Update - 15 December 2000: I just said goodbye to my Spike... I just got off the phone with Spike’s doctor and I asked him to take Spike’s pain away. The results of the CT scan were read by the radiologist at WSU and she reported in her opinion that the foreign mass in Spike' sinus area was a tumor. The prospects of a favorable recovery with an operation to remove a tumor at his age were very minimal. But there was still a small chance that the area in question could have been an abscess and wanting to give Spike every chance to beat this illness we decided to do the procedure to drain an abscess. The doctor put Spike under anesthetics and drilled a small access hole into his sinus area and took samples of the substance therein and analyzed it. The analysis proved to be consistent with a tumor. He informed me of this and so I instructed him to let Spike sleep.

Here is a photo of Spike as I will always Remember and Love him.

Tuesday, December 19, 2000
So long Spike ... old friend

Dec 17 2000 12:00AM By Kathleen Obenland of the Union-Bulletin

COLLEGE PLACE - The dog dishes are still stacked against the wall in David McElrath's room. Chew toys are piled under the table. Everything is here except for Spike, McElrath's long-time service dog. Every day, Spike, 12, opened doors, picked up dropped objects and was a companion for McElrath, a 48-year-old quadriplegic. He even helped him go to Walla Walla Community College and earn a degree.

Thursday night, McElrath was forced to euthanize the ailing old dog.

But in their final weeks together, the importance of the dog to the man took on a particular clarity.

McElrath spent the bulk of his tiny income to treat Spike, who began suffering seizures in November. People made donations for Spike and held a bake sale. Even the Walla Walla Clinic, which only treated people until Spike came along, recently performed a CT scan on the dog to try to pinpoint the source of the seizures.

"Under the circumstances, it was something we were willing to do," said clinic administrator Duane Lucas-Roberts. He noted that the machine was "vigorously sterilized" afterwards.

"Spike just gave me another part of life," McElrath said from his room at Sunbridge Care & Rehabilitation. "He was my companion. He gave me something to do. We walked all over town."

McElrath got the black pit bull as a puppy about six months after the car accident in 1988 that left McElrath paralyzed. At the time, McElrath saw a much different future both for himself, and the pit bull.

"We were in bad shape in those days," McElrath reflected. "We were into drugs. Spike was part of a transaction in a drug deal. He was supposed to be a guard dog."

Concerned about the aggressive reputation of pit bulls, McElrath's companion, Lisa Meyer, invested a considerable amount of time on obedience training. Spike was a quick study, she said.

"He's been the most loving, obedient dog ever," Meyer said.

Spike never became the aggressive guard dog McElrath expected. When the paper delivery person would step onto the property, Spike would rush out like he was going to bite - then lightly take the paper in his teeth and dash back to the house.

"One day, I got him to pick up a flashlight for me," McElrath said. "It took me a half hour of coaxing, but he did it. After that, he was picking up all kinds of stuff for me."

He regrets never having the dog professionally trained, but eventually Spike did most everything McElrath needed.

When McElrath moved into Sunbridge Care & Rehabilitation in 1994, Spike soon joined him. Skepticism over Spike's breed - or as McElrath likes to say, his "intimidating good looks" - evaporated when people saw how much the dog aided McElrath.

If someone needed further convincing, McElrath would ask the person to slap him in full view of Spike.

"He was protective of me, but never vicious," McElrath said. "He'd set himself between us, bark and push them away."

Spike even started visiting Sunbridge's Alzheimer's Units to cheer up residents.

With Spike by his side, McElrath got an associate degree as a software support specialist, and has gradually found a renewed life. He can't work full time because of his health problems, but can do a small amount of contract work.

"I'm a whole lot happier now then before the accident," he said. On drugs, years of his life slipped by with nothing accomplished, he said. It was his own wreckless indulgence that caused the accident in 1988.

"We were doing drugs and just got carried away," he said. "We were so out of it, I fell asleep at the wheel and hit a tree.

"It was all the drugs. They got me in to where I'm at. It was a wake-up call."

After he got out of the hospital, the drug use continued for nearly half a year. Most days, he stayed in bed, seeing no reason to rise.

"Before, my life was a waste. I was going nowhere. A year after, it was still a waste. Out here, I finally got my head arranged," McElrath said. "I hate to say it, but my life is a lot better, a lot more accomplished."

Spike has been a part of that, he said.

A year ago, the dog began slowing down a little. Then the seizures began.

"It scared me to death to watch him go into a spasm on the bed and watch him fall off," he said. "I wanted to go to him, and couldn't."

Spike's vet, Kevin Kaiser, tried a number of medications but the seizures continued.

"We became pretty suspicious then that there was a mass or tumor in the brain," Kaiser said.

McElrath couldn't afford to send Spike to Washington State University for the expensive diagnostic tests. And without the tests, there was no possible treatment.

McElrath reluctantly scheduled Spike for euthanasia, all the while wondering if he could have been cured.

"I was really frustrated," McElrath said. "There were things that could be done to make sure he had every chance, but I couldn't afford them."

Shortly before Spike was to die, Dr. Sophia Scholar, SunBridge's medical director, intervened and asked the Walla Walla Clinic if it would do a CT scan on him.

The dog was important to McElrath, and was a delight at Sunbridge, she said. He deserved one more chance.

"Spike for David (was) the freedom he never had," Scholar said.

The clinic agreed to make the donation.

On a recent evening, the staff in the clinic's imaging department stayed late after work. Spike, looking dull-eyed and weak, arrived through a side door, accompanied by Kaiser. Spike was led into the CT room and boosted up on the table.

He looked around mildly as they laid him down. Kaiser gave him an injection of Valium to sedate him for the test. Spike's eyes drifted close as the staff positioned his graying muzzle on the table's headrest and guided him into the circle of the CT.

"I think there might be a mass there," said Dr. Joanne Schmitz, a radiologist, as she reviewed the scans with Kaiser a short time later.

Kaiser nodded, and with his finger traced the shadowy outline of a suspicious area in Spike's brain. "Yes, there's something."

The images were forwarded to a specialist at WSU, who agreed. Thursday, Kaiser, guided by the images, used a long needle to take a sample of the mass. The results confirmed that Spike did indeed have a brain tumor.

McElrath said he is grateful to the people who tried so hard to save Spike. Without them, he always would have wondered if he could have done more to save the dog.

"They gave me the opportunity to give Spike all the chances for recovery," he said. "It turned out to be his time. He's asleep now. It's over."

In the days since Spike's death, McElrath has received many condolences and a few offers of pit bull puppies. He may eventually get another dog, but it is too soon for that.

Spike is being cremated. A tree will be planted in his memory and his ashes placed beneath it, McElrath said. The location has not yet been decided. A small service may be held as well.

"He touched everybody here," McElrath said. "I'm proud that Spike made such an impact on everyone's lives."