Anka
February 13, 2000 - April 16, 2009
I miss you, sweet boy.
Anka was born the eve before Valintine's Day in my bedroom closet in Oakhurst, California. He was the biggest and fuzziest of the puppies in that litter so his nickname became 'Bear.' I had originally planned only to keep his slightly smaller twin brother, Ky, but Anka and Ky were so adorable together that I couldn't bring myself to separate them.
As Anka grew, it become obvious that he would be a rare, long-haired German Shepherd. Rare, because long hair is a recessive gene in these dogs. Long-hair variation differs across standards; they are accepted under the German and UK Kennel Clubs but are considered a fault in the American Kennel Club. Although Anka's mother was out of top AKC show lines, Anka's sire was of German Schutzshund stock, and from this combination came his immense strength, responsiveness, intelligence, and great beauty. (The successful blending of these traits later inspired me to continue hybridization as a cat breeder.)
As a youngster, Anka would romp and play for hours on my 80-acre Amara Wildlife Reserve. One time I had to climb a very steep cliff to confirm a boundary marker on my property; Anka was determined to follow even though he was just a young pup. That was the first time I realized that one of his outstanding characteristics was loyalty.
Anka was also very protective of his brother Ky. Ky was always getting into mischief and got away with it most of the time by being so darned cute. Although the boys were supposed to stay in my three-acre back yard, they would often slip away to go exploring on the mountain, even though they knew they'd catch hell for it when they got back. One day, Ky came home with a bloodied and partially shredded ear. Anka and the rest of my pack - his parents, Roki and Mara, and his other brother, Ani - all smelled like skunk! Apparently, Ky had chased down a skunk that had then turned and latched on to his ear. The other dogs had pulled it off from behind, thereby getting drenched with that horrible, gagging spray from the skunk's tail. But they saved Ky from being more seriously injured.
Anka was a great traveler and proved it when I moved him and all my other critters from California to Florida in a large white International Harvester van. At one stop, Ky got out and ran into the road, nearly stopping my heart for fear for his safety, but Anka was always more interested in pleasing me than giving in to his own instincts and urges. After we settled into our new Florida home, he once brought me a "prize" he had caught and killed in our new backyard - a 3-month-old feral kitten. He had been so proud to lay it before my feet, and was confused and concerned when he saw how heart-broken I was about it. He never did that again, and he also learned that any animal with my smell on it was strictly off limits.
Anka did continue to defend our territory and protect me from anything or anyone he perceived as a threat. One time I was on my porch, arguing with a painting contractor who had done a poor job and was insisting on more money to do it right. Anka and his brother Ani were inside the house on the other side of a dual-pane sliding glass door. As the discussion became more heated, Anka began growling and throwing himself against the glass. I was actually worried that he would break through and injure himself to get to this person that was upsetting me. I told the man he needed to leave for his own safety. He took one look at my enraged and snarling dogs and left. (Later he came back, apologized to me, and finished the job properly.) This photo illustrates just how powerful and determined my dogs can be if they think my safety is in question.
One of Anka's few annoying habits was to nip me when he was excited about something. Since a nip from a big dog is NOT something to look forward to, I began to correct him by use of a muzzle and the words, "No Bite!" By the look on his face, you would have thought I'd used a cattle prod instead of a soft mesh muzzle, but he learned not to nip anymore. I learned, however, that Anka had also used nipping as a means of communicating with me, and now I had taken that away from him. So I began to teach him a new method of communication that was to build an even stronger bond between us.
When Anka would get restless or give a small Yip instead of his normally deep bark, I knew he was trying to tell me something. I'd go to him, hold out my hands, and say, "What do you want, Anka? Show me." He would then stand up and look back at me as if to say, "Are you ready?" I'd lightly touch him on the shoulder or flank and off we'd go. He'd take me to whatever it was that he wanted: his water dish if it was empty, food dish if he was hungry, the treat box in the kitchen, or my backyard door to go out and pee. He'd then stand there waiting for my response.
Anka never pushed or demanded; he always asked. Over time, he began to communicate other requests. One that he taught me was Bedtime. He'd walk me to my bed and stand there. I didn't get it at first and then I realized he wanted to go to sleep. He had his own small bed next to mine but would not use it unless I was in the room. Since I often worked late into the night answering emails and updating my website, he would then curl up next to my feet with a sigh of resignation. Of all my dogs, he was the one I was most in tune with... and yet it wasn't until last summer that I realized that something was going wrong with him.
Anka had always loved to chase any squirrels silly enough to venture into the fenced dog portion of my back yard. He only caught one once and was so surprised, he dropped it! But last summer, I noticed he occasionally had a slight wobble in his back legs when he ran. At his vet check up he seemed normal, but over time it seemed to get a bit worse in his right rear leg. I knew it wasn't hip displasia or arthritis, so I researched his symptoms on the web and then confirmed it with my vet. Anka had a malformation of the vertebrae that causes compression on the spinal nerves, leading to progressive neural tissue damage. This damage was slowly crippling his back legs and would eventually affect his internal organs, possibly causing internal bleeding while shutting down his immune system. There was no real cure as surgery had been found to be only partially effective and was not recommended in Anka's case.
The good news was that there was virtually no pain involved, and I reminded myself of this over and over again as I watched my beautiful boy slowly lose the use of one back leg, then the other as fall progressed into winter. By January, 2009, I feared I was going to lose him as he began to have severe mobility and bladder-control problems. Steroids only made things worse and pain pills had little effect. But, as the weakness progressed, I discovered that a 3 mg dose of Melatonin every night helped him to sleep more comfortably and even allowed him to regain some of the strength in both his back legs... enough so that he could drag himself around the house when he wanted to and climb back onto his 6" high doggy bed to rest. I have tile floors, which were difficult for Anka, so I spent hundreds of dollars on soft, grey fatigue mats that he could dig his nails into for traction.
Anka and I worked out a new communication system whereby he would Yip and I would ask him: "Are you thirsty? Hungry? Want a treat? (His ears always perked up at that one!) Need to go pee?" And he would respond to the appropriate question. Sometimes, he needed me to help him over a threshold or turn him so he could rest on his other side. It became a lot of back-breaking and messy cleanup work for me as he weighed way over 100 pounds and couldn't always hold his water or poop until he got outside. He felt so bad about this that sometimes, usually when I was out running errands, he would drag himself to the sliding glass door and use his teeth to open it himself, then painfully crawl over the unpadded threshold and let himself out to pee. He'd then crawl back into the house and wait for me to come home. I used to tease him that if he could figure out how to open the door, he should be courteous enough to close it after himself when he came back in! He'd just give me a doggy grin.
As difficult as it was to see him deteriorate and to constantly be cleaning up after him, I didn't mind because I loved him and what made it worth all the effort was that he seemed happy enough and still pain-free... at least for a while.
The second weekend in April, I noticed him panting a bit more than was usual and realized that the disease had now progressed enough that it was probably starting to cause him some pain. I tried giving him something for the pain but it seemed to make him worse. For months, I'd been regularly massaging him to relieve the soreness and tension in his body and he'd be more relaxed afterwards. Now he was using his muzzle to lift my hand to the areas where he wanted me to work on him. The Melatonin was no longer helping him to sleep through the nights and I just knew his time was coming soon.
Anka's weakness had returned and he could no longer drag himself out to my office area, but because of the April 15th tax deadline, I had to spend more time than ever at my computer. I'd hear him call for me from the bedroom but when I'd go see what he wanted, he wouldn't respond to any of our normal communications. I then realized that what he wanted was simply for me to be with him. I'd lay down and hold him for a while, but I have a demanding cattery to run with pregnant queens and newborn babies and people calling and stupid bills to pay, so I just couldn't be there for him 24/7.
I had planned to take all of Thursday off to spend with him since I felt he probably would have to be put down on Friday. I wanted to let him go before his internal organs started bleeding and he really began to suffer.
Wednesday night, I went to mail my taxes and picked up some chicken strips (one of his favorite special treats) on the way home. Anka had managed to crawl all the way to the front door, which is where he always used to lay and wait for my return home. I gave him his chicken, cleaned up his messes (and him), lifted him onto his bed, and went to bed earlier than usual so he could get some sleep. But I spent most of the night awake because he'd wake up and Yip and I'd try to find some way to make him more comfortable. He'd look at me with those beautiful brown eyes and I knew he wanted me to make it better, but there was simply nothing more I could do for him. I won't even describe how that made me feel.
By Thursday morning he was feeling better, but he refused his breakfast and his rawhide treat and that's when I knew he wasn't going to make it till Friday. I managed to get him outside to pee (Anka's request), cleaned him up, dried him off, and then offered him the last of his chicken, which he ate. By then, Steve, my cattery assistant, had arrived and helped me with the rest of the cleanup. While he took care of the cats and kittens, I lay down on the floor with Anka and stroked his head and shoulders. I told him what a Good Doggy he was and how much I loved him. After a while, Steve and I loaded him into the back of my car (not an easy job as he was truly one of the biggest German Shepherds I have ever seen) and I drove to the vet.
I have a wonderful relationship with my vet and when I told him why I was there, he let me take a wheeled cart out to the parking lot so I could transfer Anka onto it. Steve had followed me there in his own car and, after we got Anka into one of the back rooms, he said goodbye to him and left. I had wrapped Anka in one of my sheets but had his head in my hands, soothing and talking to him while we both waited for the vet.
My vet brought a muzzle in with him since such a large dog can do quite a bit of damage if he becomes agitated at the last minute. But Anka had been taught that a muzzle meant he had done something wrong and I couldn't let him go thinking he was being punished - so I took it off of him, cradled his head in my arms, and touched his forehead with mine. Doc proceeded to prepare Anka's forearm for the injection while Anka stayed calm in my arms. I told him one last time that I loved him and how sorry I was, and then he was gone - very gently and without pain.
Now I'm the one in pain as I miss him terribly... but I knew from the beginning that humans have a much longer lifespan than dogs or cats. Would I go through it all again, knowing the pain I felt at losing him? Yes. Because I had nine wonderful years with this amazing animal. I have no regrets and some wonderful memories of one of my best and truest friends.
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Anka February 13, 2000 - April 16, 2009 I miss you, sweet boy. |