I’ve seen several search engine topics involving schnauzers having symptoms of heart failure, and fainting, even when asleep. I’ve been there with two of my schnauzers. My last one just died 12 days ago… always consult your vet with questions, but here is my experience. I’m also an RN (disabled, but got my license 28 years ago and still have it). I was cued in to abnormal breathing and behaviors, which helped me know that I needed to get both of my dogs who had heart failure seen by their vets.
My first schnauzer to have heart failure was Hannah. I got her in 1988 as a 6 week old puppy. To make a sweater for her (there weren’t many options for puppy clothes back then) I cut holes in one of my socks. She had some episodes that were called seizures, but with how things turned out, she probably had some heart issues starting at about 18 months old when she fainted (and twitched) for the first time. By the time I got her to the vet, she was fine. She had those episodes now and then, until 2000 when in one night she fainted 7 times (I stayed up with her all night). I thought I was taking her to the vet to be put to sleep that next morning, but he got her on some medications and prescription dog food and she lived another GOOD year. I vowed to not make her live just so I didn’t have to face the loss of her. As a single woman with no kids, she was my family. I wanted the best for her, but when she died, it was really hard. She had done well up until the last couple of days; when she quit eating, I knew that was it. I had decided to get another dog before she died, so that kept me going.
Then I got Mandy. She did very well until she was just about 11 years old. She fainted. Her breathing got too ‘hard’, and I knew what was going on. I took her to the vet, and with an exam and x-rays (showing an enlarged heart, displaced trachea- from the size of her heart, and some lung congestion) she was also diagnosed with canine heart failure. She was put on medications, and did fairly well. She only fainted 3 times total- including one time when she was asleep. The last ‘episode’ wasn’t the same, but it was similar, and she died in my arms within 15 minutes. I still cry every day missing her.
Something huge to remember is to not give the dog ‘people’ food because of the salt content, unless it has no salt (which means that most processed foods are out). I got freeze dried peas (meant for toddlers) for Mandy, and she also loved freeze dried bananas (NOT the fried ones in the grocery store). Those items had NO added ingredients. She also liked pieces of raw apples. The only commercial treat she could have was “Charlee Bear”- because of the sodium content being low enough (I e-mailed the company for the answer re: sodium content, and then cleared it with my dog’s vet- please check this out with your dog’s vet as well 🙂 Towards the very end, Mandy didn’t want to eat. She had lost weight, so I tried various things- ground beef, ground turkey, scrambled eggs, rice, potatoes, oatmeal, baby food fruit and veggies…. that last morning she had two Swedish meatballs that I’d adjusted for her (low sodium and baked instead of fried- like the Christmas party meatballs were).
It’s heartbreaking to see them get older and struggle. I made some mental notes as to when it was ‘enough’- though with Mandy it was a bit less clear until she just had a brief episode and then was actively dying in minutes. But I was prepared to have her put to sleep. Hannah died in my arms as she was euthanized. She knew I was there. That was important to me- I couldn’t have either of them think I’d left them. Mandy looked scared until she just collapsed in my lap. Then it was just a few minutes before it was over. I talked to her, and scratched behind her ears as I knew she liked.
I’m not sure what my malfunction is, but I’m sorta grumpy. I got up way earlier than usual (I’m one of those who is usually up half of the night and then sleeps until noon). I’ve got a vague headache, but that’s nothing all that new. I have chronic headaches. Christmas was really good- I got to see (and meet) family, and talked to my biological mom and half-brother on the phone, which is always good. I got to spend time with family at the Swedish Christmas party since I’ve got the ice vest to wear when I leave home and don’t have as much chance of being overheated because of the dysautonomia. And yet, I’m a major dud this morning.
I’ve been extremely irritated at comments to news stories on various online sites and publications. So many people are so heartless and cruel. Or pathologically immature and even psychopathic. Responding that they’re ‘happy’ about an article where five people were made homeless by a fire that destroyed their home? How do people get that way? Who dropped them on their head? Or burned them? And then there are the other ‘less’ disturbing posts that are just plain nasty and/or cruel. Or ignorant. I’m actually very thankful I don’t know those people or have to spend any IRL time with them. A click of the back button takes them out of my life.
The onslaught of horrible stories that are on the news constantly is also a major bummer. I feel really badly for those folks and what they’re going through, but what good does it do anybody to have it dissected in the media for days to weeks on end? I’ve been a crime survivor of a high profile case (before the 24/7 media, back in 1987). It wasn’t helpful to see it on TV for days or see the newspaper coverage over and over. The people who knew about it, and were my actual friends/family already knew what happened, and face it: most people really don’t want to know about real life horrors that happen to other people. Or they don’t know what to do with the information, at least to the persons’ face. Behind their back, the chatter won’t stop. If people would have just asked me straight out what happened, or even if I wanted to talk about it would have been much more helpful than days of media coverage (without any input from me- I was an object). I had one ‘different’ neighbor that responded to meeting me with “I never thought I’d meet you ! ” Really? Meeting someone who has been raped and beaten was a life goal? Step away from the strange one !
I’m extremely disgusted with my weight, and have my food diary set up to start on January first. I don’t want to look like this on my 50th birthday next November. I don’t want to be grotesque and repulsive going into the last third to half of my life. I have to restrict food. I’ve tried the ‘normal’ calorie amounts I’ve been given from the doctor and diabetic dietician, and that doesn’t work…so I’ve got to go lower. I can’t do much exercise because of the issue with passing out when my heart rate goes up or I get overheated, and my knees and spine issues. So the calories have to go. A slippery slope for me, so I’ve got to be careful- but I have to DO something beyond what I’ve been doing. I didn’t look like this before chemo… and I want to lose any remnants of those days.
Losing weight will also save me some time before having to have my left knee replaced (I had the right one done in late 2006, and it was a very unpleasant experience with some complications and ‘dull’ response time by the doc and nurses to a bladder infection). I had to go to a rehab place for the medically defective. It was a good rehab facility- great care, but set up where people stayed in their rooms like a hospital between therapies (no common area), and since I was infective, I was in a private room- not a horrible thing, but friggin’ isolated. It’s not like there was a big risk of someone coming into contact with my pee. My left knee has unrepaired, and questionably healed ACL and medial meniscus tears, done when I turned over in bed back in 2009- about a week before my closest friend from here in this town died suddenly (following several complications from a KNEE replacement). She’d moved to a different state to be closer to one of her daughters, but we were in contact by phone daily, even when she was in the hospital or rehab. I was supposed to have the left knee replacement done, but then got leukemia and everything was put on hold to survive that. Been a weird few years.
I’m frustrated that I don’t feel that people understand why I’m like I am. I’ve got diagnoses that people haven’t heard of. I ‘look’ like I’m capable of working, and I miss being a nurse SO much- but too much standing or walking, and the whole heat/heart rate thing = one unconscious middle-aged RN. I’ve been an RN for nearly 28 years. I’ve been on disability for 8 years. But I still keep my license, because I still AM an RN. I worked hard for that thing. And I loved working with it… And those days are done. When people ask me what I’m doing to get back to work, it hurts- there isn’t anything that can be done by me or anyone else. Some things CAN’T BE FIXED ! SO those perky, blessed-to-be-clueless people need to shut up and go target someone who has some stuff going on that is treatable. I’ve been dealing with much of this since 1996- and worked until 2004- I held out as long as I could. I fought to keep working. QUIT asking me if I’m going back to work. NO, I can’t !
I was raised in an evangelical church, and am a born again Christian, without some of the judgmental drama that can go with those two things. I hate the passive ‘I’ll pray for you’ stuff- prayer is wonderful, and I do it often, but if someone wants to help, some action would be really amazing ! Prayer is about as passive as a person can get and rationalize to themselves that they’re ‘doing’ something– and while I do believe in prayer and that it is a very positive and powerful thing (and pray for people on the news all of the time since I can’t do anything else), it’s not the be-all end-all answer to really being of use to someone. It’s definitely better than nothing, but it really doesn’t show much in terms of actively supporting and helping someone. Sometimes it’s all people CAN do- and that’s appreciated. But remember the ‘faith without works is dead’? I’ve sensed a lot of dead. I wish I could do more for others, and feel guilty about that. Not like I know many people around here to be available for… back in the home where my heart is, I could be more useful, even if I’m not that physically ‘able’… I could drive someone to the store, or appointments. I could water plants when they were gone, or change out cat litter. I couldn’t walk dogs or watch kids… but I’d do what I could.
Anyway, that’s a bit of what’s rattling through my head today. I’m a little less grumpy now.
Hannah was my present to myself for my 25th birthday. She was a salt and pepper miniature schnauzer. I’d gone and picked her out from her litter when she was about 4 weeks old. When she was ‘ready’ at 7 weeks old, I drove out to Lake Travis (near Austin, TX) in a raging thunderstorm in November 1988, and got her. She and her littermates were all standing up on the covered patio with their dog mama, peeking in the French doors into the house. They were all so cute, but she walked over to me first when the door was opened. She seemed to remember!
She was so funny when she was little. I didn’t have the heart to make her sleep by herself, and since she was a ‘baby’ didn’t want her peeing in my bed. I put her into a regular baby bassinet that a neighbor had given to me, and put it next to my bed. She’d give a good puppy howl if she was scared, and as soon as I draped my hand into the bassinet, she’d quiet down and go back to sleep. After a couple of nights, she seemed to understand that I wasn’t going anywhere. As soon as she was potty trained, she slept in bed with me.
Hannah was about 2 years old when she had her first ‘seizure’. By the time I got her to the vet, the vet looked at me like I was a bit on the overprotective side. Hannah was fine, and just stared at both of us. Back home… She continued to have these ‘seizures’ on and off for years. They never happened more than 2-3 times a year, so from what the vet had said about risk/benefits of medication, I opted to keep her off of meds. She always bounced back as if nothing had happened.
When Hannah was 11 1/2 years old, she scared me out of my mind. One single night, she passed out seven times. I was up all night with her. She’d get sort of woozy and stagger a bit and, then fall over on her side, twitching. She’d then stagger to her feet and have to go out to pee immediately. Like right now. I thought for sure she was dying. She slept on the couch next to me that whole night between episodes. She had stopped eating the day before (which was very unlike her), but initially I thought it was some bug. I watched her, and she didn’t have any vomiting or diarrhea… but then that night. Oy. I thought it was the end.
As soon as the vet’s office opened I called, and got her right in. We lived in a small town from the time she was 7 years old; they didn’t have an emergency animal hospital there at the the time. I was glad her regular vet saw her. He asked me to leave her there for a few hours so he could figure out what was going on. I agreed, but I hated leaving her. She was my only companion. My best friend.
I got the call to come and get her (good news) and when I got there the vet told me that she was in heart failure. Grade 4 murmur ( a ‘5’ is the worst). He’d given her oxygen and a shot of a strong diuretic (water pill medicine), and she’d peed off a bunch of fluid her heart couldn’t circulate through her body normally, to be eliminated through her kidneys. I got prescription dog food, three medicines to give her by mouth, and a bottle of the diuretic medicine to give her as a shot if she needed a ‘booster’ to help her breathing, and the syringes and needles for her shots. He knew I was an RN, so giving shots wasn’t a problem. He just showed me where on the back of her neck to give them.
She also couldn’t have regular dog treats, or anything with a ‘normal’ sodium level. I got her some low-sodium peanut butter (to hide her pills in). She didn’t like it. She also didn’t like the prescription ‘heart’ diet food, so the rest of that case of cans was returned, and she got the ‘kidney’ food. It had limited sodium like the ‘heart’ diet. And she got grapes (this was about 10 years before I found out that dogs shouldn’t have grapes). She LOVED those grapes. I’d sneak her pills into them, and she acted like I’d given her filet mignon and truffles.
She did very well, and had many, many days where she was playing, and acting like she felt really good. She knew the names of her individual toys, and would get them, and enjoy chasing them. She still howled when I was on the phone to my folks; my mom had dementia, and one thing SHE still enjoyed was Hannah howling at her on the phone when I said “woof”, or “bow wow”. I just had to say the words, and she’d do her howling bit. Mom loved it !
Hannah, and the toy named “Weirdo”- feeling better !
Hannah still had an occasional fainting episode, but within a few minutes (and a quick trip outside to pee) was back to her normal self. I had told the vet that I would NOT put my best friend through a miserable year just because I couldn’t say goodbye. If she wasn’t going to have any quality of life, forget it. But he was right- she had some very good months left in her.
About 11 months later, I noticed her start to change not long after moving to a different apartment in the same complex. She started not wanting to eat, and her breathing was getting funky. I gave her the shots to get rid of the fluid (and it did). But it wasn’t working as well. I had told myself when she was diagnosed that if she started to refuse food completely, that was it. We were done. The shots were only helping for about a half a day, and I had to give them to her a couple of times a day for 4-5 days. Then she completely stopped eating. My heart started to break. That night, her breathing was horrible. I knew what was coming.
In the morning, she got off of the bed, and peed on the floor. Then she went and hid in my closet, as if to say she was so ashamed. I couldn’t get mad at her, she was sick ! It was pitiful to see her hiding from her accident. She NEVER peed on the floor- she was so good about waiting to go outside, or using the pee pads when I left her in the kitchen to go to work. I knew I had to take her to the vet.
I sat on the couch before getting ready to load her into the car. She got up on the couch with me, and climbed on my lap. She ended up sitting on my thigh, and then putting her head on my shoulder. I think she was saying goodbye, and it was easier for her to breathe if she was upright, but didn’t have to support herself. I loaded her into a laundry basket to put in the car, since her balance was a little iffy. When I took her in to the vet, he said he’d like to try some more oxygen and medications, and he’d call me. I told him that I could be back there in minutes if it looked like she was getting worse (she was already bad), and he agreed that he’d call me if I needed to come. I did not want her dying without knowing I was there, and I hadn’t just dropped her off and deserted her.
I got the call around 11:30 a.m. I had the kind of desk nursing job where there was flexibility for such things. I’d told my boss ahead of time what was going on, so when I told the receptionist I had to leave I could just go.
When I got there, Hannah was hooked up to an IV, oxygen, rectal probe (temperature), and heart monitor. She looked spent. But she also lifted her head a little when she heard my voice. She knew I was there. I was told to take whatever time I needed, but I think when she put her head on my shoulder earlier that morning, that was our time. Right then, I had to do what was best for her, so I started taking the equipment off of her, and just holding her. I was satisfied she knew I was there, and that it was OK for her to stop fighting. I told the vet to just ‘do it’.
She slowly dropped her head as the ‘go to sleep’ stuff took effect. I could feel her full weight against my arms, and then she took her last breath. It was over. My best friend was gone. I was told that I could spend time with her. (the vet’s office had cleared out for lunch, aside from those who were helping Hannah… and they were all in tears as well). I could hardly see her through the tears, but I did want to hold her for just a few minutes. They let me take her to one of the exam rooms where it was quiet, and private. I just cried, and told her how much I loved her, and how wonderful she’d been as my best friend. I wasn’t in that little room with her for very long. I’d had 12 1/2 years with her to remember… those were gifts. But I got to say ‘goodbye’, just her and me.
I just hope she knew how much I loved her.