"Dakota Arson Giallombardo I- The Dog with Nine Lives"

By Merle 2011

As a child, and even into adult married life, dogs were always a part of my life. After my divorce, and then shortly after another painful breakup from a relationship that had lasted almost four years, I was feeling pretty lonely and bad about myself. Then I met Jim. A man like no other I had ever met in my life.

After dating almost one and a half years, I asked him if we could get a dog. At the time we were renting in Euclid, and he said that the landlord might not approve, so he put me off. I was relentless, begging him night and day to please, please get a dog. In my heart, I wanted someone that I could love and who would love me back unconditionally. My maternal instincts were crying out for a "child" and a furry friend would surely "fix" everything that was ailing me. Inside I was broken and just knew a dog would help me to heal.

On Valentine’s Day in 1996, while washing dishes, Jim came up behind me with a gift. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the cutest little black puppy I had ever seen. I was thrilled. My prayers had been answered. He was a purebred "Miniature Pinscher" born December 28, 1995. Jim said he would be the lap dog I always wanted, not realizing at the time just how large he would grow - about 23lbs at his heaviest. A lap dog he wasn't.

It took me weeks to come up with a name because it had to be perfect. About two weeks into our new relationship, he was still nameless, but while driving on the highway it came to me....Dakota.   Jim and I called him our son, so with a play on words, we named him "Dakota Arson I".  Arson for "our son".  He grew quickly and we took him everywhere we went. When we left home for long periods of time, he ate would eat my shoes. Visiting Payless to stock up on new heels became a weekly field trip.  Jim's kids were all young at the time and even they cherished and loved him. He slept in our bed and was content just to be at my side.

My fondest memory is of the two of us jogging every morning before I went to work. We started when he was just a puppy. I would tie him to my waist and attach his leash to my belt before running off through the neighborhood. About two miles, five days a week. It was our special time together and oh, how he loved it. He was often up several hours before me just waiting by the door. We were running partners for many years before I had to stop due to back injuries from all the years of running on cement.

He was also a notorious mouse killer. Better than any cat at rodent control. Going to the park for hikes in the woods was another favorite pastime.

After a few years of living in Euclid, Jim and I bought a home in Highland Heights where Dakota spent the majority of this life. Feeling bad that Jim and I were working and not home all day, I thought Dakota needed a sibling. That's when we got him a brother, an Italian Greyhound named Teddy Bear. They spent the next seven years together before Teddy got unexpectedly ill and died two weeks later. As I layin bed sobbing and heartbroken, Dakota was right at my side. He was going through his own grieving process but still licked the tears from my face. I told him that someday he would see Teddy Bear again in heaven.

Within a few short months we got another Italian Greyhound named Gia. She looked so much like Teddy Bear, and in a strange way she helped me to get over my grief.  Dakota was just as thrilled with his new little sister. About a year later, not planning to get another dog, a Toy Fox Terrier named Baxter needed a home, so he became the third member of our happy little family.

Dakota was the "pack leader". Being the oldest and wisest, he was top dog and everyone else fell in line behind him. He was brave and strong and afraid of nothing. His fearlessness got him in trouble a few times. Like when the neighbor's 100lb Akita challenged him and 23lb Dakota thought he was up for the fight. That dog tore him up not once, but twice over the course of a year - the second time almost killing him. With such severe internal injuries they had to do immediate surgery and told me he may die on the operating table. But he didn't. He fought his way back to me just like he did so many times before. He was like a cat with nine lives and no one or nothing could destroy him.

Over the course of his lifetime, besides being attacked twice by the neighbor's dog, he was also hit by a car, had a broken kneecap, had cancerous tumors removed, and one time ate a dead duck that was lying in the middle of the road baking in the August heat,becoming so violently ill he was hospitalized and put on IV's to treat food poisoning.  This dog was incredible, like the Energizing Bunny, "he took a licking and  kept on ticking". I was always there to nurse him back to health. I thought he would live forever. I was wrong.

He was so brave and determined fighting back from whatever was ailing him. A  born fighter with such determination to live but sweet and loving. He liked everyone, and never bit anyone in his entire life. He was highly protective of Jim and I, and often barked at every leaf blowing around in the yard. No one was sneaking up on me anytime soon.

The vacuum was his sworn enemy and any time we tried to vacuum, he went crazy barking and biting at it. Unfortunately, he passed this bad habit onto Gia and Baxter. With his resiliency and will to live, Dakota taught me to never give up when life knocks you down. You need to fight with everything you have to get back on top. He took one day at a time, never worrying about tomorrow. He was always in the present, enjoying the here and now. No matter if that meant lying in the sun basking in its glow, or enjoying the heat from a roaring fire. That's what is so wonderful about dogs - they're just happy to be, not spending their days chasing after money or things. Dakota was a great dog, and there will never be another just like him. A true one of a kind original. A warrior.

If Dakota could talk, I think he would probably say "Thanks for giving me such a wonderful life and always taking care of me".

About four months ago, at almost 16 years of age, he was diagnosed with liver and kidney failure. This was one fight he couldn't win. Jim and I decided to take care of him up until the point when he would die on his own or have to be put to sleep. Once again, he fought the deterioration of his body with everything he had. As sick and weak as he was, he still went to the door every day to do his "business". I believe he didn't want to leave us. He often looked into my eyes pleading with me to make him feel better. I always could in the past, but this time I could not.

At one point he stopped eating, and Jim and I knew we would have to do what we had been dreading for months. We had hoped he would go peacefully in his sleep but he just refused to die. The day we put him down was Feb 24, 2011. Ten days after Valentine’s Day – the day that he had first entered our lives so many years ago. The day was cold and dreary, no sun in the sky. Sending Dakota to heaven was one of the hardest things we ever had to do. He's at peace now, no more pain and discomfort - and I like to think that Teddy Bear was there waiting for him to help him "cross over". The dog with nine lives who refused to die was now dead.

Even though we're sad, I know in my heart that someday we will be together again. I whispered that into his ear as he quietly slipped away there in the stillness of the vet's office. And when we see him again he will jump into our arms and it will be as if we were never apart.

Goodbye Kota Boy. Daddy and I will miss you every day for the rest of our lives, but we will never forget you. How could I forget the dog who taught me to love again...? Dakota Arson Giallombardo I. Thank you for coming into our lives and being such a loyal and faithful friend. Until the day we meet again, remember we love you, and you'll always be right here in our hearts.

“Life Lessons Learned from My Terminally Ill Dog (Dakota)”

Four months ago I was told by the vet that my 16 year old dog, Dakota was dying from liver and kidney failure. She basically handed over some pain pills, told me to keep him comfortable until the day he stops eating and drinking when I would be forced to put him to sleep. At first I accepted her dismal news and gave him the pain pills every 4 hours, religiously. The pills were way too strong and put him in such a stupor the poor thing could barely walk. So I stopped. Pain meds were just putting a bigger burden on his liver and according to the vet he wasn't really in pain just a tad uncomfortable. There had to be a better way.

Now anyone that knows me knows that I'm a big believer in holistic health and the power of herbs, and I don't give up on anything easily. I started doing research online. A lot of research. Wanting to find out everything I could on natural remedies for dogs suffering with kidney and liver failure. There are a number of herbs that strengthen the liver, and help to cleanse the toxins from the blood supply, a job usually done by healthy kidneys and liver. I needed to help my dog's body do the jobs it could no longer do on his own.

I started him on a daily regimen of multi-vitamins, Milk Thistle, Burdock,
Dandelion, Alfalfa, Sam E, Fish Oil, Vit C, and Vit E. The doses were spread
out throughout the day so as not to overload his system with everything all at the same time. When the vet first diagnosed him he was barely eating and I had been taking him to the vets 2 days a week or more for anti-nausea shots which seemed to help at first but eventually stopped. Once the herbs took hold he ate pretty well most of the time with only an occasional bout of vomiting and diareah. Upon more reading I found that baths were a good way to remove toxins from the body so I added weekly Epsom Salt Baths which also seemed to help with relaxation and sleeping.

Over the past few months we've had good days and bad days. On bad days we might have a lot of seizure activity and not much appetite. He would sometimes stare at his water bowl for 10 minutes but unable to drink from it. And on good days he ate a whole plate of food every few hours and looked for more. The liver controls sugar in the body, and with that no longer working properly, I had to offer food every 3 to 4 hours to keep the blood sugars levels up to avoid seizures which seemed to get worse when intervals between feedings went too long. Some days he'd be very weak and fall into his own feces when going to the bathroom. Baths became more frequent.

Lately when he's sleeping the waking intervals are growng longer and longer. Body temperature becomes hard to regulate, so I had to constanly check to make he was covered, or turn the heater on in front of his cage. To entice eating I became like the Galloping Gourmet. A variety of foods were given and depending on appetite what he'd eat one day, would not eat the next. Dog food was out of the question except for an occasional container of Beneful wet food which seemed to tickel his fancy from time to time. Sometimes he'd favor Mcdonalds, other times Arby's then he'd move on to only Pizza. Whatever it took to stimulate his appetite I did it.

Schedules had to be arranged so that someone was usually home as there were a few times he was left alone and fell down and could not get back up and was stuck in that postion for hours until we arrived. Through it all he only had an occasional accident in the house and still went to the door faithfully to be carried outside to do his business. He had to be carried as he could no longer navigate the steps on his own. Many cold winter nights he'd fall in the snow or on the ice and I'd run outside in my pajamas, barefoot to lift him to safety. Like an elderly old man balance on some days was not so good, especially on a heavy seizure day.

Years ago Dakota was attacked by the neighbor's dog, a 100lb Akita. Not once but twice. In both cases I stayed with him and nursed him back to health. He's come to rely on me as the caretaker, the Alpha dog. The nurturer who in the past could always make him feel better and restore health and vitality. He looks at me now as if I've failed him. He'll stare at me as if to say "Why aren't I getting better?". He knows if anyone could fix him, it's me. But this time I can't. I have failed him and will fail him. I am not God and there's nothing I can do outside of trying to make him as comfortable as possible with the short amount of time he has left.

Has all of this been a lot of work? Yes. Would I do it all over again? Yes. I love my dog and cherish the time we've been spending together. No matter if he's just lying by my side curled up in a blanket sleeping or my holding his head trying to soothe him out of a seizure. He's my son and I love him. He would do the same for me if he could. For all his years of faithfulness, this is the least I can do for him.

He's taught me so much about strength and fighting over the past few months. Life lessons I could not learn from another human being, only from a dog. This dog.

1) Don't give up on things. It "aint over till it's over".

2 Tomorrow's another day. Today may be a bad day but tomorrow might be great.

3) Even when it's tough and it hurts, believe in yourself. You can do more then you think you can.

4) Loyalty is hard to find. When you find it, hold onto it and don't let it go.

5) Don't believe what others say. They may say you're doomed, but you only are if you accept that diagnosis and give up. Fight everyday.

6) Take care of those you love and they'll take care of you.

7)  Spend more time together- You never know when it will be your last.

8) Sometimes "natural" is better then medicine. Always do research to see if there are holistic ways to treat any condition or disease.

9) Before you leave the house kiss those you love goodbye.

Remember, dogs are considered seniors at the age of 7 and should have annual exams starting at that age to catch any disease progression early on. Something I didn't know. Now I wish I had.

Through it all people have had their "opinions" on what I'm doing for my dog. The one thing I hear the most is "Is he in pain?". Well, I'm not sure let me ask him. Most believe that as soon as a dog is diagnosed with a terminal illness they should be put down. Well, my grandfather has been in a nursing home for the past few years sticken with numerous medical and mental problems and no one considers putting him down. Why should a dog matter any less.

If your child were ill would you try to take care of him or her? or would you put them out of their "misery". Dakota is a member of my family and my responsibility to take care of.  I do not choose to take the easy way out.

Like a dog I will be faithful until the end. Humans could learn a lot from dogs and I'm lucky enough to have had one of the best teachers.

Me and Missy G 2009

A lot of people say I’m “dog crazy”. I have  3 dogs and love them all and try to provide the very best home and life I can for them. If that makes me “crazy” then I guess I’m guilty as charged. I see nothing wrong with giving them my all.That means good food, exercise, love and companionship.  My dogs are the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m not ashamed of that fact.  If you want to experience unconditional love from someone who will never leave you, insult you, doesn’t care how much money you make or where you live….go and get yourself a dog. You can thank me later.

Baxter Gray- Age 3 

Dakota Arson- Age 14

Me and My Dog Dakota

This is my dog Dakota. He's 12 years old and is a wonderful dog. My boyfriend gave him to me for Valentines Day when he was only 8 weeks old.