When my husband and I got married, we came up with this idea that for every wedding anniversary in early April we’d go to a different state. “50 Years, 50 States”. We even have a scratch off map of the US framed in our house where we track them. So far we’d done:
Texas - revisited our wedding venue
Oregon
Connecticut
New York - stuck inside for the pandemic in 2020
New Jersey - this was right after my surgery in 2021 so we kept it low key
South Carolina
Tennessee
This year, for year 8, we planned a road trip to Rhode Island… Rhode trip! We had originally thought we’d go to Utah, but then we got our dog Jack, so we pivoted to something drivable that he could more easily join. We’d never been on vacation with a dog, so, baby steps!
We drove up to our Airbnb on Saturday. We didn’t have anything planned for that day other than to settle in, relax and have fun throwing the ball to Jack in our fully fenced in backyard while sipping on some wine. That night after dinner, Jack threw up. He’d actually thrown up the day before too… about 30 seconds after the earthquake aftershock we’d experienced in Brooklyn. We’d chalked it up to maybe nerves or motion sickness. But him throwing up now at the Airbnb? Had the car ride been too much? Was he nervous in a new space? He was extra cuddly on the couch with me that night which was a little unusual but I obviously enjoyed the snuggles.
The next morning I saw that he’d puked in his crate again overnight. When I took him out to potty he was walking really slowly and couldn’t really go to the bathroom. I called our emergency vet back home to ask for advice. During my phone call, he vomited 3 more times after simply having a little bit of water. So I immediately hung up with her and we drove him to the only emergency vet clinic open on a Sunday in Rhode Island, 30 minutes away. They treated him with some anti-nausea/vomiting meds and sent us home 3 hours later. He was acting so weird though and after a few minutes of conversation, we decided we wouldn’t be comfortable leaving him at the Airbnb alone at any point, even for a couple hours, in this condition while we enjoyed Newport, so we made the difficult decision to pack up and drive home to Brooklyn right then and there.
It was disappointing. We spent less than 24 hours in Rhode Island and had only seen the inside of our Airbnb and the emergency vet clinic. On the drive we talked about having a redo later in the year and what we could maybe do at home to salvage the celebration. Would we order lobster rolls? Such a bummer we didn’t get a Rhode Island Christmas ornament… we get one from every state we visit! Anyone who knows us knows how special these trips are to us, so it was a tough pill to swallow, but we were also 100% sure we were doing the right thing. Without question.
When we got home, Jack was noticeably worse. He laid down on the floor and was breathing like he was snoring. I was hysterical. We’d only unloaded the car and I was already on the phone with Bobby to forget parking and to come back to pick us up so we could take him to the emergency vet here. Upon arrival they told us it’d be a 3 hour wait. I insisted he wasn’t OK, and so they said they’d check to make sure he was stable, but if he was, we’d still have to wait that 3 hours. I said, “That’s fine! Just make sure he’s OK please!” And wouldn’t you know it, about 15 minutes later they came back down to move us to the front of the line. He was, in fact, not stable. They gave him some interventions to help stabilize him while they did some testing. They showed us his X-Ray which had a small metal piece in there and showed his bowels were swollen with a lot of extra fluid in his abdomen. We couldn’t imagine what he’d eaten. We’re so careful! And he’s never interested in eating anything that isn’t food. We were perplexed.
The doctor told us he was in bad shape and needed emergency surgery. They had called around and there was a surgeon available on the Upper East side waiting for us. We had to throw him in the back of our car and drive about 25 minutes into Manhattan with him in this condition. Bobby drove and I sat in the back with him rubbing his head and comforting him. He put his tiny paw on top of my hand, and I’ll never forget it as long as I live.
We got him in very quickly to this new hospital and they told us he was in shock and septic. His odds of survival were at best 50/50. How did we go from vomiting up his dinner to “your dog is dying” in 24 hours? We were inconsolable. We were allowed to say goodbye to him before we went home in case it was the last time. He looked so pathetic in the heated cage under those blankets with so many tubes. I could barely breathe through my sobs. I don’t remember the last time I ever cried like that. The staff in the room immediately brought us tissues. I’m sure they see it every day and are used to it sadly. Bobby had to then drive us home while sobbing uncontrollably. It was probably not the safest thing to do but we didn’t have much choice. I don’t think he remembers driving home now. Walking into our apartment and seeing all his stuff everywhere was unbearable. It felt like the bathroom was the only safe place in the apartment where we weren’t reminded of his absence.
They told us they’d call us before and after surgery. We spoke to them at about 11:30pm and they said they were trying to stabilize him for anesthesia. He had a 50/50 shot of surviving that alone. The surgeon was extremely nice and patient with us as we asked questions to understand everything. She said they had to go in a little blind because there wasn’t time but that she’d try to figure out what was going on and save him. She said she’d call back after his 2-3 hour surgery, but that of course if he passed, she’d call us sooner. We left our phones on full volume and collapsed onto our couch. We hadn’t eaten anything all day, we’d spent probably a total of 6-7 hours driving all over the city and between states, and we’d spent easily the same amount of time at 3 different emergency vet facilities across 2 states. We’d both broken down crying multiple times. We were exhausted.
Bobby crashed hard on the couch but I wouldn’t let myself despite how badly I wanted to. I was too afraid to miss this phone call and too afraid it’d come sooner rather than later. At 2:10am they called to tell us he’d made it through surgery. Relief feels like an inadequate descriptor of what we felt. It’s maybe the first time we exhaled in hours, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. His surgeon said the next 24 hours would be really telling on whether or not he’d survive. She then went on to explain what she’d had to do and what she’d discovered, which was beyond anything we could have imagined.
As it turns out, he had not swallowed anything at all. The metal piece on the X-Ray was in fact some type of bullet fragment. He apparently had been shot in his old life before he ever came to us. We don’t know when, but just seemingly a long time ago. This fragment, perhaps from a pellet gun or something, had caused some trauma to the intestinal area. Part of his small intestine had essentially died off and made him go septic. No idea why now. They were able to remove the affected part of his intestine and reattach the viable ends. Bobby had made the comment when we first saw the X-Ray that it looked like a pellet from a pellet gun, but we thought, “It couldn’t be.” He was right.
There were so many emotions hearing this news. On one hand, what a relief that it wasn’t anything we had done to him. We’ve only had him for 2.5 months, and we’d been beating ourselves up over how we missed him eating something! Were we really that bad at being dog parents that we couldn’t even keep our dog alive beyond the first couple months? There was so much judgment and shame we had, so it was a relief to unburden ourselves with that. We hadn’t done anything wrong at all. In fact, we’d saved his life by bringing him in. My heart goes out to anyone who has ever been accidentally responsible for their pet or child’s death. I’m sure that realization is a hell I can’t comprehend. I tiptoed to the edge of that cliff, and that was traumatic enough.
Immediately following this relief came the rage. Who could shoot Jack? He’s the sweetest and cutest little guy on the planet. What sort of psychopath would do this to him?! In those early morning hours, it was tempting to lie awake pondering how we could find this person and make them pay. We hadn’t known much about his life before us, only that he’d likely spent most of his life tied to a tree. That seemed bad enough, but now to know he’d been in circumstances where he became target practice? I can’t bear to think of what he went through in those 6 or so years before getting to us. It’s enough trauma to have made him a mean and untrusting dog, but he’s not. He’s the sweetest, gentlest, most loving little guy imaginable. They were pure evil, and he is pure good.
Over Monday we continued to get updates that he was improving and were allowed to go visit him! They took us back to his crate in the ICU so we could say hello. We weren’t sure what to expect but braced ourselves for a rough scene. In some ways it was better than we expected, and in some ways worse. He was sitting up and when he heard and saw us, he was trying to get out of his crate to get to us. We cried tears of joy to be able to pet him and talk to him. He seemed really happy to see us, and we were happy to reassure him we hadn’t abandoned him and that we love him.
Tuesday, our actual wedding anniversary, we were allowed to come back and see him again, this time we could take him to a room and spend 30 minutes with him. We were even told we could bring him his blanket and some of the food we feed him at home! They put him on the table between us. He was pretty loopy from the pain meds but slowly he turned and laid down with his face pointing straight to Bobby. Bobby crouched down and was nose to nose with him for nearly the entire time. Jack just looked into Bobby’s eyes the whole time as we both stroked his head and talked to him. He and Bobby have this deep connection that is undeniable. I got some photos to send to family and close friends. We left feeling really encouraged that he would pull through. I’d love to tell you Bobby and I were able to do something that day for our anniversary, but we were not capable of anything other than laying on the couch and waiting for either a call or the visit.
Wednesday morning we got the update that he was continuing to rapidly improve beyond their expectations. They were able to remove his drainage bag and nasal feeding tube. They offered him some of the food we brought from home and he scarfed it. She described him as “ravenous”. We said, “Yep! That’s him alright. That’s how he eats at home too!” We saw him again at 7pm and he was definitely more alert and even walking around a little but still so tired.
Thursday’s updates continued to be great, so we began talking about the plan to bring him home. While they told us we could bring him home that day if we really wanted to, they said it wouldn’t be the worst idea to give him an extra night of observation. Not wanting to go through any of that ever again or need to bring him back for any reason, we agreed to wait the extra day to be safe. He was downgraded from ICU to the regular patient area where he’d hopefully be poked and prodded a little less through the night and where he’d hopefully be able to get a little more sleep. When we visited him that night, we brought him his bed to lay on, and he loved it.
This morning we picked up our boy! The prince has returned home to his throne. It’s surreal to have him back after we were so sure just days ago we’d lost him forever. He livened up as soon as he realized he was back in our apartment. His tail started wagging for the first time in a week and he was walking around to look at his toys, his food and water bowls, his bed… He got too excited and jumped up on the couch which is a no-no for his staples! Going to be a full time job helicopter parenting this little man until his staples come out on the 25th. It’s giving me anxiety like the first week we had him all over again, so another layer to work through. This time I have a little more gratitude for it. A good problem to have!
This obviously isn’t the piece I had planned on sharing with you today. I promise this hasn’t turned into a dog substack, but this is real life right now. This is what’s going on. And each experience is teaching me a lot. This group has also been so loving to our dog, and so we thought you might want to know.
So what’s the message here? I could talk about our anniversary trip concept and the introduction of kids to that concept… how being child-free is an opportunity to embrace this travel or how having kids could expand this to a family experience or allow for mom and dad to just get away and prioritize the relationship. I could talk about the fear of your child dying in your care and the complex feelings of that. Or I could tell you how much I thought about parents with children in the hospital and what that must be like. I could reflect on the power of the maternal instinct to kick in and guide you through emergencies and to advocate for your little one. I could belabor the point that when you have kids your priorities change, which we all already know. I think there are plenty of points here that are dilemma-adjacent that you can probably glean on your own.
I think the one thing that was reassuring, was that at no point did I think, “I regret getting a dog” or “I regret getting THIS dog.” Never. Not once. We would have literally done anything if we could have undone his pain or guaranteed he’d come home. Anything. It was another reflection point of just how attached to this dog I’ve become in such a short amount of time. It’s truly shocking to me. “I’m not a dog person!” My how things have changed.
To add drama to this already very dramatic scene, I was supposed to be having surgery of my own to remove my tumor this coming Monday the 15th, but I have now moved that to May. My body is under too much stress from this traumatic incident that I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to put my body through a major surgery right now. Plus, I didn’t want Bobby to have to care for both me and our recovering pup at the same time. It’s too much. My surgery is important, but it’s not going to change the outcome for me in any real way if I wait a few extra weeks. As you can tell, 2024 is really putting us through it. Hopefully there are no more emergencies or bad surprises headed our way.
A big thank you to our family and friends who have supported us this week at all hours of the day and night. And thank you to everyone who sent Jack well wishes. Thank you for loving our baby. “Rhode Trip” was hands down our worst anniversary trip, or vacation of any kind for that matter, but we’re really grateful it’s over, and that all the members of our family have returned home from it, alive.
Valerie
As a programming note, I’ll do the best to stick to my weekly schedule until my surgery next month. Not because you’re tracking it, but because it’s important to me. If I can’t get it done on any particular week, then so be it. But I’d like to try.