Our first trip to the vet after Freddie started showing some odd symptoms was in June 2022. One year and three months after we adopted our energetic and playful puppy.
Today, December 8, 2024, marks about two years and six months since that first appointment and almost two years since Freddie lost any ability to walk.
It’s challenging for me to come to terms with the fact that I’ve spent more time with Fred since his diagnosis than I did before. It’s a heavy realization, and I often reflect on how much our lives have changed.
Once we received the Mitochondrial Myopathy (MM) diagnosis, I immediately started searching for more information. I Googled the condition, searched Facebook for support groups, and contacted veterinary physical therapists for advice. Our neurologist had told us that the condition is super rare, but I didn’t realize just how rare it was until my search came up empty. I mean nothing.
I reached out to an old veterinarian friend and asked if she’d ask if anyone has experience with MM within her broad network aiming to find another dog owner going through what I was. Not that I wish this condition on anyone. She responded that no one has any experience with MM and that the limited scientific citations suggest a “grave” prognosis. Of course, I was very thankful for her time and efforts, but I felt defeated by her response.
In September 2022, shortly before our trip to see our neurologist, I purchased Freddie a Pet Rover Stroller. Rolling him around was WAY more comfortable for me, and it seemed to be for him, too. This also meant we could go for walks within our neighborhood, on the local walking path, and he could come with me to pet-friendly shops.
More often than not, someone would say something about Freddie in his stroller. We received many comments like, “He’s so cute!” and “How old is he?” This was often followed by a look of surprise when I mentioned that Freddie wasn’t an old pup. The one that always easily annoyed me was, “What a spoiled dog,” or something similar. It took every ounce of self-control to respond with kindness instead of just saying what I really wanted to say….
How dare you! What an insensitive and rude comment to make. You obviously are a total jerk to think my boy is spoiled instead of special needs. Do you have any idea what he’s been through?
Instead, I say that we try our best to keep him comfortable because he has a rare neurological condition that keeps him from walking. I want them to understand that there is a reason for Freddie to be in a stroller beyond simply being spoiled while ensuring I don’t make them feel guilty.. Yes, I’m confident I’m overthinking my response, but what’s new?
No…I can’t…thanks but…
I’ve gotten really good at saying no.
That’s a lie. What I have gotten good at is focusing my world around Freddie. This is where I start to feel like I distance myself from a large portion of the population. Those who wouldn’t or couldn’t make the changes necessary to care for a special needs dog. As always, I’m so thankful for my husband. Without him, I understand that I would not be in the position I am. One where I can stay home with Freddie and not worry about working outside our home.
Taking care of Fred has also literally distanced me from people. I’ve missed weddings, funerals, and many opportunities to network or be social because Freddie can’t attend.
I’ve accepted my role as a caretaker, but when I speak to others, my insecurities about my role bubble up. I struggle with the perception that people would understand if Freddie were human, but I feel judged because he’s a dog. I feel like people don’t understand, or they don’t know what to say. At least, that’s what it feels like.
This is why I was trying so hard to find other people with dogs like Freddie. After years of trying, I decided to start writing instead.
This post doesn’t have a tidy wrap-up with a lesson or inspirational charge. It’s more of a vulnerable admission to my current world. I know I’m not alone, so please feel free to share your world with me if you’re so compelled.
