Intro: The Pip's
Blog Roots: This website was born many years ago, beginning as Zig’s blog. Being beyond dear to my heart, I just can’t delete it. Now it will be the home base for all things Pip. Originally titled “Chronicles of a K-9 in Congestive Heart Failure: The life and death of my best friend Ziggaro” it began as a resource for those struggling in the same situation. As I scoured the ridiculously dark & vast interwebs, all I found was gloom, doom and terrible accounts of impending death. I resolved to myself & Ziggaro that our path would not be that and I wanted to share it, with hope that it might give even one person some encouragement.
A title change to “Mr. Pip and Me” came just shy of a year following Ziggaro’s death in 2017. Because it was time. During that time I found myself in a rebirth of sorts as Renwick Pip snuggled his way into my life and heart. Now in 2024, another autumn is upon us and it’s time again. The freshly renamed “Mr. Pip & Co” will continue to hold all the pieces of my heart in one place, including past, present and future.
You can read the original blog Bio In A Minute for Ziggaro Pip HERE
and the revised Bio that includes Renwick Pip HERE.
Ziggaro’s Backstory
The health decline began in 2013 when Ziggaro suffered a stroke immediately following his first ever rabies vaccination. I’m no fringe hippie, but I do believe that (all) bodies do best with the least amount of toxic chemicals possible. I also know the dosing for a 5lb dog is no different than that for a 205lb dog, and that makes me uncomfortable. So until then, he thrived. A new, well meaning vet was persistent to vaccinate and finally I caved. At the time he had a slowly progressing mild heart murmur, not uncommon for small dogs of his age & breed, which became dynamic after the injection. The murmur progressed quickly to congestive heart failure (CHF) and thus we began steady movement through the stages of CHF. It’s important to note: Not all dogs with heart murmurs will end up in CHF and reactions to the rabies vaccine are uncommon. For reasons only known to the heavens, we just ended up with the perfect storm.
I had no one to talk with who understood. I was terrified. Aside from my very closest confidants, the general consensus was to put him down. “Don’t draw out the inevitable, Jess. He doesn’t deserve to live like this.” They were right, he didn’t deserve to live uncomfortable or unhappy. So I resolved he wouldn’t and dove into the process of figuring out how to save him. Let me rephrase: of figuring out how to help him save himself.
I am not the hero of this story. Throughout the rest of his life I never did save him, I was simply a creative facilitator. In fact, there were even occasional times I messed up and took him backwards. I brought ideas, sometimes wildly unconventional, and we figured out what worked and what didn’t. There was no handbook and no one to call. The internet was useless and depressing and there was nothing the vets could really do. So our vet was wonderful, she knew us well and worked with us and trusted me to be reasonable. She gave us more space than most would and for that I’m forever thankful. So we were all a team and we did the work - well, Zig did the work. He never gave up and he never quit being happy. And the times that I did, he picked me up and we got back to it. There was something about him, unlike any other dog I’d been around, a gentle wisdom and stern calmness. There’s no real way to explain it that doesn’t sound ridiculous.
We had almost five more outstanding years together. The last one was sometimes tough and that’s what the previous blog entries cover. But it was an entire year together we wouldn’t have had by following the path of most others. He died slow and as nature dictated, often we just lived day to day and I was blessed to be able to do that for him. Sometimes I spent too much time worrying when I should have been loving and snuggling. Sometimes if felt like a never ending break of the heart and I had huge pity parties for myself. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I have never learned as much from any soul as I have from him during those times. It changed me forever. It made me better.
If I could have one wish, it would be that everyone could live and die just as he did: All in, always.