Dear boys,
We recently made it through a crisis none of us shall ever forget. Absurdly excited to get home and see Lizzo on this day, we threw open the crate door to receive her usual over-the-top body wag. Only this time she didn’t bust out with excitement even as we cajoled her. Instead I had to drag her out — listless, groggy and struggling to breathe. There was vomit in her crate so I thought maybe she just had an upset stomach. But lifting her chin to find her eyes half-mast, I knew something was very wrong. We had to get her help, and we had to get it fast.
When you are in a panic, adrenaline can garner superhuman strength, but it can also increase memory loss. Cash, you’re the one who told me this after seeing it on a “Brain Games” episode. And right now both things were happening:
What to do first? … Find my phone … Where’s my phone? … Okay, here’s my phone … Now, call the vet … Where’s the number for the vet? … Wait, I forgot the name of the vet!
There was more panic and tears after relaying Lizzo’s symptoms over the phone. The vet assistant, sounding extremely worried, put me on hold for what felt like an eternity, surely discussing the situation with Dr. Shae. She returned on the line telling me to get there as fast as we could. “Catch a cab and come immediately!”
Okay, we gotta go boys … we gotta get Lizzo to the vet right away. But where are my keys?! Shoot — I can’t find my keys!
Grey’s sobbing in the living room asking God to spare Lizzo. I’m crying, cradling Lizzo’s head, looking around for lord knows what — my keys I suppose — spinning in a circle as if chasing my tail. Then there’s Cash, standing tall, his thoughts clearly churning. Corralling us with much needed direction, he exclaimed, “Mom! let’s just GO! We have to get out of the apartment! C’mon, give me Lizzo — I can hold her. Just find your keys!”
Grey found my keys and we made it down to the street. That’s when the superhuman strength was manifest. Weighing nearly 25 pounds, I normally can’t hold Lizzo for very long, but found myself racing down the sidewalk like an Olympian in pursuit of a cab. The only problem was there were no cabs in sight; no Ubers and no Lyfts. That’s when I turned and realized you guys weren’t wearing your masks. There was no way a rideshare would even pick us up without masks. Should we run back to the apartment or keep looking for a cab on a wing and a prayer? The decision making was harrowing.
Wait, it’s almost 3:00 p.m. Maybe Daddy is about to come out of the subway and could drive us? I grappled with my phone while balancing Lizzo on one arm. “I’m on the local. Just pulled into 42nd Street,” he said. Daddy was too far so I just hung up. “Mom! Let’s go back and get the masks!” Cash said, again our voice of direction, when I saw an empty green cab coming down the street. It was a miracle!
“Please! Please! Can you take us?!!”
No ma’am, sorry.
“Please! Please! Look at her — she’s dying!!”, I pleaded, lifting up Lizzo so he could see.
I’m sorry.
We got your masks and retraced our steps in a nightmarish déjà vu. “We have to just take the subway Mom! It’s faster! Let’s just take the train!” Cash shouted back to me. As we passed through the turnstile, we saw the local train sitting below on the tracks. Racing down the steps two at a time, I repeated, “Please God, don’t let the doors close, please God, don’t let the doors close, please God don’t let the doors close.”
Collapsing into an empty seat, we exhaled a huge sigh of relief. For the next six stops you guys stood in front of me, fanning Lizzo to keep her cool. “Hang in there Lizzo, you’re almost there. Hang in there girl. You can do it.”
The vet assistant saw us coming and ran outside, grabbing Lizzo from my clutches to take her into the emergency area they had already set up. In the waiting room the three of us rehashed what happened, snapping a few selfies to document our mixture of emotions: fatigue, hope, restlessness. Bloodwork and X-rays determined Lizzo had contracted Bordetella, which is likely why she threw up in her crate. The bacteria led to a severe case of aspirational pneumonia and since bulldogs are known for respiratory complications, if not treated properly and promptly, it can quickly worsen and even be fatal. Thankfully we made it to the vet in time to save her. With her oxygen levels a bit low and her breathing still labored, the vet wanted Lizzo to spend the night at the Animal Hospital, to be on the safe side, where she’d receive supplemental oxygen and be closely monitored. The staff kindly hailed us a cab, waving and shouting, “We love you Lizzo!” as we pulled off.
It was grueling to be without her even for just 24 hours. She has ingratiated herself into our family, in such a short time, that the mere thought of her not being with us was too much to bear. We passed the time, scrolling through photos like this fan favorite, where she’s happy and healthy, and said an extra prayer for her at bedtime. Thank you Grey for the suggestion.
But the big takeaway from this ordeal was witnessing you boys jump into action. How you came alongside me, working together to get through a crisis that thankfully had a happy ending.
I love you boys. I love your “doggedness'“ and I love your love for Lizzo. She would be proud of your bulldog spirit. As am I.
Always and forever, Mom