Who Will Share My Banana?

I sit at the computer sorting through the latest stack of ads. Hmmm. A new Shar-Pei "breeder" wanting to advertise their dogs. "Top quality, bred for temperament, conformation and winning attributes. Health guaranteed." Is it? How? That they will replace that puppy if it dies of a congenital or genetic defect that isn't visible at first? Does that solve the problem? After the buyers have taken that puppy into their homes and their hearts, showered it with love, toys and what they believe to be the best possible existence. What does that guarantee really do? What if the puppy only lives a few years, maybe never being truly healthy because it has a continual itch, or respiratory problem. it's lethargic or it's hyperactive. It has diarrhea too frequently or it's a nervous wreck that can't be trusted alone or with kids or other dogs.

Gretchen has just walked into the office with yet another bag of Lactated Ringers Solution. She coos at Odie in her red sweater lying on a doggy bed with a heating pad. Odie lifts her eyes sadly in salutation. Gretchen is having trouble getting the bag to hang high enough to get a good flow. I stop what I'm doing to assist. Oops! The spray from the needle has caught Rosie, another of her Shar-Pei, in the face and she disappears out the door. We both laugh, easing the heavy atmosphere in the room. Gretchen gently inserts the needle into the catheter in Odie's front leg and the fluids start their journey of sustaining this life a little longer.

This is de ja vu, of course. The now familiar rank odor coming from her mouth brings back the horror of watching Odie's sire Halston during the last days of his life just months before. Raw, unhealable ulcers inside his mouth, his body wasted away from a once beautiful, vibrant champion to a mere skeleton of his former self. Gretchen's heroic efforts to support and treat him, only managing to prolong the inevitable. I remember coming to work every day having sat the night before with my books seeking some new herbal remedy, supplement or homeopathic to battle the havoc wrought, since conventional treatment became useless. Gretchen, at the time, having already gone through the loss of four other of her Shar-Pei, was unable to face this again. Many an hour we talked and cried together, about death, about why these poor animals had to go this way, about why "breeders" continue to breed this dreadful problem and hide it, about what we could do to alleviate it. All the while we watched the life force ebb from yet another beautiful Shar-Pei.

I personally was fortunate during my Shar-Pei days not to have faced Amyloidosis directly, but I have been subjected to its dreadful effects since working for Gretchen and her husband, Don. No one should have to go through one Shar-Pei death in this manner, let alone 5 times. It's more than one's heart and soul can endure without forming huge, painful scars. The feeling of guilt, remorse and sorrow is so overwhelming at the same time, for others who have offspring from these dogs. Gretchen took it upon herself early on when she knew there was a problem, to notify her puppy buyers about the probability they would very likely face the same consequences. This was one of the hardest tasks she had to perform. She felt she owed it to these people to at least make them aware it was likely to manifest itself in their pet. It was akin to issuing a death sentence, but in good conscience, she had to tell people. They say ignorance is bliss, but in many cases early knowledge of Amyloidosis' probable occurrence can help people to make adjustments that will help to prolong their animal's life.

Gretchen is through with the fluids. She gives Odie a gentle kiss and tells her what a good girl she is, then bustles out of the room so I can't see her tears start once more. Composed again, she hurries back in to dole out a series of holistic meds, which have diminished the insidious effects before. The phone rings, another customer calling...she takes a deep breath and mentally prepares herself to cheerily answer the phone, able for the moment to push back the dread and thoughts of the inevitable downward spiral.

I tuck Odie's blanket around her, as she lies exhausted, huddled on her heating pad, still shivering despite the warm room. I fight back my own tears unsuccessfully and once again feel the rage that allowed this awful menace to occur in the first place. I'm reminded of the greed and total disregard of this problem by too large a number of "breeders" and get furious at the thought. I personally quit breeding Shar-Pei not wanting to count myself among those of this mentality. When winning an award at a dog show and reaping financial reward takes precedence over ethical behavior and concern for both an animal's and buyer's welfare, there's something terribly, terribly wrong. I have felt this way since the problem first reared its ugly head and do not understand why there has been virtually no change in "breeder" attitude. Until such time as these so-called "breeders" start taking responsibility for their careless and devastating practices, we will see the relentless suffering and death continue. Isn't it time to put the Shar-Pei and their problems ahead of hollow fame and fortune? The wise individual knows it is far better to be remembered for the good they did and not for the awards garnered. Fame is fleeting, forgotten quickly and replaced by the next in line, but good deeds live on long after as should our dogs.

You are a dear dog, Odie, so very special. I consider it an honor to have known you. I agonize to think of your not being around, you've taught me humility, acceptance and added such enjoyment to my workday with your funny personality and friendly presence. Who will share my banana when you're no longer there? It just won't be the same. At least you've been loved by your caring family, who have done all they could to make your life a little longer and happier. When the inevitable day arrives that you must depart, say "hi" to Halston, Hawk, Bambi and Fred who went before and tell them they're sorely missed by their people. Those of us who care, will do what we can to make life better for those of you that are left... Will you do your part?

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Odie was released from her valiant struggle on April 12, 1997. Born January 3, 1993, she was barely 4 years old when she passed on. Knowing she has been released from her suffering gives some small measure of comfort. In the short span we were priveleged to know her, she touched us all with her spirituality.

Anyone who has shared their life with Shar-Pei knows their uniqueness intimately. So much more than mere pets, they touch us deeply and embed themselves in our hearts. As their self imposed caretakers, we are responsible for bringing them into this world, and therefore, owe them at the very least, a healthy, reasonable length of time on earth.

Goodbye, dear Odie and to all the precious souls like yourself who too fleetingly have visited us.