Natural light floods the waiting room at the Ontario Vet College, and I’m in good company: Casey the Airedale terrier is here with her by mom, a dog breeder; Clair the Great Dane is recovering from intestinal surgery; Lily the pug is getting tested for nasal issues. Most everyone is willing to talk about their pups, unless the prognosis is grim.
The expansive room’s atmosphere is an odd mix of trepidation and pride as most family members fuss over their fur (or feather) babies or huddle in corners away from human interaction. In carriers, cats and bunnies retreat, and three exotic birds come and go. Everyone is waiting for news about pets or appointments with vets.
Including me. About an hour ago, I passed my dog Victor into the arms of an empathetic technician for a neurological consultation. It sounds ominous and frankly, feels that way too.
Why are we here? Within the past month, my 15-year-old pup had two seizures, the first resulting in an emergency vet visit that landed him in doggie ICU for the day. Since, he’s been on anti-seizure meds which have quelled the symptoms. Determining the source, however, requires further investigation. And further investigation first requires a board-certified specialist consultation. To neurology we went.
Fortunately, we live within an hour’s drive to Canada’s best Veterinary School at the University of Guelph (my alma mater – different major).
The Ontario Veterinary College in Guelph, Ontario is arguable the best small animal facility in the country, and many specialist consults are referred here – it’s one of two places to get a canine MRI in the region – and a team of Veterinary professors, interns and observing students consult over your fur baby.
Today, Victor is here so the team can put him through a series of simple tests, access his reflexes and observe him pace in circles around the room – something he’s done all his life, though no one seems to believe me.
Then I got a coffee from the waiting room Keurig, planted myself in an upholstered waiting room chair, and watched the parade of pooches (mostly) come and go, most remarkably curious about where they’d been brought and many resembling those who brought them – people really do look like their dogs.
Then I saw him – my conversation with the Great Dane’s daddy is interrupted by the appearance of my pup. I almost didn’t recognize him swaddled in the technician’s arms. My dog Victor was done his neurological examination.
The results of today’s analysis? Something neurologically is off with Victor, either a brain tumor or brain swelling. The first is treatable only by radiation or surgery. The second, treatable with medication.
I’m clearly reluctant to allow brain surgery on a 15-year-old dog (though the doctor and neurological intern assigned to our case doesn’t rule it out). Treatment for brain swelling, however, is a different course of action.
But treatment requires answers. And answers require an MRI. An MRI requires lots of money and sedation. The last one has me most worried.
I book an MRI for the following week. I’ve got a few days to figure this out.
Up Soon: The MRI results.