I was shocked yesterday to learn that Gus has a swollen esophagus – megaesophagus –  that prevents his food from entering his digestive system.

Until then, I had never heard of this disease, and have spent a good chunk of time reading up on it. it’s sobering, and at times, encouraging.

This is a serious and troubling condition, one that can lead to chronic regurgitation, pneumonia, even a gradual starvation. It is a confusing disease of unknown origins – it is not genetic or related to breeding, Gus’s siblings, Mother and Father do not have it.

It can be complex, time-intensive and expensive to treat.

There are support groups on Yahoo and Facebook for this disease.

I see that many people devote a significant portion of their lives to acquiring or building special structures in which the dogs can eat, making their own special diet “meatballs” and other foods to feed to the dogs

Treatments also can mean  feeding them small amounts many different times a day, holding them in a certain upright position after eating, and of course, learning to live with frequent gagging and regurgitation of food.

Nobody knows what causes megaesophagus, nobody has any certain remedies for it, many people say their dogs can live for years with this condition, which is meant to be comforting,  but is not.

Some people speak of dogs with megaesophagus in exactly the same way humans speak of dealing with chronically ill children and family members – absolute devotion and commitment, at all costs, by any means.

This can seem heroic to me, and also at times, disturbing.

Dogs in trouble can be a bottomless pit, emotionally and financially. They can’t tell us to stop, and many people don’t want to stop. Perspective and limits are sometimes as essential as love and dedication.

It’s soon for this kind of moralizing with Gus, but I believe these limits and boundaries ought to be considered at the beginning, not the end of the process. Maria and i and our vet will  have an open and honest conversation about it.

This does not mean we are considering letting go of Gus in any form, it means I need to understand what my own limits and values are before it’s too late.

I know myself, when I commit to something, there is no turning back, so I wish to think it through now.

The megaesophagus dogs can require a tremendous amount of caretaking, and in the animal world, extreme care and money are often equated with love and compassion. There is much praise for people who spend many thousands of dollars on sick animals and keep them alive for years, it is considered compassionate by many, and I wish them well.

But I am not one of those people, love and compassion sometimes mean letting go and sometimes mean ending suffering.

I have a clear sense of limits and moral propriety in my own head. Maria and I will work long and hard to keep Gus healthy and happy, we are just getting underway.

I don’t know what the outer limits are, I do know that I have them. I have deep ethical concerns about how far to go with sick animals when tens of millions of human children suffer and starve all over the world.

But I have spent hours now reading about this disease, and considering how we will respond to it, and I am guardedly optimistic. We are committed to taking the best and most humane possible care of Gus. I like the idea that this is treatable and manageable, many people say so.

We will figure it out and work hard to learn about it.

It was difficult watching Gus spit out piles of bile and undigested food this week. We have to get on top of that.

Many people say megaesophagus is treatable, not a big deal for them. Others have harrowing stories to tell.  The stories and accounts vary wildly, every dog and every person seems to experience this disease differently.

Many people purchase or build what are called Bailey Chairs, similar to the chairs used for feeding babies. At this point, I don’t care to have one of those. We’ll consider it later if we think we need it. Right now, we are not comfortable with the idea.

I don’t think I can handle the intensity of most of the online support groups, either. I don’t see a lot of perspective there. The idea seems generally to be keep your dog alive by any means and at all cost for as long as possible.

I have my own ethic: do the best I can for as long as I can.

I am concerned for Gus, he is a happy, much loved dog and I want to be certain that he is not suffering just so that I can feel good. He was not a happy or comfortable dog this week.

Our vet understands that, Maria feels the same way. We are all on the same page.

The diagnosis, made yesterday by  Dr. Suzanne Fariello, has already transformed our lives with Gus. The X-ray was a shocker.

No more therapy work until this can be sorted out. We have given away his puppy kibble, he is on a special canned gastroentric diet from Purina. We have raised his food bowl a foot off the ground so he can raise his head when he eats.

We give Gus special antacid medication a half hour before he eats and hold him upright for five to ten minutes after he eats. Meals now take at least an hour all told.

Some good news yesterday, he did not gag or spit up his food once day or night under the new eating regimen.

Today, one spit-up shortly after breakfast, but none since. Pretty good for the first day. I’m giving him some Pepcid as well  and hand feeling his canned food to him one large spoonful at a time, so he has some time to swallow.

I make him raise his head and stand up for the food, this is supposed to help the food move down through the esophagus.

Gus has eliminated twice today, which suggests at least some of the food is making its way into his stomach and beyond, Those are good signs.

In my years with dogs, I have learned who I am and who I am not. I am not going to be on Yahoo or Facebook hours every night studying recipes, special chairs, different ways to hold the dog while eating.

I don’t know what the limits are for me, or for Maria – it’s too soon by far to do that.

I am prepared to invest a lot of time in dealing with Gus and his illness, and to focusing my energy on finding what works. I want to keep him with us for years. But I don’t want his illness to be my life, or a dominant part of it. It’s just too soon to know much.

As many of you know, and many of you regret,  I believe it is not always merciful to keep dogs alive beyond their natural abilities.

The Internet and new veterinary technologies have put many dogs in the same position too many humans are in – they live too long, at too much discomfort, and too great a cost. I am committed to sparing my dogs this fate, although Gus is quite far from that position. Gus cannot speak and tell us what they walk, so I believe there is a special responsibility to be their advocates, and make sure my decisions are best for them, not just me.

I don’t know how that will sort itself out, but I will share the process with you. Now, we are on a five-day trial – some medicine, new food, new positions for his bowl, no more hard treats, only soft treats.

We’ll meet next week with Dr. Fariello and compare notes on the week, and  see where to go from here. You will know everything that she will learn by them.

In the meantime, we will be doing the best we can for as long as we can. I pray that is a very long time.