taros story

IT DID NOT HAVE TO HAPPEN

11/5/2011 – 8/21/2020

Our beloved precious Taro went into the vet for what was supposed to be the final stages of an ear infection that had been clearing up. I remember the night before, when Taro opened her chewy treat box, grabbed her favorite bone and dashed into the backyard, a bundle of joy. We actually saved her other two toys to celebrate the healing of her ear infection planned for the following night after her vet appointment and what we believed would be a joyous occasion. Instead, it all led to her shocking and tragic death.

I should have trusted my instinct. The vet prescribed sedatives and I dreaded giving them to Taro. The vet wanted me, to give more and more to Taro. I relented and gave her the full-dose prior to Taros last visit. Taro was noticeably more sedated than our previous visits. I trusted the vet with Taro’s life. A trust that would soon be devastatingly broken.

Everything seemed to start going wrong.  I called the vet tech from the car on the way over to Taros appointment, trying not to panic, but very afraid that Taro was over-sedated. The vet tech seemed less than concerned.

When we arrived, Taro managed to unsteadily walk the few steps to the door of the clinic.  I was unable to accompany her any further due to the pandemic restrictions. I waited for what seemed like an eternity in the parking lot until the vet called me to give me the glorious news that Taro’s ear infection was finally gone. I was elated. However, the vet also mentioned that Taro seemed “really out of it.” I asked the vet to do Taro’s Annual Exam to ensure everything else was alright with our beloved girl.

All I could think about was sharing the good news with my husband, and looking forward to the celebration later that night.

Again, the vet noted that Taro seems really sedated, and when I express concern, she says not to worry. The next thing I know is Taro is being carried out to my car, the same Taro who entered the facility of her own accord, is now being carried out. She is placed on the backseat of my car.

While waiting for the vet to call me, Taro face-plants onto the floor of the car while her body remains partially on the backseat. She was non-responsive and lacked any control over herself.

Panicking, I looked up and saw a vet tech delivering a small dog to another customer’s care and with heart pounding, yelled, “Emergency! I have an emergency over here!” The vet tech came over and re-positioned Taro back onto the seat and said, “Everything is going to be fine.” I tried to calm myself down.

Then Dr. Eva Armfield calls me to discuss billing, and suddenly Taro face-plants again, unresponsive, and I desperately yell out to the doctor that Taro is slumped over again, non-responsive and we need help. A vet tech arrives at our car and again reposition's Taro back onto the seat.

I know my dog and all my instincts were screaming inside that Taro needs medical attention. Yet the vet didn’t even take the time to re-check her, nor come outside herself to look, instead sending a vet tech out assuring me that Taro was fine. Taro wasn’t fine. Taro would never be fine again. Two more calls were made to Dr. Eva Armfield, before even leaving her parking lot telling her Taro is in trouble. Dr. Eva Armfield kept saying Taro will be fine and to go home. I wanted to trust Taro would be OK.

Still scared, I drove home slowly, keeping a watchful eye on Taro. As soon as we arrived home, Taro threw up in the car. I literally had to slide my Taro onto a small rug and drag her several feet, sliding her into the garage where she stayed there, staring into space, for about two-hours.

Still gravely concerned, I call the vet again who said Taro would be just fine. Let the medication wear off was her answer. She recommended that I give her a Pepcid AC. I could hardly believe it and let her know that Taro wasn’t even showing interest in her favorite cheese or bacon. Just listless. I told the vet she must not realize what is happening with Taro. Yet, she assured me that Taro would be just fine.

I watched with extreme anguish as Taro tried desperately in vain to lift her body up off the floor. Trying over and over and over again, not even an inch, until she collapsed down again realizing the hopeless futility.

Yet, I believed the vet. I wanted to believe the vet. That Taro would be alright, despite my inner instincts telling me that all was not right. I stayed next to her, praying for her, and showering her with as much love as I could muster.

Eventually Taro was able to get herself up and took a few steps outside where she threw up, evacuated her bowels and drank a little water. I was so hopeful that she was on the road to recovery, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I frantically called the vet again and her advice was not to let Taro drink a lot of water. I couldn’t fathom that advice, then she added that she would wait for me with stomach medicine. I told her Taro was non-responsive and her legs were cold. Something was terribly wrong.

The vet assured me Taro was going to be fine and to call her in the morning. I trusted her yet again against my motherly intuition, and we would not wait until morning. Not for our beloved Taro.

I knew my husband Chip would be home soon. They were inseparable as he was Taro’s world. I thought Taro’s excitement would help in her recovery and energy. When Chip finally arrived, Taro had barely enough energy to wag her tail. That was all. I knew it was dire. We brought the car as close as we could to Taro, and as I laid down blankets for her ride to the Emergency room. With her last bit of strength, I turned to see Taro up on her feet, struggling, as she slowly walked to the car. She so loved Chip, and didn’t want him to drive off without her as he started the car. It was heartbreaking, but gave us hope yet once again, that Taro would somehow be alright. 

We drove to the animal hospital and arrived in the dark. Staff rushed out at the curb and shined a light into Taro’s eyes, stating she was stable and not an emergency. They said they were very busy but would call us in when they could. 

To our astonishment, Taro got out of the car of her own accord, urinated, barked and walked around a little. It gave us even more hope.

After almost three hours of waiting, and Taro seemingly recovering, we decided to bring her home to allow her to rest as Taro seemed tired. I stayed with her in her bed, at the foot of our bed, for hours with my hand on her pulse. She seemed to be alright.

The next morning, Taro was still in bed which wasn’t unusual for her. However, after getting dressed and walking out of the bathroom some ten-minutes later, I saw Taro walk from her bed, but her hind legs didn’t look right. She collapsed and her laborious rapid breathing started and seemed worse after each passing minute.

Chip picked Taro up and carried her to the car while I frantically called the hospital and told them we had an emergency and were rushing Taro in. I was yelling at Chip to hurry as I felt every second counted as we raced to the hospital. Her head rested on my lap. Deep down I felt the end was near but tried to reassure Taro, my baby, to hold on, despite my own worst fears.

She looked up at me with her beautiful sorrowful eyes, they were so dilated. I rested her head back down, stroked her and told her to hold on, we were almost there, as I fought back my own tears. Each time I professed my love for her and reassured her, she would look up at me with those soulful eyes. The last time she tried to lift her head, I pet her and told her to rest. Little did I know that this would be the last time we gazed into each other eyes.

Arriving at the Emergency room, they took Taro in on a stretcher. All I could do was pray and cry. I called the Patchogue Animal Hospital on Long Island, New York, to tell her vet Dr. Eva Armfield to have her records sent over immediately to help save her life. It was futile as the tech said the vet was not in until 11:00am. I pleaded, in my darkest hour, that my precious Taro was fighting for her life.

It was then that I saw the ER doctor emerge and speak with Chip. I will never forget the horror in Chip’s face, forever now etched in my mind, as he turned and desperately yelled out to me, “She’s gone! She’s gone! She’s gone!”

Tears burst forth in absolute disbelief and shock, like a nightmare that I couldn’t wake from. We both collapsed to the floor sobbing, pounding the ground, in such shock. Not Taro. Not our precious beloved Taro. No No No!!!

Taking up the invitation to view her, and seeing her lifeless body was even more difficult as Chip and I stood over her, showering her with kisses and caresses as tears cascaded down our faces onto her. I still couldn’t believe she was gone. Forever.

Ultimately, the ER doctor came to see us, we were in shock, he strongly recommends to not have a Necropsy, and the overall feeling seemingly was a lack of empathy and compassion when we truly needed it the most.

None of this had to have happened. Taro did not have to die.

Taro’s vet finally returned my emergency call and tearful plea some eight hours later, to apologize. I was numb. Weak and alone. I just listened. She said Taro could have had a heart-based tumor or her ear infection could have traveled to her blood, the ear infection, that had already been healed. When we asked about Taro’s white blood count, the vet said it had been perfect. So how could there have been a blood infection? It didn’t add up. I told her my husband would be calling her back. 

Something didn’t sit well deep within my motherly visceral instincts.

Our lives changed forever that day. Taro was my baby. My companion. My life. We were inseparable and life seems empty for us both now that she is gone.

What was supposed to be a simple ear check led to the inexplicable death of our family member.

The next morning, we called the Emergency Room Atlantic Coast Veterinary Hospital to try to have a necropsy performed even though we were discouraged the night before. We were told it was too late.

We wanted Taro’s medical records but Patchogue Animal Hospital referred us to their Attorney in order to get the medical records. The next thing I know is we receive a “cease-and-desist” letter from her attorney regarding our posts on Social Media.

Chip had been calling Dr. Eva Armfield for a week with no success, and then finally Dr. Eva Armfield calls Chip, a week later, and complains about social media posts. No compassion for the loss of Taro, but more worried about the buzz on social media.

With all of the unanswered questions, we had a VMD examine Taro’s medical records who informed us that Taro’s Vet prescribed 600mg of Gabapentin and 300mg of Trazodone twelve hours apart. I had reluctantly given Taro the full dose on the last visit, based upon trusting the vet, as she insisted.

The VMD that reviewed Taros medical records concluded that Taro’s Vet had inadequate medical records.  We were charged for her annual visit but no mention of her cardiovascular system or heart was ever mentioned. No SOAP notes were evidenced, a current standard, which is a complete assessment of body systems.

The sedatives could trigger a state of low blood pressure and if Taro did have a heart-based tumor, the sedatives could have taken her over the edge, or sometimes these bleeds can be an innocent bleed that may never happen again. From the first signs of distress, someone should have listened to her heart and diagnosed any issues. An x-ray or ultrasound could have revealed excess fluid, which could have been removed which would have likely brought significant relief and can have a good prognosis. The ER could have listened to her heart to determine the seriousness of her condition. Lastly, Taro had been administered a Leptospirosis vaccine by her Vet, the timing here is inappropriate. In combination with all the sedatives she had been given for her ear infection treatment, ear and skin allergies, which were not in remission, may have exacerbated her decline as well.  A possible complication of events. Taro had four ear re-checks over the course of six weeks, in addition to the sedatives and Leptospirosis, Taro was also administered Claro medication for her ear two times, a cytopoint injection two times, all of which was questioned why does she need all this. I trusted the vet.

So many questions, so many “what-if” this or that. But answers would never bring Taro back.  In my opinion Taro could have been saved if either Dr. Armfield or the ER at anytime had taken the time to check her vitals.

I first met Taro after Chip and I were married. Taro was four years old already. I moved back to New York to discover Chip had a dog. We quickly became a family.

I learned that Chip’s daughter acquired Taro from a man in Brooklyn who had taken Taro from her own mother at only three weeks of age. Chip’s daughter became Taro’s mother, bottle feeding her and caring for her. Chip decided to care for Taro when Chip’s daughter ended up moving to a small apartment, thinking that one day Taro would return to her. 

Taro’s bond with Chip grew as he took her to work with him for about two-years. He shared about how Taro greeted everyone at the shop and the affection was mutual as Taro embedded herself in the hearts of so many. People would bring their children to introduce them to Taro as well. She was that loved.

Now Taro entered my life. I was now a novice dog owner. I had to ask Chip how to walk her. After two more days of accompanying Chip to work, I asked Chip to leave her home with me. 

I sat her down and looked her in her beautiful soulful eyes and had a heart-to-heart with her. I told her I would love her and care for her and we would get to know each other’s hearts. That was truly the beginning of a most precious relationship. Taro became my everything.

We spent quality time together, as I taught her tricks and we played together, and weather permitting, we would go out on grand adventures together. We enjoyed life and learned from each other. Chip, Taro and I lived a most beautiful existence.

Chip so loved Taro and she loved him. He would do anything for her to make her happy, including the best medical care and food, and found the most trusted dog sitter when we couldn’t take Taro with us on trips.

Chip, Taro and I exchanged hearts and affection and she always showed us her unconditional love. She was always animated and excited to see Chip arrive home each day racing to greet him with tail frantically wagging, jumping up to kiss his face. She even waited by the front door for hours in anticipation of his imminent arrival. She laid next to Chip each and every night on the couch, with one eye on me so she would know when I was headed towards the fridge. She was our beloved family member.

All was shattered so quickly with devastation and the hole left in our family, in our hearts, casting a shadow and pallor over our happiness in this life. The sorrow is unbearable at times, even today.

Taro didn’t have to die. All we have left, is her precious loving memories, of a beautiful dog who gave her love away to all, so genuinely and unconditionally, is to ensure she did not die in vain. That those who choose a career and a responsibility for caring for our beloved dogs uphold their sacred oath to “do no harm.”

Rest in Love Dear Taro. We love you. Always have. Always will…

Mama and Dada

Marie and Chip Watkins