It's really sad news I'm afraid, as we had to say goodbye to a dog that really sums up the spirit of why I formed this charity on Sunday. I know I am not just speaking for myslef when I say that I cannot believe that Oscar is gone, he inspired so many people.....
(Taken from the forthcoming book Rescue In Lockdown by Stephen Wylie.)
Today started like every
other day on my team’s shifts of three at the kennels, but by the end of it we
were all very flat and dejected.
One of the sights that has kept me going over the months of lockdown, has been seeing Oscar make his way around the field in his wheelchair, sniffing the air and taking in the fabulous views of the Northumberland countryside. Not once did he look like he didn’t want to go out, nor did he ever look bored. In fact, I think he lived for his duty of his own closed down last thing at night. He knew that he was the final walk of the shift, checking the gate was shut for another day and that the field was secure, meant that his job was done.
He came to us about nine years ago. He had shown some serious aggression towards people, especially when being touched around the head, his owners who were old school colleagues of mine. They had two young twin babies; the risk was just too much for having an unpredictable dog in the house.
The first time they asked me to take him, we didn’t have room. So, they went and tried everything they could. Behavioural sessions, training classes, they even bought him a treadmill to try and work off some of the abundance of energy and tire him out.
The second time they asked me they were desperate. The babies had begun to crawl and pull themselves up on things, Oscar was getting grumpier and they were worried that if either child decided to pull themselves up on him, he would react.
As it happened, I had just rehomed a big Rottweiler called King, so I had a kennel free this time. Oscar arrived the very next day.
He was as strong as an Ox and very sure of himself. The story was that he had been split from his mother at five weeks old and then spent the first few months of his life being passed around various homes until my friend took him in. He was four when we got him, they had tried so hard for three and a half years.
I believe the reason behind his behaviour and self-confidence, was mainly down to the fact that he had been separated from his mother too early. He had been shown no boundaries, had no rules installed, nor been told that biting was inappropriate. Instead he found his own way through life by being confident in his own ability to protect himself, demanding in getting what he wanted and just an all round determination and strength that his breed is capable of.
Over the years he was with us, he mellowed slightly. I used to walk him with some of my own German Shepherds, I think he quite liked Star, whilst his tolerance of people and touch also improved.
He loved playing with his boomer ball and had a great trick of collecting up to four tennis balls in his mouth at one time. There was no way he was ever going to let you take any of those. I think he was happy with us and grew into kennel life. He didn’t feel under any pressure, so we began to see the real Oscar.
As he grew old his back end begun to let him down. The German Shepherd curse of Canine Degenerative Radiculomyelopathy (CDRM) struck, but it couldn’t keep him down. He still managed to get out and about, a little wobbly, but it didn’t stop him enjoying his walks.
As the condition grew worse, we integrated a rear harness to help support him. Calling them his “Super Hero Underpants” they took some getting on, as the procedure included lifting his rear legs through holes, just like putting on underpants, then handles so that the handler could hold up and offer support to his back legs.
At first the reaction from him was what we all expected. We used to a muzzle to keep us safe, but very quickly he realised that we were trying to help him. After a couple of weeks, the muzzled was discarded and getting him out that way just became a fact of life.
Oscar’s condition got worse by the end of last summer, which meant that fewer people could walk him because of the weight and strain it put on the handler’s shoulders. It was a horrible feeling because so many people loved him, mainly for his attitude, but were now unable to spend time with him.
I had a few sleepless nights trying to think of how we could help him, each time my mind kept returning to the same answer.
Years ago, we had the biggest German Shepherd I have ever seen in Doyle. He too suffered from CDRM and we managed to extend his life by about six months by using a set of wheels that had been donated. Over the years since we had taken in another set, but they just looked so complicated when trying to get a difficult dog in them.
One Saturday I watched somebody struggling to walk him and decided that enough was enough. We had to do something to help Oscar and we had to understand that he would react, and it wouldn’t be easy.
I, Rich and volunteers Paul and Mick volunteered for the job of trying to get him in the wheelchair that Doyle had loved so much. I got it out of storage and tried to adjust the straps so that it would comfortably fit Oscar, as Doyle was so big.
The muzzle came back out, which was just as well, as we quickly found out that there was no way that Oscar was going to allow us to restrain him in such a contraption.
The design of the chair meant that he almost sat on his rear hunkers and used his front legs to pull himself along. We eventually got him in it, but he was stressed. He walked around the farmyard for a little while but was very unhappy. He would have bitten if he wasn’t muzzled and we all knew that this wasn’t the answer.
Dejected and upset, the four of us stood and looked at each other. Nobody said anything. We all knew that if we couldn’t make this work, Oscar’s time with us wouldn’t be much longer. It wasn’t fair to him to leave him struggling, but nobody wanted to mention the idea of putting him to sleep.
“Let’s go and walk others and think.” I said, desperately trying to clear my head and come up with a moment of inspiration. It was Paul that had it.
I returned to the kennels to find Paul had got the other wheelchair out and was trying to figure out how it worked. This one was different as instead of sitting in it, the dogs back legs slip through two rings and hold up the back end. It was just like Oscar’s underpants, only on wheels.
I gathered the guys together again and suggested that we tried once more but using this different chair. Everybody agreed, so out came Oscar and the muzzle.
He adored it right from the off. He struggled at first to allow us to help him in, thank goodness for a five pound muzzle is all I’ll say, but once he realised that he could go where he wanted again and as fast or slow as he wanted, he was in his element. He even learnt that he could reverse and sniff a bit he had missed. The change in him was sensational and something that I will never forget.
That Saturday afternoon changed Oscar’s life, but also extended it until today. The muzzle became a thing of the past very quickly and now there was a queue of people wanting to get him out again. He had his independence back and was always in such a hurry to get out once he saw you approaching his kennel with his wheels.
There was a look in his eyes of pride and determination. This wasn’t a disabled dog that was feeling sorry for himself, this was a dog that knew he had a second chance at going all the places that he wanted to. He could give the boomer ball holy hell again; he could do treat searches on his own. He could do what he wanted once more.
Although he had begun to look a little tired of late, Oscar wasn’t one for giving up. This morning Rachel had him out for his survey of his grounds as usual. He ate his small treat that he always demanded as reward on his return then settled down, content at watching everything else that was going on around him.
He always watched, that was the benefit of him being in the kennel right at the front. If anything was happening Oscar let you know, but for me personally it was always the fact that he knew exactly where I was and what I was doing that will stay with me. The sight of him lying on his huge mattress, chin flat on the surface but those eyes taking everything in and following you around.
It was because he wasn’t in that position this morning as Rachel passed, that she thought something was wrong. She called for me and I went straight over to see him. I instantly shared her concern and knew that something wasn’t right.
He had turned away from the front, positioning his body so that he was facing the back wall. My heart sunk as there is no way Oscar would have normally done that. Then I noticed his abdomen.
Swollen and rock hard, there was only one thing that this could be, a GDV (Gastric Dilatation Volvulus) or stomach torsion. Within minutes he was in the back of Rachel’s car and we were on the way to Emily the vets once again. Due to his condition and other ailments we all knew that this was the one that was going to beat him. It would be unfair to put him through the massive surgery and to be honest I don’t think his body was strong enough to withstand the anaesthetic never mind the surgery itself.
There were tears as I pulled away, knowing that I wouldn’t be bringing him back. The noises echoing from the boot meant I knew I had to get him there as soon as possible.
Several times on the journey, Oscar sat up and looked at me directly in the rear view mirror. His eyes had a deep and knowing look about them. I kept telling him that we wouldn’t be long and to hang on so that Emily could check him over, then he would lie down again.
The tree in Emily’s back garden now has become a place that I will never forget. Just a few weeks earlier Rachel and I had said goodbye to Sheba in glorious sunshine as the birds sang, in the exact same spot as I was standing again.
Today the skies were grey, and the rain made it feel like the clocks had been turned back to February. Because of social distancing I couldn’t hold him, but Oscar knew that I was there.
As he slipped away, he turned and looked at Emily, then back at me. He looked at her once more, then turned towards me and put his head down like he always did. His beautiful eyes absorbed everything that was going on for the last time, then he closed them.
Oscar was a dog that gave us all inspiration. His determination and bravery meant he never gave in. The fact that he adapted to being helped and understood that his life depended on it, showed that learnt to trust. The number of friends that he acquired through displaying that trust means that we all have been left with a huge hole in our hearts.
He had become such a big part in the daily routine of some many people, that it really will be difficult to accept that he is gone. I know however, that he wouldn’t want us to be upset and moping around, that just wasn’t his style. He would want us to show the same fighting spirit that he had throughout his life, he would want us to show that determination and make sure that we get through this very difficult time, just like he did. It is that thought that I will carry around with me forever.
