I never was considered a "dog" person; I have always had cats growing up. The occasional dog would wander into my life, but I never had a bond, not until four years ago when my husband brought home a 3 week old pit bull brindle pup that had been given to him as a gift from his older sister. He had already been given the name General, to go along with his attitude. He was in his big brown eyes, in charge. Even at a whopping 5 pounds, he dominated his much larger siblings.
Our first encounter wasn't like any other story of a girl and her dog or better yet a boy and his dog. I picked up the bundle of puppy and he let out the meanest growl he could. I laughed it off and he snapped his little puppy teeth around my index finger. I quickly scolded him letting him know I was the alpha female here. He then gave me a quick puppy kiss and the rest was history.
In no time he would go to the door and let me know he needed to go do his business. He bonded with me, because well I fed him, bathed him, played with him and saved his life. My heart broke into as I realized he had Parvo, a deadly virus for puppies that kill dozens of dogs. He wouldn’t eat or play. All he would do is sleep or lay lifeless on his doggie bed.
The vet visit wasn’t comforting; they had told us even with thousands of dollars in medical treatment, there wasn’t any guarantee that he would survive the next couple of days. He had dropped to a horrible 3.9 pounds. Much like a child or sick man, he wouldn’t take his medicine. Being a hard headed nurse, I made him take his medicine. I did everything from crushing his pills and mixing them up with rice water in a syringe to sticking my hand down his throat, which if you have dogs or pit bulls, it’s like wrestling a crocodile. This went on for weeks, with costly visits to the vet every other day it felt like.
Each morning I would dread lifting the cover from his kennel, I had tried to prepare myself for the worse possible outcome per the vet’s advice. They had told me that he wouldn’t make it; he would more than likely die in a week. I would have nightmares of finding him still and empty. Every morning I would lift the cover and he would look up at me with his big beautiful golden brown eyes and almost wag his tail.
One day, I got him out and gave him his medicine mixed with soft puppy food and rice. He ate all of it to my surprise! I fed him at lunch with the same meal; he ate it all and even brought me his ball to play. I saw light at the end of the long dark, dismal tunnel.
The next vet visit to the vet’s surprise and disbelief he weighed in at 9 pounds! They were shocked and happy that he was pulling through. By the second week of increasing his diet and adding solid food along with his medicine he had gained his energy back and had full on puppy power! He had weighed in at 15 pounds at his checkup and the vet commended me on saving his life. The reward was having General in my life.
Today he is still the same, except much bigger! He is all muscle and very healthy at 110 pounds. My big golden brown eyed boy still makes me smile and laugh. He is a friendly dog, who loves everyone and his best friend is my cousin’s four year son Caden.
As I sit and type this blog my baby boy, General is curled up on the couch next to me, snoring, and fat with bones, chew toys, and food. My shadow, my protector, my brown eyed boy.
General before parvo
Sick puppy, during parvo, but getting better
Caden and General-Best friends
Large and in charge-General