LifeofRubie
Moderator
Two years ago my phone rang on my birthday while I was still in bed. I knew it was the vet and I knew they were calling with the worst possible news: my sweet Tobes has passed away in the night.
I adopted Tobie in September of 2014. I'd lost my previous Doberman, Vega, in a nasty breakup (I learned a lot at that time about dog licensing laws in PA and that dogs are property but that's a topic for another time) and had moved into an apartment of my own that was too quiet. He'd come from a family that, I think with two young kids, had become too busy to give him the attention he needed. He came to me with no leash manners, a little dull and dirty, with talons for nails but with the most eager and beautiful caramel colored eyes I'd ever seen.
He was the perfect gentleman in the apartment (which consisted of the entire second floor of a mansion on Millionaires Row in downtown Williamsport). I started obedience class immediately, introduced him to my family's 6 dogs (at the time), started him on some high quality food and watched this dog blossom. My best guess was that he was around 3.5 yrs old when I got him, based on his minimal vet records that came with him.
A few weeks after bringing him home, I noticed he'd peed a little here and there during the day while I was at work. On a walk, I noticed there was blood in his urine. Off to the vet we go and they determine his prostate is so enlarged, it's aggravating his bladder and we expedite a neuter. He heals up and we're good to go.
He made it through Thanksgiving at my family's house, thrilled people at a Christmas party I hosted, and showed me how much he LOVED children. He would walk up to the smallest one and drag his enormous tongue across their ENTIRE face, nub wagging with delight!
We settled into a routine of dog parking, city walks, obedience class, and hanging out. I would give him a peanut butter filled kong when I left in the morning for work. I doubt it took him any longer than 10 minutes to empty it but without fail, as soon he heard me unlocking the door, he'd jump off the couch, grab it, and greet me at the door with his empty kong and tail going a mile a minute; so pleased with himself at what he'd accomplished.
In February of 2015, he started vomiting. EVERYWHERE. Black putrid vomit. Two golf ball sized pieces of a toy I'd never seen presented themselves. We went right to the vet the next morning, they x-rayed and called and said he needed immediate surgery. There was a third piece causing a blockage. My best guess is that he'd ingested these in his previous home and they were just rumbling around his tummy for months and months until one finally managed to squeeze it's way through. He came home and we relaxed for several weeks while he healed.
In June 2015, I started feeding raw. He THRIVED on it! Always eager for a meal, he would now sit in the kitchen, staring at the fridge waiting for me to feed him. An overall better diet and more exercise meant he'd actually lost a few pounds but he was now all muscle. His coat gleamed, his dry skin issues went away, and his toxic poo's were things of the past.
July 2015, we were goofing around on the balcony and I heard him cry out and immediately stop moving. Off to the emergency vet we went. Perforated intestine from a 4" chicken bone. It was a hairy few days but the emergency vets got him sorted out and he came home a few days after. A few more weeks of relaxing while he healed. For a dog who LOVED nothing more than to run circles for the sake of running circles, he was a dream when it came to relaxing and letting his body heal.
I bought a Weston 32 grinder, determined to keep raw feeding GOSH DARN IT.
In the year and a half that I had Tobie, he taught me so much. I learned that adopting a dog and showing them what life was all about was rewarded ten fold with affection, gratitude, and enthusiasm. He had all of my attention and I had all of his. I had to be within sight at all times but he wasn't anxious when I left. Watching him run was pure joy. He was introverted like me in that he'd go and socialize but when he'd had enough, he slink to a quiet corner and enjoy his solitude. We walked in a parade together, went camping, watched football games, kept up with obedience, did the dog park dozens of times, and he even made the trip with me to Chicago to spend new years with my now boyfriend.
We got home from our new years adventure on a Monday and I fed him his chicken and whatever dinner like normal. Sometime in the night, he woke me with incessant pacing. While I'd managed to get his nails within check, they always clicked on the hardwood floors. Off to the emergency vet we went at 3a. They made him vomit but didn't bother with X-Rays. The vet on duty was more concerned with telling me the dangers of raw feeding and that my dog probably had pancreatitis; scolding me in front of the vet techs for my dogs diet and dead set on his diagnosis without further testing.
Tobie stopped eating, though. He didn't eat on Tuesday. I took him to the regular vet on Wednesday where I signed everything saying test all things. I went to pick him up after work and the vet on duty said he'd eaten a 'little' (Tobie never ate a 'little') and he seemed fine. Didn't bother taking X-Rays even though I had signed off on that. No interest in food, water, treats, anything Wednesday night. I took him back Thursday with a different vet and signed all the paperwork again. They called Thursday afternoon and said he needed to go into surgery immediately.
I went to see him Friday night but it had been a very difficult surgery and he was super drugged. Tiny pieces of tennis ball, that any other dog would've been able to pass, had gotten stuck right before the colon. They didn't dare remove that intestine for fear of nicking the colon and introducing bacteria. This is when I also learned about abdominal adhesion's. Since he'd already had two surgeries, his intestines had lost the ability to slide over themselves to pass things effectively. I told him how much I need him home and that I would see him soon and we'd be back to adventuring in no time.
I awoke suddenly from my sleep sometime Friday night when it was pitch black and new I'd never see my Buddy Boy alive again.
The emergency vet actually called later Saturday morning and asked how Tobie was doing after his visit Monday night. I had no qualms telling them that their vet was too busy lecturing and scolding me to find the root cause of the issue and he'd passed away. The secretary was rendered speechless and I hung up.
As stupid and trivial as it sounds, I went on Facebook and said that I didn't want any birthday well wishes but that I wanted people's memories of Tobie. They obliged and I got to smile through tears all day.
I hate that a lot of our time together was plagued by vet visits and surgeries. It hit me really hard when this animal that was in my sole care passed away after such a short time together. It left me wondering if he would've been better of in his previous home or another home. What if I'd been aware of abdominal adhesion's; would I have done something differently? Been more cautious? He really didn't really eat or act in anyway that was dangerous to himself so I doubt it. I think we just pulled all the short straws there were to pull.
I wish I'd been a part of this community when I'd had him. Sharing his pictures made me so proud of the dog he'd become and dealing with his loss was nothing short of devastating. I think I cried for weeks when I'd come home and there was no giant beast greeting me with his big accomplishment for the day: his empty Kong.
This was the day I bought him home
Three days later, meeting baby Cosmo:
A few weeks later; settling in
We won 1st place in a costume contest!
Fitting in nicely to the pack! (we're missing one in this picture)
Tobie and his BELOVED ball at the dog park. He could play with this thing for hours and ignore everything else. This is about a year after I got him where his coat and muscle tone were spot on.
He was not a fan of camping...
But LOVED footballs games
Me and my blockhead
Lest we forget the wicked black eye his ginormous head gave me
We won the costume contest (and hot dog eating contest) the following year, too
Those eyes; Did I do so good, Mom?!
Stella Kitty LOVED Tobie
A few days before he got sick
And my favorite picture of my Toberman. My tattoo is based off this picture
Thank you all for reading. I loved this dog more than anything and I'm glad I was finally able to share our brief but certainly not-boring time together with all of you.
It's a few days early but I like to keep my Tobie thoughts to myself on my Birthday.
I adopted Tobie in September of 2014. I'd lost my previous Doberman, Vega, in a nasty breakup (I learned a lot at that time about dog licensing laws in PA and that dogs are property but that's a topic for another time) and had moved into an apartment of my own that was too quiet. He'd come from a family that, I think with two young kids, had become too busy to give him the attention he needed. He came to me with no leash manners, a little dull and dirty, with talons for nails but with the most eager and beautiful caramel colored eyes I'd ever seen.
He was the perfect gentleman in the apartment (which consisted of the entire second floor of a mansion on Millionaires Row in downtown Williamsport). I started obedience class immediately, introduced him to my family's 6 dogs (at the time), started him on some high quality food and watched this dog blossom. My best guess was that he was around 3.5 yrs old when I got him, based on his minimal vet records that came with him.
A few weeks after bringing him home, I noticed he'd peed a little here and there during the day while I was at work. On a walk, I noticed there was blood in his urine. Off to the vet we go and they determine his prostate is so enlarged, it's aggravating his bladder and we expedite a neuter. He heals up and we're good to go.
He made it through Thanksgiving at my family's house, thrilled people at a Christmas party I hosted, and showed me how much he LOVED children. He would walk up to the smallest one and drag his enormous tongue across their ENTIRE face, nub wagging with delight!
We settled into a routine of dog parking, city walks, obedience class, and hanging out. I would give him a peanut butter filled kong when I left in the morning for work. I doubt it took him any longer than 10 minutes to empty it but without fail, as soon he heard me unlocking the door, he'd jump off the couch, grab it, and greet me at the door with his empty kong and tail going a mile a minute; so pleased with himself at what he'd accomplished.
In February of 2015, he started vomiting. EVERYWHERE. Black putrid vomit. Two golf ball sized pieces of a toy I'd never seen presented themselves. We went right to the vet the next morning, they x-rayed and called and said he needed immediate surgery. There was a third piece causing a blockage. My best guess is that he'd ingested these in his previous home and they were just rumbling around his tummy for months and months until one finally managed to squeeze it's way through. He came home and we relaxed for several weeks while he healed.
In June 2015, I started feeding raw. He THRIVED on it! Always eager for a meal, he would now sit in the kitchen, staring at the fridge waiting for me to feed him. An overall better diet and more exercise meant he'd actually lost a few pounds but he was now all muscle. His coat gleamed, his dry skin issues went away, and his toxic poo's were things of the past.
July 2015, we were goofing around on the balcony and I heard him cry out and immediately stop moving. Off to the emergency vet we went. Perforated intestine from a 4" chicken bone. It was a hairy few days but the emergency vets got him sorted out and he came home a few days after. A few more weeks of relaxing while he healed. For a dog who LOVED nothing more than to run circles for the sake of running circles, he was a dream when it came to relaxing and letting his body heal.
I bought a Weston 32 grinder, determined to keep raw feeding GOSH DARN IT.
In the year and a half that I had Tobie, he taught me so much. I learned that adopting a dog and showing them what life was all about was rewarded ten fold with affection, gratitude, and enthusiasm. He had all of my attention and I had all of his. I had to be within sight at all times but he wasn't anxious when I left. Watching him run was pure joy. He was introverted like me in that he'd go and socialize but when he'd had enough, he slink to a quiet corner and enjoy his solitude. We walked in a parade together, went camping, watched football games, kept up with obedience, did the dog park dozens of times, and he even made the trip with me to Chicago to spend new years with my now boyfriend.
We got home from our new years adventure on a Monday and I fed him his chicken and whatever dinner like normal. Sometime in the night, he woke me with incessant pacing. While I'd managed to get his nails within check, they always clicked on the hardwood floors. Off to the emergency vet we went at 3a. They made him vomit but didn't bother with X-Rays. The vet on duty was more concerned with telling me the dangers of raw feeding and that my dog probably had pancreatitis; scolding me in front of the vet techs for my dogs diet and dead set on his diagnosis without further testing.
Tobie stopped eating, though. He didn't eat on Tuesday. I took him to the regular vet on Wednesday where I signed everything saying test all things. I went to pick him up after work and the vet on duty said he'd eaten a 'little' (Tobie never ate a 'little') and he seemed fine. Didn't bother taking X-Rays even though I had signed off on that. No interest in food, water, treats, anything Wednesday night. I took him back Thursday with a different vet and signed all the paperwork again. They called Thursday afternoon and said he needed to go into surgery immediately.
I went to see him Friday night but it had been a very difficult surgery and he was super drugged. Tiny pieces of tennis ball, that any other dog would've been able to pass, had gotten stuck right before the colon. They didn't dare remove that intestine for fear of nicking the colon and introducing bacteria. This is when I also learned about abdominal adhesion's. Since he'd already had two surgeries, his intestines had lost the ability to slide over themselves to pass things effectively. I told him how much I need him home and that I would see him soon and we'd be back to adventuring in no time.
I awoke suddenly from my sleep sometime Friday night when it was pitch black and new I'd never see my Buddy Boy alive again.
The emergency vet actually called later Saturday morning and asked how Tobie was doing after his visit Monday night. I had no qualms telling them that their vet was too busy lecturing and scolding me to find the root cause of the issue and he'd passed away. The secretary was rendered speechless and I hung up.
As stupid and trivial as it sounds, I went on Facebook and said that I didn't want any birthday well wishes but that I wanted people's memories of Tobie. They obliged and I got to smile through tears all day.
I hate that a lot of our time together was plagued by vet visits and surgeries. It hit me really hard when this animal that was in my sole care passed away after such a short time together. It left me wondering if he would've been better of in his previous home or another home. What if I'd been aware of abdominal adhesion's; would I have done something differently? Been more cautious? He really didn't really eat or act in anyway that was dangerous to himself so I doubt it. I think we just pulled all the short straws there were to pull.
I wish I'd been a part of this community when I'd had him. Sharing his pictures made me so proud of the dog he'd become and dealing with his loss was nothing short of devastating. I think I cried for weeks when I'd come home and there was no giant beast greeting me with his big accomplishment for the day: his empty Kong.
This was the day I bought him home
Three days later, meeting baby Cosmo:
A few weeks later; settling in
We won 1st place in a costume contest!
Fitting in nicely to the pack! (we're missing one in this picture)
Tobie and his BELOVED ball at the dog park. He could play with this thing for hours and ignore everything else. This is about a year after I got him where his coat and muscle tone were spot on.
He was not a fan of camping...
But LOVED footballs games
Me and my blockhead
Lest we forget the wicked black eye his ginormous head gave me
We won the costume contest (and hot dog eating contest) the following year, too
Those eyes; Did I do so good, Mom?!
Stella Kitty LOVED Tobie
A few days before he got sick
And my favorite picture of my Toberman. My tattoo is based off this picture
Thank you all for reading. I loved this dog more than anything and I'm glad I was finally able to share our brief but certainly not-boring time together with all of you.
It's a few days early but I like to keep my Tobie thoughts to myself on my Birthday.
. What a wonderful experience for you both, regardless of how short. He was your "glimpse of heaven"
