Arko the Awesome 2006 to 2013
by Christine O’D — Ventnor, Phillip Island
I found Arko (or he found me) in 2006 when I was working for the RSPCA as a Dog Attendant. He was about 15 months old at the time and had been surrendered because “he was too big for our family”. HELLO!!! He’s a half-grown, pure-bred German Shepherd of the old-style (you know …big square head, big square body & no sloping back!) — did you think he’d stay kelpie-size forever??? He had issues with trusting men and nipping the (male) hand that fed him. His saving grace, in those early assessment days, was that he liked other dogs and most of the staff, that he came into contact with, were female. Arko wasn’t his original name, of course — his original name was too English for our Irish/German/Scottish household so we chose Arko as being sufficiently Germanic for a German Shepherd Dog of the original breeding style — as far as I know, it doesn’t actually mean anything but I did see a store called “Arko” at the Hauptbahnhof in Berlin.
We needed Arko to complete our family and to provide companionship for our female GSD, Tory, who was escaping during the day while we were at work. (More about her story another day!) We introduced Arko to Tory and my husband, J., and it was love at first sight — for the dogs anyway! (J. liked him but the love came later!) He wasn’t frightened of my husband which was a good omen for the chance of being allowed to rescue him and was totally besotted with Tory. Me ….well, I’d already given him my heart ...
A week or so later, after the quarantine period and compulsory de-sexing and micro-chipping were done, home he came to our suburban quarter-acre block. He settled in quickly, walked beautifully on lead with Tory, and I taught him basic obedience in the backyard. Our dogs are inside dogs while we are home and at night, and he quickly chose the double bed in the back spare room as his own and continued sleeping there for as long as he was with us.
He was a loving dog right from the start and crazy about playing ball — all day and all night if your throwing arm would hold out that long! Arko wasn’t too keen on strange men either at the house or away from it — he particularly didn’t like tradies although if they were dog people and knew how to pat him, it was okay. It’s the ones who moved suddenly with their hands towards his head that we were never sure if he was going to nip or not! Kids, my sister and brothers and our other guests he was great with …And if anyone would throw the ball or feed him food, he was their life-long slave.
We had a terrible possum problem at our house — they were in the walls and the ceiling and fighting in the trees outside. (In our seven years at the house, we trapped and released 35 adult brush-tailed possums … and that’s not counting the four that the Possum Man caught before finding and blocking their point of entry to the house. About six months after we first got him, we realised that Arko hated other animals on HIS property — possums, rats, birds, rabbits, cats and other dogs. A couple of dogs rushed him when he was on lead and that was the start of him lunging at other dogs while we were out walking. We should have gotten professional help at that point but I was no longer working for the RSPCA (compassion fatigue) it just seemed easier to avoid the issue. Of course, intellectually, I know that was the wrong attitude but we took the easy way out at the time.
I used to walk both dogs each morning at 5:00 am for 45 minutes and always felt totally safe and protected by my two German Shepherds. One morning, I was approached by a very scruffy man who asked directions to the train station. I was telling him where to go (nicely, of course!) with the dogs calmly sitting on either side of me but the man kept coming closer and closer. The closer he came, the more restless Arko got. I said to the man “Don’t come any closer — my dog is very protective of me.” He didn’t take any notice and kept coming closer until Arko growled at him and lunged for him. I said “If you don’t back off NOW, I am going to unleash him because you are now making ME nervous.” He took off at a run and we went straight home just in case!
On another 5:00 am walk (and it was JUST starting to get light at that time), we’d only gone three blocks when Tory and Arko saw a couple of rabbits on the other side of the road. Tory lunged ACROSS me from the left to my right, Arko sort of lunged half-left and we all went down on the concrete in a heap with me flat on the concrete on the bottom. I was still lying on the ground, stunned, flat on my face and feeling the stings of grazes on my knees and heels of my hands, when a white van came up the road very slowly from behind us. It went past as I was still face down, up to the corner and turned around and came back, parked beside us and wound down the window “Are you all right?” — it was the Police Divvy van doing its morning patrol — And the dogs were still struggling to get at the rabbits and I was still on the ground but on my back by this time!! I told them what had happened, expecting that they would get out of the van and come to my assistance — but no!! “Can we ring anyone for you?” “No, I live just around the corner — I will go straight back home” “Okay, you have a good day!” and off they drove with me still flat on the concrete. By the time I managed to get to my feet, untangle us all and limp back home with my slightly sprained ankle, grazed knees and hands, and two lively dogs who still wanted their walk, the sun was just starting to come up! Bad luck for the walk — I cleaned myself up, went back to bed.
After we’d had Arko for a while, we realised that somewhere in his three previous homes in approximately fifteen months, somebody (or –bodies) had mistreated him — he was frightened of brooms and mops, thunder, loud noises and arguments (ours is an Irish household — there are always loud noises, arguments, shouting and banging — and that’s when everything is going well!). If you told him off, he’d cower into the corner and make himself as small as possible so that you couldn’t see him but he was NEVER aggressive to us or anyone else. He was protective of us and HIS car and HIS house and HIS sister, Tory, but only by barking — never any threatening lunging or biting — pretty scary for a stranger coming to the house though.
Arko was always active — in the backyard, out on the oval playing ball or chasing sticks. After we’d had him about six years, (so by this time, we estimated that he was getting on for about eight years of age), he started slowing down and putting on weight. The Vet said that he had arthritis in his spine and back legs which was to be expected in a dog of his breed, age and size so she advised a course of Cartrophen injections which are given, initially, weekly on a four-week course and then either monthly, or three-monthly, which ever was appropriate. Unfortunately, the Cartrophen injections didn’t seem to make a difference but we persevered with them for a few months to give him every chance.
He continued to gain weight but he had a good appetite and still wanted to play ball — by this time, we would roll the ball across the ground. By about September-October 2013, he occasionally had a couple of days off his food, would be lethargic and NOT want to play ball, then all of a sudden, his appetite would be back, his ball drive would return and he would be back to his usual self. Oh, yes — and he had vomited a couple of times and all he wanted to do was graze grass like a cow. Anyway, I said to J., “I think that Arko is at that point where he needs pain relief to make him more comfortable — I’m making an appointment for the Vet — it’s on Friday, 22nd November (2013) at 5:00 pm. I’ll come home early.”
We got to the Vet (by the way, he was always brilliant at the Vet’s, the Vet could handle him without him needing a muzzle and could look in his mouth, ears, etc.) and I explained his symptoms and asked for pain relief for him. K. was great — she examined him and then said that she wanted to do an “abdo tap” — where a needle is inserted into the abdomen to check for the presence of fluid — as she thought that there might be something else going on! I still had no inkling of what lay ahead until she drew up a syringe full of blood — not a good sight! She told me that she suspected some form of cancer but that she wanted to take a quick (scan or X-ray, I can’t remember which now!!). She did that and Arko and I waited for the results — the worst possible news. He had HAEMANGIO-SARCOMA — a very, very aggressive form of cancer involving the spleen and possibly other organs.
Hemangiosarcoma is a rapidly growing, highly invasive variety of cancer, occurring almost exclusively in dogs and rarely in cats. It is a sarcoma arising from the lining of blood vessels. A frequent cause of death is the rupturing of this tumor, causing the patient to rapidly bleed to death. Hemangiosarcoma is quite common in dogs, and more so in certain breeds of dogs including German Shepherd Dogs and Golden Retrievers. It also occurs in cats, but is much rarer. Dogs with hemangiosarcoma rarely show clinical signs until the tumor has become very large and has metastasized. Typically, clinical signs are due to hypovolemia after the tumor ruptures, causing extensive bleeding. Owners of the affected dogs often discover that the dog has hemangiosarcoma only after the dog collapses.
The tumor most often appears on the spleen, right heart base, or liver, although varieties also appear on or under the skin or in other locations. It is the most common tumor of the heart, and occurs in the right atrium or right auricular appendage. Here it can cause right-sided heart failure, arrhythmias, pericardial effusion, and cardiac tamponade. Hemangiosarcoma of the spleen or liver is the most common tumor to cause hemorrhage in the abdomen. (Wikipedia)
So, basically, when he was feeling bad, he was having ruptures and bleeds of the sarcomas, then they would stop bleeding and he would be alright again for a few days or a couple of weeks, and then it would happen all over again. And because J. was away from the house from 5:30 until around 4:30 and I left for work at 6:30–45 and didn’t get home until 6–6:30, we weren’t around during the day to witness the severity or frequency of the episodes.
The Vet was adamant that he needed to be operated on THAT night — she couldn’t do it because the likelihood of haemorrhage was extremely high and they didn’t have the facilities or product for blood transfusions. She recommended that we go to the Clinic at “B” (only 15–20 minutes’ drive at the most) and she rang ahead to advise the clinic we were on our way. However, they wouldn’t accept him as he wasn’t an existing patient at their clinic. We, therefore, had to drive to Kensington to Advanced Vetcare for consultation and surgery — by the time we got there, it was close to 8:00pm.
Although we had no appointment and had to wait to be seen, we were squeezed in to see a lovely Vet who heard his history and took more scans and X-rays before she gave her opinion. She showed us the scans — even I could see the tumorous masses covering his spleen but she said that the liver was also heavily invested with the tumours and she was pretty positive that his heart was also involved. J. had to leave the room as he didn’t want to break down in public but I stayed with Arko to hear the verdict — no possibility of surgery and no positive prognosis. Even if we insisted and put him through the trauma of the surgery, it would be nothing short of miraculous for him to survive any more than a few weeks …. And to gain those few weeks, he would require intensive chemotherapy. (I can’t remember now if she also said that he would need radiotherapy as well!!}. It was our decision, she said, but her professional opinion was that he should be put down NOW — that very night.
By this time, J. was back in the consulting room and was more poised. I asked if we would be able to get him through the weekend — she said that it was risky as he could haemorrhage at any time and that would be frightening for Arko and extremely distressing for us and our other dog, Tory. However, that is what we decided to do — we took him home to his own double bed, J. slept with him that night and pampered him and gave him hugs, kisses, treats and all the love we could on the Saturday. I rang our local Vet Clinic and asked if they could possibly come and put him to sleep at home on Monday as it would be less frightening and gentler for him and they agreed without hesitation. I also rang the Crematorium at Bannockburn and arranged an appointment for his cremation.
Sunday — more of the previous day but we also took both dogs in the car to the Lilydale Cemetery which has a huge, grassy, undeveloped area with rabbits and a dam. There, he ran around with Tory after rabbits and chased the ball and looked for sticks and even had a little swim in the dam. He had fun barking at the ducklings and thoroughly tired himself out.
When we got home, Arko was tired but had a good appetite for his dinner and went to his bed early. J. said to me “Maybe the Vet’s wrong — maybe we are jumping the gun. He was great today!” and yes, he was great, but I’ve seen it before, both in humans and animals — there appears to be a last-minute rallying ….to the point where you are doubting the diagnosis and decision and within a day or so — DEATH! As both Vets had warned us of the imminence of his death, I was horrified at the thought that at ANY SECOND, Arko could have a massive haemorrhage and bleed to death. If that occurred while we were home, I know we couldn’t have altered the outcome but he wouldn’t be alone. If we were at work when the tumours ruptured, he would be so frightened and confused by what was happening to him and I could not bear the thought of him being in pain and alone without us to hold him in our arms — I just couldn’t bear it!
Monday, Arko was sort of his usual self but also sort of off-colour. We cried and moped around until K. and her Vet nurse turned up at home. We let Tory say goodbye, sat on the back verandah on the concrete with him in our arms. He thumped his tail at K. and her nurse and we all very gently helped him to cross Rainbow Bridge. If you have ever helped your beloved family member cross the bridge, you know the agonising and second-guessing that goes into that decision but what you might not also know, is that for a REALLY sick animal, in that moment of release, everything is so gentle. We felt Arko’s sense of “At last!”, felt his last huge sigh of relief and felt him leave us with joy. Of course, both of us were broken-hearted and crying — it is so hard to watch your husband break and cry his heart out, not caring about the two almost-stranger witnesses to his grief.
We allowed Tory outside to see him so that she would know what had happened, then loaded Arko into the back of the ute (on a mattress, with HIS doona under him and sheets and blankets over him), Tory and ourselves into the front of the twin-cab and drove to Bannockburn. The people there were very considerate and compassionate — both with us humans, but also with Tory. Before they took Arko inside, he was lying on a gurney (well, he was bigger than the gurney but it was still dignified) and they let Tory say her final farewell — the weirdest thing, she put her front feet on the tray of the gurney, kissed his feet and then his mouth, got down and then wanted to go back out to the car. That broke us again!
Like all our past babies, we talk and laugh about Arko every day — remembering his joy of life, his love for us and Tory and all his naughtinesses along the way. I look at his photos every day and hope that, by the time he meets us at Rainbow Bridge, I’ll have been able to forgive myself for not SEEING his deterioration in time to prevent his cancer. There were signs there but I didn’t see them. If I saw them, I didn’t recognise them. That’s why I am paranoid and over-protective now with Tory and Ronin (the younger brother that Arko never met!)
I know that Arko has forgiven me and I am so looking forward to seeing him come bounding over that Bridge, young and happy and healthy again.
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