This yearly post normally happens in June. I take a bunch of the best photos of Ritter, my service dog, from the past year and talk about how amazing the year with him has been.

When June rolled around this year I was incredibly busy. I thought about this post but it didn’t get written. Now it’s time to tell the story.

Ritter. Almost. Died.

Things were fine for the second half of 2024. As usual, Ritter put in some serious travel as a freshly minted 7 year old German Shepherd.

In October we visited some friends in Cordova, NC. Ritter got to run the beach and see some wild horses.

The holiday season was a blur of activity as I was busy applying for college and we spent some time in VA. After being accepted to Immaculata University I was a scrambling to get things done around the farm before starting class in January.

Ritter has eaten raw chicken his entire life. Chicken bones are flexible when raw and don’t shatter.

There have been times in Ritter’s life where he hasn’t eaten for a few days. If there’s a female dog in heat in his scent area, his body shifts priorities and he can go days without eating. It’s funny and sad at the same time how he lays around whining like a love sick teenager.

In Early March, when Ritter didn’t eat for a day or two, I took notice but wasn’t extremely concerned. After day two, I offered him different food but he still didn’t want anything. By day three I was begging him to eat and brought out the red meat, which he loves. It was the weekend, so I scheduled a vet appointment for the following Monday when he wouldn’t eat the red meat either.

I made the appointment Saturday morning. In a matter of hours my concern changed to worry, then fear. Normally, Ritter follows me where ever I go but I could see that he was hurting. The symptoms seemed to appear suddenly because he had been hiding them from me.

He threw up mucus and was lying in a protective posture in the yard. When I opened the door and called him, he didn’t immediately get up and come. When I went down to the garage to get something, he followed me half way and stopped. I came back and saw fear and pain in his eyes. He struggled to follow me back into the house. I found the closest emergency vet and told them I was on the way.

He couldn’t jump up into the truck so I picked him up and he cried in pain and I heard a weird noise in his guts that sounded like air moving around in a non-digestive way. My heart sank. He seemed to be crashing fast.

They said it looked like there was a foreign object in his abdomen and his intestines appeared to be “balled up.” This sounded ridiculous to me but they recommended I take him to the 24hr hospital 45 min away. They shaved his paw and put an IV catheter in. I knew Ritter was bad – he didn’t fight them at all when they shaved and stabbed him.

I very carefully loaded him into the truck, trying to keep from touching his mid section. I kept looking in the rearview on the long drive wondering if he was going to make it; he was motionless. Even though it was a cold March evening, I rolled the windows down. He loves sticking his he out, catching the breeze and seeing the sights. I wanted him to enjoy some fresh, moving air. I was praying it would bring him even the tiniest comfort.

I checked-in at the hospital and waited. They came out for him and I stood up to go back. They informed me that I couldn’t go because it was an emergency room and no one was allowed there. My explanation didn’t change anything; I watched them lead Ritter away as he looked back at me confused.

I didn’t realize how much I cared for him until this moment. I sat in the waiting room crushed and alone. I texted a friend. The nurse called me into an exam room and explained what they had found and asked permission to do an ultrasound. I authorized it and returned to the waiting area.

They confirmed what the first vet said. There was something stuck in his intestines and they were collapsed and smashed together. Surgery was the only option and the cost was significant. I went back to the front desk to sign the paperwork and pay a deposit.

I asked to see him again before surgery. He was drugged up and super weak. I knew this could be goodbye. Then they took him back to prep and returned with his collar and lead.

This hit like a ton of bricks. I may never see him alive again. I sat in the exam room trying to compose myself but the harder I tried, the more I cried. The nurse returned to check on me and said I could stay as long as I needed to before returning to the lobby/waiting room.

Eventually I regained enough emotional control to be in public. I chose to wait at the hospital while they operated. I sat texting my friend and Misty. I was sure that somehow a chicken bone had finally gotten him somehow.

He had survived but was in critical condition. The surgeon did not seem hopeful. He was concerned that the small intestine might not function after being scarred closed and enduring the other trauma. I told him I was still in the lobby and he had an assistant bring me the stick that almost killed Ritter.

Ritter doesn’t eat or chew on sticks. He doesn’t chase sticks. Maybe it stuck to his chicken while he was eating in the yard? Somehow it went down his throat, through his stomach and finally got jammed up in the small intestine. Crazy.

My daughter, Karis, was flying out the next morning and had to get up so early she decided not to go to bed. I stayed up with her till 3am when she left; I couldn’t sleep. I really didn’t have hope.

When I did finally go to sleep, I dreamed Ritter died.

The phone jolted me awake. It was the hospital calling to tell me Ritter survived the night and was looking better. In fact, they had gotten him to eat something which shocked them.

He stayed in their ICU for a few days – long enough for the staff to fall in love with him. They were excellent, updating me once or twice a day on his condition and sending pictures.

It was weird that he had so many bare/shaved spots and 23 staples. Surprisingly, he was not extremely guarded with his stomach and allowed me to inspect the incision closely.
I read and reread the instructions and was stressed about getting him the right meds at the right times.

The first few days he tried to act like nothing had happened. It was spring break at the college and we spent all day, everyday together that week. I was getting things done and trying to move past it all without acknowledging the mental and emotional toll it took on both of us.

By day three of spring break my body shut down and I couldn’t do anything. I spent all day on the couch and Ritter slept 18hours. We took it easy the rest of the week.

But things got better. Slowly we transitioned into a more normal diet, all the meds were done, his guts were working, and he was pooping normally. Spring break was over and it was time to go back to school.

There’s never a lack of veterans visiting the farm and not long after surgery, Ritter got to see more friendly faces!

Ritter got letters and cards from many different people as word got out about the incident. Many kind persons and organizations helped to pay for his expensive medical bills.

These days Ritter starts his mornings with me in the gym. He’s a little slower than he used to be and doesn’t jump in and out of the truck as easily but he still loves to travel! I got him a ramp to help him for a while and have modified his diet some to make life easier on his digestive tract.

Most recently, Ritter got a sister! My wife, Misty decided to add a puppy to our lives. It has been fun to watch the relationship develop between Ritter and Lexi.

I know someday we will part ways but I’m glad our journey together continues. Love you, Ritter.

– Drew

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