Everyone who has ever had a veterinary emergency with their beloved, four-legged best friend knows both how pricey and how gut-wrenching the entire experience is.
So when one doggie dad faced veterinary expenditures reaching just shy of $24,000, he said he was willing to go to unusual measures to keep his baby girl alive.
Jaxon is the dad of a two-year-old Weimaraner named Rambo. For reasons that are still unknown, Rambo fell into hypovolemic shock, which means her heart was unable to pump blood to the rest of her body. Not only that, but she also suffered gastroenteritis, or a stomach flu.
“She began vomiting throughout the night over 30 times and by Saturday am we were in the emergency vets,” said Rambo’s dad.
As you may have guessed, this caused her health to worsen rapidly, and they weren’t sure how long she’d have to be in emergency care. On top of hypovolemic shock and gastrointestinal issues, fluids started leaking into her lungs, and she got pneumonia. One of her lungs even collapsed.
Being at the emergency vet under 24/7 surveillance is ultimately what saved her life but it cost over £1000 ($1200 USD) per day to be under their care. Rambo’s insurance would cover her up to £6500 ($7,800), but her cost was already at £11,500 ($13,800) after only a single week in their care.
So Jaxon launched a gofundme page to try to get funds for Rambo’s crucial care. He even indicated that he was willing to ‘sell his house.’
“If the worst happens and Rambo requires significant surgery, the cost of this as well as the aftercare is something I need to be able to provide my beautiful baby girl,” added Jaxon.
Her dad got so frightened that he started sleeping in his car that he parked near the vet, so that he wouldn’t be too far from his darling baby girl. But not only did more than 600 individuals donate, with the total raised already reaching £10,000 ($12,000), Rambo reacted to less intrusive therapies, and they were able to skip surgery altogether.
“My little angel is by no means completely better, it will be a long road to recovery for her and she still requires 24/7 observation at this time along with a large dose of medication. Nonetheless, we did what we said we would, we came home,” stated Jaxon.
Due to all the love, support, and outstanding treatment, Rambo started to make a miraculous recovery. After two long weeks, she was finally able to leave the hospital and travel home with her adoring dad.
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
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