A Penni saved
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Penni Lou and Holly Tonini pose for a photo during Penni’s recovery from coonhound paralysis.
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Penni Lou strikes a pose in the Toninis’ yard last month.
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Penni Lou watches Dan Tonini build a doggy wheelchair for her during her recovery from coonhound paralysis last year.
Editor’s note: This is the first in a monthlong series.
The Tonini family has always been made up of fur babies – dogs, cats and horses. There’s even a koi pond.
About 11 years ago, they welcomed another animal into their hearts, unaware how close they would come to losing her and the unconditional love it would take to nurse her back to health.
Holly Tonini, of New Eagle, had always wanted a corgi when she heard about a new litter in Ohio.
“I called my dad on the phone, and I said, ‘Dad, will you drive me to Ohio?’ And he said, ‘What for?'” Holly recalled in a recent interview. “I said, ‘To get a puppy,’ and he hung up the phone. ‘We’re not getting any more animals’ is usually a phrase I hear a lot.”
When Holly arrived in Ohio, there were three puppies left. She picked the runt of the litter with the stubbiest corgi legs and took her home.
“The Clarks’ song, ‘Penny on the Floor,’ came on the radio on the way home,” she said. “I was like, ‘Well, that’s her name now because she’s copper colored and she’s low to the floor.'”
Penni Lou’s eyes lit up when she met Holly’s father, Dan, and so did his, Holly said.
“It was love at first sight between my dad and that dog,” she said.
Penni got along fine with the other animals in the house. She loved to dig in the yard, fetch Frisbees and get treats.
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Penni Lou happily retrieves one of her favorite toys, a frisbee, last month.
“It was a pretty normal dog-filled life until Friday, Nov. 30, 2018,” Holly said.
Her mother, Amy, called her and said Penni wasn’t acting right. She wasn’t as mobile. A few years prior, Penni had partially torn an ACL. They went to the veterinarian the next day, a Saturday, to see if that’s what was ailing her. The vet told them she had an 80% tear in the opposite leg.
The treatment plan was “bed rest, no playing, no steps, no jumping,” Holly said.
Within two days Penni lost almost all mobility in her hind end, so Monday they returned to the vet. The vet suggested if Penni didn’t improve by morning, they should take her to the Pittsburgh Veterinary Specialty and Emergency Center in the North Hills. By the time Tuesday morning came, Penni couldn’t stand on her legs.
“She could lift her head, but that was it,” Holly said.
At PVSEC, Penni was put through a number of tests, including spinal X-rays, an MRI, cancer screenings and a test for Lyme disease. The experts narrowed it down to a rare type of paralysis called polyradiculoneuritis, or, more commonly known as coonhound paralysis. Her condition had nothing to do with the torn ACL.
“I’d never heard of it before,” Holly said. “There isn’t a test for it. They had to do every single other test they could to rule out any other cause of the paralysis.”
Penni’s specialist, Dr. Edward MacKillop, an animal neurologist, told them it can be trigged if a dog comes in contact with raccoon saliva. He told Holly that they see an average of only one case a year and that it takes seven to 10 days before it reaches its worst point, she said.
That worst point came in the hospital’s intensive care unit after a week, when they suspected the paralysis had reached Penni’s lungs. The doctors put Penni on an IVIG drip, or intravenous immune globulin.
“It got to the point where we either try this and she gets better, or we try it and it doesn’t work and she dies, or we don’t try it and she probably dies,” Holly said. “It was the only option.”
Tonini said the doctors told her dogs typically recover from the paralysis.
“I think that’s what kept us going,” she said. “How can you give up on something that’s supposed to get better and something that was so full of life?”
At one point, Holly thought Penni would die while on the IVIG.
“She looked so bad,” Holly said. “I stayed there with her for a long time. I was dreading the phone call the next morning. I was expecting the worst news.”
But when the doctor called, Penni had “perked up,” Holly said. She was lifting her head.
Doctors told Holly and her parents that Penni would have a slow recovery, but they taught them how to do physical therapy with Penni – bicycling her legs and doing stretches.
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Penni Lou recovers in a homemade doggy wheelchair from her bout with coonhound paralysis.
Their living room turning into a “little doggy ICU,” with house-training pads, Penni’s bed and a fan nearby. Holly and her parents slept on the couch in shifts, because Penni would cry in the night needing to be moved or rolled over.
“It was like having a newborn in the house,” Holly said. “We were exhausted and we worried about her all the time.”
It was also a huge financial burden. With vet visits, a weeklong ICU stay, testing, treatments and medication, the cost of her care reached nearly $10,000, Holly said. She said her family had a “guardian angel” and animal-lover who helped them out financially.
Holly, who was a photographer at the Observer-Reporter, took some vacation time and shifted her work schedule around so Penni would never be left alone.
“Every day she would do something new, like the tail would wiggle or she’d start to push herself forward or try to crawl,” Holly said. “Everything she did we praised and would give her healthy treats – that was her motivation.”
They used a carpeted wooden block that Dan made to prop her up for physical therapy. They also tried putting her in the tub with a doggy life vest to get her legs moving, but Penni’s not a fan of water.
By February, Penni could sit up, but still couldn’t walk. The Toninis made a doggy wheelchair out of PVC pipe, fabric and chair wheels. She started making progress, always moving in the direction of the nearest food or treat.
“Her excitement and her will to get better and to walk again is what kept us going,” Holly said. “She never had that sadness to her. She never gave up.”
Penni started walking again on Feb. 21, 2019. She heard Holly scooping food in the next room and took a few steps in that direction while barking loudly for tasty reinforcements. After that, she steadily regained movement, and was 100% by May.
“You’d never know now that she ever had anything wrong,” Holly said.
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Photo courtesy of Holly Tonini
Holly Tonini and Penni Lou enjoy the outdoors last year during Penni’s recovery from coonhound paralysis.
Penni may not be aware of just how great a recovery she made, how many sacrifices were made for her, or how deeply she’s loved, but she’s definitely thankful to be her energetic, playful self again, Holly said.
Now, almost a year since Penni took those first steps, Holly reflected on Penni’s namesake. She said she can’t listen to The Clarks’ “Penny on the Floor” anymore without crying:
“There’s a penny on the floor and it stays as a tribute to the ways you filled my soul with courage, hope, and grace.”