Collapsing Puppy Disorder

I’ve taken Somewhere to the dog park three times on this long weekend. It’s a sort of breakthrough for us, as we’ve been treading carefully with Somewhere when it comes to exercise.

As it turns out, I am the proud owner of a collapsing puppy, although the experts gave this disorder the snappy name of Exercise Induced Collapse (EIC). Basically, it’s a genetic defect that does not send a signal to her hindquarters after intense physical exercise. The only other symptom that occurs with a collapse is overheating, which the dog will pant off. It’s rarely fatal, but there is nothing that can be done for EIC. We must simply be diligent in watching her, and stop her at the first sign of wobbly legs. Severe attacks can leave some damage to the function of the legs, and I feel like we used up a few get-out-of-jail-free-cards already while we were trying to figure out what was wrong with her and how much exercise is too much.

It really sucks that this had to happen to her. The disorder is mostly linked to labs and lab mixes, and as it seems to be the case with the small percentage of dogs with this disorder, she is energetic, excitable, muscular, and truly an athlete. Before this began, I took her to the park nearly everyday, sometimes letting her run with her dog friend, but often just using the Chuck-it to launch the ball for her. She is extremely fast and never seemed to tire, and was up for a run regardless of cold or wind or rain. In hindsight, the only warning sign was her habit lying in puddles in the melting snow this spring, trying to cool herself off.

The first collapse Somewhere showed was this June. We were staying in Kenosha with my best friend Holly. I was working t-shirts at a softball tournament, my oldest daughter was playing ball, and my youngest was bouncing back and forth between the tournament and Auntie Holly’s house. Auntie Holly graciously took all of this on, as well as the care of Somewhere while I was out working all day. Somewhere constantly badgers her dog, Bella, another small lab mix who looks strikingly similar to my dog at first glance. Somewhere follows Holly’s toddler around the house, constantly kissing her, begging for her snacks, and near-missing her while trying to herd the baby into a stationary position.

It was the first really warm week we had of actual summer. I has finished my long weekend and was hanging out in Auntie Holly’s backyard. I mentioned getting packed up to leave and Auntie Holly turned to my daughter, her namesake. “That’s funny, Hol. You’re mom thinks she’s going to leave. She worked all damn weekend and fell asleep on the couch watching 90210 with me and she thinks that you’re going home tonight. That’s funny.” She turns to me. “You’re not going home.”

My youngest only smiled, and retreated into the house. I laughed. Yes, we would stay. If she wanted her house filled with the three of us and our puppy for another night, we would stay.

Through all of this, we were throwing the ball across Holly’s small fenced back yard for Somewhere. She is relentless. She will chase that ball until she collapses, literally apparently. She brought the ball over to us, and then stumbled, as if she was drunk. We both laughed a little, nervous and surprised. Somewhere still looked happy, a bit confused maybe, but fine. Then she did it again. Her back legs splayed out behind her straight, but as though they couldn’t support her. She didn’t seem alarmed, and walked toward us like a wet noodle. I asked Holly if she thought that maybe she got into something, ate something toxic, but Holly has her house and yard and her life toddler proofed. Somewhere was more likely to get into something at my house, and we hadn’t been there for days.

She was panting hard, so Holly ran into the house and got some water for her. She drank it all, and perked back up instantly, as if nothing had happened. Her legs appeared normal, and she was back to following the baby and Bella and bugging us with the ball. We chocked it up to dehydration and took her in, gave her more water. She truly acted normally so quickly that I would’ve questioned if it had really happened if I didn’t have Holly there to see it as well.

A week later, I took her to the dog park at dusk. It was warm and humid, but the sun was down and the air is as cool as it was going to get. Somewhere had had plenty of water, and I’d brought some along because she’s a snob who refuses to drink out of the communal dog bowl at the dog park. And may I say, thank god.

I chucked the ball for her, and she ran with her friends. Just like that, as if a switch has been flipped, her back legs were noodles. She noticed, but only that something was off. She was dragging herself over to me until I made her lay down. She was panting, so I gave her water. I put water on her body. And just like last time, she perked back up as if nothing happened. But I am not crazy, she couldn’t walk. She was dragging herself.

What the hell is wrong with my dog?

She was up and chasing her pit bull puppy friend, Tuesday, as soon as she was able. I stopped her. I took her home. She came in the door, ate dinner, drank more water, and picked up one of her favorite hobbies, tormenting Football the cat. She’s fine? How is she fine? I called the emergency vet number.

I was told that it was most likely heat exhaustion, that there was a rash of cases due to the sudden heat. I was told that some dogs handle the heat better than others. Get her to lay low when it’s hot, limit exercise unless it’s early or late, and push fluids.

It was going to be a long summer. I ran that dog at the park everyday for a reason. She’s energetic and loves to run, and we all like her a lot more if she gets her exercise. If she didn’t get enough exercise, she’s going to drive us crazy and I was going to have to figure out how to sell her on e-Bay from my phone. I was not very happy about this little twist, but not really concerned yet. We’d figure it out.

I make her lay low. It stays hot. But she doesn’t bring me the leash every five minutes. She badgers me about walks a lot less than I thought she would. We were moving that week, just across town, but I had to leave town again for three days for work before I moved. I was busy, and scattered. If I remember correctly, I was already having like no fun on a bunch of levels. But Somewhere had been so good, so I decided to take her with me across the street to return something and tell the neighbors when we were moving. We wouldn’t stay long. She could play with their little terrier, Skylar. It was late, nearly dark.

She chased Sklyar around their tiny yard for just over five minutes, and she went down. What surprised me, and her, was our neighbors reactions. They were scared. And now so was I, and so was Somewhere. She dragged herself over to me and collapsed on my feet. She looked up, worried, and I realized that we were scaring her.

“It’s okay, buddy.” I told her. “It’s all good. You’re okay. We’re getting you some water. It’s okay, girl.” I tried to sound sure, to feel sure. She didn’t believe me. She perked up with the water, and immediately ran for the porch where Skylar was being kept, then collapsed on her way down the stairs. I laid her down again, and when she perked up the second time I took her home. Within five minutes in the cool house, she was chasing Football the cat, eating and drinking normally, and being her usual goofy self. Still, I couldn’t shake the look on my neighbors faces, or how they shooed their nine year old in the house to protect her from what was happening to my dog. I frantically called the vet. They told me I could take her back out in heat and drive forty minutes to their animal hospital, where for the bargain price of 400 to 500 dollars, they would run some tests. I said no thanks, as once again she was fine. I called my cousin Joey.

Joey was the right person to call. I was really worked up. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t really have the sensibility for collapsing puppies. I’m generally all flowers and sunshine, and I don’t even like hospitals, or medical tubing, or deep scratches. This was a lot to handle, and the neighbor’s reaction made it clear that this was not okay. Joey told me to call his vet in morning, and that he would even go with me if it made me feel better. He told me to go play with my puppy and not worry. I felt better, because I knew I wouldn’t have to be alone, because I was really sure that there was something really wrong with her and they might have to put her to sleep. Joey just offered to go with me, which was perfect, since I’m not very good at asking for help.

I had to leave Somewhere at the vet. They could only get her in on a drop off basis, so I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork, talk to them and then leave her there. Our house was mostly packed and in a state of disarray. My mom had moved into some Senior apartments the month before, and my youngest daughter was at camp on the East Coast. Georgia took to hanging out with her cousins, which is what always happens in summer. When I came home without Somewhere, my gentle-souled cat, Football, clung to me like a monkey and mewed, and I figured he thought that I was selling off our family one piece at a time, and that he was next. So I sat down in the empty sitting room with him and cried too.

As it turns out, Somewhere is perfectly normal, which just shows that the vet didn’t spend enough time with her. She puts tennis balls in my refrigerator on purpose and puts herself in the kennel after she barks. She is far from normal. But other than a very slight elevation in her kidneys enzymes, which varies among dogs anyway, she was totally healthy. The vet mentioned the possibility of Exercise Induced Collapse, but she was going to have to do some research on where and how we could do this genetic test. I did some research on my own, and am positive that this is what she has. Onset of symptoms is typically 12-14 months, and she had just turned a year. We’ve avoided exercise, but not activity (like riding in the car) when it’s hot and humid, and she hasn’t had another episode in the heat. What’s also interesting is that when it’s warmer and sticky, she lays low. She doesn’t bring me her leash or bump me with her nose to go to the park. When it gets cooler, she’s back to nagging.

I don’t bring the Chuck-it much anymore. I feel like it disappoints her. She can only chase hard, her paws sounding off the grass like hooves, for a few minutes. She wants an hour. I’m redirecting her energy into playing with the other dogs. Truth be told, she could use a light duty job somewhere a few days a week, maybe stocking some shelves. She is under stimulated, and has taken up the hobby again of relocating our prized belongings without harming them. Still, we have to search for cell phones, keys, and clothing, anything we use often.

We’ve only had one more episode, teaching us the lesson that we cannot just let her run even when it is cool. She played for a little over ten minutes one night, running hard with some friends dogs after the ball, and collapsed. One of the dogs she was playing with wandered off in search of a greater adventure than a collapsing puppy with a scared owner, but the four month old puppy sat right down on the grass with us, leaning against both Somewhere and myself, as if to say that he was fine with whatever we wanted to do. I was surprised that such a young puppy could so totally understand the quality and concept of friendship.

And I suppose that I am growing into someone who can handle owning a collapsing puppy, because I’m doing it, and I’m getting better. She ran with a dog at the park the other night, and I watched her closely. I knew it might be too much running, but this time I didn’t panic. My eyesight is keener and I noticed the very first leg wobble. I laid her down and she patiently waited it out. She got up normally, and then slowed herself down. I guess that she’s also starting to understand that our lives just aren’t the same.