Feet First

“It is much more important to know what sort of a patient has a disease than what sort of a disease a patient has.” - Sir William Osler

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    Thursday, November 11, 2004
    RIP, Good Dog

    Todd died yesterday after a very brief illness. He belonged to V. and her family. V. and her husband found him at the local animal shelter. Back then, he was undernourished and skinny, but his head was huge and looked out of proportion to the rest of him; they dubbed him "Big-Head Todd." (He filled out pretty quickly once they brought him home; he was part German Shepherd, and I'm guessing, part Rottweiler as well.)

    Todd was gentle, affectionate and liked people; he was good with kids. The first time I met Todd was shortly after I'd started working for The Firm, when V. invited me for a Labor Day weekend party; shortly after that, V. was pregnant and on bed rest and I dropped by to chat and augment the tedium. Todd greeted me by sticking his head under my dress and throwing my skirt in the air, which endeared him to me immediately. He loved to eat bees, too - either he never got stung or he didn't care, we weren't sure which. And he loved to be petted. In his later years I would sit beside him on the floor and talk to him and stroke him for minutes at a time; the moment I stopped he'd nudge my hand for more.

    He got sick earlier this week, with bloody diarrhea and jaundice. Initially V. thought he might have eaten some rat poison, but the vet thought it was more likely cancer. Yesterday morning he was bleeding from the nose and having seizures.

    There was only one thing to do. They did it.

    We're all going to miss him.



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