"the dog story: a journey into a new life with multiple sclerosis" book review, #giveaway, and author interview with matt cavallo

Matt Cavallo's wife, Jocelyn, became a friend of mine through our local MOMS club. We had some fun experiences together, and her boys, Mason and Colby, are sweethearts. I was always happy for my kids to play with them. I thought Jocelyn was a cool cat. Totally real, funny and fun, and over-the-top nice without the sickening sweetness. But I didn't realize how cool she really was until after she called me to her home to take care of the family dog, Teddy. 

The Cavallo family. Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

The Cavallo family. Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

The consultation was the first time I'd been to her home. She showed me where all the dog stuff was, and we talked about how Teddy would be for me on walks, which would be very important during our visits. She explained to me how Teddy was used to being walked twice a day by her husband, Matt, whom I'd actually never met. "Teddy is really Matt's dog," Jocelyn explained. "We all love Teddy, but Matt is super attached to him, and he's probably nervous about having someone come in to take care of Teddy while we're away, but we totally trust you." 

Most people who take the time and money to hire a professional pet sitter are pretty devoted to their pets, but this seemed different. I didn't want to pry, so I took what she said at face value and reassured her that Teddy would be fine. "Please let Matt know that I'll take great care of Teddy, and I will walk him twice a day, like he's used to."

I think Jocelyn felt like she needed to provide me with further explanation. "I don't know if I told you, but Matt has MS," she blurted. 

"Wow." What could I say? "I...had no idea. Is he...okay?" 

"Yes, he's okay. I mean, as much as you can be with MS..." Jocelyn went on to tell me a small portion of Matt's story just as Matt pulled into the driveway, home for lunch. "He actually wrote a book about it," she concluded before he made it into the house. It's called 'The Dog Story,' if you're interested." I gathered that there was more to Matt's relationship with Teddy. And, yes, I was interested.

After just hearing the news about Matt, I was a bit nervous as to what to expect, knowing he'd be coming in any second. I mean, he could drive, so he must be somewhat functional, right? Matt came in and Jocelyn introduced us. I don't know what, exactly, I expected, but Matt looked totally normal. Not at all like what MS looked like in my imagination. He was friendly, yet slightly aloof, probably trying to play it cool in the face of this stranger who would care for Teddy in a few short weeks. Matt made himself a sandwich, and I excused myself so he and Jocelyn could enjoy their time together. 

I took care of Teddy shortly thereafter, and we got along famously. He was happy to see me, fun to walk, and well behaved. Matt survived the ordeal. 

I purchased a Kindle copy of Matt's book, "The Dog Story: A Journey into a New Life With Multiple Sclerosis," and before beginning, I sent Matt an email letting him know I was setting out. He responded warmly, saying "I hope you enjoy it. It can be difficult to read in parts, especially since you know Jocelyn." 

I began, and a couple of hours later, I sent Matt another message: "OMG. I can't put it down. Your writing style is so approachable, and your story is really compelling." Matt responded humbly with a simple "thank you." 

It's true. I couldn't put it down. I know that's totally chiché. Maybe a small part of my interest was the fact that I had a personal relationship with these people. After all, rarely do we get to hear such raw, unveiled stories from people we haven't known our whole lives. But it wasn't just about hearing the dirt on people I knew. Anyone who reads this book will feel as if they intimately know Matt and Joceyln. I thought a story about a MS diagnosis would be a total downer, but Matt is funny, and somehow he makes you happy through a very sad story. I felt the impact he conveyed as he shared his story, but I never felt sorry for him. The journey to his diagnosis was rough, but Matt is almost as strong as his wife, and (spoiler alert), together, they have made a wonderful life, despite Matt's tragic disease. 

Although Teddy's picture adorns the cover of Matt's book, I kept waiting for him to make an appearance as I read. I had to wait a long time.

I contacted Matt after I'd finished the book and asked if I could interview him for the well minded blog. He was happy to oblige. 

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WM: Matt, I read "The Dog Story" about your journey to a diagnosis. While, initially, it doesn't seem to be a book about a dog, I walked away with the feeling that while your childhood dog helped you find your identity growing up, Teddy has helped you find your identity to live your best life with MS. Is that the message you intended?

Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

MC: That is a great observation, Kristen. I definitely believe that Teddy has not only helped me cope with my diagnosis, but has also helped me live my best life. The title of the book is a bit misleading. "The Dog Story" is not the story of a dog, rather it refers to how I got my dog. A major theme throughout the book is timing. Getting a dog was a debate my wife, Jocelyn, and I had over and over again during the beginning of our relationship and into the early years of our marriage. While I am a dog person and have had a dog my entire life, she never really connected with dogs. To her the timing was never right. We had major life events like getting married, graduating from college or moving to Boston, and a dog was not in those plans.

Then, in the midst of those plans, I had this major health event where I lost the functionality of my legs and got diagnosed with MS. A month after my diagnosis was my 29th birthday. On that birthday, I was handed a present, and it was a book. When I tore the wrapping paper off, looking back at me was a book about dog breeds with a soft-coat wheaten terrier on the cover. I opened the inside cover and there was a handwritten note, saying that a litter had been born, and I was getting a male from the litter.

At that moment, my heart dropped. Now the timing was right to get a dog? I could barely walk on my own and had just been diagnosed with a chronic illness. How was I going to walk and take care of a dog? I wanted to thank Jocelyn and tell her that while I really appreciated the present, that I couldn't possibly raise a dog at this time.

Then, I realized that the timing could not have been more right. At that point in my life, I needed a dog more than ever. Getting Teddy was a major turning point in me starting a new chapter of my life as a man with a chronic illness. I promised Jocelyn that day that no matter what was happening with my MS, that I would walk the dog twice a day. It's been eight years now and I've kept that promise.

WM: Can you tell me more about your relationship with Teddy?

Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

Photo courtesy of Matt Cavallo.

MC: Teddy is more than my best friend. He is more like a caregiver. He has been in my life for almost nine years now, through the good times and bad. He knows when I'm feeling sick and comforts me. He also nudges me and keeps me honest with our daily walks. On the days when I just don't feel like getting up and doing anything, his cold, wet nose prods me out the door.

WM: So Teddy is really important to your quality of life.

MC: Teddy is a great motivator. He keeps me going. I think that he has played a big factor into why I have sustained such a great quality of life despite living with MS.

WM: What is your routine like with Teddy?

Teddy on an early morning walk with me. I kept my promise, too.

Teddy on an early morning walk with me. I kept my promise, too.

MC: My routine with Teddy is the same as it was when I made the promise over eight years ago. I walk him twice a day whether I feel like I can or not. The only difference is that we have two boys now so I now schedule Teddy's walks around the kids' schedule and activities.

WM: How important is regular exercise for you? Would you say Teddy helps you more in the physical sense or the emotional sense?

MC: Teddy helps me both physically and emotionally. Physically he keeps me moving and emotionally he understands my bad days. Exercise is important, but often times I am too fatigued to move. That is where having to take care of Teddy really pushes me to keep walking.

WM: Do you believe in the healing power of animals?

MC: Yes, I do believe in the healing power of animals. While they can't speak our language, they can communicate and sense our emotions. I was in a deep depression when I was first diagnosed, and it wasn't until I got Teddy that I was able to pull myself out of it.

I took this photo of Teddy during my first visit with him. He was great for me, but, clearly, he missed Matt. Just look at those puppy-dog eyes.

I took this photo of Teddy during my first visit with him. He was great for me, but, clearly, he missed Matt. Just look at those puppy-dog eyes.

WM: I understand that you have been traveling a lot lately as a motivational speaker. How do you keep motivated when you can't walk Teddy, and how does he do while you're away?

MC: Traveling had been hard on me. I would like to take him with me whenever I go. I am always trying to make sure he can't see me pack my suitcase. Jocelyn thinks I infer way too many human traits on him and that he is fine when I'm away. The truth is that I am the one that is not fine with being gone. I need to keep my promise.

WM: Have you considered the possibility of Teddy becoming a service dog for you?

MC: I have, but Jocelyn is pretty sure he would flunk out of the training school! He is also an unneutered male who marks everything, so I'm am not sure how well-behaved he would be in public places. He is definitely lovable but lacks some of the social refinements you would expect from a service dog.

WM: Do you have any plans for any more books?

MC: Jocelyn and I just completed our second book, "Seven Steps to Living Well With a Chronic Illness." It's a self-help book for people seeking guidance for living well despite being diagnosed with a chronic illness. Some of the topics covered in the book include tips on navigating the health care system, emotional and physical healing, and, of course, the healing power of a companion animal. The book is due out this spring.

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I, for one, can't imagine a better couple to tell the story about living well under dire circumstances. Matt and Jocelyn are upbeat, positive people who continue to conquer their life's challenges every day. 

Matt has generously offered to send a personalized, signed copy of his book to a well minded reader. Regardless of whether your life has been touched by a chronic illness, Matt's story is an inspiring look at overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles, made better with the help of a dog.

Please enter this very special giveaway.

Connect with Matt at mattcavallo.com.

living with canine addison's disease: kermit's story, part four (the disease and the end)

So what is Addison's Disease, exactly? PetMD describes it:

Mineralocorticoids and glucocorticoids are hormones normally produced by the adrenal glands, which are located near the kidneys. Both of these hormones are critical to the healthy functioning of the body, and an abnormal increase or decrease of either of these hormones can lead to serious health problems if not addressed in time. Hypoadrenocorticism (Addison's Disease) is characterized by a deficient production of glucocorticoids and/or mineralocorticoids. Deficient production of both these hormones can cause a number of symptoms like weakness, dehydration, low blood pressure, depression, heart toxicity, vomiting, blood in feces, and weight loss...

A sudden and severe (acute) episode of hypoadrenocorticism is a medical emergency requiring immediate hospitalization and intensive therapy...

After the initial recovery, your veterinarian will calculate the dose that will balance your dog's hormone deficiency. The dose of these hormones may need to be increased occasionally, especially during periods of stress like travel, hospitalization, and surgery. 

After being diagnosed with Addison's Disease at the age of four, Kermit did quite well on his meds. The vet would adjust them up or down depending on what his blood work said. Giving Kermit meds became part of our routine. The same time every morning, and the same time every evening. 

When we knew he would experience stress, we gave him half a dose more leading up to the event and during the event. The stress could be positive or negative. Having out-of-town guests stay with us for a few days was always a happy, exciting time for Kermit. But the thrill of it all could send him into an Addisonian Crisis, so we'd have to up his meds a bit. Overall, his quality of life was great for a couple of years. We could do this thing.

We thought all was as well as it could be, but then Kermit suddenly collapsed one day. We initially thought it was an Addisonian crisis, but this time, it was different. His body stiffened, his mouth froze open in an ugly attack-like position, and then he started convulsing. It seemed to go on forever, but he came-to after a few seconds, stood up, wandered around a bit, pooped, then drank a ton of water. Then he ran around, perfectly happy. 

We rushed him to the vet, despite his seemingly perfect appearance. Seizures are not normally a symptom of Addison's Disease, so they ran test after test. They found no cause of the seizures, so on top of the Addison's Disease, Kermit had "Non-specific Seizure Disorder," which is a fancy way of saying "we don't know what the hell is wrong with your dog." They speculated that the seizures could be his body's way of reacting to the toll the disease was taking on him, but they couldn't be sure. They said he might never have another seizure. Or he might have many. They couldn't predict what would happen. They kept him on his course of meds and said that if his seizures became unmanageable, we could look at treating them, but that treating them would be invasive, likely consisting of regular injections. 

Over the next couple of years, Kermit's seizures were inconsistent. He would have one every now and again. We'd call the vet, and they would tell us there was really nothing we could do besides comfort him, unless we felt it was time to treat him. We didn't want to subject him to the treatment, and since his seizures were so sporadic and he seemed fine, otherwise, we opted to leave him untreated.

N.A.S.H.A. would often keep Kermit company when he wasn't feeling well.

N.A.S.H.A. would often keep Kermit company when he wasn't feeling well.

As his life progressed, the seizures became more consistent. Unpredictably, he would have cluster seizures, a group of seizures that would occur over the course of a couple of days. We couldn't understand what would set these off, but we noticed a pattern. N.A.S.H.A. would stick to Kermit like glue periodically. And she wouldn't stop licking his eyes, but only sometimes. When we started to really take notice, we recognized that she exhibited this behavior for a day or so only just before a seizure cluster. N.A.S.H.A. could predict Kermit's seizures! 

Still, there was not much we could do, but at least we knew, and there was some comfort in knowing what was coming. And I'm sure Kermit was somewhat comforted by N.A.S.H.A.'s care. He always tolerated her eye-licking, and even seemed to enjoy it. A little love goes a long way.

Kermit's seizures also followed a pattern: He would suddenly drop to the ground, stiffen, seize, then moan and lay there for a minute and wet himself. Then he'd get up and wobble around a bit, falling a few times, then he'd walk around in a daze (the seizures caused temporary blindness for a few minutes), and then he'd poop, drink water, and be fine again. Our role: to keep him from hitting objects that could cause injury, comfort him, and then try to escort him toward the back door so he could relieve himself outside rather than inside. The seizure clusters happened approximately monthly, and he would have five or six seizures over the course of two days.

Kermit would occasionally hit something on the way down and bleed from the mouth...his gums had begun to deteriorate, and the vet advised us not to put him through the anesthesia it would take to treat it. His tooth decay was likely a result of his weakened immune system.

So why did we choose to prolong his suffering? Because other than the two days he was having seizures, his quality of life was wonderful. He was normal Kermit. He ate and played and cuddled. It was really hard to think about euthanizing him when he was seizure-free. 

Kermit started to show signs that his mind wasn't all there. After so many seizures, his brain was damaged. We affectionately called him "mashed potato brains." Perfectly potty-trained Kermit would now stare us straight in the eye and lift his leg on the corner of the couch as if it was a fire hydrant. He had just lost his mind. We purchased him some reusable belly band "diapers," and after hearing our story, the lady who made them sent Kermit a custom band with Kermit the Frog on it. Kermit wore a belly band all the time to prevent our house from becoming a urinal. He came to enjoy the attention a diaper change brought, and when we'd release him from them for a naked romp outside, he'd prance around, free. Kinda like taking a bra off at the end of the day, I suspect.

Everyone always says "you'll know when it's time."

We knew it was time when Kermit's mashed potato brains led him to injure himself. He began to chew on his left front leg. At first, it was a little nibble, as if he had an itch that wouldn't go away. When he drew blood, we bandaged him. We took him to the vet, and there was nothing wrong with his leg. He would chew the bandage off, so we put him in a t-shirt. It seemed to help, but he could still get at the leg. He chewed and chewed, and chewed. And he wouldn't snap out of his daze. Our Kermit was gone.

It was time. We all cried, and we all hugged Kermit. My husband honored the agreement we made when we married. I told him "there will be lots of animals in our lives, and I won't be able to 'do the deed' when it comes time. If you marry me, you have to agree to take care of it." Brennen scooped Kermit up and put him in the car. The littles and I watched out the window as they drove away.

For weeks after, I didn't know what to do with myself in the mornings. There was no medicine to administer and no diapers to change. There was just nothing.

Kermit was a special dog with a rare disease that had a huge impact on our lives. Was it all worth it? Without a doubt. I hope he'd think so, too.  

Further reading:

living with canine addison's disease: kermit's story, part one (the adoption)

living with canine addison's disease: kermit's story, part two (our lives before the disease)

living with canine addison's disease: kermit's story, part three (the diagnosis)