Warning: This article features descriptions and images of a dog in pain and suffering, as well as talk of euthanasia. Please do not read if this will be a sensitive topic for you.
A Traumatic Friday: The Day That Changed Everything
Friday, 9th February, was a traumatic rollercoaster of a day that ended with hope.
In the morning, Coco seemed in pain, as usual, as the Metacam had worn off. It can only be administered every 24 hours, so we knew his discomfort was inevitable. By around 10 o’clock, his walking started to look a bit wobbly. Alarm bells rang, and we quickly phoned the vets, arranging an appointment for that afternoon. But within the hour, things deteriorated rapidly.
His back legs became increasingly wobbly, and he was trying to find somewhere to hide — something he’s never done before. Honestly, we thought he was dying. In a panic, we rang the vets again and were told to bring him in straight away.
The Start of a New Diagnosis
When we arrived, there was only one vet on duty. Without an appointment, we were taken to a room to wait. Nurses checked Coco over, and we waited anxiously for the vet.
As soon as the vet saw him walking, they confirmed what we had feared: it was spinal. Finally, after two weeks of treating him for pancreatitis, we had a real diagnosis. There was partial relief in knowing what was wrong, but it also made things scarier. Coco’s notes said, “Conservative treatment unlikely to improve status at this point.” We were given a choice: an MRI and emergency surgery or euthanasia. The cost was a staggering £7,000 for the MRI and surgery, and by this point, we had already spent £2,500 on pancreatitis treatment.
But there was no decision to make. Coco was only four years old. We had to do everything we could for him. Thankfully, we had family support with the costs. Otherwise, his story might have ended there.
A Referral, a Specialist, and a New Hope
We agreed to the referral to a different clinic for the MRI and surgery. By now, we were in shock, with no real understanding of what was happening to Coco. An hour’s wait at the vets felt like a lifetime. My husband took Coco to the specialist clinic, an hour away, unsure of how long they would be there.
The specialist immediately suspected a slipped disc. According to my husband, the vet seemed frustrated that Coco had been allowed to reach this point, hinting that a lot of vets were misdiagnosing spinal conditions. The vet said he was planning to give a talk to other vets about this issue. After examining Coco, the specialist was optimistic that surgery might not be necessary but insisted on an MRI to confirm.
Thankfully, the MRI confirmed that Coco didn’t need surgery. He was sent home with anti-inflammatories and strict cage rest. No surgery. It was a huge relief, but it also raised so many ethical questions. If we hadn’t had the money for the MRI and surgery, Coco might have been put to sleep for no reason.
The Road to Recovery: Cage Rest and Patience
Coco came home drowsy from the anesthesia, but comfortable. He slept well that night, and we finally had answers — but there was still fear, and we knew the road to recovery was long.
He was advised to have strict cage rest. We had never used a cage for our dogs, so we weren’t prepared for this six-week ordeal. We set up a temporary bed for him in a playpen we had from when our other dogs were puppies, and ordered a new cage to give him somewhere to stay for the next six weeks. It was hard to keep him caged, especially since he didn’t understand why he was being separated from us and his doggy sisters. It broke our hearts.
We made the cage as comfortable as possible, with beds, blankets, puppy pads for accidents, and of course, plenty of his favorite plushies. He was allowed out only for toilet breaks, and we had to carry him outside. His urination was also affected by the nerve compression, and we struggled with accidents in the cage. But we didn’t mind. We were just glad he was getting it out.
The Emotional Toll of the Recovery Process
Despite the answers, it was still a tough time. Coco didn’t understand why he couldn’t go on walks with his sisters. He was used to being part of the action, and seeing them leave without him was heartbreaking for him. February brought cold, rainy nights, and I found myself carrying him out several times, hoping for signs of improvement.
But the pain was gone. Since the day of his diagnosis and the start of the correct treatment, Coco seemed more comfortable, thanks to the combination of Metacam and Gabapentin. By the end of the first week, the Gabapentin was no longer necessary, and he was gradually weaned off it.
Signs of Improvement: A Gradual Recovery
About a week into recovery, we saw signs of improvement. His legs were getting stronger, though urination remained a challenge. Slowly, day by day, week by week, he improved.
Coco is a small dog with a big personality. He’s quirky, funny, and sometimes anxious, but he’s always been full of joy. One of his sweetest traits is his need to carry a toy when he’s really happy. He’d grab his favorite carrot or rose plushie and come looking for someone to share it with. But during his illness, those moments stopped. The pain took over, and the joy was gone.
But then, weeks into his recovery, there he was — pawing at the bars of his cage, toy in mouth. It was a huge milestone. He was showing his plushie again, and it meant everything to us.
Coco Gets a Dog Pram
As his recovery continued, we bought a dog pram to take him out for stimulation and ensure he wouldn’t be left behind on walks. At first, he didn’t like it. After all, he could walk, so why should he be pushed around in a pram? But we managed to get him to tolerate it enough.
We continued to work on his muscle tone and stamina to help him regain strength, carefully balancing exercise and rest.
The Final Steps: Full Recovery
By the end of the six weeks of cage rest, Coco had regained full bladder control and use of his legs. We gradually built up his exercise over the following months until he was back to his normal levels.
We also made our home IVDD-proof. We installed stair gates, ramps, and barriers to prevent him from jumping up on the sofa. These changes will remain, but it’s a small price to pay for his health.
A Gratitude-Filled Future
Are we perfect? No. Does Coco sometimes slip past the ramps or jump off the sofa when he’s excited? Yes. Does he occasionally run up some stairs when we forget to replace the stair gate? Yes. Do we sometimes let him run because he can, because he’s alive, and because it makes him happy? Yes.
We will do our best for Coco for the rest of his life. We will protect him, but we will also make him happy.
Coco’s Recovery: A Miracle Thanks to the Right Diagnosis
As we watch Coco today, fully recovered and full of life, we know his story could have had a very different ending. Without the correct diagnosis and treatment, he could have been put to sleep unnecessarily. But he’s here with us, enjoying life again — and we will continue to fight for him and all pets who deserve better care.