when i asked dr. patillo if she thought he would make it, she nodded confidently, "i really think so".

5:50 AM. the phone call. brian answers. he goes into the other room. i am prepared. i know what this is.

he comes back, bewildered, horrified. "they say he went into cardiac arrest?! they're trying to revive him?!"

i take the phone. or they called right back. i can't remember. i speak with the vet on duty.

"we've revived your dog. it is very unusual that they come back, but he did. if you'd like to see him, now would be the time."

i tell her we'll be right there. brian asks what it means, that "now would be the time"?

i tell him that it means that milo will probably die.

we arrive at the hospital. dr. saint claire, the vet on duty, tells us that he failed again, and that they are administering cpr. they are on their second course of cpr. she asks us if we'd like to continue.

we say we do not.

she asks if we'd like to see him. i tell brian that i don't think i can. he tells me that he thinks we should, that it is the right thing to do.

she brings him in. we say goodbye.

i wonder if he ever had a chance. i wonder what would have happened if someone else had bought him. i often wonder about what could have been.

i mourn the future. i mourn what will never be. i don't think i can do this again. become so attached to something that wants nothing more than to love me back, constantly, selflessly.

i can think only of this song by stevie wonder:


"shattered dreams, worthless years
here am i encased inside a hollow shell.
life began, then was done
Now i stare into a cold and empty well.
the many sounds that meet our ears,
the sights our eyes behold,
will open up our merging hearts
and feed our empty souls.

I Believe When I Fall In Love With You It Will Be Forever.
I believe when I fall in love this time it will be forever.

without despair we will share
and the joys of caring will not be replaced.
what has been must never end
and with the strength we have won't be erased.
when the truths of love are planted firm they're only hard to find,
and the words of love i speak to you will echo in my mind.

I Believe When I Fall In Love With You It Will Be Forever.
I believe when I fall in love this time it will be forever."

epilogue.

what happened to milo is my worst nightmare come true. there are some important factors in my story (all of which is 100% the painful truth) which demonstrate how truly selfish some people can be in their dealings with animals- animals who are brought into this world without a chance....animals who are bred to make a dollar, not animals who are bred to make a healthy, lifelong companion. to better the breed. to raise the standard of the animals we love so much. to bring out even more of the best of who they are with each generation.

here are some points where things went terribly wrong in the case of my beloved milo:

*first of all, a reputable breeder will not allow you to give an animal as a gift. while the notion is romantic, it is not realistic. it is irresponsible. there are too many risk factors involved. a responsible breeder would want to know who is caring for- adopting- their dog and giving them love and attentive care for the next fifteen or so years. a responsible breeder would have wanted to meet me as much as i would have wanted to meet them.

*a reputable breeder usually has a waiting list for potential owners. at the very least, they are not required to bombard the internet with advertisements, as this kennel does.

*a reputable breeder does not try to offer you a "deal", as ours did. a purebred dog from a responsible breeder is expensive. in the case of french bulldogs, most of the dams have to be artificially inseminated and deliver by c-section. the genetic testing to assure that the parents are free from defects is expensive (OFA Hips, OFA Elbows, OFA Patellas, OFA Heart, CERF, vWD normal, Thyroid normal, spine free of hemi vertebrae and no Spondylosis). you will pay, as we did, for your "good deal" in the long run. in ways you may never want to imagine.

*a reputable breeder is knowledgable of the breed and of their litter. the fact that t at the kennel could not even remember whether milo was male or female is truly pathetic.

*a reputable breeder usually insists that you have your pet spayed or neutered, and that you provide them with documentation. not a requirement of our breeder.

*a reputable breeder will provide you with records from their veterinarian.

*our breeder is not even registered with the AKC (which still does not guarantee a healthy puppy). it is registered with the ACA (American Canine Association), which is not a recommended registry. it in no way guarantees that your dog is purebred or of good health. i can find no information on milo's parents.

*a good breeder could talk about their dogs all day. they are not short with you. they remember who purchased their dogs.

*a responsible breeder sells one breed of dog. not three or four.

*a responsible breeder belongs to their regional or local breed club. they should be well-regarded within the community.

*a healthy puppy should have no discharge from eyes or nose

*a healthy puppy should have plenty of energy when awake.


i came across this statement online (from katewerk.com), which very well summarizes a responsible breeder, and when a breeder crosses over to the dark side:

"It is the line that you cross when, instead of working to support your breed, you ask it to support you. There are many good reasons for breeding purebred dogs. Paying the mortgage isn't one of them."


i don't know where to go from here, exactly. i have received support from so many wonderful, caring people...people who truly love animals and who are as infuriated as i am with what is happening at this kennel. i have learned of two other french bulldog deaths within the first week of sale from may's kennel. i have learned of a french bulldog with blindness from may's kennel. i have learned from my vet that it is doubtful that milo was truly a french bulldog at all (not that this makes me love and miss him any less)....he did not fit the standard of the breed in his appearance, as he had folded ears.

i need to channel this anger, frustration and sadness into action. i don't want for this dog's life to be in vain. i don't want to be a walking cautionary tale. i want for the owner of this kennel to stop doing what he is doing to make a living. i want for him to find another vocation.

i want for my heart to stop hurting. i want to stop feeling sick every time i think about this. i want my dog back, snuggling my neck with his nose, sleeping on my lap. i want to smell milo's puppy smell, to hear him lap up his water, to explore the back patio.....to take a deep, clear breath.