Front Porch: Deaf dog’s needs woven into family’s rich fabric

This is an update on Dodger, the special-needs Dalmatian. He is my granddoggie.

I first wrote about him a few years ago when the adorable spotted puppy came to live with my son Sam and his husband, Ryan, as well as with big sister Ellie, an aging and wonderful big ball of fluff of the Old English sheepdog variety.

Ellie had never been a dog who cuddled or made many sounds. She was darling, however, a princess. As if ordained by fate, Dodger is tactile, an incredible snuggler, and he loves to vocalize, most particularly making conversational canine sounds to images on the television, after which he does what Ryan describes as a most amusing version of a whistle slide, which always makes him smile.

Although Dodger ran about everywhere with Ellie when he joined the family, he seemed unresponsive when being called, which they briefly attributed to being distracted by Ellie. But they suspected worse … and worse it was. Dodger was deaf. And he was subject to recurring ear infections.

Sam and Ryan are two busy men, and Sam works irregular hours, so I early on asked if they were prepared to care for a special needs dog and whether they might consider not keeping him. Nope. The bonding had happened immediately, and he was their boy forever.

Little did Sam and Ryan know what lay ahead. Deafness was just the start of Dodger’s troubles, some of which came close to threatening his very survival. Next up was worsening neurotic behavior and heightened terror about, well, everything (especially bicyclists). They went to veterinarians for answers and tried various strategies, including taking him to a puppy kindergarten which accommodated his special needs. Nothing really worked.

Eventually, when he was older, they turned to doggie Prozac to help calm him.

Ellie died a year after Dodger entered the family, and Dodger seemed to flourish as an only child. To this day, he doesn’t like being around other dogs, despite any efforts at play dates or visits to dog parks. He will nip at other animals, so they take special care when walking him to avoid other dogs. Dodger wears a harness with a “Deaf Dog” patch on it as an additional aid to alert human passersby that he is not like other dogs.

He developed severe itching and had many bouts of painful skin outbreaks. More vets, more medications and creams, and then a trip to a canine allergy specialist. Expensive and extensive tests revealed he is allergic to, as Sam says, once again, everything – pollen, moss, grass, dirt, mold and, worst of all, human dander.

“Essentially, he’s allergic to us,” Sam said.

Dodger underwent a long course of allergy shots, and it’s now down to one morning and one evening pill to control most allergy symptoms.

Plus, his sensitive GI tract makes him subject to bouts of icky poo and frothy regurgitation, which sometime require professional care. He’s gone through periods of significant weight loss, recently dropping from 70 pounds to 50. They couldn’t find a prescription dog – or other – food that he could tolerate, and they were on the verge of having an endoscopy done as a last-resort effort to see what was wrong with his insides and to stem the weight loss.

But, happily, they stumbled onto a food – special-ordered, $100 for a 28-pound bag – which has managed to keep him regular. He’s now back to proper weight, but still delicate.

They watch carefully during walks, as Dodger loves snarfing up what the guys describe as “lawn caviar” – slugs and snails, and also rabbit poo (delicious, apparently).

The guys have adjusted their own lives to help their boy live his life successfully, accepting the compromises that come with doing that – like with travel.

They took him with them on a long weekend to the San Juan Islands a year ago. When Dodger began bringing up noxious content from his stomach, they headed for the mainland early because, clearly, Dodger had eaten something in the yard, which brought about the usual results, and there was no vet on the island.

Their ability to travel as a couple away from him is restricted now, too. Things become problematic for their dog sitter if the guys are gone overnight for more than a few nights. Dodger does best with regular habits and a specific schedule – and with Sam or Ryan present.

They have made the decision to limit any extended travel together for the immediate future.

Despite how it may appear in this telling of Dodger’s life to date, this is not an unhappy story at all. It is, actually, a success story.

Yes, getting Dodger to where he is today has been a struggle, but he’s leveling out now that he is maturing (he’ll be 4 later this year). He is finally comfortable in his own not-so-itchy skin and enjoying doing his own version of regular-dog stuff, such as playing with toys, which he never did before. They can now take him to a fenced public tennis court nearby when no one else is there and play what they describe as a weird version of fetch.

“I throw multiple tennis balls. Dodger goes and attacks one, maybe brings it back to me or maybe I have to go to him. Repeat,” Sam said.

Their boy is never more content than when he burrows under a blanket, often with just his nose sticking out, and almost always in physical contact with either Ryan or Sam, preferably both. If either of the guys sits down in a chair, Dodger becomes an immediate 70-pound lap dog.

Yes, he is a dog with a lot of problems. Is it all still worth it?

No question. Their pupmonster (Ryan’s term of affection) is absolutely worth it. Dodger, the special-needs/high-maintenance Dalmatian, is a happy dog, living a good life with two men who are made happier by his presence.

This is how a family works.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net.