Anyone who knows me well can attest that I treat my dogs respectfully and expect nothing less from others. Two of the last three dogs I welcomed into my home came to me as puppies and were socialized from the moment I agreed to adopt them.
Baron von Saberwolfe, a golden retriever, was the love of my life. My sidekick on newspaper assignments and faithful companion until the day for some reason I left him home when I went to cover a story and he suffered from a horrible thing called bloat.
By the time I returned home, this stoic boy, who never showed he was in pain (even when an evil individual came into my yard six months earlier and for no reason sliced his leg open to the muscle with a knife) cried all the way to the emergency hospital in New Haven.
While I was there, waiting for updates on his condition, a trusted friend, and veterinarian (but not my own vet) compassionately spoke to me on the phone, and explained as no one else could, that Baron was dying. The bloat was crushing and causing all of his organs to shut down and no amount of money (taking out a loan, because I was broke) could save him.
I had to let him go. I hesitantly agreed to euthanization and stayed by his side until he took his last breath. He was just shy of his 6th birthday.
Having never been without a dog since I was a child, I began looking for a dog within a week. Petfinder had some nice options. I called ahead to the North Haven Shelter for a gorgeous female Great Pyranese and told them I was on the way — they said they would hold her. But when I arrived, I was told that she had just been adopted five minutes ago.
Sad, upset, and disgusted, I drove home on the parkway and as I came into the sunshine on the Woodbridge side of the tunnel, something told me to go to the District Animal Control Shelter.
ACO Karen Lombardi, whom I’d known for several years, greeted me, saying, “I was going to call you. Follow me.”
I sat with four female puppies in a secluded area and one of them chose me by quietly crawling into my lap and falling asleep.
MiSun, a Korean Sapsaree (classic Disney dog look) had a perfect personality. She was sweet, friendly and potty trained herself from day one. She was my shadow while I worked for my first online news site and even became an ambassador for her breed by visiting Orange Elementary School children in the after-school program, where the kids watched her unique color changes and learned different facts about Sapsarees through the internet research and weekly question and answer sessions with me. I still have the posters and thank you cards that the kids made for her at the end of the year.
MiSun was healthy and active, until one day, at four years old, she wasn’t quite herself. I brought her to the vet — I was going to someone in Stratford at the time. They did a dozen tests and never gave me any answers. She began rapidly losing weight and her big fluffy coat was thinning and getting greasy. I brought her to the vet again. More tests, no answers — from the previous tests nor the latest ones.
A large sore appeared on her throat and down her neck and spread daily. More vet visits, and hundreds of dollars paid out for the visits and tests.
With half of her weight gone and hair loss so severe that it appeared she’d been shaved, I decided to go to another veterinarian closer to home on the recommendation of a friend whose daughter also was a vet. The morning of that appointment I also had an appointment with a veterinary allergist who took one look at my thin, weak little girl and took a swab of the fluids coming out of her neck wound. Within seconds, I had the answer to the mystery that had cost me nearly $1,500 at the “non-communicative” vet. MiSun had MRSA a severe staph infection.
By the time I drove from East Haven (or one of the Havens) to Milford, my new vet already had the diagnosis and was on the phone discussing a treatment plan with the allergist.
She had 2 months of daily shots with no charge for the office visits and I am forever grateful that they saved her life.
The practice had many doctors and vet techs most of whom were kind, they all loved MiSun with her sparkling personality and willingness to do whatever they wanted from her.
In March 2019 I adopted a badly abused, emotionally damaged Sapsaree/Sheepdog mix, Tori (now Hoku) from South Korea. At about 2 years old, she already had her quirks and fears. She did not have a sparkling personality and did not cooperate with anyone unless I was with her. I have no idea what happened when COVID hit and she had to go inside with a stranger for shots and routine visits for those two years.
When humans were allowed back inside, I found one or two vets and techs were patient with Hoku. They respected her, recognized her fears, and didn’t force her onto the terrifying electric exam table. I appreciated their willingness to treat her on the floor.
During COVID MiSun had the good fortune of being treated by a young male veterinarian who came out and discussed her visits with me. He spoke highly of her and it was obvious that he loved her. So a month before her 11th birthday when she wasn’t acting like herself, I brought her to that doctor.
MiSun had cancer and she slowed down. Some days she was like her old self, other days she could hardly stay on her feet. After each visit, he would follow up with me.
Exactly one week after her 11th birthday, she gave me a look that told me she was ready to go. I called her favorite doctor, and he had a private room ready for us when we arrived.
I stayed with her on the floor until I signaled that we were ready. The techs wanted to put her on the table for euthanization, I told them that she was always afraid of the table since she was a puppy, so please don’t make her do it now.
With her head on my lap, I stroked her ears and talked to her until she was gone. Her vet told me to take my time and they would come back when I was ready. The doctor kept in touch to make sure I was ok because he knew how special MiSun was to me.
I continued to go to the practice with Hoku, but couldn’t seem to get an appointment with our favorite vet. The last visit convinced me that it was time to move on. This one particular vet who treated her was never a favorite, nor was her assigned tech. I had the feeling that they didn’t “like” Hoku and for sure they didn’t respect her. Their actions that day both as individuals and as a team were totally unacceptable.
Although it was clear that Hoku had to have teeth extracted before the decay caused a deadly infection that could go to her bloodstream etc. [in more than 60 years of dog ownership I have never taken a dog in for dental work]. Every time I picked up the phone to place a call to her longtime vet to make an appointment for the surgery, I got an overwhelming feeling of dread and could not dial the number.
So I contacted my longtime trusted friend Kim McClure Brinton from Country Companions in Bethany — She’s the one who talked me through Baron’s crisis 12 years ago — and asked if she would take on a new patient and do the surgery. She said yes.
Dr. Brinton was familiar with Hoku’s traumatic past and knows how devoted I am to my dogs. During our preliminary visit, I felt comforted by the gentle nature of the technicians who dealt with my shy, somewhat uncooperative dog.
No one tried to force her onto an exam table, but everyone instinctively got onto the floor with her, examined her without issue, and gave me a date for her surgery.
I knew Hoku was in good hands when I dropped her off at 8:10 a.m. on Monday and I went about my day without being nervous.
When I returned to retrieve my pup later in the day, I was greeted warmly by the staff, and within minutes Dr. Brinton gave me a detailed rundown of the day’s procedure.
The anesthesia (the only thing that worried me) went well and the extractions were done without a hitch.
Hoku received pain medication to deal with any oral discomfort and instructions to give her soft food only for two weeks.
Dr. Brinton followed up with me to see how things were going and told me to call the office if Hoku wasn’t eating or drinking or showed signs of pain.
This is the kind of caring, compassionate veterinarian I’ve been hoping for all my life. Sadly, there are so many who get into the profession for the money and they will nickel and dime you for every little thing.
I’ve had vets that I called for help or answers (like the one in Stratford) who never responded, or made me wait for nearly a week for a call-back. Or they never called back. Country Companions isn’t like that. If I leave a message, someone returns the call almost immediately, be it the receptionist, a technician, or the doctor, this practice truly cares about their patients.
I wish I had started going to them when I first brought MiSun home — her care was pretty good over the years, but I wonder if it could have been amazing instead.
I hope that everyone can find veterinary care for their dog, cat, cow, pig, rabbit, etc. where they are loved and respected by professionals who are doing the work for the love of animals and not the love of money.