The Longest Day – Pulmonary Oedema in Bourg Saint Maurice

Zagan the motorhome is having a rest in Camping Huttopia here in Bourg Saint Maurice (N45.62250, E6.78313). In fact we’re all having a rest here after a couple of traumatic days.

We arrived here on Sunday because Charlie was having trouble breathing. We’d spent a few days at high altitudes as the weather was heating up and we wanted to help keep Charlie cool, his heart medication means he pants and struggles to breath when it’s too warm. Even though it was much cooler in the mountains, his breathing became worse and he started coughing. Even with all the windows and becoming a chilly 11°C inside Zagan at night, he still couldn’t breath or sleep.

During a long sleepless night nursing him and trying to make him comfortable, we began to wonder if the altitude might be the cause. First thing the following morning, we headed down over a thousand metres to Bourg Saint Maurice. The town has all the services we might need, including a vet and pharmacy, while still being surrounded by mountains for Jay to carry on with his running training.

Charlie loves the mountains and has been up loads of them over the years

Arriving at the campsite I requested a pitch with as much shade as possible, and the awning was deployed to keep it as cool as we could. Charlie’s breathing was still no better, so we emailed the local vet for an appointment when they reopened on Monday. Charlie’s big brown eyes were now red around the edges from lack of sleep and looked pleadingly at us to make it stop. We kept him outside in the cool with a damp towel on him, bringing him water and ice, helping him up when he needed the loo – we did everything we could think of, but none of it helped. That afternoon we had some very frank discussions.

Many tears were shed as our minds prepared us for the worst – I’d better give him extra meat as this could be the last time I get to make his breakfast. Will I ever get to hear him snore again? Was it our fault, had we killed him by taking him up the mountains? How would we say goodbye? How would we tell our families? What actually happens at the end? Will he finish all his gravy bones? The vets wrote back offering us an appointment, but until at 4pm the following day, so the answer to the final question was yes.

As Monday dawned after another sleepless night nursing him, I prepared what I thought would be his last breakfast, with extra meat and anything else I could find that he liked. I cooked up some pasta for him and he had a constant stream of his favourite gravy bones popped in front of him. There was even talk of a gravy bone treasure hunt for him, but he was struggling to stand and walk and his breathing now had a watery rattle noise to it.

As the minutes slowly ticked by there was more frequent tears and a growing feeling of dread. I burst into tears saying goodbye to David and Carrie, a couple who we’d spent the previous evening having a drink with – a very welcome distraction, but apologies to them as our minds were elsewhere. It felt like we were waiting for exam results or a job interview, nervous laughter accompanied tales about Charlie doing all sorts of things, it was like being at a wake. All the time I had the music from The Littlest Hobo going around in my head – if you haven’t seen Charlie’s version, here it is.

Around 3.30pm we couldn’t wait any longer, so packed up Zagan and headed over to the vets which was only a five minute drive away. As Jay walked through the door they were ready and waiting for us, and we were ushered into the consulting room. I gave the vet a short history that we had written about Charlie, his age, what medication he is on, what ailments he currently has and Jay explained what had been happening. The vet spoke good English, but wasn’t as fluent as we had hoped. However one question was clear – she pointed her finger in the air and said ‘have you been up high?’. A wave of guilt swept over me and tears brimmed in my eyes but I managed to hold them back, just.

Charlie was taken to another room for a scan and we spent the longest five minutes waiting to find out what was wrong. The vet reappeared and took us into the radiology room where Charlie was laid on a bed, and his insides were in black and white on a monitor in the corner of the room. The vet tried to explain what we could see, some bits weren’t as black as they should be, or were they too black – it was all a blur. What I did work out was two words, pulmonary and oedema. His lungs were filling with fluid.

Back in the consulting room, already wishing I had taken a photo of the image on the screen, Charlie was given a diuretic injection and we were told to increase his current diuretics to the maximum amount we could give him each day. He is on diuretics for his syringomyelia, and they may just have saved his life. The vet told us not to worry, but also not to take him above 1000m in altitude. Ah, we said. Jay is doing a charity run in two weeks and we’re staying at 1400m. As long as Charlie had recovered enough, we could go, but for as short a time as possible and come straight back down if he starts to pant.

With many, many thank yous, we piled into Zagan and headed back to the campsite. Charlie had escaped death, again – he previously ate rat poison in Italy, choked on something in Morocco, got attacked by a guard dog in Morocco, and sniffed something he was allergic to in Slovenia, I could go on, this dog has a cat like nine lives. Our emotions are mixed, as he’s still struggling to breath and walk. He is still an ill dog and I doubt that will change much.

You can’t beat a campsite for a nice rest

After a few days of rest at the campsite we’ve formulated a plan that will take us over into Italy and then into Switzerland. We’ll need to go over some high passes, but we won’t stop on them this time, and going this route will mean we can have several days at a much lower altitude which will hopefully help with Charlie’s recovery. We’ve sourced campsites that will enable us to keep cool at the lower altitudes, as the weather over here is due to heat up for this weekend. As it gets closer to race day we’ll make a call on what to do. If he’s OK we’ll take Charlie up the valley and follow the vet’s instructions, but if he isn’t fully recovered he and I will stay at the bottom and Jay will get the train up to the start line on his own. I’m gutted that I might not be there to see Jay do his charity run up a hill, but Charlie is our main priority at the moment.

We’ve had a big scare, but the main thing is, our little travel companion is still here and we need to make the most of that. I’ve written this post as a bit of a warning to other motorhomers with dogs, especially dogs with heart conditions. Charlie has been up loads of mountain passes in his life, and spent weeks exploring at altitude with no ill effects. Obviously being from Nottingham our vet never mentioned that we should keep him at a low altitude when he was diagnosed with his heart condition, as there is nothing that would cause him a problem close to home.

We’ve been high up for a couple of weeks now, and he’s been OK probably because he’s long been unable to do any exercise, so the stress on him would have been less. We think Charlie only started showing symptoms once we got over 2000 metres, but he could have been struggling at a lower altitude and we would have put it down to the heat. So if you are going to tour any mountain range, it’s worth just checking with your vet and keeping a close eye on your fur baby, as they can’t tell you how they are feeling and sometimes you don’t notice until the damage has been done.

Ju x