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Buddy Buddy, born in April 2001, died on June of the same year. The "roaring" led to guttural tympani (the guttural pouches filled with air but because of a swollen larynx from damage caused by the tube feeding, couldn't expel all the air so they got huge). He then developed empyema where the pouches filled with pus. The infection also caused his glands to swell with the result that on May 30 I had to rush him back to the vet for an emergency tracheotomy. His airway had been compressed to a fraction of an inch and he was suffocating. We put him on massive antibiotics and within 48 hours the pouches had shrunk and the swelling gone down and he was trying to play and crawl into my lap to be pet. On Saturday, I noticed he wasn't as playful and had a little wheeze. The vet is closed on Sunday (although they attend) and on Monday morning I got a phone call that Buddy had passed away. Yet a third infectious agent had invaded his lungs.
For some reason I have had a lot of trouble letting go of this one (I'm not new to this heartbreak, but this one was different). Perhaps it was because only rarely does an individual come along that has that extra little spark that makes them so very special. Buddy would wrap himself around me like a cat and nuzzle me whenever I was with him. In spite of all the needles and rough handling associated with our attempts to help him, he was still my little Buddy and remained loving and affectionate to the end. He will always be special to me and live forever in my heart. (This beautiful painting was done by Leslie Townsend and looked so much like Buddy, I purchased it and keep it on my office wall.)
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