A Gentleman's Passing

Czar has finally passed on.

We got Czar, a beautiful GSD (German Shepherd Dog) from the Sarnia Humane Society in October 2001. He was to be a partner for our big old Bouvier, who had lost her partner the week before.

He was 66 lbs, about 20 lbs too light for a Shepherd of his height and mostly blind due to the brown clouds floating over his pupils. He didn't really seem that interested in people... or me.

Anyway, a big German Shepherd was not my first choice. But one of the techs at the Humane Society urged me to have another look at him and give him a chance. Then he met my daughter and bent his head down to brush it on her 4 year old chest. We knew we couldn't leave without him. He was claimed to be 6-7 years old, already grey around his muzzle and had heartworm. Being the deal-maker I am, we got him for half price.

His first night home, he was outside while I was making dinner, when my husband came home from work. The car headlights spooked him. Not yet knowing this was his home, he jumped the four foot high fence and was gone. We called all the area Humane Societies and Dog Pounds, we searched and searched, and we took notices around to the neighbours letting them know that we had a GSD, still wearing a seatbelt harness, wandering around. What a mess!

We would put a dish of food out each night. Each morning it would be gone but we never knew if it was Czar eating it, or some other animal. Then the farmers around us began taking down the corn. We were in a panic but still could not find him anywhere and no one had seen him.

One day, I was holding my one year old son, looking out the front window and saw Czar crossing the neighbours driveway. I threw my son on my back, grabbed my daughter, grabbed a piece of leftover steak out of the fridge and ran out to get him.

As I approached him quickly, he began to hurry in the other direction. I panicked, knowing that if he disappeared into the corn field, I wouldn't be able to find him or track him, having the two children with me.

I quickly realized the problem was that he still didn't know me, didn't know his new name, didn't trust strange people and had no idea where he was. Top all of that with the heartworm infection that made it hard for him to breathe properly and of course he was afraid.

So I sat on my haunches, holding the steak out toward him, coaxing him gently to come get the steak, praying that he would get close enough for me to grab his seat belt harness. Well, it took a while but eventually he did. Then I was praying that he wouldn't bite me when I grabbed the harness. He didn't... thankfully.

And so this was where life really began with Czar.

Because of the heartworm infection, he did not run, he did not play. After about a week at our house, he realized this was home and no longer had any desire to wander off. So, we began the heartworm treatment which he just barely survived. Then his recovery really began... and boy did he recover.

After the heartworm was gone, if he knew he was in an open space, he would run like the wind. Over time, we managed to pack about another 20 lbs onto his lithe frame, bringing him to around the 85lb range, which was book-weight for his height. He still ran like the wind and with his back floating above the ground, you could barely see his feet touch the earth.

Finally, when our house went gluten free, the brown clouds in his eyes (pannus) receded to the outer rims, leaving his pupils clear for him to run anywhere, as he wished... And run he did.

Pannus

Most documentation of pannus notes that it is common in GSDs and no known cure exists. A lot of documents claim some relation to the sun. When his pannus cleared via diet, I posted his/our story on the internet at a place called "BrainTalk" where both medical and lay people talked science stuff about the brain, challenges and how it all related to every day living. Sad to say, this site is no longer in existence.

Eventually, a vet from the U.S. saw one of my postings about Czar and contacted me to compare notes. He had resolved a pannus issue in a much younger GSD and believed the removal of all corn to be the deciding factor.

In reality we had both put the dogs on diets where only minimal amounts of rice was allowed, so there is no way of knowing if it was actually gluten, corn or some other grain related item. For more information, contact Dogtor J, he's very good about responding and happy to tell great recovery stories. Though we have lost contact over the years, I know he is still working full force to help people understand food intolerance in animals: http://www.linkedin.com/in/dogtorj

Czar spent time on soccer fields watching his kids play and enjoyed sitting nicely while the other kids made a fuss of him. He enjoyed visits from various canine friends. He liked to wander out to the road to say hello to the lady around the corner who always stopped to pet him as she passed our house during her evening walks. He loved making visits to Granny's house to get special treats and hang out with his friend Molly. His last visit was just five days ago. When he knew we were going for a visit, he was pacing behind the van, waiting to be lifted in.

The last two years, he really began to show his age. At night, he would sometimes wander out into a field next door and seem to forget where he was. We would have to go out with a flashlight to search for him in the dark. We would find him just sitting quietly. It was like he was waiting for someone to come fetch him because once he saw us or the flashlight, he would come quickly and happily.

This was also around the time he developed a brain (myelin) disorder that began to render his back legs difficult to manipulate. This didn't seem to cause him any pain but created difficulties doing stairs and eventually, because of the loss of sensation creeping up his back, we knew it was only a matter of time.

For more info. about GSD and peripheral neuropathy: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1452810

When he was 10 or 11 years, he had more time under his belt than many GSDs see, so of course we began to expect his passing.

Well, he continued on for another 4 years. Even though is back legs were not cooperating the way he would've liked, he could still go in and out but no longer slept upstairs in our bedroom. For several years, he didn't get better but he didn't get worse either. Then in the last week or two, I noticed his back end seemed to suddenly lose a drastic amount of control.

No matter, even a couple of days ago, he was very excited to see his friend Dakota from two doors over, who comes to visit our guys every once in a while. We all look forward to Dakota's visits because the three dogs (and any visiting canines we may have) are always so excited to see each other.

They all say hello in their doggie way, then George (our 9 year old rottieX) and Dakota run and play for a bit and then all three dogs sniff around together like they are in search of something crucial to the very continuance of our planet... until Dakota hears his Mom calling for him out their window.

Another dear friend who he always enjoyed seeing was Peter. Peter is a retired school teacher and one of the neighbours we met when my husband was delivering notes, all those years ago, about our lost GSD. Whenever we went away overnight, if Granny couldn't come to stay with our animals, it was Peter who would come to take care of everyone for us.

Just two days ago, Czar was lying in the yard when Peter came to visit. Peter went to where Czar was lying to stroke his head and talk to him and I wondered, at the time, how many more times I would see that familiar scene.

Last night, I took the kids out to the drive-in while my husband stayed in to do some work. My husband, this morning, told me that when it was time to go to bed, Czar wouldn't come in. He was pacing the yard slowly.

When I got home, I found him lying in the grass looking fairly comfortable but a little too close to a ladder. When I called him, he didn't get up. I figured his back legs needed some help getting into the standing position, which was becoming a common scenario. But as it turned out, his back legs could no longer stand even when I placed them in position under him.

I was able to carry him to his usual spot in the yard but the pressure on his chest from being carried took his breathe away. He has never, in the eight years he's been with us, spent the night outside. I was caught. It was a beautiful night... but would he feel like I'd left him? I was pretty sure he wouldn't make it until morning and to carry him all the way inside might be too hard on his breathing.

My daughter, almost 12 years old now, was still awake so I brought her down to say good-bye. As we went outside, we found his breathing had calmed. He tried to get up. So, I managed to get hold of him again, and carried him into the house, putting him in his favourite sleeping spot in the living room, near the bottom of the stairs. We made sure he had water nearby and that he was as comfortable as possible, lying on his side. Then I sent my daughter to bed.

He did struggle through part of the night with his breathing and getting comfortable. I kept bringing him water and rubbing his ears the way that always calmed him. Finally, his breathing calmed substantially and eventually, I couldn't stay awake any longer.

Before I slept, I prayed that he wouldn't make it through the night because it did now seem he was in pain or at the very least, very uncomfortable. In the morning I would have to make the difficult decision of taking him in to be put down. I really didn't want to do that because he would've hated going to the vet.

The vet terrified him to the point that we always joked around, even in his younger days, that after all he'd been through, he'd die from a heart attack just going to the vet. Through the years, home was always his favourite place.

Thankfully he passed sometime between 2 a.m. and 6 a.m right there in his favourite sleeping spot after eight wonderful years with us, at the generous age of 14 or 15 years old.

A special thanks to all who have acknowledged Czar to be the special gentleman that he was through all the years he spent with us.

Kim

Yes, that is a chicken riding on his back in the attached photo. Her name is Blackie. It was taken last year.

Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors. I've not proofed this yet and had some difficulty when to use the past tense and when to use the present tense.

Adopting senior animals can be a truly wonderful and rewarding experience.

Czar was a bird hunter when he came to us and still learned to live with chickens and ducks shortly after his arrival without the use of any corporal punishment.

Rottweiller? Rottweiller! Rottweiller.

Our Bouvier-cross, Sonja, adopted full-grown and with us 10 years, had just passed. It was horribly sad for us. I, in particular, still miss her as she was with me before I was either married or had children. It seemed, she was with me for my entire adult life. I guess she kind of was...




We wanted a mature dog because Czar, our GSD was 8 years old and a rescue who had recovered from heartworm. And honestly, I prefer the ease of training an older dog. They 'get it' so much quicker than a pup ever does. So, I did my searching on the net using the animal love foundation.


This 5 year old guy looked like a big couch potato in the photo. Perfect for us, I thought.

The previous owners drove almost two hours to bring him to us. It was important to them that he have a good home... that was obvious.

They had said that if they couldn't find him a home, they would put him to sleep, rather than risk him being adopted by the 'wrong person'. I appreciated their passion about his being safe and having a good quality of life. I empathized with their desire to ensure their dog's well-being, and sympathized with their position of being unable to keep their dog because of having to move to the city with a small lot and no fences.

Then when this big bag of muscle jumped out of the vehicle in our driveway, I felt my face do a twitch. :rolleyes:

This was a big rottie. Nothing I would ever think of wishing for in a dog.

He had mostly lived in a garage for three years. (Turns out he was two years younger than they remembered.) He had no manners. He fell up the stairs. He fell down the stairs. He chased my 18 year old, cancer-filled cat. :(

His name was Rush. (For Mount Rushmore - they said.) He didn't answer to it. They didn't take him off the leash for fear that he wouldn't come when called. Uggh! What had I gotten myself into? :eek:

I leashed him to me both inside and out, granted him privileges with appropriate behaviour, and he went from sleeping in the sunroom to sleeping in our bedroom within the first two weeks. He was soon following me from room to room without the leash. He still does, even though he's been with us for three years and doesn't have to so much anymore.

He didn't seem to know his name anyway and I didn't want a dog that looked tough to have to tough name too... So we sat around the table and made a long list of names. We got down to the last two... Fred and George. Between two 37 year olds, a 6 year old and a 4 year old, we couldn't decide. The dog just lay there, enjoying his bone near the kitchen table.

So, I told everyone to be very quiet and said 'Fred'... nothing. Then I said, 'George'... and he looked up at me. We all laughed and figured he had chosen. He has answered well to that name ever since he chose it. (My Grandfather's name - could he be a reincarnation? :D) And it didn't take long for him to come easily when called, even when he's got half an acre on me chasing the birds or a rabbit... or the neighbour's cat. :eek:
















The previous owners said that he wouldn't like it inside but I leave our kitchen door open and he only wants to go out when nature calls or if I'm outside. He really doesn't go outside just to sit by himself or even with Czar.

When he is lying down and being petted, he makes a growling sound. This made me very nervous. Soon, we realized that it was really his, very loud, version of a 'purr'. Later, I found out that this is common in rotties. It is referred to as 'the rottie rumble'. (Though I warn people that it must be assumed to be a warning growl until you are very sure it's a rumble... to be on the safe side. Even living with him, it took several weeks... a couple of months even, to establish that this dog is not a big 'growler' but is indeed a big 'rumbler'.)

He's not allowed on the furniture but does have a very big, thick cushion in the living room, a blanket in the kitchen and several blankets in the bedroom. He sleeps right next to my bed so that I can just reach out and give him a stroke through the night.

He also MUST do a sit/stay every time he gets food and he MUST go into a 'down' position if a visiting child goes near him (a 'sit' for adults). He doesn't mind doing this because he loves children and knows that if he goes into the 'down' position, the child will be allowed to pet him. We have 3 children from 9 yrs to 1 yr in the house and he gets loads of regular strokes from them... But there's just never enough love for George!

We've had him for three years and every person who comes to our house is, at first, taken aback by his size, and then reassured by his well controlled behaviour.

George, we found, also had hidden talents. He duck sits the chicks and ducklings, staying ever vigilant.  It seems that he takes extra special care of the babies with extra challenges.

After some training so that he knew not to kill our yard chickens, I found that he would help me 'round them up' at night when it was time to put them back in their coop. Chicken rassling for rotties 101 was, apparently, not a required course for him... it just came naturally.

We've got one nasty chicken. Blooie-the-wicked-chicken will wait until your back is turned and then sneak up behind you to peck you hard. Well, when George is on watch, he will chase that Blooie right back to the coop if he notices her taking her 'attack' stance.

And though the chickens will run from him, if he is in between them and a bucket of tasty kitchen scraps I've brought out, they will not think twice about using George-The-Great-Launching-Pad to get to the food post-haste.

This is the same dog who (with us only a year at the time), when my 5 year old upset a wasp nest, knew immediately that my son was in danger and went to the rescue.

George was snapping at all of those wasps, flying in the air, all around my curled up boy, until I finally clicked onto what was going on, raced over to them and pulled my son out. Then we all ran away together.

That dog took at least 20 stings in his mouth and around his face that day... on purpose. I just shake my head when I think of how George knew my son was in danger long before I did... and that he knew just what to do without being told. - You don't hear THOSE stories in the news too often. :frown: George will always be our hero!

We've also found out that rotties are the kind of dog whose world will stop when their person is away.  George waits for me by the door, by the gate or at the end of the driveway.  He never tires of waiting for me and he really has turned into the biggest baby I have.

I believe it is important to show people that this is a breed that is well worth saving.

I never would've wished for a rottie because I never knew one. Now, I'm glad they got his age wrong, because that means I get two extra years with him :)... and I just can't imagine my life without my George. :wink:

Please contact the Animal Love Foundation or Humane Society and ask about adopting a 'senior' in your area! We've had three and loved them all!