Why do you call him Prophet?

Prophet at about 5 weeks

Prophet hadn't been living in our house four days before we noticed that his endless diarrhea required attention. Our vet, the gifted Dr. Angelo Rosado, did some imaging and diagnosed intussusception, a condition in which a section of the intestine folds into an adjacent section. He told us that he could do the surgery, but that there was a chance that the sections had fused together, in which case he would need to close Prophet up and send him to a specialist. His advice was that we just take Prophet directly to the specialist, and he recommended one in Brooklyn: 20 miles and (in the unlikely event of no traffic) 45 minutes away from our home in the Bronx.

Judy was resolute. But I never thought of myself as that person who provides expensive medical care to a pet. Moreover, we simply didn't have the money. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was something we had to do. Apparently the finance industry understands this very well, because a loan was not hard to secure.

Visiting hours at VERG

The surgeons, regular vets, and techs at the hospital were terrific, as Dr. Rosado told us. He had to stay there in Brooklyn for days of post-op observation, but we drove over daily to visit. It is hard to describe Prophet's excitement when he was brought into the examining rooms where we were allowed to hang out with him.  I knew - in a way - that we had bonded with him during our visits with him and his siblings before he was old enough to be weaned and leave his mom. I knew that we had become close during those first few days at home. But every day at the hospital he flew over and leaped into our arms. You don't think German Shepherds are lap dogs? I can tell you that Prophet was as a puppy. I can tell you that he still is today with so many of the people he loves... and that dog loves a bunch of people.

It took a long time to pay off that loan, but I never regretted it. We shared adventures in the White Mountains and in local parks, in lakes, rivers and in Long Island Sound. He had a habit of introducing himself to every new dog and every new pers

Crossing a stream on a log

on. He never started a fight and never backed down from one: with dogs (even multiple dogs), with skunks, with the local coyotes. He learned eventually to take my cues about whether we were going to say hi to people or chase wildlife.

So when he suddenly (suddenly!) turned up lame and Dr. Rosado diagnosed a rupture of his cruciate ligament I didn't hesitate about care, even though it meant another loan. I was relieved to learn this is typically a predisposition in dogs, not a sudden injury, like in people. Prophet doesn't play basketball, but he does have the habit of running down near-vertical rock faces. It also turned out the the insurance we purchased for him actually reimbursed us for part of the surgery. This time Dr. Rosado sent us to an orthopedist in New Jersey. (Only 17 miles and 30 minutes without traffic.) Again, the care was superb and the orthopedist had several surgical options, choosing the best one for Prophet's particular leg geometry.

Working out on the treadmill

What was a question for me was physical therapy. A close friend had recently had an ACL tear repaired and his PT was cut off by the insurance company as soon as they concluded that he could walk again. If he was getting shorted, what did it mean that we were providing this care for our dog? I swallowed that question and just concluded that I wouldn't broadcast the news all over Facebook. This time we had to go to the East Side of Manhattan, 12 miles, but usually forty-five minutes.

Cold laser treatment, with protective eyewear

Prophet loved physical therapy. He treated it as his personal day spa. I will back up here and say that he learned polite leash walking early on, but that he has never mastered it in the vicinity of his vet's office. As soon as we get nearby he begins tugging and lunging to get there to see all his friends: the vets, the techs, the receptionists. No amount of poking and prodding, shots or rectal thermometers, have ever discouraged his enthusiasm for that place or those people.

Rehab was different. He calmed down and blissed out immediately. He learned how to walk in the
underwater treadmill without any problem. (Peanut butter helped keep him focused) The cold laser seemed to be a heightened form of personal worship, like belly rubs or grooming.

Hiking by Eastchester Bay in the Bronx

And there was no question that it helped. I started to wonder whether I hadn't seen signs of the ligament tear before it actually ruptured, without fully understanding what I was seeing. He seemed stronger than ever. We were warned that about half of dogs with CL tears will develop one in the opposite leg within a year. I watched closely but didn't see anything. We were also warned that the surgical site itself is vulnerable to arthritis. We looked for that, too. But everything was good. The adventures resumed and continued.

I know that the lives of dogs are accelerated when compared with ours. I know that fact can be painful for us. Prophet's friends who have walked on are too many. When Harry, a boxer, passed, his owner left the neighborhood for good. When Doon died his owner stayed in his apartment for over a year. Blanca's human is still mourning quietly although she continues with her work. I didn't go directly to these dark thoughts when Prophet developed a wobble and a drag in his gait. I didn't think about this even when he turned around quickly and fell on his ass. I certainly didn't worry when he got an arthritis diagnosis and a prescription for anti-inflammatories.

But the meds didn't seem to help. And the radiologist said that his arthritis was too minor to account for the symptoms. And the vet said "degenerative myelopathy," a condition like Lou Gehrig's, a condition without a treatment, a condition that would lead to no hind leg control at all, then no body control at all. That's when I started imagining a future without my friend. Thats when my sun started to fade.

The vet said there was not much to be done. Reading suggested that physical therapy might slow the progress of Prophet's degeneration. So we went back to see the rehab vet. We borrowed money again. The specialist confirmed the diagnosis and performed a DNA test which was ambiguous. But the therapy? Well, the therapy helped a lot. And I don't mean by stopping the deterioration. Prophet has actually improved since we got the diagnosis in September. He is not cured. (There will be no cure.) But he can turn without falling, which he could not do when he first went to PT. He can jump into the car, with some hesitation, but without a full minute of thought. And the wobble in his step is occasional, not regular.

So I am glad we are getting him this therapy. He, of course, still loves it and loves the people who provide it. He loves the daily massage and passive range of motion exercises that I give him. But there is another piece.

Prophet is not worried. He doesn't obsess over what the future will bring. He walks out happily to each new day's adventure - wildlife, friends, rocks, creeks - without concern about how long he will be able to. I owe him the physical care we provide. But I also owe him the happiness he brings to me. I have to enjoy each day with him as much as he enjoys each day with me. And I am trying. That is why his name is Prophet. That is why he is our prophet.