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.

Chamo's Adventure

It is remarkable how different are the charms of a forest from season to season. Now, in winter, our forest in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains is covered in deep snow. Heidi Of The Mountain’s and I arrived at a popular trail this morning just after sunrise, put on snowshoes, and along with our puppy, Chamo, hiked into the magical woods. The only sound to be heard was the crunch of snow under our feet.

Chamo had his first adventure in snow. He is an enthusiastic puppy—a poodle with jet-black curly hair. It is wonderful to see him when he joyfully bounds in the air with all feet off the ground. Soon, he played games with snowballs that he created with his jumping. The bits of snow rolled in balls down the steep slope, and he liked chasing them just ahead of his nose. The trail is packed from skiers and hikers, but is softer on the sides. Heidi, who adores Chamo watched in delight and then horror as Chamo chased a snowball into the powder, sinking with each step but continuing on until he was in over his head and could not move. “Steven!” she cried. Chamo struggled and managed to turn himself around, thrashing the snow but sinking. He managed to clamber back up the hill, but midway, another snowball rolled away and he went after it. “No Chamo!” we both shouted at once. He had become a snowball himself, whiter than black. “Steven, save him!” But I did not want to go down the hill. A few minutes later, Chamo managed to hop and thrash his way upwards, his nose barely above the snow, then reach Heidi’s arms on the trail. He has puppy energy, so we continued our hike while I pondered if there was a moral to the story of Chamo’s adventure chasing snowballs into the unknown.