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The Faces of GME
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Ashton
Diagnosed with GME April 2011...
Crossed over the Rainbow Bridge
July 2011
Age 2 yrs old, such a beautiful girl, this should not happen...
RIP Beautiful Girl
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Miss Abby
Diagnosed with GME October, 2010
Crossed over the Rainbow Bridge
February 2011
another beautiful little girl who left us too soon....
This needs to stop....
RIP Beautiful Girl
Message from Lit'l Audra's Mom:
"she was with us for only four years. I loved her enough to let her go. It happened so fast. She started acting funny after a bath. I though I had got soap in her eyes at first. She was micro-chipped, and I though maybe that could have caused it. I went to the best vet in town and she spotted it right away, and we went immediatly to UT in Knoxville, TN. She was seizing as my husband ran her inside. They took her immediately and ran in the back. We did everything money could buy to save her, but when her quality of life was so grim, we had to make a choice."
Lit'l Audra Crossed over The Rainbow Bridge in 2007
she was only 4 years old.
"Fosse"
RIP Little Man
Taken from his parents Katie and Michael way to soon.
Fosse was only 1 and a half years old.
He may have been only 2.4 pounds, but he had the heart of a lion. His courage and his love will go on forever.
August 30, 2011
If you have a little one who died from this disease please send us an email if you would like your little one to be added to this page.
If you have a Yorkie who has been diagnosed with
GME/NME Encephalitis and would like to be a part of the current study by Dr. Renee Barber at the University of Georgia, please go to our GME Study submission form page and download and print the form. All communication between you and Dr Renee Barber is confidential between you and Dr. Renee Barber.
Andy Cantliffe
He was diagnosed with GME in April of 2008 and died October 27, 2008. He was 7 years old which is a little older than when most dogs come down with GME, but we suspect that his negative personality change (the reason he was surrendered to us) may have really been the onset of the GME. It seems that Andy's GME first manifested itself as unpredictable behavior and biting for no reason until he suddenly went blind. It was the ophthalmologist that suspected he had GME. The neurologist confirmed it with a CT Scan and spinal tap. Andy immediately went on chemotherapy and his personality returned to normal, but he remained blind. He was docile and no longer unpredictable while on chemo. Andy's GME seem to briefly go into remission for a few months, and then as quickly as he went blind, seemingly overnight, he got very sick. We rushed him to the neurologist, but he died during the night at the specialty clinic. He was a beautiful boy that did not deserve this terrible disease.
Andy Cantliffe - April 16, 2001 to October 27, 2008
Sandy Cantliffe
Our Nikita Grace. 11/7/7 - 7/7/11
There are some moments that we want to keep frozen in time, never to be forgotten. Nikki's story has many of those moments.
In late 2007, I began thinking about getting a dog. My beloved Bichon Frise, "Peaches," died in 2004, and I vowed that I'd never get another dog, because we wanted the freedom to continue our frequent travel without concerning ourselves with pet-friendly hotels. I also didn't want to get too attached to a pet again, because losing Peaches was quite painful. But the longing for a dog companion didn't go away.
I started researching Maltese dogs, as I had a friend with a Maltese, and I pet-sat for that sweet dog a few times and grew to love the breed.
We immediately knew in our hearts that Nikki was meant to be with us. Her personality was exactly what we were looking for, and she was adorable, too.
My husband liked the name Nikita, and I thought that Nikki would be a cute nickname. We added the name Grace, as we felt like we'd been graced with a sweet white fluff.
Nikki immediately fit perfectly into our our lives. She was calm, laid-back, playful and affectionate. We called her our "hippie-chick." No matter how much we brushed her, her hair always looked a bit scruffy. She always had a cheerful demeanor, and a mellow temperament. She loved sitting on my lap and observing everything going on around her
Nikki was always a healthy, happy dog, but she suddenly grew ill in mid-June 2011. The veterinarians could not make a definitive diagnosis. Numerous tests were done, and they tried several different medications. On July 7, 2011, Nikki collapsed, and on the way to the Emergency Hospital, she died in my arms. We were shocked, devastated, and heartbroken to lose our sweet girl so young. She died from a neurological disease that is often fatal.
To read more of Nikki's story please follow the link below, thank you suzan for sharing Nikki's story with us.
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In Memory, No Longer in Silence
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace."
- Milan Kundera
Sometimes, that which hurts me the most - is what I keep in silence. However, if I quiet the pain with no voice of it, it still will not dissipate, nor will it disappear.
Another break was added to my heart on September 1, of this year. It's a crack that has yet to fill with grace. A hurt that translates to a deep sorrow. And I have avoided addressing it for months.
My Yorkshire Terrier,Emma, died on September 1, 2011. I'm not going to sugar coat that phrase with "left our world", "went to a better place", and that damn "rainbow bridge" jargon. She died. She left me here. I loved and love her with all my heart. I don't speak of it to anyone. Making mention of it only briefly to friends, I found it too painful to elaborate on. However, I cry in solitude still...to this day, three months after her passing. I think it is time to approach this, head on.
I never wrote about how I couldn't do the laundry for weeks after she died. Emma loved to jump up on the dryer door and sit there as I folded the clothes, surrounded by the warmth of the fresh clean fabrics. Happy. She would look so happy and proud of herself for getting up there. I didn't write about how I ran out of clothes, not doing the wash, for the few weeks after Emma died. And I never wrote about how I hid the laundry basket in the house. You see, she would jump in the basket, too, and run around the house with whatever article of clothing she could take out of it. Right after it was all newly folded from the dryer!
I never wrote about her "pony", her "palm tree." That was what I called her pony tail. I kept her hair on the short side. I always groom all my doggies myself. Her "do" was unique to her personality - a bit funky, fun, and spitfire! She wore her pony tail on the top of her head as a fashion statement. Yes, my Emma was a fashionista. A little 4 pound Yorkie of attitude. All about fun...and love. I didn't write about how she never got to wear the Halloween bow that was handmade for her. She was to wear it on her "pony" for Halloween. Sylvana, of the Livingston Animal Hospital, made it for her.
I never wrote about the last time I felt joy in my soul. It was before I lost Emma. My happiest moments were of her and my other Yorkie, Ascher, playing together. If you asked me what I enjoyed most in life, it would be a quick and easy answer -- watching Emma and Ascher carry a single toy together, run around together, and play together. All I would have to do was sit on the sidelines, and beam. I miss that feeling. I miss it all.
I never wrote about how when I opened the door to my art studio, she ran to enter the room first. I have a box of "found objects" that I use for my mixed media work - it was a favorite for her. She especially loved large paintbrushes. Someone asked me why I didn't use them in my recent work. I haven't looked at them since September 1. Those paintbrushes were like a toy to Emma, she loved the bristles! They are in a box, hidden under a sheet. I'll have to face them soon.
I never wrote about how I look at the dog stroller and ache to a point where I don't think I can stand it. As soon as she saw the stroller come out of the closet, she would run into the laundry room and bark insistently at her leash. She loved to get in that stroller. If it were merely lying on the floor, all folded up, she would try to somehow get her little body nestled into its frame.
I never wrote about so many things. The tears, the loss, the emptiness she left with me. Tragically, she did not get to live a long life. Emma died from a brain disease at the young age of 1 year and 4 months.
Telling you I had her for only 11 months of her life, does that make you think the hole in my heart hurts any less than if she lived a decade with me? I don't understand it. For as short a time as I had Emma in my life, it is as though she were a limb on my own body. A piece of me is missing now. I can't stand this feeling.
I never wrote about how she had 3 seizures in the middle of the night on August 15th, of 2011. How frightening it was when I heard a thump and looked down to see her stiffened body, eyes gazing haphazardly. No, I didn't write about how I still hear that thump of her body hitting the floor and the edge of the wall. Rushing her to the emergency hospital, transferring her to a canine neurologist, all the testing....I try to forget. Medications. Her spunk was gone. She couldn't walk at all after the seizures, then she walked crooked, sluggishly, but mostly - not like Emma. Soon after, I no longer saw Emma when I looked into her eyes. I try to forget how I watched her deteriorate for the following weeks, until I knew I had to help her in a different way...I had to let her go.
Unfortunately, being a lover of all dogs...I'd been down this road before. The part when you have to say goodbye. And once again, Dr. Weiner of the Livingston Animal Hospital, helped me do this in the best way possible. With compassion, in peace. It's just that I have not come to peace with it within myself.
I don't understand much in my life. Many times I look up at the sky, and ask, "why." I have lost 2 sons to parental alienation in my lifetime, along with almost all of my material possessions. I have seen 2 decades of my life seemingly erased by our court system through trials for my divorce. And yet, Emma's passing is what is hurting the most right now. It wasn't fair. She wasn't here much more than a year.
Until this moment, I haven't written about how I have little bursts of sorrow and tears as a memory of Emma surfaces. No longer on a daily basis, but still. I still cry over that piece of me that is missing. I'll be driving in my car, working on a painting, or doing that laundry that must be done. I'll look at the toys I saved, that were her favorites. And recall the twinkle in her eyes as she would run around the house with them and stash them in a spot, hiding them from her brother, Ascher.
I'll remember her face forever, the "pony" and bows. I'll keep that Halloween bow, and the Chanukah bow, and the St. Patrick's Day bow....
and I'll say a prayer that I see her again. That she may know how much I loved her and continue to love her...And how she made such a difference in my life, for that short time she was here.
Tonight, I realized something. I've often said that this blog is healing....writing is healing. As much as I claim to have a voice, I must not silence selective aspects of existence. Tonight, I have challenged a fear, the exposure of a loss so painful that I neglected to address it - head on. Now I remember something I learned along the way, not too long ago. "Break the silence before the silence breaks you."
Keeping things to myself, never did serve me well. I've been through both sides of the healing process. The part where you don't tell anyone what is hurting, what you are experiencing...and then, the part where you share your experience, challenging yourself to a different level of understanding and exposure. I know very well that sharing is the better choice in healing.
A life that touched me so deeply - was lost. And I had lost my voice - in an attempt to silence the ache in my heart. Sharing my life with others in this platform, my blog, I skipped my process of grieving. I would like to honor Emma's memory. I do that now, facing this grief head on. Now I have written about what was left in silence.
Little Emma was barely 1 year and 4 months old when GME took her life.....below is a message from her mother....
