Throwback Thursday a Day Early! Solving the Mystery of EPI with Tracy Weber

"Including a dog with EPI in my series was no accident. Like most fiction authors, my primary goal is to entertain. To immerse my readers in a world they would otherwise never experience. But that’s not my only goal. My secondary, not-so-secret goal is to spread awareness of EPI and provide hope to owners of animals impacted by the condition."

Tracy Weber will share an excerpt from her brand new Downward Dog Mystery, Karma’s a Killer, on Sunday. In the meantime, we're flashing back to her post "Fact in Fiction: Solving the Mystery of EPI," which ran April 19, 2015.

Fact in Fiction: Solving the Mystery of EPI

Bella, the German Shepherd hero in my Downward Dog Mystery series, is very special dog. Like most heroes, Bella is brave, loyal, and willing to make great sacrifices to protect those she loves. But her heroism isn’t the only thing that makes Bella special. Like my own German shepherd Tasha, she lives with an autoimmune disease called Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency (EPI).

One of the many unwritten rules I follow when writing a cozy mystery is that no animals shall ever be harmed. Bella will be no exception. But “not harmed” doesn’t mean “not challenged.” In Bella’s case, her challenge is a significant, lifelong, yet manageable health condition.

Keiara in agility. When
she was diagnosed, she
had lost so much muscle
she couldn't walk

Including a dog with EPI in my series was no accident. Like most fiction authors, my primary goal is to entertain. To immerse my readers in a world they would otherwise never experience. But that’s not my only goal. My secondary, not-so-secret goal is to spread awareness of EPI and provide hope to owners of animals impacted by the condition.

EPI is an autoimmune disease that destroys the exocrine cells of the pancreas—the cells that produce digestive enzymes. Without digestive enzymes, EPI-dogs can no longer digest food, no matter how high the quality. Symptoms begin manifesting when the pancreas is 90% destroyed, at which time the dog starts losing significant weight.

Izzy, 6 years after EPI diagnosis
and doing great

The disease is primarily diagnosed in adolescent German Shepherds, but it can occur in any breed, even in cats and sometimes in humans. With lifelong treatment, an animal with EPI can live a basically normal life. EPI dogs go on to be search and rescue dogs, agility champions, therapy dogs, and cherished companions. Without treatment, those same dogs would literally starve to death.

The true tragedy of EPI lies not in the illness itself, at least not in most cases. It lies in the lost lives of dogs that were needlessly euthanized, either because EPI was never diagnosed or because owners falsely believed that they couldn’t afford the animal’s lifelong treatment. While this may have been true in the past, today treatment is much more affordable. Enzyme co-ops can furnish the needed medicine at one-third retail cost, and multiple online support groups have formed that coach owners through the frustrating trial-and-error beginning stages of treatment.

Tasha, still thriving at 10 years old

My own girl Tasha was diagnosed at age two, after losing twenty-five pounds in a month. As I watched her waste away in the weeks before diagnosis, I was convinced that I would soon lose her. Six months after we started treatment, she reached her goal weight of one hundred pounds, which she has maintained for the past eight years. No one who sees her now would guess that she has a wasting disease. Her vet has even nicknamed her “Fatty.”

Strangers used to chastise me because they wrongly assumed I was starving my dog.  Now they stop to tell me how gorgeous she is, even at age ten.  The same can be true for the vast majority of dogs with this condition.

A simple blood test can determine whether or not an animal has EPI. If you or someone you know owns a dog with the following symptoms, ask your vet if a Serum Trypsin-Like Immunoreactivity (TLI) test might be appropriate.

If your dog is a German shepherd, insist on it. 

Symptoms of EPI Include:

Caesar, 3-year-old Spanish Mastiff

• Rapid weight loss in spite of a voracious appetite
•  Frequent elimination of greasy, malformed, often yellow-colored stools
• Rumbling sounds in the abdomen
• Pica (eating of inappropriate substances)

If you have questions about EPI, please feel free to contact me at Tracy@WholeLifeYoga.com. Be sure to check out the website EPI4dogs. The before and after pictures will astound you.

Sometimes all it takes is information—and hope—to save a life.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at all of these gorgeous animals, each thriving with EPI.

~~~

Tracy Weber is the author of the award-winning Downward Dog Mysteries series featuring yoga teacher Kate and her feisty German shepherd, Bella. Tracy loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. The second book in her series, A Killer Retreat, was released January, 2015 by Midnight Ink.

Tracy and her husband live in Seattle with their challenging yet amazing German shepherd Tasha. When she’s not writing, Tracy spends her time teaching yoga, walking Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. 

Visit her at TracyWeberAuthor.com, friend her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/tracywe, or e-mail her at Tracy@WholeLifeYoga.com

Sophie Shapes my World

by Judy Alter

Every night when I’m ready to go to bed, I ask Sophie if she’s ready for bed. She trots to the dog bed next to my bed. We visit and she gets tummy rubs; sometimes I talk over the day with her, sometimes I just tell her what a sweet girl she is. When I say, “Okay, time to go to sleep,” she jumps up and goes to her crate (she’s housebroken but occasionally unreliable). In the morning the first thing I do is let her out of the crate, and we have another little love session, which me scratching her ears. I begin and end my day with my dog.

Sophie is a deliberate, kennel-bred cross of a border collie and a miniature poodle. I badly wanted a Labradoodle but my physician-brother convinced me that a woman of my age with mobility problems does not need a dog that would be eighty lbs. at a minimum. So I opted for a mini-labradoodle and, along with three children and three grandchildren, went to the kennel. The Labradoodle puppies were sweet but sleepy and passive—still only six weeks old. The breeder mentioned she had one Bordoodle and brought out Sophie. She was lively, mischievous, playful and irresistible. We all fell in love.

Sophie is not a perfect dog. In addition to occasional housebreaking mishaps, her unbounded enthusiasm and independent spirit gets us both in trouble. If anybody leaves a door a crack open, she is gone—headed for Canada. The only way to catch her is to drive by and open the car door—she loves cars. Even at thirty-two lbs., she is too strong for me to walk, although a younger neighbor occasionally walks her. She gets her exercise in the yard chasing squirrels. She is stubborn beyond belief—sometimes when I call her to come inside, she looks at me with an expression that says, “Really?” And doesn’t move. But she can be bribed with a treat.

She loves people and dogs but is sometimes wild in her greetings, bad about jumping on guests, until she calms down—which, now four, she eventually does. She has her favorites—my daughter and my grandson, a neighbor, the neighbor who tends my yard, almost anyone who gives her attention. Her fans, besides me, are legion.

Because I work at home, Sophie and I spend a lot of time alone together. She’s fierce about protecting me from unseen enemies—about half the time I can’t figure out what sets her off. In her crate, she is silent—off duty, as one neighbor says. If nothing alarms her, she’ll sleep in the easy chair in my office while I work. If I go to the kitchen, she follows, watching from a respectful distance in the dining room. If I nap, she goes to the dog bed. She is my shadow, giving me a much-needed sense of companionship by following me, staying wherever I am. Sometimes I talk over my problems with her—she’s an attentive listener.

She’s also the most vocal dog I’ve ever known. Many intonations and tones, from deep growls to almost a howling, that make us all wish we could speak “dog.” She so earnest about what she says to us. I answer conversationally and that sometimes satisfies her.

I cannot imagine life without a dog. Through a lifetime filled with dogs, I’ve loved them all—but Sophie is special. 

~~~~

An award-winning novelist, Judy Alter is the author of six books in the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries series: Skeleton in a Dead Space, No Neighborhood for Old Women, Trouble in a Big Box, Danger Comes Home, Deception in Strange Places, and Desperate for Death. She also writes the Blue Plate Café Mysteries—Murder at the Blue Plate Café, Murder at the Tremont House and the current Murder at Peacock Mansion. Finally, with the 2014 The Perfect Coed, she introduced the Oak Grove Mysteries.

Her work has been recognized with awards from the Western Writers of America, the Texas Institute of Letters, and the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame. She has been honored with the Owen Wister Award for Lifetime Achievement by WWA and inducted into the Texas Literary Hall of Fame and the WWA Hall of Fame.

Judy is retired as director of TCU Press, the mother of four grown children and the grandmother of seven. She and her dog, Sophie, live in Fort Worth, Texas.

Never trust a man a dog doesn’t like

by Judy Alter

I feel a bit like George W. Bush here, the time he got mixed up on “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice” and ended with “Aw, you know what I mean.” But the saying I have in my mind is “Never trust a man who doesn’t like dogs; always trust a dog who doesn’t like a man.” Or something like that.

It’s an accepted fact that dogs have some kind of sensitivity that humans either lack or ignore. Scientific studies have shown, for instance, that trained dogs can sense their owner’s seizure before the owner can because the dog recognizes changes in chemistry, behavior, probably even scent. Guide dogs operate on a similar sensitivity to their owners’ needs and anticipate such problems as stairs, solid objects, etc.

But what about your average pet? I had an Aussie who could sense a thunderstorm hours before it hit—scientists think now they feel earth vibrations that we don’t. Scooby would begin to pace when there was no sign of a storm, and his panic grew so bad the vet prescribed tranquilizers. Trouble was I waited until the storm was close to give him the pill, and it had long passed when the pill took effect and then he was somnambulant.

After years of owning several dogs, I am down to one—sometimes I call her my dotage dog. She’s a deliberate cross of a miniature poodle and a border collie, and she’s loveable, adorable, and fierce when protecting the house from the inside. I can tell in the night from the tone of her bark whether or not it’s something I need to get up for. Usually not. But sometimes there’s a deep, low-throated growl that gives me the shivers. What would she do if I was ever attacked…or one of her favorite people, like my grandson? I don’t know, hope I never have to find out. Sophie’s a friendly, happy creature so believe me if she ever growled at someone, I’d take it seriously. I wonder though why one minute she is sleeping peacefully in her bed in the bedroom and then with a yelp is racing to bark furiously out the front door. What signal did she get?

In my new mystery, Murder at Peacock Mansion, a dog’s intuition plays a big part, and I’m not sure scientific experiments would verify this. The dog is at Kate Chamber’s house, in the backyard, going crazy—barking, pacing, all the things that dogs do when upset. Kate is having her own anxiety attack because her partner/lover missed dinner the night before and she can’t find him by phone. She plans to go to his house to check on him, but Huggles, the dog, refuses to let her go without him.

Turns out Huggles instinct or intuition was right on. Someone has burned the house down. Kate assumes David is dead, but Huggles leads her to his car, parked a bit away, where David lies, gravely beaten and barely alive. Now that part can be explained by science—Huggles sensed probably body odors, fear, a trail—all believable. So is what he did next—jumped on David to keep him warm.

But is it possible that Huggles knew, from fifteen miles away or so, that David was in danger? Or was he picking up on Kate’s anxiety? Did he realize David was missing? Until we can teach dogs to talk, we’ll never know for sure. But I prefer to believe that the dog, a labradoodle, sensed one of his owners was in trouble over that distance. And it worked well for the plot.

Murder at Peacock Mansion

Arson, a bad beating, and a recluse who claims someone is trying to kill her all collide in this third Blue Plate Café Mystery with Kate Chambers. Torn between trying to save David Clinkscales, her old boss and new lover, and curiosity about Edith Aldridge’s story of an attempt on her life, Kate has to remind herself she has a café to run. She nurses a morose David, whose spirit has been hurt as badly as his body, and tries to placate Mrs. Aldridge, who was once accused of murdering her husband but acquitted. One by one, Mrs. Aldridge’s stepchildren enter the picture. Is it coincidence that David is Edith Aldridge’s lawyer? Or that she seems to rely heavily on the private investigator David hires? First the peacocks die…and then the people. Everyone is in danger, and no one knows who to suspect.

An award-winning novelist, Judy Alter is the author of six books in the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries series: Skeleton in a Dead Space, No Neighborhood for Old Women, Trouble in a Big Box, Danger Comes Home, Deception in Strange Places, and Desperate for Death. She also writes the Blue Plate Café Mysteries—Murder at the Blue Plate Café, Murder at the Tremont House and the current Murder at Peacock Mansion. Finally, with the 2014 The Perfect Coed, she introduced the Oak Grove Mysteries.

Her work has been recognized with awards from the Western Writers of America, the Texas Institute of Letters, and the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame. She has been honored with the Owen Wister Award for Lifetime Achievement by WWA and inducted into the Texas Literary Hall of Fame and the WWA Hall of Fame.

Judy is retired as director of TCU Press, the mother of four grown children and the grandmother of seven. She and her dog, Sophie, live in Fort Worth, Texas.

The Many Faces of Fetch

by Jacki Skole

 

“Dog, you get dumber by the day.”

I lift my head from my book. Kevin is standing in the middle of our backyard talking to Galen. She is several yards away on a small island of black mulch that circles a tree near where our yard ends and our neighbor’s begins. Galen’s purple ball—it looks like an oversized kettle bell—rests on the ground in front of her. She picks it up by its handle, shakes it furiously, then returns it to the earth.

“Bring the ball,” Kevin says for the third, maybe fourth, time. I watch the scene unfold from our deck—my husband and my dog are infinitely more interesting than the story I am reading.

Galen stands her ground. At this, Kevin turns and walks toward the back of our property, which stretches for two acres. Galen darts after him.

Kevin and Galen are engaged in a tug-of-war of sorts over the rules by which the game of fetch should be played. Kevin would prefer the traditional rules: Human throws ball. Dog retrieves. Dog returns ball to human. Galen prefers a more complex version of the game: Human throws ball. Dog retrieves it and runs to the mulch (or to a mound of wood chips, remnants of a tree that once shaded the deck). Human approaches dog and repeatedly tries to kick ball out of dog’s mouth as dog raises her hips in the iconic downward-facing dog posture, all the while refusing to release the ball until the human says, “Drop it.”

Interestingly, Galen isn’t our first dog to refuse to play fetch the way the game was intended. Gryffin, too, had established his own rules, which called for a stick in addition to a ball. In Gryffin’s version: Human throws stick. Dog retrieves it and waits for human to throw ball. Then, with stick in mouth, dog chases and then pounces on ball. Human walks to dog, grabs stick, then ball. In neither Galen’s nor Gryffin’s fetch does the dog return the ball to the human.

I often wonder how it is that Kevin and I raised two dogs who can’t play a traditional game of fetch. Sometimes I like to think it’s that we raised our dogs much like we are raising our two daughters—to be creative, independent thinkers for whom we provide the parameters within which they are permitted a large percentage of freedom.

Mostly, however, I concede that our dogs trained us better than we trained them.

Back from their walk, Galen grabs her purple ball by the handle and runs to Kevin. He pets her, heaps praise upon her. This is how the game is played, he tells her. Then he hurls the ball across the yard. Galen retrieves it and runs… back to the mulch. She shakes the ball and looks at Kevin expectantly. This time it’s Kevin who stands his ground.

I smile. It will be only a few seconds before Kevin walks toward Galen. You see, she is the more stubborn of the two. And she’s no dummy. She knows she’s trained him well.

Jacki Skole is an award-winning journalist and adjunct professor of communication. She launched her journalism career at CNN, first as a news writer, then as a producer in the network’s documentary unit; she’s also produced programs for Animal Planet and HGTV.

Jacki lives in New Jersey with her husband and three daughters—two human, one canine. It is Galen, Jacki’s canine daughter, who inspired the journey that resulted in DOGLAND.

About Dogland

Soon after Jacki Skole brought home an eight-week-old puppy from a New Jersey rescue organization, she wondered how such a young animal could have so many idiosyncrasies—so she set out to find an answer. Dogland, an extraordinary mix of memoir and investigative journalism, follows Skole’s journey to trace the origins of her newest family member.

Along the way, Skole interviewed dozens who work in the world of animal rescue—from shelter managers to animal rights activists—taking readers from dilapidated county-run shelters in the South to strip malls in the Northeast where rescue groups seek homes for homeless pets, and from rural and urban “vet deserts” to the very heart of the South’s complex relationship with companion dogs.

Amid the serious issues facing shelter dogs in America, Skole found tireless animal advocates and humble visionaries who believe their ideas and their passion can save canine lives throughout the South—and the entire United States.

Helpful Links:

Website: www.jackiskole.com

DOGLAND on Amazon

Twitter @JackiSkole

Facebook fan page

In Memoriam

To commemorate Memorial Day, I am rerunning a post from my personal blog. Here are some thoughts about the animals who do not make wars but live, and die, in them just the same. - Sheila

Our Companions in War

by Sheila Webster Boneham

My grandmother was a poet. Squarely in the sentimental Victorian tradition, her poems were published in Scottish and Canadian newspapers and small-press collections in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I have several fat notebooks filled with her poems, handwritten and pasted in from print sources. Years ago I read my way through them as a way to know the woman who had faded a bit in my mind (I was five when she died). I read most of the poems, but honestly, only one stands out in my mind. It began, "Farewell, my noble friend, farewell," and even now I can’t think of it without feeling the tears well up. The copy in the notebook was yellowed and frayed at the edges. On the facing page was a clipping, a picture that had run in the Drumheller, Alberta, paper and, I’ve learned, many others. It immortalizes the death of a war horse and the grief of his soldier at his death.

Goodby, Old Man by Fortunino Matania

This image, long ago burned into my psyche, is a big reason that I have no desire to see the movie War Horse. I didn't know it at the time, but Italian illustrator Fortunino Matania not infrequently focused on the sad deaths of animals, especially horses, in the war.

Today is Memorial Day in the United States. This holiday, celebrated on the final Monday of May each year, is meant to honor those who have served in the American military. Originally May 30 was known as Decoration Day because one tradition of the day is the decoration of the graves of veterans, a practice that began during or just after the American Civil War (1861-65). The first official observation of remembrance was May 30, 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. By 1890, all Northern states had adopted the holiday, but most Southern states refused to do so until World War I, when the holiday was extended to honor the dead of all American wars.

We usually focus our national pageants on the human price of war. Here today, for a few moments, I ask you to again expand the meaning of Memorial Day and give a thought to the millions of animals who have served, suffered, and died in human wars over the centuries. Think not only of the heroes given our attention and honors, but also of the vast majority of animals recruited into military service who did as they were asked and died unsung. Spare a thought, too, for the millions of animals, domestic and wild, who died as "collateral damage" or by intentional slaughter for political or other purposes. (Hitler, for instance, had non-German breeds of dogs systematically exterminated in Europe.)

Books have been written on animals in war, so I won’t attempt any kind of thorough commentary. Instead, I give you a few photos and a few links to more information, and ask that, as we remember our service people, we also remember the animals.

Horses, Donkeys, and Mules

I can't think of an animal more suited by nature to peace than the equines, and yet horses, donkeys, and mules have been used in human warfare since, probably, the first person threw a leg over an equine's back. Without horses for speed and donkeys and mules for stamina, we as a species would certainly not be where we are today, and our history, especially the history of conquest and war, would have unfolded very differently.

"L" Battery, R.H.A. Retreat from Mons
This British Horse artillery unit made a heroic stand against advancing German troops during the retreat from Mons, Belgium on 1 September 1914. Mons stayed in German hands until liberated by Canadian troops on the last day of the war, 11 November 1918. L Battery R.H.A. How our Gunners Won the V.C. and Silenced the Fire of the German Guns in the Face of Overwhelming Odds. Retreat from Mons 1st September 1914. Print by Fortunino Matania. Canadian War Museum

There are many websites and books about horses in war, but a few I've found especially interesting include the following:

• Unveiling of South African “Horse Memorial”
• Horses in Time of War

Horses, mules, and donkeys naturally became less important to most militaries after World War I, but they aren't out of the service entirely. In fact, they are being used by American forces today in Afghanistan, as shown on Olive Drab's page.

Carrier pigeons

Carrier pigeons have nearly as long a history in military service as do the equines. During World War I, the U.S. Signal Corps deployed at least 600 pigeons in France alone, and Britain used some 250,000 carrier pigeons during World War II. Paddy, an Irish carrier pigeon, was the first pigeon to cross the English Channel with news of success on D-Day. One of hundreds of birds dispatched from the front, Paddy flew 230 miles in 4 hours and 50 minutes. He is one of 32 carrier pigeons to be awarded the Dickin Medal, the highest British decoration for valor given to animals. Another recipient was an American pigeon, GI Joe (below).

To learn more about carrier pigeons who have served, start with these site:

• Pigeons of War
• Pigeons Who Have Been Awarded the Dickin Medal

The Dickin Medal

The PDSA Dickin Medal, recognised in Britain as the animals’ Victoria Cross, is awarded to animals displaying conspicuous gallantry or devotion to duty while serving or associated with any branch of the Armed Forces or Civil Defence Units. The Medal has been awarded to dogs, horses, pigeons, and one cat. The citations on the Rolls of Honour are moving tributes to the role animals play in our service during war, and to the courage of the individual animals who have received the medal.

• Dogs - Dickin Medal
• Horses - Dickin Medal
• Cat - Dickin Medal

No such medal exists in the United States as far as I know (please let me know if I've missed it in my search). In fact, in 2010 the Pentagon refused the request of military dog handlers to establish an official medal for valorous animals.

You're in the Navy Now

Although we tend to think of dogs and, sometimes, horses when we think of animals in the military, cats have also served in the military, often in the navy, like Pooli (below). For more great photos of cats in the Navy, visit Cats in the Sea Service .

"War Veteran - 'Pooli', who rates three service ribbons and four battle stars, shows she can still get into her old uniform as she prepares to celebrate her 15th birthday. The cat served aboard an attack transport during World War II." Los Angeles, 1959

Dogs, too, have served aboard ship, often as ship's mascots and de facto therapy dogs. Imagine how much fun the sailors on the USS Texas had with this gang in 1915. The Texas is now a museum near Houston and has been designated a National Historic Landmark. It is one of six surviving ships to have seen action in both World Wars. Check out the U.S. Naval Institute's Sea Dogs page for more canine sailors.

Love and War

Not all who serve fight, of course, and just having an animal to touch, to care for, and to love can be vital to a service man's or woman's emotional health.

Marine Pvt. John W. Emmons, and the Sixth Division's mascot dog sleep beside a 105mm howitzer on Okinawa, 1945. The Sixth Division suffered almost 2700 casualties during the battle, with another 1,300 being evacuated because of either exhaustion or fatigue. ( U.S. Naval Institute's Sea Dogs)

"Accepting her fate as an orphan of war, 'Miss Hap' a two-week old Korean kitten chows down on canned milk, piped to her by medicine dropper with the help of Marine Sergeant Frank Praytor ... The Marine adopted the kitten after its mother was killed by a mortar barrage near Bunker Hill. The name, Miss Hap, Sergeant Praytor explained, was given to the kitten 'because she was born at the wrong place at the wrong time'."
Korea, ca 1953 (From "Cats in the Sea Service")

As you prepare for your cookout or whatever else you have planned for the holiday, please take a moment to pause and remember what it's really about, and raise a glass to the all the souls - human, canine, equine, feline, avian, and more - the day is meant to honor.

Then hug your animals.

~~~

Sheila Webster Boneham the Animals in Focus Mystery series. She is also the author of seventeen nonfiction books about animals, including the highly regarded Rescue Matters!How to Find, Foster, and Rehome Companion Animals. Her work has appeared in literary and commercial magazines and anthologies, including the forthcoming 2015 Best Science and Nature Writing anthology edited by Rebecca Skloot.  Sheila’s work has won numerous honors, including the Prime Number Magazine Creative Nonfiction Award and multiple Maxwell and MUSE awards in fiction and nonfiction.  Sheila also writes narrative nonfiction and poetry, teaches writing workshops, and, yes, competes with her dogs. Learn more at www.sheilaboneham.com, or keep up with Sheila’s latest news on Facebook or at Sheila”s_Blog .

Sheila's books are available from retail and online booksellers. You can support independent bookselling and get your personally autographed copies of Sheila’s books from Pomegranate Books – information here: http://www.sheilaboneham.com/autographedbooks.html 

Fact in Fiction: Solving the Mystery of EPI

by Tracy Weber

Bella, the German Shepherd hero in my Downward Dog Mystery series, is very special dog. Like most heroes, Bella is brave, loyal, and willing to make great sacrifices to protect those she loves. But her heroism isn’t the only thing that makes Bella special. Like my own German shepherd Tasha, she lives with an autoimmune disease called Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency (EPI).

One of the many unwritten rules I follow when writing a cozy mystery is that no animals shall ever be harmed. Bella will be no exception. But “not harmed” doesn’t mean “not challenged.” In Bella’s case, her challenge is a significant, lifelong, yet manageable health condition.

Keiara in agility. When
she was diagnosed, she
had lost so much muscle
she couldn't walk

Including a dog with EPI in my series was no accident. Like most fiction authors, my primary goal is to entertain. To immerse my readers in a world they would otherwise never experience. But that’s not my only goal. My secondary, not-so-secret goal is to spread awareness of EPI and provide hope to owners of animals impacted by the condition.

EPI is an autoimmune disease that destroys the exocrine cells of the pancreas—the cells that produce digestive enzymes. Without digestive enzymes, EPI-dogs can no longer digest food, no matter how high the quality. Symptoms begin manifesting when the pancreas is 90% destroyed, at which time the dog starts losing significant weight.

Izzy, 6 years after EPI diagnosis
and doing great

The disease is primarily diagnosed in adolescent German Shepherds, but it can occur in any breed, even in cats and sometimes in humans. With lifelong treatment, an animal with EPI can live a basically normal life. EPI dogs go on to be search and rescue dogs, agility champions, therapy dogs, and cherished companions. Without treatment, those same dogs would literally starve to death.

The true tragedy of EPI lies not in the illness itself, at least not in most cases. It lies in the lost lives of dogs that were needlessly euthanized, either because EPI was never diagnosed or because owners falsely believed that they couldn’t afford the animal’s lifelong treatment. While this may have been true in the past, today treatment is much more affordable. Enzyme co-ops can furnish the needed medicine at one-third retail cost, and multiple online support groups have formed that coach owners through the frustrating trial-and-error beginning stages of treatment.

Tasha, still thriving at 10 years old

My own girl Tasha was diagnosed at age two, after losing twenty-five pounds in a month. As I watched her waste away in the weeks before diagnosis, I was convinced that I would soon lose her. Six months after we started treatment, she reached her goal weight of one hundred pounds, which she has maintained for the past eight years. No one who sees her now would guess that she has a wasting disease. Her vet has even nicknamed her “Fatty.”

Strangers used to chastise me because they wrongly assumed I was starving my dog.  Now they stop to tell me how gorgeous she is, even at age ten.  The same can be true for the vast majority of dogs with this condition.

A simple blood test can determine whether or not an animal has EPI. If you or someone you know owns a dog with the following symptoms, ask your vet if a Serum Trypsin-Like Immunoreactivity (TLI) test might be appropriate.

If your dog is a German shepherd, insist on it. 

Symptoms of EPI Include:

Caesar, 3-year-old Spanish Mastiff

• Rapid weight loss in spite of a voracious appetite
•  Frequent elimination of greasy, malformed, often yellow-colored stools
• Rumbling sounds in the abdomen
• Pica (eating of inappropriate substances)

If you have questions about EPI, please feel free to contact me at Tracy@WholeLifeYoga.com. Be sure to check out the website EPI4dogs. The before and after pictures will astound you.

Sometimes all it takes is information—and hope—to save a life.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at all of these gorgeous animals, each thriving with EPI.

~~~

Tracy Weber is the author of the award-winning Downward Dog Mysteries series featuring yoga teacher Kate and her feisty German shepherd, Bella. Tracy loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. The second book in her series, A Killer Retreat, was released January, 2015 by Midnight Ink.

Tracy and her husband live in Seattle with their challenging yet amazing German shepherd Tasha. When she’s not writing, Tracy spends her time teaching yoga, walking Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. 

Visit her at TracyWeberAuthor.com, friend her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/tracywe, or e-mail her at Tracy@WholeLifeYoga.com

Excerpt from Dial C for Chihuahua by Waverly Curtis

Chapter One

Apparently the fad was over. All those actresses and models who thought a miniature dog stuffed into a Versace shoulder bag was so cute were now abandoning their furry “accessories” in record numbers. The Los Angeles shelters were so full of Chihuahuas they had to fly them to other parts of the country. My new pet was one of forty Chihuahuas who had been shipped to Seattle.

At the Humane Society, the Chihuahuas were all in one cage. Most were milling around or throwing themselves at the bars, barking. One dog sat by himself, away from the others. A ray of sunlight fell through the opening high in the cinder block wall and illuminated his white fur.

I knew as soon as I looked into his big, dark eyes that he was mine. He held his head high but he looked forlorn. It was a feeling I could totally understand.

My divorce had just become final. My ex had already bought a new three-bedroom house with his fiancée, while I was scraping by in a one-bedroom condo with his cat. To make things worse, the real estate market was crashing, and my career as a stager was in jeopardy. After suffering through a series of disastrous dates, I decided to adopt a dog. I was in need of some unconditional love.

  

My new pet was quiet during the drive home but he turned into a little white tornado when I set him down on the carpet inside my front door. He raced around the living room, sniffing around the edges of the furniture. Luckily I had locked Albert, the cat, into my bedroom before I went to pick up my new companion.

While he was exploring, I went into the kitchen to set up a water bowl and food dish for him. I opened a small can of Alpo Gourmet, hoping he’d like beef and vegetables with gravy. At the snick of the can opener, he scampered around the corner, his nails clicking across the tile floor, before I could even spoon the food into his dish.

Poor little guy, I thought, he must be terribly hungry. But instead of wolfing down the Alpo, he paused in front of his dish and just stared at it.

Maybe he didn’t like beef and gravy. Maybe he didn’t like vegetables. But I’d been in a hurry to get to the Humane Society before they closed and had just picked up the first can of dog food I saw at Pete’s Market. Maybe I should have bought an assortment of flavors.

I was about to tell my new companion that I’d get him a flavor he liked, when he looked up at me and said, “Muchas gracias.”

“De nada,” I replied as he began gobbling up the food like he hadn’t eaten for a week.

Wait a minute…he couldn’t have spoken to me. And in Spanish, no less. I’d been alone too long. That was it. I was under a lot of stress. I was late with my homeowner’s dues and late with my mortgage payments. I had started looking for work on Craigslist, but so far I wasn’t making much progress. Thirty resumes out, but only one interview. That interview was with the owner of a private detective agency. Jimmy Gerrard had a sleazy appearance, a shabby office, and a weird way of talking about himself in the third person. Still, I was desperate and had tried to convince him I would make a good investigator. I have an eye for detail, I’m a good judge of character, and I speak a little Spanish.

The dog had emptied his food bowl and was licking his lips with his long pink tongue. He looked out toward the living room. “Tu casa es hermosa, muy hermosa.”

“What?” I agreed that my home was pretty, but I didn’t expect to hear it from him.

“Tu casa es mi casa,” he said approvingly. He got it backwards, but I got the point: he felt at home.

He trotted into the living room and started looking around, more slowly this time. I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay and followed him. He seemed to like what he saw, his head bobbing up and down as he poked his nose into the corners. I sank down on my chocolate brown sofa and set my wine glass on the end table. Before I knew it, I had a Chihuahua in my lap. He proceeded to give my crotch a series of vigorous sniffs.

“Stop that,” I scolded.

“I am a dog,” he said. “What can I do?”

I was about to shoo him away, when he lay down in my lap and curled up, snug as a kitten. He was so soft and cuddly, his short fur like warm velvet. His long ears were shell pink where the light shone through them.

I mused aloud, “What shall we call you?”

“My name is Pepe,” he answered in Spanish.

“Pepe?”

“Sí.” He got off my lap and stood on the couch beside me, his huge brown eyes looking directly into mine. “And your name, senorita?” he continued, still speaking Spanish. “How are you called?”

“I’m Geri Sullivan,” I told him.

“Bueno,” he said, with a wagging tail. “I am now, with great pride, Pepe Sullivan.”

I took another sip of my wine. This was too much.

Pepe looked me up and down. “You are muy bonita, Geri!”

I blinked. “Really?” It had been a long time since anyone had complimented me on my appearance.

“Sí! Your dark, curly hair gleams like the wing of a raven. Your lashes are as long and thick as a camel’s. And your curves are as sultry as the Yucatan.”

“Pepe,” I said, “you are quite the flatterer.” Although I was still pondering the comparison to a camel. Was that a compliment?

“I do not flatter,” he said. “I speak only the truth. I can recognize a hot mama when I see one.”

“Well, thank you.” I said. They say dogs are man’s best friend, but this one was definitely woman’s best friend. He made me feel way better than any of the losers I had dated since the divorce.

“Geri,” Pepe asked, “have you any other dogs?”

“No, I don’t.” I said. For some reason, I was reluctant to tell him about Albert. Just as I was reluctant to let Albert know about the dog.

“Buenísimo!” He nodded approvingly. “That makes me el jefe.”

~~~

Dial C for Chihuahua is the first in a series of humorous mystery novels written by Curt Colbert and Waverly Fitzgerald, under the pen name Waverly Curtis. Geri begins working for Jimmy G, the eccentric owner of a detective agency, and Pepe, of course, insists on going along. Soon they stumble upon the corpse of a Microsoft millionaire whose widow owns a lovely Pomeranian named Siren Song.

In the second novel, Chihuahua Confidential, Pepe and Geri travel to Hollywood to perform in a reality TV show called Dancing with Dogs. When Nigel St. Nigel, the judge everyone loves to hate, is found dead, Pepe and Geri are hot on the killer’s heels, while Pepe perfects his dance moves with his Pomeranian lady love.

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For the third novel, The Big Chihuahua, Geri and Pepe go undercover in a cult that worships an ancient dog warrior spirit named Dogawanda. The cult’s charismatic leader courts Pepe with promises of fame and fortune but Pepe and Geri are more concerned with figuring out who is killing her devotees. You can learn more about Pepe and his adventures at our web site. 

More from Waverly Curtis on Writers & Other Animals

•  When Animals Speak
• Author Interview with Waverly Curtis