Please Help Trina Get Back On Her Feet

All dachshunds are special—but especially Trina. Since she was born in 2011, Trina has brought light and joy to the lives of many—certainly mine, maybe even yours—and now she needs our help.

It was somewhat by accident that this amazing pup came into my life. Just before Christmas of 2011, my mom’s dachshund Leo had just passed away. Mom was about to visit me in Los Angeles for the holidays, and I had this idea—to surprise her with a lovely new pup under the tree. In the classifieds, I saw an ad that read, “Dachshund Puppies. $50.” I phoned, and they gave me an address in Lancaster, California, where I found this tiny dog no bigger than the palm of my hand—partially because she was so young, but mostly because she was severely malnourished. A day or two after I purchased Trina for a bargain price, my mom phoned me to tell me that someone had tried to gift her a dog, but she turned them down. "I don't like girl dogs very much," she said to me over the phone as I looked down and made eye contact with this tiny pup's sweet, glassy eyes. At that moment, I realized she would need a name... because our time together would now be much more than the few days I had anticipated.

Her name would become Trina, and she would grow to be an amazing dog. So loyal, so sweet. Always wagging her tail, even if she was in pain. Always there to offer love and healing energies whenever I was sick or sad. When I’d pack up to go on a trip, she’d jump in my suitcase and burrow into the first layer of clothes. She’d do anything to get a few more minutes with me. Once, she peed all over my clothes just before I was set to leave, causing me to miss my flight while I did laundry and packed again. I sat comforting her throughout the day before eventually departing the following morning.

Now, Trina is just shy of 11 years old, but she’s been a very young 11—and, of course, many dachshunds are known to live well into their upper teens. Just last Monday, someone on one of our walks was asking her age, and he was surprised—he thought she was a puppy. Everyone always thinks that, always thought that—but also last week, she began to show her age.

Wednesday morning, Trina woke up unable to support herself on her front legs. She was going paralyzed, it seemed, so I rushed her into the emergency clinic, where they evaluated her and determined she likely had a herniated disc putting pressure on her spinal cord. They observed her overnight, and conditions only worsened. Thursday morning, they phoned me to say they were concerned that she soon may not be able to breathe and that her heart could stop beating. The best course of action was a very expensive surgery, for which the doctor estimated a 95% chance of a full recovery if it was done right away. He also said that chance would likely decrease with the more time we waited, and the possibility of her enduring suffering with paralysis to her lungs or heart was something for which I simply could not stand.

A 95% chance of recovery if I acted right away. A possible chance my dog could suffer if I didn’t. This is how I came to put a $13,000 surgery on a credit card.

To be totally honest, taking on this debt is terrifying. I am not a rich man. I just graduated from a master’s program, for which I took out a significant amount in student loans. I am currently working as a freelance health journalist, which just barely covers my monthly expenses. In a mission to leave something positive and lasting in this world when I am eventually gone, I recently started work on a documentary about 11 Texans living with AIDS in 1994.

But even though it’s terrifying, I simply had no choice. Most folks in my life offered unwavering support for whatever could save Trina’s life, because they know how important she is to me, or perhaps she is also important to them. However, in the time that I was considering the options, one friend of mine said to me—“If Trina could talk, do you think she would want you to go into financial ruin given that she may only have five or six years left?” I truly hope this is not financial ruin, but I’d much rather have financial ruin than to completely ruin my family, because that's what would happen if we had to say goodbye to Trina. But also, yes—I do think Trina would insist that I do whatever I can to save her. Just a day before her legs gave out, everyone said she looked like a puppy… and that’s how she feels inside. She’s not ready to go… no more ready than any of us are to see her depart.

I hate asking for help, because it means showing my weaknesses, and there are always a few who will use those vulnerabilities against you—but I can’t allow pride or shame to be that with which I lead. Anyone planning to wield your weakness will always find a way. So, here’s mine—I love my dog! I love her so much! I love her so much I’m willing to risk financial ruin in order to have a 95% chance of saving her life!! I hate asking for help, but I’m asking anyway—because we need help.

We need your help. Trina’s surgery and hospitalization bills have currently topped just over $13,000. She is now home, recovering, but still not quite able to walk. I will be staying home with her, watching her 24 hours a day, giving her meds every 8 hours. When she goes outside to pee and poop, I’m helping her to stand, propping up her back, helping her get into the right posture to do her business. I’m fully dedicated to her recovery, getting her back on her feet, wagging her tail, bringing joy to all.

Anything you can spare to help us reach this goal would be much appreciated. If you can’t donate, please share this page. If you can’t or don’t want to do any of that, please just be kind. I’m being vulnerable here, and my tender heart is exposed.

Thank you in advance to anyone and everyone for all your donations and shares and love and support. I hope you can soon look into Trina’s beautiful, innocent eyes, and get a little lick on your palm from the sweetest dog that ever lived.

Love,

Patrick and Trina