Filbert

"It was dark and stormy night," as Snoopy would say, but then I would be getting ahead of my myself. Actually, this story started at a dog show in Poolsville, Maryland. We had taken our three Basset Hounds for a specialty and when we were through, my daughter and husband took the Bassets to the car and I ran over to watch the Shar-Pei. I was on the search for a husband for our first champion Shar-Pei. We were new to the area, so I knew no better place to find one than in the ring. And what do you know, before my very eyes I saw what I thought I wanted. What beautiful movement. I was sold. For some unknown reason I did not approach the handler but I checked the number and went to find our catalog. Several weeks later I called information and got a phone number and called Barb and Pete Green. We exchanged pedigrees and pictures and decided to get to together at the Green's. I could not believe our good fortune-such wonderful people and beautiful dogs. We agreed on a pick puppy and then had to wait for Miss Bessy to come into heat. She finally did and was bred twice. Nothing! We were all so disappointed, but wanted to try again. This time, she was not cooperative. Barb and Pete took her to the vet, had blood tests done and when she finally was ready somehow managed to get her bred. Well, now all we had to do was wait again

Fifty-six days after her first breeding, Bessy started into labor. I was not sure about all this. I had never had pups before 58 days. Then came our dark and stormy night. Bessy wanted to go out about 11:30 p.m., so I locked up the other dogs and walked with her down to the door. As my hand hit the door knob the lights went out. After my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I took her out. I really couldn't see a thing, but now as I look back on it, I think her water must have broken when we were out in the dark. We went back to my room were I had everything set up, fumbled around in the dark for a flashlight some candles and waited.		but I couldn't see anything in it. She laid in her pool with this thing part way out, but would not push. I finally got her out and tried walking her. She sat down and the bubble broke. I waited. I tried calling the vet but his answering machine didn't answer. I called the power company to find out when we might expect power. They told me that a little town about ten minutes from our house and between our house and the vet's had a terrific storm and that was why we had no electricity. I knew I had oxytocin in the refrigerator but didn't want to use it with out talking to the vet first.

At 4:00 a.m. the lights came on and I got the vet (out of bed of course). He told me to give her a shot of the oxytocin and then another one in 20 minutes and call him in a half an hour. I did and still nothing was working. I got dressed and called him at 4:30. He said he and his wife would meet me at the clinic in half an hour (that is how long it takes me to drive there). I drove as fast as I could and met them at 5:00 a.m.. Dr. Clark palpated Miss Bessy and said he could feel the tail of a pup but didn't know exactly why it wasn't coming and figured we had better do a C-section. I asked if the puppy was moving and he gave me one of those looks.

I personally had never been to a C-section before. I was in awe of the whole procedure. First, they handed me a red horsecoat female, just what Barb and Pete wanted. Next, a fawn brushcoat male. The next was the stuck puppy, a fawn horsecoat male. Dr. Clark had a dickens of a time getting him out. Again I asked, "Is he alive?" Again, that look. Mrs. Clark took him and checked for a pulse. Believe it or not there was one. I was thrilled. Last, but not least, was a red brush male. After it was all over, I took my mom and babies and went home

The puppies all seemed to be doing well except the little fawn brush coat male. For some reason he did not seem to be keeping up with the others. I started giving him a bottle once in a while. When we went in for dewclaws, the little pup had lost a quarter of a pound. The vet suggested I bottle feed him all the time. I made some comment about how he would be the first on his feet and would have his eyes open first. Again that look. I named him Filbert (all the puppies were nuts).

I started feeding him every three to four hours around the clock. When the puppies were about a week and a half, I was talking to a friend and telling her about Filbert and she asked me if he had milk coming out of his nose. I said he did and she told me he had a cleft palate. What could I say? I looked in one of the big boy's mouths and then Filbert's. I could not believe what I saw. A huge gap all the way down the roof of his mouth. Now what? I called the vet. He told me most cleft palate puppies die of aspiration pneumonia. I knew I couldn't put him down because I was too attached and after all this puppy wanted to live. After I gave him the bottle, I would burp him and put him on the floor. He would cough and snort all the milk out that he'd gotten into his nose. Filbert wanted to live. I would have to go on with what I was doing and realize that every day he lived was a gift from God. Dr. Clark thought maybe someone might be able to fix the puppy's mouth.

When I took a couple of the kids in to have their eyes tacked, I took Filbert, too. No one could believe he was still alive and growing drinking out of a bottle. Cleft palate puppies cannot suck. The split in his little mouth was very large. At about five weeks Filbert got pneumonia. I took him to the vet. He was a beautiful puppy by this time. Now, they could see why I had to save him. Dr. Clark taught me to tube feed him. I had no idea how I was going to do this at home because it took three of us at the vets office to do this and at home it was only my mother and I. Mother had a hard time at first and had to close her eyes but bless her heart, she soon got into it and she was was his favorite helper. She would talk to him and tell him he was, "Gooder than airy an angel," and hug and kiss him all the time we were feeding him. This really wasn't so bad after all. A bonding time for all. We found several vets who were willing to repair Filberts mouth but they thought he ought to be at least eight weeks old - three weeks to go.

Dr. Williams in Fairfax, Virginia, sounded like the best deal but he was going to be in and out of the office during the month of August. This would be the time when Filbert needed him. Finally, at seven and a half weeks, we went in to meet Dr. William a veterinary dentist. He was pleased with the way Filbert looked and described what he was going to do. It was more than I could take and clutching my little dog close we left. Two weeks later, we went back for the surgery. They lovingly kicked me out and told me to come back in an hour. I came back and waited and finally they told me it was all over and Filbert was doing just fine. While I was paying the bill, Dr. Williams brought me a picture of the roof of a little dogs mouth. I told him how ugly it was and he told me he was hurt after he had spent so much time closing that hole. Now that I think about it, it really was beautiful.

For the first time Filbert could eat food. He was not to sure about this so I stood him on the counter and let him drink puppy milk. Then I started adding soft food to it. He would not eat the food unless I fed it to him one piece at a time. Finally I put some of the food on the floor with the other puppies and boy did he go for it. Obviously all he needed was some competition. Filbert is 12 weeks old now and only three pounds lighter than his brother. He is finally eating like a dog and if anyone tells you he is spoiled they are probably right on the money.

How or where did the cleft palate from? Don't know. The vets tell me it probably came from something that happened to Miss Bessy when the puppy's mouth was forming. Perhaps I gave her some medication or put some ointment on her or something. No one knows for sure. Would I do this again? Don't know, but am sure glad I did this time.
		Written by Pamela Ostermeier

	Filbert Update Filbert became a veteran this year, reaching the milestone age of 7 years old. He's happy, healthy, and living the good life up on a farm in New Hampshire.. As you see from the photo on the left, he is thriving amongst a diverse "family" and considers himself "King of the Hill."


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Most breeders would not attempt to try to save a puppy with a cleft palate, but by the time Pam Ostermeier discovered Filbert's problem, she was already too attached to him. With the help of a skilled veterinary dentist, and a lot of loving care, the cleft palate was repaired and "Filbert" now has new lease on life.
(as originally published in The Barker March/April 1997)