Long Live The Irish

Long Live the Irish.
By Anne Visser

� On November 25th 2000 Irish Terrier Culford Red hot Gossip, alias Megan, competed at the Hawkes Bay Obedience Club's Championship Agility Event at Hastings, New Zealand. Running in four events, she turned on two brilliant performances to finish fourth and seventh, and two runs which can only be describeOn November 25th 2000 Irish Terrier Culford Red hot Gossip, alias Megan, competed at the Hawkes Bay Obedience Club's Championship Agility Event at Hastings, New Zealand. Running in four events, she turned on two brilliant performances to finish fourth and seventh, and two runs which can only be described as disastrous. The disastrous runs are not uncommon for Megan. She can be quite a comic, making her own decisions as to how a course should be run. Frustrating as these whims of her Irish mind may be, I have learned to take them in my stride for they are merely a measure of her very exuberance. While the clear rounds were not winning runs they were significant indications of Megan's progress since the horrific surgery she underwent a mere three months ago.�

Megan began her agility training somewhat belatedly at the age of 22 months, at which time she was still very much a mentally immature dog. She was a difficult dog to train and the process was hindered by two breaks while I recovered from a broken leg and she from a broken toe, the latter the result of an uncomfortably close encounter with the hoof of one of her equine pals. A natural gymnast, Megan had no problem with the concept of agility work, but her powers of concentration were so volatile that it was well over a year before she could be entered for events with some ~measure of competitiveness. Nevertheless' despite the fact that the number of tier disqualifications far outweighed her clear rounds, Megan showed promise and by the end of 1999 she had cleared starters and was running in Novice/Intermediate grades. Throughout the first half of 2000 she progressed steadily and although she never will have the speed of the border collies and working type dogs which are so much part of the New Zealand Agility scene her collection of place ribbons grew at a satisfying rate. She achieved her initial AD clear round on the 13th May at Rotorua.�

However, I noticed a slight difference in her attitude to her play sessions. No longer did she show quite the same exuberance when chasing her beloved Frisbee. Hot weather bothered her and she was loathe to run fast under warm conditions. I put this down to the fact that Megan was now nearing her fourth birthday and had fully matured and mellowed. AS winter approached her attitude improved and by June she was regaining her enthusiasm to some degree. While the play part of her life had become less important to her, her love of the agility sport never wavered and she consistently turned on good performances.�

Then one day early in June I noticed a strange lump on one of the ribs on Megan's right side. It was not huge ‑ about the size of a large halved marble ‑ and it was hard, almost bony. I puzzled over it, trying to think of a trauma to that region which may have promoted an exotoses, but could not come up with a solution. Two major two day events were scheduled for July and early August and I tried to ignore the lump and concentrate on those. However hard I tried there was a niggle in the back of my mind that this lump may be something serious, having lost Megan's predecessor to cancer. We completed our events with more ribbons for Megan's collection. She gained her second AD clear round on July lst, giving her the AD title. On the final day of these planned competitions she had finished a close second. The following day she was unusually tired and I felt a visit to the vet was on the cards.�

Campbell Johnson's first thoughts about this lump were the same as my own ‑ that it was a cartilaginous lesion covering a rib injury. X‑rays were taken and to be on the safe side a needle biopsy was also done. The X‑ray showed no sign of injury; ‑the biopsy returned the ominous result that this was a tumor of unknown etiology. A further sectional biopsy was required, which minor surgery resulted in an incision and some half dozen stitches. At this point we were still rather optimistic, after all the lump had not altered in size since it was first noticed.�tches removed, Megan took part in the local Ribbon Trial, open to all comers from other regions. Again she ran well and added yet another place ribbon to her bundle. By now though, we knew that Megan's tumor was malignant and a date had been set for its surgical removal.�

With the news of the cancer my world had completely fallen apart. Was I about to lose my treasured friend and sporting teammate? Was I about to have to give up this sport on which I had become totally hooked? It is impossible to describe the emotions which overtook me at this time. I was shattered in the same way as anyone must when faced with a similar dilemma with a human relative.�

The plan for the operation was that either‑ three of Megan's ribs would be remove along with the tumour, or that a "window" would be cut out of her ribcage with the same intent. The ribcage would then be reconstructed with a surgical mesh which would in time become covered by cartilaginous scar tissue. Campbell had consulted the two major centres where such extensive surgery could have been performed and came up with the approximation of a sixty per cent likelihood of success after which long term prognosis would be determined by whether or not the cancer had already spread to other parts of the body. Her quality of life should by good if she survived although the chance of her return to competition was an unknown quantity. Another source of authority maintained that her chances of recovery were less than ten per cent. We chose to ignore this opinion. Megan was going into this operation as an extremely fit and otherwise healthy dog, a fact no doubt assisted by her addiction to fresh fruit and vegetables. Oranges, mandarins, pears, apples, loquats. Plums and the like would bring on rivers of saliva, and no main meal was complete without carrots or cabbage.�

So on the morning of Thursday August 24th I gave Megan two doses of homeopathic Arnica one hour apart, before heading off for the Oturnoetai Veterinary Clinic where two veterinary surgeons and two veterinary nurses were awaiting her arrival. The operation was expected to be over by about midday. At nine thirty A.M., by which time Megan had been in surgery a mere half hour, I received a phone call to advise me that Megan's tumour was no only a lot larger than could possibly have been imagined, but also a lot more invasive. Her chances of survival and recovery had suddenly dropped to near zero. I gave iny permission for Megan to be euthanised if the case looked truly hopeless. Later I was to learn that Campbell was but a hair's breadth away from letting her go, and that his partner had queried whether he felt he was really doing this dog a favour by carrying on. But Campbell had seen Megan bounce in that morning and he had a gut feeling that‑ she could bounce back.�

The hours dragged on. Midday came and went. So did one O'clock; and two o'clock. Finally, just after two thirty, by which time Megan had undergone a five hour procedure to say that she had survived the ordeal to this point. She had survived having her lungs deflated and respiring by way of a manually operated pump. She had survived having five ribs removed, along with a tumour the size of a large man's clenched fist. Part of her lung, had been removed where this growth had attached to it. Her diaphragm had been re‑positioned so as to attach to her remaining ribs, far forward of its natural site. The placement of her stomach and liver was likewise reorganized. Arteries had been re‑directed. Whether Megan would make it through the next few days were the critical question. She was kept in an induced sleep until Friday morning.�

I phoned through to the clinic about nine thirty A.M. to be greeted by an incredulous nurse. Megan had been allowed to regain consciousness and had astounded al by getting up from her bed and going walkabout. Luckily the quick reaction of open of her attendants to snatch up her drip stand and follow in pursuit prevented a catastrophe. When I went to see her in the afternoon I was welcomed by a bright eyed Irish terrier face looking for all the world as if she was emerging from a white cocoon, wrapped as she was from elbows to stifle in firm bandaging. She was also hungry ‑ again ‑ and while T was there devoured her third tin of special doggy invalid food. Like all at the clinic I was rendered speechless.�

Even more so was I when I was shown the ribs and tumor which Campbell had kept (in formalin) for me to view. This looked exactly like a rack of lamb ribs, albeit with much more "flesh'' attached. Never again can I pass such a roast displayed in a butchers' shop without my stomach turning.�

Vet hospital staff was happy to administer for me regular doses of homeopathic Arnica and homeo-botanical Trauma Formula. By Saturday drips and drains had been removed, ahead of schedule. Megan could toilet outside and her tail wagged happily. Obviously she was in discomfort, but not unduly so. She went into raptures over tier present of a bag of mandarins. On Sunday I made the mistake of wearing the shoes I always wear for agility. Megan's eyes sparkled with anticipation and she tried to bounce as she does when we set off for tier beloved sport. The shoes were quickly removed and she settled down while all we humans involved could not stop talking about this wonderful recovery. She was improving, as (Campbell noted, by the minute. By Monday afternoon the swaddling had been removed, and Megan, looking as if she had been put together by a sewing machine, came home.�

She ignored the helpers waiting to assist her into the car and hopped. In easily enough. Once home she hopped out with equal ease. I had failed to anticipate her eagerness and had not attached her lead, and she ran ‑ yes ran ‑ across the paddock to greet her favourite horse, before seeking out a toilet spot. I was under instructions to keep Megan on a lead and prevent her from doing more than a minimum of walking. It was expected that she would need to be kept wrapped in cotton wool and an imaginary glass case for some three months, To this extent I admit I disobeyed instructions and allowed her to figure out for herself what and how much exercise she could ‑manage.�

On Tuesday she walked, slowly and somewhat painfully around the perimeter of our four hectare property. On Wednesday she managed a little trotting and the next morning, just a week after her oration , she found her ball and played with it for a while.�

Then panic. By lunchtime Megan was obviously unwell. All her meals at this stage were small and rather more frequent than usual, but she didn't come for her midday feed. By early afternoon she was under my bed ‑ the place where she goes when not well, frightened or naughty ‑ shaking violently. I arranged her on the bed for her own comfort. Still she shook, her eyes glazed and her nose desperately dry. Quickly I phoned the vet and arranged an emergency visit although Campbell, being out on visits, could not see her until five thirty, a time when I am generally performing evening stable duties. The horses were done early with Megan left on the bed. By tile time I�d returned Megan was bright and happy again. Nevertheless we made our appointment but no reason could be found for tier distress. As a precaution she was given a short course antibiotic and an anti‑inflammatory injection.�

Had this been a natural healing crisis? No‑one can tell. Whatever, from then on Megan never looked back. She went ahead in leaps and bounds. T had sought out a holistic animal therapist, Sandra Urwin, to assist with tier recovery and also to hopefully prevent a recurrence of the cancer, which consequence has always been a distinct possibility.�

Megan's diet has been modified and she receives herbal potions, plus sharks cartilage capsules. Raw herbs and their juices are part of the regime, plus kelp, which was already part of her diet from puppy hood. Natural, unsweetened yoghurt and raw, soaked oatmeal comprise her breakfast. Fruit through the day, and raw tripe her main source of met. For a few days she received doses of homeopathic Symphytum.�

Two days after her crisis Megan resumed her daily four kilometer walk with me although I restrained her from taking on tile natural obstacles which are normally part of this regime. Soon she was ranging far ahead of me, looking back frequently to tell me to hurry. A fortnight after her operation Megan was again chasing her ball, tentatively at first, but then as she strengthened, with increasing energy and dexterity. I took her to the agility club to meet her friends‑There she headed straight for her favourite obstacle, the A‑frame, and was up and over like a flash. I allowed her to pop over a few mini height jumps to satisfy her obvious desire to participate before whisking her off home. BY week three she was going through the weave poles like a veritable snake, quashing any doubts that she may no longer be able to perform this exercise. She was permitted a few sequences over midi height jumps.�

Before September was out Megan had sought out her Frisbee and I began throwing it for her, gently at first while she tried a few hesitant leaps. At the end of another month she had not only fully regained her delight in Frisbee games, but she was also showing good suppleness as she twisted to pluck it out of mid‑air. She had resumed maxi‑height training at the club and was taking her cross country obstacles without a qualm.�

Although Megan had been back to the vet hospital several times for checkups, I doubt that Campbell fully realized to what extent she had recovered. He was somewhat surprised when I asked for his go ahead to enter her for our local Championship Agility Event to be run on October 7th and 8th. He agreed that by this stage of healing there was minimal chance of damage if the dog was keen and willing. There were seven events over the two days for which Megan was eligible. T entered her for all, although the arrangement was that I would scratch her as soon as I felt she had had enough. My feelings were that if she completed two events each day I would I would be over the moon about her recovery rate. Megan had other ideas.�

For her first run she was a bit over‑enthusiastic and was disqualified for an off course onto "her" A‑frame. Then a clear round followed. There was no sign of fatigue. We ran again, well enough to gain a third place. Then again, for another AD clear round. On the second day Megan seemed a little flat early in the morning and I worried about her so much that I lost my concentration and sent her over an off course jump with the resultant "D". She soon perked up and indicated that she was so keen to run later in the morning that again the idea of scratching was scrapped. She finished seventh (of nearly 70) in Novice and then for her final run showed a glimpse of the juvenile delinquent she had been as a youngster by running the course her way, for another "D".�

Exactly two weeks later, and thus a mere two months after her horrific operation, I took Megan to the National Dog Tr5aining Assembly at Taupo where she again ran in seven events over the two days. She was competing in classes of near 190 dogs and ended the weekend with only five faults for one error. Six clear rounds. Twice she missed a ribbon by just one placing. And her AD clear gave tier the ADX title.�

Megan is, I feel, still on the improve. It seems almost as if I have a new dog. In two subsequent events since Taupo she had one day when she ran her two events in super fashion but in her over enthusiasm missed her contacts. At Thames she finished fourth before we headed for Hawkes Bay. As I mentioned, there are signs of delinquency, or should I call it Irish willfulness, but Megan is also gathering previously untapped brilliance. She ran two disastrous rounds, and two exceptional ones to finish fourth and seventh, �

To this point in time there‑is no sign of any return of her cancer. I wonder so often how long she had carried that burden and how much it had troubled her. To be sure, if either my vet or I had had the slightest idea as to its extent, surgery would never have been performed or she would have been put to sleep when his system could no longer cope. But this phenomenal piece of surgery did take place and my beloved Irish terrier, showing all the heart and hardiness for which her breed is renowned has made a miraculous recovery. �

Postscript to Megan's Tale

�Megan did indeed improve, although her progress did not entirely follow a smooth path. Exactly four months after her operation, and again exactly four months hence she went through two crises of an unidentified inflammatory nature. Whether or not these were part of a pattern of regression nobody can be sure. Whatever, during the first half of 2001 she became not only a reliable agility performer, but also a consistent place getter. During July and early August, almost 12 months from the date of her operation, she struck her best form ever, giving some awesome performances and winning through to senior ranks. I felt that now, at last, she had shed the remaining effects of her cancer and surgery, and had a real future ahead of her. But this state of euphoria was short‑lived. After her successful show at Counties/Manukau Megan developed a sudden aversion to training and even a lack of enthusiasm for her regular exercise. Sense of apprehension settled over me and I worried. I decided not to insist on training and went into the local ribbon trial later in August on a light preparation, and restricted her to just two events. She won the Intermediate, but then in her first run at senior level she was on a defin4te "go slow" and for the first time ever went over time, although her execution of the course was faultless. �

I tried a change of venue for her exercise in an attempt to buck up her spirits and certainly she relished her runs on the nearby beach. We then ran two days at WAG in September, where she ran slowly all weekend but did get two clear rounds, two in senior. �

After this overall disappointing weekend I again had Campbell check on her well‑being. A further biopsy c6nfirmed my greatest fear. Her cancer had returned. This time there could be no treatment and from then on we would take each day as it came and make, no plans. Megan ran at one more major Agility event during October and was restricted to three Intermediate contests over two days. Each was without course faults although one, with an unusually tight course time gave us a fractional time fault yet only seven seconds behind the winner. One of her runs saw her miss out on what might have been her final ribbon by a couple of points of a second. �

From then on the slide downhill gathered momentum, although thankfully entirely painless for Megan. She ran for the October NALA competition, for her own pleasure more than anything else, and went clear. But by the time the same November competition day came she was too weak to take part. At home she insisted on her normal routine of "assisting" in the care of the horses, thoroughly inspecting the four hectare property in its entirety on a daily basis, and climbing the stairs to our shared bedroom, but she was disappearing before my eyes. I hoped desperately that she would quietly pass away in her sleep, but her huge Irish heart and spirit refused to give up. On December 4th vet Campbell and I laid her body to rest for the final time, but never our memories of her. �

Having become, through Megan, addicted to the sport of agility, and knowing that my life could never be complete without a dog, I looked into ultimately changing my choice of breed for something more "conventional" in the world of competitive agility. But with Megan's departure I realized that for me at least the void could never be filled by anything other than an Irish Terrier, and she has been succeeded, three months after her passing, by Trassa, a twenty month old bitch. �


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