By Hilary Brezinka

Time is flying by, I didn’t realize until just now that Max and Kiba turned 9 months old yesterday. I can’t believe they’re only a few short months from turning a year old. I’m going to share a little of my heart with you.

Many months ago I had some hope that their megaesophagus might start going into remission around 8 months old because that was the magic number I’d seen in the Mega-E support group. That some dogs that were born with megaesophagus sometimes improved and outgrew it. It gave me hope when I needed it the most, during such a confusing and desperate time: the beginning, when I first adopted Max and his megaesophagus.

In the beginning I didn’t know what I was doing and almost felt like it was too much. The hope of reaching the 8 month mark when the ME could possibly go into remission sparked energy where I thought I’d run out. It helped me get through rough times like when I had to see (and really experience) their suffering, or when my patience was beyond tested.

I took on their misery as though I’d caused it. As an ME parent, you blame yourself over and over again. If I had just made him sit longer, held him longer, mixed his food better, been a better parent to him, then maybe he wouldn’t be struggling to breath right now. Maybe he’d be able to keep his food down, and wouldn’t be starving. And sometimes no matter how many times your fellow ME-parent friends tell you it’s not your fault, you can’t help but break down because you feel like such a failure. I’d tell myself to be patient, that it was only a phase, that they’re puppies, they don’t understand, so that I could get through some truly awful nights.

Adjusting to the ME lifestyle is like going through boot camp for your emotions. Regurgitation. So much laundry. Potty accidents. Scrubbing the carpet 10+ times a day. Pulling random stuff out of their mouth. Stopping them from chewing on sticks, drinking from a water dish, or taking a treat from a kind person at the park. Forcing them to be in an upright position when they’re tired or their body aches and they just don’t want to! Forcing them to “be”, because you know what’s best. The confusion in their eyes, and heartache it causes you day after day. Hearing their coughing, choking, wheezing, and gurgles knowing they just have to suffer on through. Testing out what seems like an endless amount of different consistencies of food and water, failing then trying something new because failure isn’t an option. Reading and researching ME, and the tools needed to cope with this disease. Hoping the meds will work, that the prayers will get you through one more day. Dreading the next meal, or the next day. Could this be the time they get aspiration pneumonia? Or even, could this be the end?

I remember screaming at Max and even crying my eyes out right in front of him because I wanted him to see how hard I was trying. I wanted him to know how angry I was at him that he caused me to be this way! Feeling pity. A few minutes later feeling immense guilt, only bringing more tears. At times he understood and cared. He kissed me and cuddled me when I needed the reassurance. He was there for me. Kiba, my second ME dog came later, and he’s thrown a wrench into the wheel more than once but he’s been a joy in my life too. The boys have each other and I’m beyond glad for that.

Somewhere in there, through all the pain (and I would honestly call it torture) I fell desperately in love. I was no longer just a caretaker but their guardian, someone who would do anything for their well-being. Looking into their eyes I could see understanding, and maturity that usually a puppy that age could never have grasped. And it touched my heart in a way I’ve never experienced. I could see God’s purpose for my life and trials.

Having an ME dog is a lonely place. People don’t understand. They think you should do the dog a favor and put it out of its misery. They think you’re crazy for the expenses, effort and time. That it’s your fault for taking this on so therefore they shouldn’t show you an ounce of compassion or understanding. It adds insult to injury, kicking you while you’re down.

You keep it quiet, because in ways you’re ashamed that you put so much care into a dog, when others wouldn’t even bother. You feel like a freak, like maybe you’re emotionally unbalanced, why else are you doing this to your family, and putting yourself through this. Then you get angry. Who needs them anyway? Then sad, wishing you had more support. Wishing they understood just a little, and that they might take some interest in your pup, because it would mean the world to you.

But then something wonderful happens. You find the megaesophagus support group online. You connect with others living in your shoes. You laugh and cry together. You learn, in fact you learn so much that you probably know more than your vet knows about this condition. You become an expert in ways, in learning to read the health and emotions of your dog, knowing exactly what they need. Developing quirky ways of running your household and managing the ME. You learn to forgive yourself sooner for your mistakes. You share humor in your pup regurging in odd places, like the head of your non-ME dog. Things that used to be so stressful don’t seem so bad anymore. You realize how strong you are, and you don’t seem to mind the haters so much anymore. It’s a lesson in self-acceptance and confidence in who you are. You are an ME parent, you are truly inspiring.

At 9 months old, there’s no improvement with Max and Kiba’s condition but with their attitudes towards their disease I can see acceptance and compliance with rules that protect them, and tools that keep them healthy like their chairs, and neck pillows. Sure they fight against me sometimes and complain a bit but they are extraordinary puppies. I’m so proud of them, and myself for the challenges we’ve conquered. Love them both to bits.

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