3.Experience With St. Francis Part Two

       My college years went by in a whirlwind with college sports and academics. However, it all came on hold when I got the news from my sister that my dog, Misty, was very very sick. She was an 80lb black lab that due to a mistake during her spay surgery, had become an emaciated 30lbs. She was basically bone and had to be fed special food 4-5 times a day, given daily antibiotics and prevacid medicine for digestive upset, and was not allowed to do any heavy exercise other than to be let out to use the bathroom.  For a Labrador retriever one can imagine how hard this could be. The vet's only suggestion to us was to have her put down. 


Although the vet's dire diagnosis made us fearful of what would become of her, my father and I sensed the spark in her eyes, the will to live.  As a result my family did everything we could to help her. We all took turns leaving work to feed her, so she could eat 4-5 times a day, and purchased the expensive high-calorie dog food necessary for her survival. 


However, after 5-6 months of this, my mother sat me down, and simply stated, “We can’t afford this, the dog has to be put down, or given away to someone who can afford her care.” My mother's concern came from what was going on in the family: My sister's illness with chronic Lyme disease grew worse,her medications, doctor's visits, were completely out of pocket costs, due to insurance and the medical field failing to acknowledge Lyme disease as a growing problem. As a result, my parents each picked up second jobs in order to pay her medical expenses. I understood where my mother came from but I knew and felt that giving my dog away was not the right answer for us, or for her. Needless to say, I was distraught, this was my dog she belonged with my family, she was part of our pack. 


        That night, for the first time in a long time, I pulled my dog close to me, and I prayed to St. Francis to please help my dog live. I kept my heart open to whatever it was he had to to tell me. Suddenly, I heard words, “Take her off the medicine, she’s allergic, and let her play fetch.” The next morning, I informed my parents, no more medicine, no Prevacid or antibiotics, and she was allowed to play fetch. Basically, everything the vet told me NOT to do, I did.  My parents reluctantly replied and tried to convince me that I wasn't a veterinarian and didn't know what I was doing, I told them what happened with St. Francis, and surprisingly they were open to trying it, soon trying it became a new routine and just a few months later my dog weighed a healthy 75lbs. 


    Misty is 8 years old now, but many a passerby take her to be 2 or 3. I firmly believe this is because St. Francis gave her back some of the years that she lost being so ill.