Sometimes life gives you something precious, and you don't even know it.

Manny is that something.   He is appropriately named Camelot's My Special Little Man and was born on December 20, 1996.  Born with a brain lesion, he appeared quite normal from the day he was born. He ate well, but he was always the smallest. He was the one I worried about. 

I had to help the mother of these puppies with feeding simply because she had 6 pups, and was only a 10 pound mini Longhair Dachshund.  Unfortunately she didn't produce enough milk to support this very demanding family.  From the day they were born, til the day they weened, I helped.  Even when she began  producing the amount of milk they needed, I had already become the worrying mom. I had weighed them each and every time they ate, monitoring their growth, and keeping a close eye on the one who would be known as "Manny." 

All "seemed" normal in the pups, nothing stood out to make me alarmed at anybody not being 100% until they started getting up on their feet. That's when I noticed one of the little boys, the smallest one was behind in his development compared to the others. I watched as the next few days passed, hoping I wasn't seeing something I didn't want to. Sure enough, when he was at "his" stage of standing and walking, he did so at a very abnormal pace. He wobbled and he curled his feet under, falling almost all of the time. A few days passed, everyone else is now mastering the run, the falls and the kerplops. Manny mastered "kerplop."  I took the litter to the vet to see if there was something that needed to be investigated. Perplexed, the vet suggested we x-ray to determine whether the spine was abnormal. We compared a "normal" pup with Manny. Manny's x-rays showed nothing abnormal in development. It was determined that this was neurological. An MRI was out of the question at his age. I was told it would be better to put him down rather than become more emotionally involved than I was, only to have heartbreak down the road when he couldn't walk. Nope, nadda, nyet! Not a consideration.

The days passed, and through a vigorous massage and manipulation program on my own,  and just plain determination on Manny's part, he began walking.  He progressed so well for his limitations, I knew he was fine. Then, at 8 weeks, he suffered two dibilitating seizures that left him frozen in a daze and totally unable to move on his own. I sought the help of a homeopathic vet who calmly tried to prepare me for the ultimate decision based on his diagnosis. He treated Manny with a potent dose of Phosphorus, and said I should take him home and love him. 

Since he does not put animals down I would have to take him to my regular vet to do that. Fortunately, my vet was closed the following day, and putting off the inevitable was more torturous than anything I'd done recently. I carried this little stone-faced baby, stiff as a board in the bottom half of a carry crate wherever I went in the house. I tickled, I massaged, I stroked a little life locked inside a body that wasn't working. I realized the vet was right, and tried to accept it. Something inside me nagged me to follow my ultimate optimistic thoughts, and my gut feelings were not to give up. I carefully fed Manny getting fluids and mushed food in him. 

Like all miracles that happen, one came out of the blue. Manny responded with his mouth, swallowing and actually trying to get some more. His little body didn't follow suit, but he didn't let that stop him. He was Manny. And, he did things on Manny terms.

He didn't walk for a couple of weeks, but he responded to the phosphorus treatment and would lay in his little open crate motionless, yet bark for someone to pay attention to him. And, NOW! What Manny wants, Manny gets.

I refused to take a litter picture until Manny could be included in it. There would be no group picture until then. At 12 weeks, I had the most wonderful picture taken of them, with Manny 4th from the left. 

Manny continued to improve his coordination. He has been diagnosed with a heart defect and I have to monitor his liver enzymes, and he moves like a dog who's had a stroke, with his little cocked head, and his little cocked eyes.   It makes him look a little different from the rest, but his heart is as big as he is, and he has HEART !

He is also EXTREMELY spoiled and doted on by me, and gets goodies first, picked up on demand, and anything else he wants. 

After all, he's Camelot's  My Special Little Man, and will always be that.

Update:  In the Spring of 1999, at 2-1/2 years of age, Manny would retire from his ability to walk. He became progressivly weaker in his ability to get around until one day he no longer could stand up or hold his body up.  He visited his holistic vet who tried various Chinese herbs dedicated to such symptoms, but, this time there would be no miracle.  Manny now sees his world laying on his blanket in my office and on his bed in the living room.  Instead of wobbling down the hall following his brothers and sister, he patiently waits for me to carry him to wherever we all decide to sit. 

He eats well, sleeps well, drinks well and never complains. He accepts his still life and shows his affection by licking my face.  He still fusses at the cat when she is near and as long as he thrives in his motionless world, he will always have a "free ride" in my arms.  He is happy, and anyone can tell just by looking at him and watching him respond to life.  He just does it without moving.  But, trust me, inside that quiet body is a little dog jumping up and digging holes, just like his siblings, and Manny defies anyone to say he isn't!

Final Update
Manny’s zest for life came abruptly to an end on February 4, 2000.  While I never leave my office at 8:30 in the morning, that day I did.  When I returned shortly thereafter, Manny, who laid in his bed next to my desk, didn’t tilt his head and eyes up to look at me when I walked in as he usually did. Instead, he looked straight ahead.  When I bent down calling his name, there was no response. There was no response when I shook him, and no response when I picked him up.  My little man had left me. He left me when I wasn’t next to him. I don’t know if he did that for my sake or not, but I choose to believe he knew he had to leave and he knew there was nothing I could do to change that this time, so he decided to go while I was gone. My sadness lies with the fact that I didn’t get to say goodbye or to be with him for those last minutes he was here.  He showed no sign of pain nor struggle, so I hope it was because he tiptoed out of here before I could stop him. 

I will forever have his body imprinted on my chest and in my arms and the feeling of unconditional love in my heart  that a little dog was able to share with me even if for only a short 3 year period.  I will always feel a lifetime of love from Manny and will always use his strength and determination to guide me in life. He never gave up and he never looked at what he couldn’t do. He only looked at what he could do, and did it with dignity  and compassion.  After all, he was Camelot’s My Special Little Man.