*If you have not read Part I, click HERE to read how this remarkable story all began….
I obsessed over her. I micro managed my micro management of her care. I was very very pleased with her progress. She captured my heart over and over on a daily basis. I had never loved a dog like I loved this baby. I often tell people I loved her as if I had given birth to her myself. We were almost home free. I felt in my heart if I could get her to six weeks old, she would be fine. She was still so tiny, way smaller than an average five week old English Bulldog puppy, but she was full of life and cuter than anything.
Then one day, at exactly five weeks old, she crashed. Fluid started coming out of her nose and she was lethargic. I grabbed her and rushed her to the emergency clinic forty five minutes away. I arrived there in tears with a limp puppy in my hands. She was rushed into the back where they started working on her immediately. I sat in the waiting room and cried. I walked outside and cried. I sat in my car and cried. Some time had passed before they summoned me to the back examining room where they gave me very bad news. X-rays showed aspiration pneumonia. Both of Sola’s lungs were very small and infected. Her blood work was not normal. Her heart and respiration rates were too slow. There was little they could do and her prognosis was very poor. I asked them to please do what they could. After presenting me with an enormous estimate, I again confirmed that I indeed wanted them to try everything.
There went my vacation money, but I didn’t care. Whatever this baby needed, I wanted her to have. They were her only chance. She was placed in an oxygen tent, hooked up to IV fluids, and given injectable antibiotics. Before I left, I asked to see her one last time as I feared this was my last chance ever to see her alive. They hesitated because of her fragile state, but agreed to one minute only. They brought this pathetic little girl to me straight away. I held little Sola close, just like Gusto, and told her I loved her. I told her to fight. I sadly handed her back to the nurse. The tears were unstoppable. They said I could call and check on her any time I wanted. I left in tears. I cried and prayed all the way home as the tears flowed hard.
My friends and family knew how much I loved that puppy so I asked them to pray. I approached my Facebook family and asked them for prayers also. One Catholic friend raised Sola up at mass that night. Another friend, of the Jewish faith, spoke to God on her behalf. Many, many others assured me that they, too, were praying. I felt odd asking for prayers for a dog, but in my eyes and heart this puppy was so much more.
I resisted calling the emergency hospital for the rest of the day. They said they would only call me if something bad happened. I operated on the belief that no news was good news. At bedtime, I did give into my urge, took a deep breath, and dialed the phone. I informed the receptionist that I was calling to check on Sola. After what seemed like an eternity, the lady came back on the line and said Sola was doing ok, maybe even a little better. This was all the good news I needed to allow myself to lie down and go to sleep. I was instructed to call them bright and early in the morning. If all went well overnight, I would transport the baby to my vet for daytime care, as the emergency center closed at 8 am.
Nervously, I dialed the phone at 6 am. What they said absolutely floored me. I again introduced myself and again stated I was inquiring on Sola’s status. There was no pause that time. The receptionist had the update already. She said no one there could believe it, but Sola was doing awesome. She was trying to eat everything in sight, including her IV line. She was growling at everyone and giving them sass. I was to pick her up and take her to my vet for the day.
I was excited like a kid on Christmas Eve as I drove the forty five minutes to the hospital. If I was ever elated in my life, that was the moment.
Having laid eyes on my baby girl, alive and spunky, was an awesome feeling. I left for my vet’s with a new confidence and appreciation for life. The vet technician read the detailed emergency room report of Sola’s condition then looked at the feisty little girl. She proclaimed her a miracle puppy then escorted her into the back, again to be placed on fluids and oxygen. She rallied all day long, doing so well that she was able to come home that evening. While she was not 100% for several more weeks, I knew in my heart that she was going to be fine. In keeping with the Spanish theme, she had earned a fuller name and was then and forever to be called Sola Mia Milagro, “The Only Miracle.”
Sola remains happy and healthy, bringing laughter and joy to all who know her. The vet and all his staff still call her the miracle puppy to this day.