Rummy: September 5, 1994 to July 2, 2010

Rummy belonged to Christine McLaughlin, her husband, son Jonathan and to his second family. Christine wrote the following about Rummy.

"Rummy (Arbor Festinog Midnight Snack) came to us as an oversize fluffy puppy at the beginning of December 1994, when our son and I visited a breeder to look at getting an already trained adult dog. But our hearts were drawn instead to a puppy watching us from a pen. The timid puppy immediately nestled into the lap of our seven-year old only child, who announced tearfully that the puppy had “chosen him”. Potty training a puppy through a Boston winter had not been in the plans, but we never regretted getting Rummy. His main interest throughout his life was guarding and protecting his humans, especially our son and his nanny. Even as a puppy, he was always watchful and serious, never playful or silly. He was a dud at the A-frame in agility and was terrified to have his feet leave the ground, whether in jumping up, swimming or being picked up. He believed in the value of warning and disciplinary nips.





"Rummy lived with DM for well over three years and died just two months short of his sixteenth birthday, as a functional quadriplegic. He was finally diagnosed at age thirteen by a neurologist only after he had reached the point where he was collapsing on one side in the rear every 42 seconds because his general vets and I thought it was “merely arthritis” for the longest time. I think the “lameness” that Rummy developed at age 11 or so might have been the very beginning of DM, not just the Lyme’s disease for which he was treated, as was his increasing hesitance on uncarpeted stairs, something we attributed to his overall “general clumsiness” and the “long fur” between the pads of his fluffy hobbit feet. We had never heard of DM.

"He absolutely refused to use his cart but adapted quickly to being supported with a Bottoms Up rear leg sling (which had to be modified to keep on his legs) and galloped around very happily with it (and later a front harness) for 2 ½ years, until my aching arms could no longer bear his full 35 pound dead weight. (For the last six months of his life, I kept his bed on my desk near me so I didn’t need to kneel to care for him (I had developed knee tendonitis) and so my presence provided the constant reassurance he needed.) As the DM progressed, so too did our adaptations for him, familiar to all owners of DM corgis: yoga mats for traction, booties, carts, beds, bolsters, strollers, skin cleaners galore, d-mannose for the frequent UTIs, medications, bellybands/diapers, many different types of food to tempt him, weekly swimming in a pool, seemingly vast amounts of “stuff” to keep him amused and comfortable. We were blessed to have enough time, health, energy, patience, money and backup support to care for him so long into his disease and old age.

"The immobile/incontinent/retentive stage ain’t so bad! I found it actually much easier to care for Rummy when he couldn’t move and couldn’t urinate because everything was under my control and he didn’t need to be carried outside many times a day. To escape those steep outside stairs that, in miserable Boston winters needed to be shoveled constantly just to take an immobile DM dog outside safely for potty walks in the snow in his harnesses, we undertook an epic drive with him, in his last winter, from Boston to Florida and back. (We chose to drive to Florida, shoehorned into a BMW sedan, because I knew he would freak out at flying.) Rummy sprawled regally in half the back seat, with the other half jammed with his big jogging stroller, cart (I hoped that warm weather might inspire me and him!), and bedding, with my husband’s golf clubs and many other Rummy supplies in the trunk. The only place left to store the bulky box with the University of Missouri “tissue collection kit” (we were prepared for everything!) was on my lap for every mile of the entire 3400+ miles of the drive. We travelled with a list of neurologists based along the route and even had Rummy examined by a neurologist on the other side of Florida to make arrangements for tissue collection, “just in case”. On the road, we stayed at dog-friendly luxury hotels and golf resorts, where the collection vials and freezer packs had to refrigerated carefully every night, to the amazement of the hotel staff. During our month long stay at a rented condo, Rummy enjoyed being wheeled about in his jogging stroller for hours every day. He became a familiar sight and developed quite a fan club in our gated community as an “ambassador of DM”.



"In general caring for Rummy, I tried to be mindful to make choices that would help maintain my own sanity. It was a painful decision to start having his entire body shaved, trading his magnificent fluffy beauty for a “scraggly lamb” look, but it was much easier to keep him healthy and cool. I “expressed poop” so Rummy wouldn’t lie in it and develop sores. I was willing to try anything to get him to sleep more at night (a small fan on him worked better than any medication). I was able to get breaks from him by relying on respite care from his extraordinarily devoted “second family” who cared for him when we traveled, even for long periods of time. The mother in this family, our former long-time nanny and now a nurse, to whom Rummy remained extremely attached his entire life, had many excellent suggestions about nursing care for him, and her two children adored Rummy and provided great amusement for “The King”, as they called him, including celebrating all his birthdays, even his last at 15 ½, and giving him a loving goodbye at the very end.



"I found joy in the fullness of Rummy’s life and even in my near full-time care of him, and I found it very hard to let him go. I think that caring for a totally helpless dog makes parting from him even more wrenching, because he becomes more like a "human infant" than "beloved animal". Rummy was quite happy until the very end, so I felt obligated to stick with caring for him, even though I was increasingly frazzled and exhausted. Rummy’s euthanasia needed to be arranged well in advance around the schedule of his busy research neurologist at Tufts because I was absolutely determined from an early date to have him contribute to DM research. Our son Jon, now 23 years old, took time off from work to come back to Boston to accompany his beloved old buddy Rummy on that final journey, including feeding Rummy his last meal at 3:30am after he arrived and Rummy, of course, was wide awake and hungry.  



Rummy wasn’t euthanized because of DM; although for many months at the end he couldn’t move any part of his body, had to be supported and repositioned constantly, and could only rarely lift his head even slightly, he remained bright, engaged, and deeply aware. His full autopsy showed that his month-long reluctance to eat (the reason for the euthanasia) was due to heartburn from a benign tumor in his esophagus, not anything serious medically, and his difficulty tonguing food was due to several small strokes, not advanced DM in his cervical nerves. His tissues were indeed donated to the University of Missouri, using that kit I carried so faithfully on my lap on Rummy’s Great Adventure. I will remain forever grateful to all the researchers who are working so hard to conquer DM and ALS.



"We miss him every day. He was a stubborn, beautiful, protective dog who came into our lives as a gentle young puppy and left as a grand old man -- still dignified, opinionated, and wise.

Roggan, 1998-2011

Roggan belonged to Kirsty McCarron and her family.

"Roggan went to the bridge on Oct. 19. He would have been 13 Oct. 20. " (This was also Merlin's birthday.)

"My grandparents raised corgis. I remember one of their corgis, a r/w male named Zebby. He was the perfect corgi, and when we started talking about getting a dog, I knew it was to be a corgi.

"I didn't research breeders, just found one close to me, who had puppies. We got Roggan when Emma was 4, and the twins, Jordan and Devon, 1. He was very devoted to the kids. If anyone approached his kids, look out. He would defend them with his life. But if the kids weren't around, he would take any lovings he could get. We often said that if anyone broke into our house Roggan would probably lick them to death. He loved any visitor.

" We took him with us anywhere we could. He loved the beach, swimming pools, sprinklers, water guns, anything water related. He would get so wet that his ears would flop. Roggan also had the largest corgi ears. On windy days we would joke that we should put a leash on him in case he flew away.

"In true corgi fashion, meal time was his favourite time of day, and he would sit outside and refuse to come in until he got a cookie. He could manipulate for food. In fact, I think he was a master.

"Roggan started dragging his back leg 2 yrs ago; by April of 2011, he was completely down in the back end, but could bunny hop run if something got his attention. We built a ramp for him for the stairs, got a cart, slept on the couch with him beside us, tried multiple medications, and found Wheelcorgis, who were full of information and suggestions for us.

"By August 2011, he was having trouble with his front legs. By September we had to help him up the ramp, he lost control of his bladder. October he began barking all night long. He would settle if we got up with him, but as soon as we left him alone again, he would start barking. We also noticed at this time that he was choking on his food.

"We opted to have Roggan euthanized as he was becoming very agitated at night, and could not settle. He was also licking himself, and had developed multiple sores on his body. He was incontinent of bowel and bladder, and was very upset with himself when he had accidents in the house.

When asked how Roggan's DM had affected their lives, Kirsty said, " We had adjusted our lives to make sure Roggan was never alone, and if we did have to leave him, it would be for as short of time as possible.

"The worst thing is the feeling of guilt, the what if's, etc. I feel that maybe I could of done more if I had more money. Maybe I gave up on him too soon. He was an amazing, devoted dog, and we couldn't of asked for more.

"Although he was hyper, and could get nasty when anyone touched his back, he was a perfect dog. We miss him dearly."

Cookie, 199? to 2011, Beloved Rescue Corgi

Cookie, Beloved Rescued Corgi

The following is written by Millie Williams. Millie is the author of The Watching, a beautifully illustrated book about corgis and Christmas.

Cookie came into foster care in December, 2010, from a home with elderly owners who could no longer lift her due to their advanced ages. When Sue, the transporter, picked her up and drove her partway to me, she said “She’s going down in the back”. What I saw when she let Cookie out of her van was an elderly corgi who was having trouble walking. There was some pain which we were able to relieve with aspirin, but she had that gait that is so common in dogs with DM, too.

I knew little about Cookie’s background except that she had wandered into the owners’ yard, lost, and they had kept her. They estimated her age at about 11, I thought it was more like 13 or 14, based on the white on her face, her teeth and her general condition. The owners had loved her but realized that it was going to be too much for them to care for her. She seemed happy and interested in everything that went on at our home.

Cookie was the sweetest of the Sweet. I aspire to breed temperaments as lovely as hers was. My corgis would walk by and say something about “Yo momma” and she would just look at them very mildly and say “What a nice day it is!” A true Southern Belle! On the other hand, she was just an ordinary corgi in looks. But what is inside is the most important and Cookie brought that lesson home to me more than once.

Within 3 weeks, she was having trouble getting up, keeping her balance and walking at all. Most of the time, she just seal walked but then after a week or two, got up and walked a few steps now and then for another week. This time when she went down, she never got up again.

In years past, we also had a lovely girl named Isabelle who had destroyed her back leaping off the porch for several years and so we knew what was to come. Although I had sworn that I would not go through this again, one look into Cookie’s gentle eyes told me she had a zest for living and was not ready to leave us just yet. So we fitted her for diapers, shaved her rear, dug out the double sided fleecy blankets and found her a non tip water bowl. And Cookie did love that bowl! It had Velcro on the bottom so it wouldn’t scoot away from her on the fleecy if she wanted a drink.

Caring for a dog with a back injury or DM is mostly a matter of management and prevention. Managing the diet, whatever therapy you can give to them and time; prevention of sores from lying on one side too long or dragging themselves, keeping bottoms clean of waste so that sores don’t begin there, keeping the dog’s mind occupied and busy. Cookie was easily entertained, she liked rolled pork skin with sweet potato on the inside and she liked to be petted. One thing people do forget with these dogs is the need to scratch them all over when their little back legs cannot scratch their faces, ears, head, neck, and they lack the ability to lie on their backs and scratch themselves this way.

Cookie enjoyed being in the yard with the other corgis, watching the chickens and guineas, scooting merrily about and sniffing everything. She liked to be talked to, enjoyed her meals and watched the litter of corgi pups grow up. Watching TV at night was the best because my husband and I were both “there” all the time with her.

Over the next few months, we sadly saw Cookie deteriorate. And I played the “Line in the Sand” game. It was first that I would not care for a dog (that was not of my breeding) if it went down. Then it was when she had to go in a diaper. I just wasn’t going that far. Then the line got moved again. This happened several times because I dearly loved this little soul that God had sent to me to care for. She was happy, grateful for everything we did for her and she asked for so little. The only good thing about this condition is that one will build an incredible relationship with that animal, and I did.

Finally the day came where I had to admit defeat. I came home from work and Cookie had gotten part way off her fleecy, her rear legs were twisted under her in a very uncomfortable fashion and she looked miserable. Although I realized that I could fix her positioning, I knew that this would happen again and again. And she had started to lie on her side and unable to right herself to get a drink. It was unthinkable that the Line had finally appeared but I could not keep her comfortable if I had to go to work each day. I couldn’t take her to the vet. I asked Jerry if he could and although it nearly killed him, he spared me the last devastating tears that I would have shed. I shed them anyway, but the wound was not so deep.

And how we still miss her… I am misting up as I am writing this story. She brought to my life so many things, yet asked for little. She needed the care and the help, but she was not a demanding dog at all. I found it no trouble at all to help a sweet being that needed some extra help.

God bless you, Cookie. I will miss you always.

Beamer 1997-2011

Annette Sheppard wrote about her corgi Beamer.

"We had Beamer since he was a pup (born 4/15/1997, came to us 6/21/1997)--14 years +. Formal name: Sports Beamer Extraordinaire. He was diagnosed at age 13.



"Beamer had the DNA testing done in August 2010 but was exhibiting symptoms for some months already--we just did not realize what it was. My local vet had done x-rays in June 2010 and had given a diagnosis of arthritis, or possibly IVDD. The next stop was Gulf Coast Veterinary Neurology & Neurosurgery, for a possible MRI. However, he had the DNA test instead, with the result: at risk/affected.

"Knowing the symptoms as we now do would have been helpful in spotting the
development of DM. My daughter recently came across a short video made at
our lake house about 2 years ago. Beamer was tethered to a post on the porch
when a deer approached. Beamer tore off down the steps toward it and was
jerked to a halt by the tether. After that, Katherine said she observed his
hips beginning to give way when he walked. It was a momentary gesture at the
time, but one which would recur at a later time.



"Beamer went on walks with me in our neighborhood and occasional playtime at a nearby bark park. The last time he was at the bark park he slipped into the pond and was unable to get out--it had sloping concrete sides and he
could not get enough traction with his rear legs to push himself out of the
water. He never liked going into the water and was most likely just getting
a drink when he slipped in. I had turned my back on him to look after
Tigger, our latest rescue, who was attempting to leave the park with someone
else. This was the last time we went to the park.

"We got a loaner cart from a friend and adjusted it for Beamer; however, we
were not able to win him over to using it. We live in a one-story home, so
there were no stairs to contend with. The kitchen tile was another obstacle,
as he slipped on the smooth surface until we put down rubber matting--the
thick kind you use in the garage, that fits together like puzzle pieces. He
could seal-walk on this and the carpeting in the rest of the house until the
last few months.

"A friend had loaned us a small stroller--tiny, in fact, so that Beamer had
to be somewhat stuffed into it. Then I found one on Craigslist and bought it
from a young woman who had used it only once or twice--a really nice
3-wheeler made by Solvit Products. This allowed us to take him for walks again, though the Texas heat (in the 100s a lot lately) restricted walks to early morning or after dusk, when the mosquitoes took over. That afforded us the opportunity to explain DM to people we met along the way who had never heard of the disease.

"Beamer never became incontinent to the point where he needed to be
expressed; he wore diapers for some months because he could not go out the doggie door, though we took him out several times a day. We tried various means of carrying him and in the end just picked him up. He generally let us know when he had to poop by somewhat frantic whining. He actually barked, whined and cried A LOT, as he was not content unless he was in the same room with one of us.

"Beamer was not totally paralyzed at the time of his death. His front legs
were weak, but he could still raise himself a little and swivel around.
Knowing that the eventual outcome would be inability to breathe and/or
swallow, I could not bear to have him come to that point. He was already
suffering anxiety--and thereby raising our anxiety level--by needing to be
with us and having us carry him in and outdoor, and from room to room. He
was beginning to awaken during the night, either to be taken out or just to
be repositioned. My husband fell once on the patio while carrying him in,
which could have caused more damage than the scrape on the arm that he
sustained. We had doggie beds in nearly every room of the house and would
keep a water dish close enough for him to reach. He slept on a bed in our
bedroom so we could hear him and take him out or reposition him if he cried
during the night.

"The mental anguish was a deciding factor in letting Beamer go at this time.
I began searching in June for a vet who would be able to harvest his organs
for the research program at the U of Mo, since I had contacted Dr. Coates and
received the kit back in March. However, without a vet who could/would
perform the necessary necropsy, I felt Beamer's death would be a total
waste. Going back to the Gulf Coast Vet clinic, I found that the doctor who
did his DNA was on maternity leave and may or may not return. I got an
appointment with another vet there, who said he usually declines "that sort
of thing" because it "takes too much time." Now I was getting upset! So he
offered that he WOULD do the necropsy ("Let's see--we're looking at about 6
hours at $115 per hour. . . .")

"At that point I left and emailed Dr. Coates, asking if she knew anyone else
in the area. I then called a vet clinic in Sugar Land, asking for The veterinarian recommended by Dr. Coates. Left a message and faxed the 6 pages of protocol required. Waited for a call. Talked with the vet and again faxed
the protocol. Played phone tag and never got a definite response that he
would do it. Busy man. By this time it was nearly August, when they had told
me at Gulf Coast Vet that a new doctor would be coming on board, one who had worked with Dr. Coates! Called Gulf Coast Vet again and got an appointment with Dr. Vasquez. Received a call that she could not actually perform the euthanasia until she had the Texas license in hand, and she had just taken the test in Austin on Monday of this week. However, Dr. Giovanella was back from maternity leave and would be able to do it. Meanwhile, I had sought out funding for this little project and was given a grant of $250 by the PWCCA, which covered part of the cost.



"My husband Chuck and daughter Katherine were with Beamer and me when he was taken. The staff was wonderful, giving us time and space to say goodbyes and even providing some chicken tidbits as a final treat for my Little B. He went quietly, just falling asleep and drifting away. My only comfort is that he is at peace.

"I just never want to deal with DM again, and really hope that none of the
rescues we have come down with it. But if they do, we will be able to
recognize it earlier."

Rocky, 1/5/97 to 5/31/11.

 Starr Ladehoff wrote the following about her corgi, Rocky.

"We had Rocky for 4 1/2 years."

"My friend, who owned my female corgi, Lady’s sister, lived next door to the people who had Rocky. She told me the wife didn’t like the breed so she told her husband to keep Rocky in a crate (he was the husband’s dog) while her Akitas were allowed to have attention and freedom. The husband finally agreed to give him up and spoke to my friend about keeping him. My friend couldn’t keep him at the time so she asked me. I had always wanted a tri-color corgi so I was happy to get him. He cowered when I took the crate out of my friend’s car when they dropped him off. I showed the crate to him and told him he never had to go into it again and put it in storage. He has never been crated since. And by the way, he had no behavioral issues either – what an amazing dog."



"Rocky was diagnosed with DM at the age of 13. I did not do the DNA test. I researched DM vs. other spinal diseases and trauma, watched videos of dogs with DM who had the same walking behavior, spoke to and saw three veterinarians and people on the Wheelcorgi list to determine the diagnosis.
 
"Rocky was never involved in sports or games to my knowledge. He did not know how to play with other dogs, people or toys. Since we got him at age 10, we did not know what his life was like, other than being in a crate. However, he LOVED going on walks and simply just to be in the same room with me. It took me two nights of sleeping next to him on his new dog bed for him to feel that it was ok to be on something soft, instead of the hard surfaces in the house. All he cared about was being loved by people.


 
"I first noticed Rocky walking wobbly when he had just turned 13. He would list to the side – this was in January, 2010. Then, he started slipping on hard surfaces and within a couple of months, he started falling down in the hind end. By April, 2010, he was seal walking mostly but if he had traction, he could walk a little ways but very wobbly. By November, 2010, he could no longer walk at all other than seal walking. He could not stand at all and I used a sling to move him around. In December, 2010, we were fortunate to get a CorgiAid cart on loan. It instantly perked him up once he realized he could move again freely. We went for a walk that first day and he was actually faster than my other corgi who does not have any walking issues (as of this date). I still remember how much fun he had and explored all of the bushes again and was able to do something more than drag around the house and yard. I took him everywhere I could. Each time, he would look at me with the biggest smile on his face. It was the best Christmas present I could have gotten as it had been nearly a year since he actually went on a real walk.



"The cart was a Godsend! We made a nice ramp out of plywood for the stairs off of the porch into the yard and put mats on it for traction. We leveled the yard with the tractor so he didn’t have to struggle over the lumps and bumps. I had a male wrap for him but after we got the cart, we didn’t need it. I did not keep him in the cart, except for walks or going out to potty since he would get hung up on the furniture and if he was in it too long, he would bend too much in his spine so I was careful. Fortunately, we only had stairs from the porch to the yard as the entire house is on one level. I had beds in various parts of the house for him so wherever he dragged himself to, he had something comfortable. In the end stages, I propped him up as he seemed to be uncomfortable trying to lay down. I would massage him and work his muscles however they still atrophied quickly. After he started falling on his chin while in the cart, I would prop him up with a line attached to the front of the cart when he walked.


 
"Before his death, Rocky appeared to be in congestive heart failure. His cough was described to me as a “heart failure” cough which was increasing. He would start panting and trying to catch his breath as well. He was struggling with seal walking too and could hardly drag himself at all. I decided to put him to sleep mostly due to his heart but also felt that he was no longer comfortable physically with DM.
 
"How did his DM affect our lives? Where to begin??? I had no idea what this disease was. I thought he couldn’t walk well initially due to his living in a crate but realized it was for a very different reason. I’m sure the crate life didn’t help as his muscles were never strong in the back but he did walk until he was 13 so I consider myself lucky. I realized how hard it is to care for someone who is totally dependent on my timing and availability. I went through the gamut of emotions from sadness to anger to resolve to help make his quality of life better. Scheduling was stressful as I still work but I never felt bad caring for him. In other words, I never considered him to be a burden. The few times he had an accident due to my bad timing (gone too long), I only felt bad for him and mad at myself for not being home on time. Only a week before he died, I was gone too long. I came home and he had peed on himself. I looked around for the puddle but never found one in the house. I discovered he had dragged himself through the doggie door, peed on the porch, then dragged himself back in. He had never done that before. I was so impressed with his desire to go where he was supposed to go, despite his physical incapacity but angry at myself as he must have felt desperate. I was truly grateful he didn’t get high centered on the doggie door.



"My life, both personally and professionally ended up centering around what I needed to do for Rocky but one look from him, a stare actually, was all it took for me to know he was happy just to be with me. I didn’t take vacations and only left him with family who knew how to take care of him if I was gone all day. Now that I know so much about this disease, I feel I can help others. I also am so grateful for the support I’ve gotten through the Wheelcorgi’s online group. I’ve made some great new friends who all have the same desire I do, to honor and cherish our special dogs through thick and thin and give them the best life possible. I would read every post and try to help with some behavior issues when I felt I had something to offer. I learned and cried and supported and got support from those in the group. I learned about breeding for DM free dogs. Thankfully, there are breeders out there taking serious note and doing their best which is a big sigh of relief for me. I have had many dogs of various breeds throughout my life. All of them have been special. But Rocky was right up there with the best of them when it came to touching my soul. I’m so honored to have been able to know and care for him. I don’t think my life will ever be the same. God Bless you my sweet Rocky, I can hardly wait to see you again."
 

Lulu, 2000-2011

We first met Cori and Lu at our 2008 CenCal Corgi Picnic when Merlin was just learning to use his cart and Lu was still just wobbling. Later we met at the beach in Santa Cruz with another friend and her dog in a cart due to DM, Cori and Lulu, Merlin and I, and my IVDD dog Candy.

Cori Troiani wrote the following story about her corgi, Lulu.

In the Spring of 2000, I was beginning to look for a Corgi puppy—our first after decades of having “full size” dogs. One day I was only planning to practice interviewing a breeder, having heard he only had a litter of male pups. I arrived to find 2 sixteen week old sisters and one, who became my Lulu, locked eye contact with me and never let go. It was love at first sight and over eleven years has grown into a mutual devotion filled with intimacy, joy, playfulness and, in her later years even a spiritual connection.

Soon after joining our family we took Lulu to a pond, where she observed a dog swimming and paddled out, entirely on her own, to join him. She has loved water her entire life and this has been a saving grace when she developed DM and could use her passion therapeutically, swimming every other day to maintain strength, coordination and flexibility. Her vet and I have no doubt that her swimming through the DM years slowed the advance of the disease process, as she maintained muscle tone, coordination and flexibility. Her rear feet paddled purposefully long after she could place them when in her cart.



Lu participated in an “agility for fun” group for a few years when she was young and was always the clown of the group; Her favorite encore would be an unprompted run through the tunnel with a grinning play to her audience for applause. She developed strength and endurance early on accompanying me on a daily 3 mile walk, as well as regular outings to the beach. Her greatest athletic joy, though, were the vacations in the high Sierra mountains every Summer and Fall. Camping together, we shared activities all day and evening—what could be better! She hiked all day, swimming in every body of water and enjoying the lean air and different smells. Her last camping trip was in July 2007, but we adapted to her developing DM by renting cabins from that point on. In August 2010 she played fetch at Lake Tahoe in her Eddies' Wheels cart and swam in a smaller, warmer lake. Bliss was written all over her face. Three months later the spinal degeneration was moving toward the front and since than our lives changed dramatically: less activity, more rest, more care.

Lu's lifelong passion for any kind of fetch game sustained her through her years with DM. As we entered the final months before she couldn't use even her front wheel extension cart, she played fetch a couple of times a day on our cement terrace. As she became less enthusiastic about sniffing walks, stroller excursions and even her people friends near the end, these few moments a day continued to bring joy and enthusiasm to an otherwise very limited daily routine. It helped that the fetch object squeeked!



Living with DM brought Lu and me even closer together and she adapted to every stage of deterioration with a great attitude: enthusiasm in the beginning and acceptance as we neared the end. Nothing has been so precious and rewarding as sharing these years with my beloved girl, and I know she felt the same.



Lulu's DM timetable: starting at age 8, summer of 2007: 1 year of subtle rear leg/gait changes—as this progressed we got her a Ruff Wear harness with a rear leash attachment and a big stroller, but she still was mobile on her own most of the time with increasing malfunction—lots of hippity-hop running and later the Corgi drunken sailor walk. In February 2009 we got an Eddies' Wheels cart that she occasionally practiced in but didn't use regularly until May. While I don't think all Corgis need 12” nubby wheels, they enabled Lu maintain her rough and tumble vigorous activities on a wide variety of rugged grounds
She pushed off with her rear feet for a long time, which meant lots of boot repair but also kept up muscle strength and coordination. In October, 2010 she moved to a front wheel extension cart from CorgiAid, which she used for 7 months. Throughout this tine she swam in her own heated hot tub every other day until January 2011, when she became too weak. Throughout her time with DM she received care from a holistic vet (acupuncture, gentle chiropractic, massage) at least monthly and I massaged her and did a variety of physical therapy techniques throughout these years. I haven't charted them, but I think Lulu held on to the plateaus of the progression of DM quite well.

Starr, 1999-2011

Camille Tinling wrote this bio of her corgi Starr.

Starr was my first dog. I had walked dogs for neighbors growing up, and I'd cared for my husband's dogs when we married. But I had never had a dog of my own until I adopted Starr. She came to live with us on Jan. 1st, 2000 when she was just over a year old. Her birthday was October 9, 1999.

My plan was to get her involved in hospice work with me. I had been volunteering for hospice for six years and was tired of making friends only to have them die. Since our hospice had a dog-to-patient program, I thought having the spotlight on the dog rather than on me would enable me to continue to work with patients without getting burned out. I took Starr to obedience training and she learned the commands before I learned how to give them. The only command she had problems with was "heel". She was pretty sure that her proper place was out in front :-)

Starr passed the initial testing for the hospice program with flying colors. She knew all her commands and would let anyone touch her feet, her mouth, and her belly. Then came the in-facility test during which she and I were to go to a facility and meet with patients to see how she dealt with elevators, crutches, wheelchairs, and the like. Starr was charming the pants off everyone until a little boy came to visit one of the patients and began to jump up and down in excitement over something. Starr began to bark and spin, and there was no getting her attention back. The patient we had been visiting looked properly horrified, and that was the end of Starr's hospice career. Lest you think I gave up too easily, I later learned that Starr was offended by anyone with any sort of disability. She barked at people with casts, crutches, wheelchairs, and she barked at all kids, short people, and at other dogs. She did have her own opinions.

We did everything together. I was self-employed as a hairdresser so I had the freedom to walk her five times a day when she was young. She also came to work with me on weekends (I had a private studio). She loved going to the salon. All I had to do was ask her if she wanted to go to work and she would grab her leash, wagging her butt vigorously. She accompanied me on all the errands around town, too. I only frequented businesses that welcomed dogs so Starr had many friends in the community.




In the Spring of 2008, my husband and I and our two dogs and three cats took off in our RV to travel the United States and Canada. Starr was a bit anxious about the rig when we were moving, but she loved going visiting as soon as we got set up. She went up through Canada, traveled the Alaskan Highway, and then crossed the U.S. to spend the Fall in Maine. It was when we were hiking in Acadia that I first realized that the weakness I thought I had seen in Starr's rear left leg was not my imagination. She, of boundless energy and determination, was slipping on the rocks. I was afraid. I had known a Corgi with DM in our neighborhood in Sacramento. This looked very similar.

I didn't want to take her to a vet I knew nothing about, so I contacted our nephew in Connecticut (where we were heading soon) to get the name of his vet. We saw her at the end of October when Starr was just nine years old. She examined her carefully and said she felt fairly sure that the problem was neurological. She then suggested another veterinary clinic in town that had equipment to do x-rays and MRIs if need be. We went to that clinic that next day. It was big, very impersonal, and after an expensive "consultation" I was told they would have to do an MRI to know what was going on. I was annoyed that they'd charged me to tell me the same thing that the referring veterinarian had told me. Plus, by this time I had been in contact with my veterinarian back in Sacramento who had suggested a teaching hospital at the University of Pennsylvania.

When I contacted them, I was told that they could not see Starr until the end of November. As we were traveling in an RV, we could not linger in cold, potentially snowy areas that late in the season. RV parks close at the end of October (for the most part) where it snows. Thus, on the phone with this nice woman who was trying to help, I began to cry. Maybe it is fortunate that I am such a wimp because she immediately suggested a graduate of their school who had a clinic in Fairfax, Virginia, close to where we were at that time. We called and were able to get an appointment that week. In the meantime, I had been very busy researching DM and had begun following Dr. Clemmons protocols.

The vet in Virginia did a very thorough neurologic exam and thyroid test. She suggested that I might try Starr on a course of prednisone which, if it helped, would suggest that the problem was inflammation rather than DM. The prednisone didn't help, we were waiting for the results of the thyroid test and waiting for OFA (whom I had found on-line) to send us the materials for the cheek swab, and the weather was getting colder. We decided to have the MRI, despite the high cost. That test ruled out every other potential problem. Starr was diagnosed with DM at the end of October, 2008, at the age of nine years. Her lab results from OFA confirmed that she was Homozygous A/A.

That same vet referred us to a physical therapist who gave me a sheaf of exercises for Starr and suggested water therapy whenever and wherever I could get it. She also gave me the names of a few companies who make canine mobility carts. In retrospect, thanks to the internet and some kind, knowledgeable people, the road to diagnosis was pretty straightforward. At the time, because I was frantic for my girl and under tremendous time pressure, it seemed very difficult to get information. I contacted Eddie's Wheels for a cart, and through their site found Carol of Tammy and Teddy's who made many pair of wonderful booties for Starr. In our travels south, we clung to the coast as Starr seemed to be able to run on the wet sand better than on other surfaces.



The cart arrived when we were in Florida for the Winter. Starr was still doing very well as long as she could get enough speed going. She was continuing to chase her brother, Emmett, though she was having less success at keeping up with him. Since I had measured her for the cart myself, I worried that I had done so poorly when Starr refused to use the cart. I took many pictures and videos which I sent to Eddie's Wheels to see if there was something wrong with the fit of the cart. Finally I was told that the cart fit well but that I shouldn't expect too much as Corgis are known for being impossibly stubborn. That infuriated me, but I figured maybe Starr would use the cart when she needed it more. At this point, she was still dragging only on the left and kept trying to lift one leg out of the saddle. I continued to try her in the cart for the next year and a half or so, by which time she was ready for both stirrups. She moved in the cart as long as I offered incentives, but as soon as the goodies ran out she would assume the dromedary pose and fix me with a baleful stare. At one point I left her in the cart in the back yard and walked to another section of the yard to do something else. I thought perhaps if I weren't paying such close attention, she might do better. My girl then chewed through the strap across her chest!

Aside from the Battle of the Cart, we lived well and often joyously with DM. Starr lived 2 1/2 years from diagnosis. During that time we did a lot of traveling, and Starr quickly figured out that for a dog who loved attention from people, having DM could be a boon! She'd always enjoyed visiting with people. In fact, she had favorite houses in the neighborhood, outside of which she would stop our walk and bark until someone came out with love and treats :-) Now she would stop in front of any likely looking stranger and look as fetching and as disabled as possible. I once had to watch a clearly homeless person share her skinny sandwich with Starr -- I didn't want to hurt the woman's feelings when she so clearly wanted to do something nice.

Starr continued to enjoy a romp on the beach, even when she was dragging both rear legs. We bought her a carriage/stroller when she refused the cart, so she still got to go for a "walk" at least once a day with her big brother, Emmett. As she always enjoyed chasing him, we made a game of chasing him in the carriage. When we came abreast of him, Star would reach out and nip him lightly. She liked to go fast in the carriage and would work her front legs as though she thought she was making it go. Though it probably goes without saying (she was a Corgi, after all), she continued to enjoy eating! I often gave her treats and or her meal in a Kong to keep her busy and moving.

We continued our walks and whatever games she could still play. However, about a year before she died (1 1/2 years after diagnosis), she let us know that she no longer felt comfortable traveling, even to the grocery store. I think with no control of her rear, she felt too vulnerable in the car. I had put an enclosed bed with a bolster pillow in the car so she wouldn't roll, but we do live on the coast where the roads are winding. This situation was very limiting to her and to me. I did not feel I could leave her for any length of time more than a few hours. Thus, when my father (who lives alone) had a stroke, I helped him via the telephone and the internet. Thank heaven for modern means of communication!



Starr began to experience urinary incontinence a little over a year after diagnosis. My vet advised against diapers, saying they hold bacteria in and fresh air out, no matter how often you change them. For a few months we tried her on what I called "pee-pee pills", actually PPA to help with urinary control. But then Starr began to get urinary tract infections. We stopped the pills, and my vet showed me how to express Starr. As with the cart, Starr would have none of it. When I tried to express her bladder, she scooted away and then seemed unable or unwilling to urinate for some time. Thus began what I think of as the beginning of the end. We could not seem to shake those UTIs. She would go on a course of antibiotics, be pronounced clear, then a week or two later, she would have another.

The infections started a little shy of two years after diagnosis. We put up a baby gate so Starr and Emmett had access only to half the house, which I papered with disposable underpads pinned to rubber backed throw rugs (so Starr would have traction on the tile and wood floors). The washing machine was running almost constantly as Starr was losing control over her feces as well. After a few months, the vet and I decided to risk just keeping Starr on the antibiotics, hoping she wouldn't develop a resistant strain of bacteria. Starr could not lift her hind quarters at all when she eliminated, so now she would do a wiggle dance to shake the feces off. Then my job was to run to pick it up so she wouldn't accidently sit back in it. We gave up on full baths because I was constantly wiping her undercarriage with unscented baby wipes, then washing her tu-tu with an antibacterial solution we got from the vet and finally applying a little Desitin so she wouldn't get a rash. I still lured her to scoot in the house, but I had to carry her when we went outside. I tried to take her out at least every couple of hours. Though it seemed better for her to pee inside on the sterile underpads, she still seemed happier going outside.



Finally, she seemed to be struggling more to move at all, and to breathe. I could no longer interest her in playing ball or even poking it with her nose to make it squeak (one of her favorite activities). Though she was on the antibiotics, it smelled like she had another infection, her abdomen was bloated, and her bright eyes had a dull look I had never seen. In her dreams, she no longer ran like the wind (previously, the otherwise atrophied legs would run - not twitch). I went to see our vet and asked her if there was anything more we could or should do for Starr. She said she knew of nothing. My husband and I talked it over and decided that her quality of life was no longer what it should be. We took her on extra walks in her carriage, which she still seemed to enjoy, though she no longer "helped" by running her front legs. I spent extra time brushing her and sitting with her in her favorite chair. But she showed no signs that we had made a wrong decision. She did still enjoy eating. When we took her to our vet to have her euthanized, I told the vet that for the first time she could give Starr all the treats she wanted. Starr kept eating those until her eyes were too heavy to hold open.

We have four other animals, but our house is empty. I feel as though I have lost one of my body parts. I am bereft. She was the best companion I have ever known. When she'd been with us a few months, I overheard my husband telling a friend of ours that he was sure that if the house caught fire, I would save Star and leave him behind. I admitted the truth of that, explaining that Starr was my charge, he was not.

DM is an heinous disease in that there is no pain, just gradual debilitation. Thus, it is much harder to decide when it is time to let go. I am so grateful that there is now testing for the disease. I am so amazed and impressed by those of you who have more than one DM dog in your household! And I am so grateful for the support and sharing of this group of generous people.