["Let Inga Tell You," La Jolla Light, published November 4, 2024] 2024
Both our beloved and much-missed English bulldog, Winston, and our current bichon-poodle mix, Lily, have battled non-stop allergies and skin issues. A neighbor whose dog suffered similar afflictions reported that when they moved to North County, their dog's constantly itchiness improved dramatically. Of course, they're now dealing with rattle snakes, but you can't have everything.
I wouldn't want to even calculate the hours I have spent dealing with itchy dogs.
Winston, in particular, was constantly fighting infections. The folds in his face, never mind the inside of his silky ears, needed to be cleaned daily. He had to stand in a medicated foot bath for ten minutes a day. I don't know if you (or certainly the vet who prescribed this insane regimen) ever tried this but dogs in general, and bulldogs in particular, are not inclined to stand still in a pool of water for even a tenth of that time.
English bulldogs, of course, are notorious for the myriad health problems that come with them from birth, particularly breathing problems but plenty of allergy problems as well. Our vet at the time said they had a slogan when she was doing her training: Buy a bulldog: Support a vet. For what we spent on Winston's care, we could have bought a whole new dog. Several new dogs, in fact.
When Winston died suddenly of a heart attack in our living room at the age of eight, we were so bereft that we vowed we'd never get another dog. We made that clear to the rescue agency who begged us to do an emergency foster. One week max, they promised.
"I don't know," I said dubiously to the rescue lady on the phone. "How soon would you need us to take this dog?" She replied: "Actually, I m in front of your house."
Lily had been relinquished to the County shelter ostensibly because of her thoroughly rotten teeth and infected gums. Seriously, this dog's breath was a 9 on the ickter scale. The County s medical in-take report was all of four words: "Nice dog. Terrible teeth."
We also discovered pretty quickly that Lily, like Winston, was allergic to our grass. A 7-year-old bichon-poodle mix, she was what Olof called a "foo-foo" dog. Olof was absolutely not interested in a pet that required regular professional grooming. A chronically allergic, high-maintenance dog with bad teeth was definitely not the forever dog for us. Of course, we had no plans for another forever dog anyway.
In retrospect, that rescue agency recognized us for the mushballs that we were. We might as well have been wearing T-shirts that read "Will fall in love with any dog no matter how unsuitable."
And sure enough, Lily worked her way into our hearts almost immediately. This is what is known as a "failed foster." The dog comes for a week and stays forever.
I informed our vet that we were adopting another allergy-afflicted dog that also had serious dental issues, so she could go ahead and put down the deposit on that Mercedes.
Lily's mouth cost us $1,500. She's had both knees replaced. There is no test or procedure for a human that you can't also do for a dog. In this case, minus any insurance. After the first ACL surgery, I looked into pet insurance. But it excluded ACL surgeries and pretty much all of the care she needed.
Like Winston, Lily's most chronic problem is constant itching. We've done all the treatments that have been advised, including Cytopoint shots (an immunological treatment), Apoquel (pricier than heroin), medicated shampoos, chlorhexadrine mousses, anti-flea treatments, pricey special diets at $6 per teeny weeny can, Chinese herbs, and even steroid sprays when she actually breaks the skin. I make all her totally organic food. A groomer gives her a full fluff every two weeks and we bathe her in between.
And yet, still she chews. Her feet and haunches are particularly favorite targets. Or maybe that's just because she can reach them.
Obviously, the summer season is worst when the warm humid air allows skin afflictions to flourish.
I bought special booties for her with Velcro ties but she manages to pull them off within minutes.
Making her wear a cone is a non-starter. She just goes berserk, even with the cloth ones.
Most recently, we heard about what are called "recovery suits: for dogs that have just had surgery, or are constantly chewing on themselves, in lieu of the dreaded cones. Since we have already purchased everything else known to the doggy allergy world, we decided to try one. The one we got doesn't help with her feet but does cover the parts of her legs that she chews on.
Hers is like a baby onesie, and in fact, when she's wearing it, you think you re looking at a baby with a dog's head. I don't dare let her be seen with it in public. You could just hear the whispers: "Do these people not realize that's a dog?" The suit is just one more desperate treatment in our anti-itch arsenal. There's only so much chlorhexadrine mousse you can put on a dog in one day.
Hopefully now that it's fall, her itching will abate somewhat. For our sakes as much as hers.
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