If someone had told me when Oscar was a puppy how much one dog could teach me about health, nutrition and questioning my own decisions, I probably would not have believed them. With Ossu, one problem followed another from a very young age. Today, looking at this big, strong dog, I sometimes have to remind myself of the journey behind us.<\/p>\n
This is not a story about giving up on vets and discovering one miraculous natural remedy. Quite the opposite: at one point, prompt veterinary treatment saved Oscar’s life. What followed was a series of situations in which the diagnosis was less clear, treatment did not have the expected result, or I had good reason to investigate other possibilities as well.<\/p>\n
Ossu was only five months old when he ended up in emergency care in a critical condition one Sunday evening. He had a fever, was lethargic and had a C-reactive protein (CRP) result of 229, against a reference range of 0\u201310. Poisoning was suspected, but that result alone could not establish the cause. CRP indicates an inflammatory response in the body, not a specific disease.<\/p>\n
I clearly remember telling the vets to do whatever was needed to bring him back. By the following day he was better, his CRP had fallen to around 120, and I could take him home that evening. He also returned to the hospital for daytime inpatient care. In that situation, the need for medication and hospital treatment was completely clear to me.<\/p>\n
Later I began to wonder whether the intensive treatment, including any courses of antibiotics, might also have affected his digestion. Antibiotics can indeed change the intestinal bacterial community, and recovery can take longer in some animals. But I cannot establish retrospectively that treatment caused Oscar’s later difficulties with eating. At the same time, I know that without that treatment I might not have a dog whose health I could discuss at all.<\/p>\n
Not long after the emergency visit, I noticed Oscar walking strangely and limping. We first saw a neurologist. The X-rays could neither clearly confirm nor rule out panosteitis, the bone pain associated with growth in young, large dogs. We then saw an orthopaedic specialist, who found processes in the elbow that had not united and recommended surgery.<\/p>\n
Ossu was about seven months old. He seemed so young that I decided to take some time to think. We were prescribed Rimadyl to relieve inflammation and pain, while I began researching skeletal development in large breeds and the treatment options. In the end, I decided against surgery at that time. I switched him to a holistic junior food, which I fed until he was two, and a few months later we also tried a course of Arthro-Elastina.<\/p>\n
After that I no longer saw him limping in ordinary circumstances, although sometimes his front leg still troubled him after a very active Sunday walk in the forest. That is my dog’s actual history, not evidence that an elbow developmental disorder can be cured by food or a joint supplement. Modern veterinary orthopaedics regards an ununited elbow process as a serious problem for which early surgery is often recommended. Treatment depends on the precise abnormality, the extent of joint damage and the orthopaedic assessment. I would not advise anyone to skip necessary surgery simply because of our story. What I would do today is ask the vet more questions.<\/p>\n
I once also gave Ossu a homeopathic Calcarea carbonica pellet. That belongs to the history of things we tried, but I cannot attribute his improved movement to it: neither our story nor a reliable clinical evidence base supports that causal claim.<\/p>\n
At around the same time, I noticed something else unusual. Ossu’s paw pads were pink and soft, and sometimes even bled after a walk. We discussed various possibilities with the vets, including chronic trauma, a toxic effect and an autoimmune process. We specifically had his blood zinc checked, but that too was within the normal range. Repeat tests did not give a clear answer, and we even discussed a biopsy if things became worse.<\/p>\n
I decided to try raw feeding for a while and added vegetables, fruit and nori sheets. At some point I noticed that his pads had become firmer and darker. I do not know exactly when it happened, or whether it was due to the food, growing up or something else. This is one of the most instructive parts of our story: a better outcome and a change made at the same time do not establish that one caused the other.<\/p>\n
If a dog’s pads bleed, crack or hurt, do not wait for food to fix everything. There are many possible causes, from environmental trauma to inflammatory and immune-mediated skin diseases. Raw feeding, in turn, requires attention to nutritional balance and microbiological safety. A homemade raw diet does not automatically become complete simply because vegetables are added.<\/p>\n
At about a year old, Ossu began occasionally developing weeping, purulent patches on his back and tail. They itched, and clipping the fur did not bring the relief we hoped for. At one appointment we were given a steroid cream to try, but I did not notice a benefit. I kept looking for ways at least to soothe the skin, and in our experience coconut oil and honey helped on some occasions. I also felt that if I caught a change very early and did not need to clip the fur, the area dried more quickly.<\/p>\n
Looking back, I cannot say whether these were superficial bacterial infections, so-called hot spots or another skin problem. Recurrent inflammatory skin lesions can be associated with allergies, parasites, the skin barrier or other diseases. Today, cytology and sometimes bacterial culture are recommended when appropriate for recurrent purulent lesions, to establish what is actually being treated.<\/p>\n
Honey is not all the same either. Medical-grade wound honey studied in veterinary medicine differs from the honey in a kitchen cupboard, and laboratory antibacterial findings do not establish that every homemade honey mixture treats a dog’s skin infection. Our story remains a valuable observation, but a deep, painful, hot or spreading purulent lesion needs a diagnosis and suitable treatment.<\/p>\n
For years I sometimes felt as though I was chasing Ossu around the house with his bowl. He seemed hungry and was drooling, but somehow could not take that first mouthful. Once he finally started, he often left part of the portion. Eating seemed to make him uncomfortable, but at the time I had no single clear explanation.<\/p>\n
I have tried various ways to support his wellbeing and digestion: chlorella, occasional diatomaceous earth and colostrum. I cannot retrospectively attribute a specific therapeutic effect to any of them. Improved appetite, in particular, does not prove that \u201ccleansing the gut\u201d solved every problem. If a dog wants to eat but cannot get started, nausea, oral or dental pain, difficulty swallowing and other clinical causes also need to be considered.<\/p>\n
The intestinal microbiome remains an important health topic for me. Diet and medication can influence it, and integrative vets pay considerable attention to the links between digestion, food tolerance and the everyday diet. But one symptom alone cannot diagnose a microbiome problem. Keeping that distinction allows a valuable line of enquiry to remain without turning it into a universal explanation.<\/p>\n
When Oscar was about five, I noticed that his body had visibly changed over the preceding year. As a younger dog he had been rather lanky, held his back slightly rounded and somehow lacked the strength I would expect in a German Shepherd. Then we began walking consistently, his movement and muscles changed, and his chest and withers seemed broader. Sometimes a quick glance from behind no longer told me whether the dog ahead was Oscar or Faddy.<\/p>\n
It seemed to me that his earlier rounded posture disappeared along with better nutrition and exercise. A webinar on intestinal health linked a hunched posture to the microbiome, but that association cannot be used as a diagnostic rule. The way a dog holds its back can change because of pain, muscle strength, conformation and many other factors. The change in our case was real, but its precise mechanism remains unknown.<\/p>\n
Above all, Oscar taught me that with a complicated dog, the first answer may not be the final one. Sometimes prompt medication is needed, sometimes a good orthopaedic specialist, sometimes different food and sometimes more exercise. And sometimes we simply have to acknowledge that we do not yet know why a change happened.<\/p>\n
I still trust vets. But now I ask more questions: what is the diagnosis, what was measured to confirm it, what treatment options are there, and how will we know whether treatment works? I ask the same questions about natural remedies. If something helps, that is valuable. But if it does not help or the condition worsens, the plan needs to change. Perhaps that is Oscar’s greatest gift: the courage not to accept an incomplete explanation, coupled with the ability to listen to an uncomfortable answer too.<\/p>\n