Chamo Bamo

Chamo, on our hike, the day before he became ill.

Chamo Bamo, Monster Man, Sharp Sales Dog; I have many nicknames for our six month old poodle.  He came into our house and has not skipped a beat until a week ago. Then, the doggy day-care center called mid-afternoon to say something appeared terribly wrong with Chamo. He had thrown up ten times. I went to get him and he looked awful—barely able to walk and almost lifeless. Heidi Of The Mountains met me at the vet. We surmised that he had eaten something dead in the woods while we were hiking the day before, since he had disappeared for fifteen minutes and would not come when called, and when he did arrive, he had dirt all over his nose and mouth. Now, he needed an IV to pour fluids into him, and medication to keep him from vomiting more. After the IV, he perked up, but slowly began sinking again the next day, until near midnight, Heidi was so scared at his condition that we decided to take him to the veterinary emergency room. We arrived about 1 AM, and I was surprised to find the place busy with emergencies. Eventually, a vet saw our dog, and we were advised that he needed tests, and that the bill would be over $1000.00.
To make a long story short, Chamo was referred to an internal specialist in Albuquerque, 1 hour away. Heidi took him there and after ultrasound tests and observation at the hospital, we were told that he had a large cyst on his prostrate, and a birth defect, since his urethra was not normal. The bills are very high so far, and now we are looking at more expenses.
Both of us are attached to our “little man.” At the dog obedience school, the instructor said Chamo could lead the class if he wanted. He is the smartest animal I have ever owned, and very affectionate. Every morning, he jumps on the bed when I wake up, puts one paw on my chest and licks my face all over, and nibbles my ear. He has a way of biting my face so that it feels good—quick little love bites.
We have had him home now for several days, and he seems back to his old self, but we are stressed thinking we might lose him. And to think that we might have to limit his help for financial reasons is awful.
I find that my worries are familiar, and bring back memories of my long journey through the “valley of death’ with Naomi, my oldest daughter who died when she was nineteen.