DogTown (30 page)

W
iggles, a little fawn-colored bulldog mix, was a year-old pup when an animal control officer picked him up wandering the streets of California in 2007. He might as well have been arrested for public drunkenness, because the most noticeable thing about Wiggles was that he couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line. With his bottom jaw jutting out and his black-spotted tongue lolling out of his mouth, he looked like a rum-sodden sailor, always listing to starboard, crashing into things, and sometimes just plain falling over. Animal control was charmed by the young dog’s silly personality; they kept Wiggles with them for a few months but couldn’t find him a home. The shelter staff in California knew that Wiggles might have some serious health issues that they couldn’t handle, so they called up Best Friends, which decided to take on this dizzy stray dog.

When Wiggles arrived at Dogtown for diagnosis and treatment, his quirky looks and wobbly walk very quickly began winning over the volunteers and staff. His listing gait and his funny face were only part of the package. Wiggles was a sweet, friendly boy who enjoyed people and attention. Nobody seemed quite able to resist him.

It was Wiggles’ face that was the killer. The whole thing looked as though it were halfway smashed in, in that classic bulldog way, as if he’d collided with a wall at high speed. But he had an immense protruding underbite displaying a rack of canines that looked as though they were intended to stop fights simply by looking so scary. Yet at the same time, there were those sweet, expressive brown eyes, without a hint of threat in them, and those erect, forward-pointing ears, one up, one flopping down.

The contrast between those amiable eyes and the predatory underbite was so comical and charming that you couldn’t help smiling when seeing Wiggles wobble around his enclosure at Dogtown. The ferocity was not quite believable, being in such close proximity to the adorableness. Maybe that’s why some people think bulldogs are the ugliest dogs, others think they are the cutest dogs, and still others think the combination makes for one of the most endearing faces of all dogs.

“My first impression of Wiggles was that he’s just very cute in a very ugly sort of way,” said Dr. Mike Dix, head vet and medical director of the clinic at Dogtown. Dr. Mike, a serious-minded medical man, was primarily intent on making a medical assessment of this odd little animal when he was brought into the clinic. Still, Dr. Mike couldn’t help it: His heart went out to Wiggles.

“He is easily the ugliest, cutest dog I’ve seen in a long while,” he said. “He’s got charm. He’s goofy. He doesn’t just walk goofy, his personality’s a little goofy. He’s just very…endearing.”

“I LOVE IT 100 PERCENT OF THE TIME”

When Mike Dix was growing up, there was always a family dog, starting with a German shepherd, followed by a black Lab, who became Mike’s very own dog, and with whom he had a very close relationship. He always seemed to have close relationships with animals. When he went to visit his grandparents, he’d spend more time playing with their dogs than talking to them.

When he got a little older, he decided he was going to be a football or basketball player when he grew up. There was one big problem: “I had no talent.” So by high school, Mike decided to turn his love for animals and love of science into a career as a veterinarian.

Dr. Mike’s wife, Elissa Jones, was instrumental in bringing him to Dogtown. He had a busy veterinary practice in Portland, Oregon, until a few years ago, when Elissa, who was a devoted animal lover and a longtime member of Best Friends, started trying to persuade him to go to the sanctuary in Utah for a volunteer vacation. Elissa had traveled to Best Friends for several vacations and had adopted a dog there, and she loved the place.

Dr. Mike Dix, the head vet at Best Friends, examines Wiggles to diagnose the possible cause of his unstable walk.

“I’d say, ‘Sure, I’ll visit, but I work with animals all day long, so I’m not going down there on vacation and do the same thing,’” Dr. Mike told Elissa. He also wasn’t a big fan of the desert: hot, flat, and boring. Or so he thought. He kept resisting.

“But you know, I loved Elissa, so finally I came. And when we got here, it was actually a very gorgeous place. Everyone at Best Friends was great. I liked the work they were doing, and they just happened to be hiring a vet while I was here, so they asked me to spend some time in the clinic and I did.” When they offered him the job, he took it. Now that he is medical director of the busy clinic at Dogtown, Dr. Mike says, “I love it 100 percent of the time. I don’t stop smiling all day.”

“One of the most fulfilling things about being a vet is that I am just working for the animals, which is a wonderful feeling. That’s what I got into this business for. But one of the most frustrating and interesting challenges of veterinary medicine is the fact that the animals can’t tell you what’s wrong with them.”

Despite his touchingly expressive countenance, Wiggles couldn’t tell Dr. Mike what was wrong, whether he felt better or worse, or what he wanted. Dr. Mike had to figure it out and decide the best thing to do for him.

HUNTING FOR CLUES

Wiggles’ exact breed was difficult to determine since he had been picked up as a stray and there was no preexisting medical history for him. He appeared to have some bulldog in his background, but just how much could be not be ascertained with any certainty. Like most of the animals who entered Dogtown, Wiggles was more likely an unknown jambalaya of breeds and half-breeds all stirred up in a pot. Sure, he was probably
mostly
bulldog, but there were enough other ingredients in the secret sauce that Dr. Mike referred to him as “bulldoggish.”

On the other hand, one thing Dr. Mike noted during his initial medical evaluation was that in the California town where Wiggles was found, there had been a bulldog breeder. Some of Wiggles’ more “distinctive” traits resembled problems caused by inbreeding. It’s possible that Wiggles was a purebred dog gone awry—an attempt to achieve bulldog perfection that failed. Dog breeders sometimes use inbreeding to guarantee desirable traits—for instance, by breeding a male with brindle coloration (considered desirable) with a female of the same color. But this technique limits the gene pool and can lead to genetic mutations, with symptoms like the ones Wiggles displayed. His topsy-turvy drunkenness and underbite might have been a problem caused by bad breeding.

During his initial exam, Dr Mike had to determine if Wiggles suffered from a lifelong, possibly progressive illness caused by a breeding snafu, or if his condition was manageable. Wiggles sat quietly on the examination table and patiently submitted to a battery of diagnostic tests that would determine if his problems were neurological or caused by an illness. Though he could not communicate where he hurt or what he needed, Wiggles sat patiently on the exam table, his eyes expectant and trusting. His body may have been bulldoggish, but his heart was about as ferocious as a lollipop.

First, Dr. Mike took Wiggles’ front paw and turned it over, so that the “palm” was facing up and the back was on the table. Normally, a dog would quickly right his paws. But Wiggles just let them sit there, as if unaware of them. His reaction indicated that there was a disconnect between the nerves in Wiggles’ foot and his brain. The location of the problem—in the brain, the nerves, or the pathway to the brain—was unknown.

Dr. Mike suspected there might be something going awry in Wiggles’ cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls balance, which also plays a vital role in basic motor function.

So he performed another simple diagnostic test, pretending to suddenly poke a finger in the dog’s eye. Each time, Wiggles blinked. This normal blink response meant that his cerebellum was normal, which indicated that the problem lay somewhere else.

Next, Dr. Mike x-rayed Wiggles’ spine to see if it was malformed. Surgery could fix a curved spinal column if that was the source of Wiggles’ problems. But an examination of the x-ray films on the viewing box ruled that out. “His spine looks pretty good,” Dr. Mike said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a spinal issue, but there’s nothing obvious. So with a severe brain or spinal injury ruled out, it’s likely that Wiggles was born with some kind of genetic defect that affects his neurological system.

“Now if we ran every test possible—CT scan, MRI—and decided whether it was a brain problem or a spinal cord problem, you might find something surgically that you can repair. But is that really going to be in his best interest? I tend to be a minimalist for a lot of these cases, thinking that as long as the condition is not progressing and the animal is stable, why put them through a surgery that’s not a guarantee?” Dr. Mike explained.

He’s always ready for a good game of tug: Wiggles’ neurological issues never interfere with playtime.

Wiggles appeared to be medically stable, and he seemed to get around without pain in his everyday life at Dogtown, so Dr. Mike gave the go-ahead for adoption.

AN EMBARRASSING SOCIAL INDELICACY

When Wiggles moved in to Dogtown, he got his own private enclosure with comfortable indoor quarters and a doggie door leading to an outdoor run. It was a veritable palace, compared with life on the streets of California, and Wiggles seemed to relish the luxury during the months he spent there.

Visitors and staff were charmed by Wiggles’ physical comedy, his unsteadiness on his feet, and his habit of blundering into things. Though it was a little pitiable to see his awkwardness on his feet, it was amazing how well he actually got around. And it was clear, at least, that he was not in any pain when he toppled over. But what was most endearing about Wiggles was the fact that the spirit tucked inside that odd, imperfect little body was sturdy and resilient, always ready to play, and always ready to trust. That was perhaps the most striking thing about him: Here he was, a small creature who’d been dealt a truly wretched hand in life, handicapped from the moment of birth, thrown onto the streets, barely even able to walk. Yet whenever a caregiver went into his run and tossed him a ball or a stuffed toy, he ran after it delightedly, grabbed it, and brought it back, his eyes sparkling with joy and eagerness to do it all over again.

But finding a suitable adoptive family would not be easy. Wiggles had two big things going against him. The first was that it was just not clear why he was so unsteady on his feet, which meant that although the condition might get better, it might stay the same or even get worse.

The other problem was an embarrassing social indelicacy that showed up almost as soon as Wiggles was admitted to Dogtown: He couldn’t control his bowels and would occasionally—not often, but sometimes—simply drop a scat on the ground behind him. It wasn’t messy or difficult to clean up, but it was something most people would not want to deal with.

Even so, Dr. Mike knew from experience that some people “just love a challenge, so they actually
look
for dogs or cats that have problems.” Other people have special empathy for dogs with special problems—their hearts instinctively go out to them. And other people “just want dogs like this because they don’t think anybody else will take them, and they deserve to have a chance.”

Then, of course, there was Wiggles’ face. If the right person got one look at him, they’d be hopelessly gone. Finding that person would not be impossible. It would just be a whole lot more difficult than, say, finding an adoptive family for a pretty, housebroken golden retriever.

“Finding the right home for a squatty, bulldoggish dog who keeps falling over and occasionally drops poop—it’s just a little bit harder to find the right person for a dog like that,” Dr. Mike said.

AN F ON THE CAT TEST

“He’s too cute for words, but he walks like he’s drunk a lot of the time,” Kristi Littrell described as she talked on the phone. “The vet staff thinks he has some kind of neurological problem.”