While her kibble would float and become soft enough for her, I would change her bedding and begin laundry. Everyone would get fed around Betty Boop’s schedule with Betty Boop getting fed last. Making sure Betty Boop would receive her necessary medications continued to be paramount. When I was on the road, she would visit three times a day to make sure Betty Boop took her medications, in addition to being there to care for all the other members of the family.
Caring for dogs is her passion, and she has many clients to show for it. Since business travel was sometimes unavoidable, I came to rely on an amazing dog sitter. She perked up when I came home from travel and always seems comforted by my presence and my touch. She responded well to me and she ate and drank on her own. Betty Boop may have been a special needs dog, but she simply had the will to live. Whatever it is you’re doing, the staff said, keep doing it. By everything known to science Betty Boop should not have survived past a year. The staff besieged me afterwards in the waiting room with questions: What are you feeding her? How are you able to take care of her? How is it this dog is even alive? Seeing my bewildered expression, somebody finally let me know what the scan revealed: Betty Boop has less than one-percent functional brain matter. In 2007 we had a brain scan done to get a better picture of Betty Boop’s true condition. I’ve questioned my decisions a million times and have often been overwhelmed by the demands of caring for her, but when Betty Boop, all of just over three pounds, would tilt her head and gave me that expressions of contentment, my doubts vanish. When she was truly happy, she’d cock her head and stick her tongue out slightly staring through blind eyes. In no time I discovered Betty Boop enjoyed being held and would spend a few minutes squirming in my arms before settling on a comfortable position and drifting off to sleep. I was also unaware of the qualities I would soon discover in myself, qualities that Betty Boop would help reveal.
But I was unaware of her blindness, unaware of the seizures to come, unaware of the water on her brain, the necessary medicines, and ultimately the amount of care this tiny puppy would require. I was determined to improve the quality of her health and her life with good nutrition and positive thinking. When I drove to Anaheim to pick up Betty Boop, I knew she was a special needs dog. This article was previously published June 26, 2012, and was updated on FebruA special place in the heart for a special needs dog – the story of Betty Boopīetty Boop was my ten-year-old designer breed/mutt, who came to me with severe neurological disorders. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the guest author and do not necessarily represent the views of Val Heart & Heart Communication Enterprises Inc.
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