Can The Bulldog Be Saved?

Today's Sunday NY Times magazine  (Nov. 27, 2011) features a cover story about the bulldog and the ways in which the breeding for flat face and stubby body has produced a dog with a shortened lifespan (average 6.5 years) and multiple health issues including brain tumors, congenital heart disease, hip dysplasia, lymphoma, and more. The article focuses solely on the larger bulldog (often referred to as the English Bulldog) but many of the health issues discussed can occur in the French Bulldog.

link: (note: you may need a Times subscription to read the entire article)
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/27/magazine/can-the-bulldog-be-saved.html?_r=1&ref=magazine

Bosco's Story Pt II - The disease and learning to live with it

Back in New York my goal was to get as much information on the most effective treatment options available for Bosco, and quickly. The neurologist in CA had explained that untreated the life expectancy of a dog with a brain tumor was estimated at between 64 and 307 days. We were in a race against time.

Living in NY for the past 9 years I had frequently heard that the Animal Medical Clinic in Manhattan was considered among the best places one could take a pet, that as a veterinarian teaching hospital it would have the most up to date treatments. My California neurologist, Dr Campbell, had given me a referral to a neurologist there, a Dr. Chad West, who had been a classmate of hers.

But our visit to the Animal Medical Clinic was a huge disappointment. After an intake with a resident, Dr. West entered the examining room and, leaning against a far counter stated flatly that a brain tumor was incurable - something I'd already been told in CA - and the best I could do would be to give Bosco palliative care, meaning keep him as comfortable as possible with medications and wait for the tumor to kill him. The fact that he didn't lean down to touch Bosco, much less examine him, was the antithesis of what I'd experienced in CA, where doctors had shown genuine concern and promised to contact UC Davis Veterinary Hospital to inquire about radiation and other therapies.

I had already requested that the CA clinic forward Bosco's MRI images and records to the Animal Medical Clinic, so even though I already was having doubts about his commitment to Bosco's care, I asked Dr West if he would review them and offer his opinion on Bosco's options. He said he would discuss them with the oncologist on staff. Yet, after several unreturned phone calls and emails - other than one email acknowledging that they'd received the MRI images and records - I never heard back from Dr. West. This futile attempt at clarifying our options had consumed a week and a half and we were back where we started, no closer to answering the question "What can I do for my little companion?"

Below is a webpage with a primer on tumors in dogs and cats

http://ezinearticles.com/?Brain-Tumors-in-Dogs-and-Cats&id=515354

Meanwhile, Bosco and I were attempting to get through each day with his new needs, especially his frequent peeing. The steroid prednisone seemed to have erased all of the house training he'd learned as a puppy and taken away his bladder control. It was clear he needed to wear doggie diapers. Traveling to PetCo used to be a fun trip, Bosco could come along and we'd get him treats, a new leash, a toy, or whatever felt right. But walking into the store to buy doggie diapers was a very different experience and once purchased, getting the damned things to stay on his little tailless rump was an even bigger challenge, with him walking out of them most of the time and having "accidents". As the days passed I got used to the process and anytime he'd glance toward the back door, I'd rush him out to the garden. Nights were the hardest as he would notify me by jumping off the bed when he felt the urge to pee, prompting me to fly out of bed, throw on some clothes and get him down the stairs to the rear garden. This happened at least three times each night and made sleeping for more than an hour or two at a stretch pretty much impossible.

Dr. Campbell wanted Bosco to stay on the high dose of prednisone - two 5mg tablets a day, one in the morning, one at night - for several weeks in order to bring down the swelling in the brain caused by the tumor. The MRI images had been so shocking and I hoped desperately that the steroid would give him relief. Even though the medication brought other complications to both our lives, Bosco was stable. He was having no more seizures, was able to go for walks and to the park, and was eating heartily.

Meanwhile, my job was suffering from inattention, but what other options did I have? I arranged with my housemate to watch Bosco (and help keep his diapers on) for a few hours each day while I ran to my office, checked in with my colleagues and boss, and touched base with my various real estate sellers and buyers to ensure that deals were moving forward and properties were being shown. I hoped this arrangement would be a workable solution until my housemate had a meltdown a few days later when, exclaiming that the potential of Bosco having a seizure or needing emergency care while I was at work was too stressful and she couldn't be responsible for him. She demanded I hire a dog-walker to look after him or take him to doggie day care. I knew this was not a workable solution as Bosco needed much more attention than a healthy dog and it wasn't just a matter of having someone come in and take him out.

At this point I realized that New York was not offering Bosco any treatment for the tumor and that the idea of trying to work when he needed medication every 6-8 hours was impossible, so I made plans to return to California. I would farm out my real estate listings and in-contract deals to my colleagues in Brooklyn and commit myself to Bosco's treatment.