Pipper is not your average nine-year-old miniature poodle. She’s a walking, wagging testament to the highs, lows, and ironies of life, wrapped in a coat of red and black genetics that would make any breeder swoon. Yet, despite her stunning pedigree and her role as the genetic glue tying together my two prized lines, Pipper has never been a part of my breeding program. Why? Because she was vaccinated.

Yes, dear reader, that singular decision—a choice made back in my veterinary technician days, when I didn’t know any better—sealed her fate as a cherished family member, not a mother to the next generation. But don’t let her “retired before she started” status fool you. Pipper is not just a dog. She’s a big personality and a shadow companion, especially after the heartbreaking loss of her mother, Karina. In the wake of that grief, Pipper and I became inseparable.

It wasn’t just the emotional bond; her illness tied us together. Tick-borne disease ravaged her body, limiting her motor skills and making her dependent on my constant care. And so began our battle—a battle I promised her we’d fight together.

The Ticks of Tennessee: A Canine Pandemic

When we moved to Tennessee, we weren’t prepared for the tick apocalypse. Not just a few ticks here and there—oh no. I’m talking about what I now call the “Tick Pandemic of the South.” This wasn’t just an adjustment for us; it was a game-changer for my older dogs, like Pipper, who had been vaccinated back when I followed the conventional veterinary playbook.

Ticks brought more than annoyance. They brought disease, and in Pipper’s case, it was Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever (RMSF), a diagnosis we stumbled upon after a labyrinth of misdiagnoses and a hefty veterinary bill. Imagine paying for an intensive tick titer test, only to have it misread by the veterinarian. Then add specialists, CT scans, and sleepless nights to the mix. Finally, the University of Tennessee neurologist looked me in the eye and said, “I can’t explain how she’s still alive.”

Trust me, I can.

Fighting the System, Supporting the Body

RMSF isn’t a disease for the faint of heart—or for the faint of wallet. When Pipper was finally diagnosed, I had a decision to make. Conventional wisdom screamed, “Doxycycline!” But I had learned the hard way—through the devastating losses of Julia and Karina—that antibiotics can be a double-edged sword.

Here’s the reality: Doxycycline doesn’t cure tick diseases; it puts them into dormancy. Sure, the symptoms disappear for a while, but when the immune system takes a hit, the disease comes back stronger, angrier, and with a vengeance. It’s like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. And Pipper’s immune system—already weakened by vaccines, preventives, and processed diets during her early years—wasn’t at 100% to begin with.

So, we went against the grain. No antibiotics. No shortcuts. Just radical treatments and unwavering commitment.

The Long Road of Alternative Therapies

Our journey was nothing short of exhausting, both emotionally and physically. Hyperbaric chamber treatments at the University of Tennessee? I insisted on them, despite being told I was wasting my time and money. Four hours each way, for two weeks straight. Vitamin C therapy? “Won’t do much,” the vets said, but we did it anyway. Acupuncture, chiropractic adjustments, UVBI (ultraviolet blood irradiation) treatments, aquatic therapy—you name it, we tried it.

There were days I thought we wouldn’t make it. Days when Pipper couldn’t even walk. Watching her lose her motor skills, one step at a time, was gut-wrenching. But she never stopped fighting, so neither did I. Slowly, painstakingly, she regained some of her mobility. Her walk will never be perfect, but she walks. She enjoys life. She finds joy in the simple things—sunshine on her back, soft grass under her paws, and the unwavering love we share.

The Hard Truth About Immunity

The reality is harsh: every time Pipper’s immune system dips, inflammation flares up. This is the price we pay for a body that didn’t start with a full tank. Vaccines, preventives, processed diets—they all chipped away at her foundation, leaving her at a constant disadvantage.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s the truth. The difference between dogs raised with a robust immune system and those who weren’t is staggering. I see it every day in my pack. My unvaccinated dogs, raised with natural care from the start, thrive with strength and resilience. Pipper, on the other hand, fights battles her body should have been equipped to win.

Why We Keep Fighting

Despite it all, Pipper is here. She’s alive, she’s loved, and she’s proof that even in the face of overwhelming odds, there’s always hope. She’s my shadow, my teacher, and my reminder of why I do what I do.

Her journey has been far from easy, but it’s been worth every tear, every dollar, and every sleepless night. Because she’s not just a dog. She’s Pipper. And she deserves nothing less than my absolute best.

So here we are—still fighting, still hoping, and still cherishing every moment. For Pipper, for Karina, and for all the dogs whose stories deserve to be told.

Pipper’s story isn’t just about her—it’s about all of us. It’s about the choices we make for our dogs, sometimes without knowing better, and the moments we realize we’d do anything to make it right. If you’ve ever faced the uncertainty of not knowing what’s best or wrestled with guilt over past decisions, you’re not alone. I’ve been there, and Pipper’s journey has been a constant reminder that love and persistence can carry us through even the hardest battles.

Her fight against tick disease has taught me so much about what our dogs endure and how deeply they rely on us. It’s a tough pill to swallow when you realize the things we thought were “good enough” can leave lasting scars—vaccines, preventives, or processed diets—but the beauty lies in what we can do moving forward. Pipper has shown me that even when the odds are stacked against us, fighting with everything we’ve got can still make a difference.

If there’s one thing I hope you take from her story, it’s this: never stop learning, and never stop fighting for your dog. They trust us to protect them, and while we can’t change the past, we can show up for them now, with love, care, and the determination to do better.

Pipper may not walk perfectly, and some days are harder than others, but she lives her life with joy and love—and that’s what matters most. If her story resonates with you, let it be a reminder that no matter the challenge, you and your dog are in it together. And that bond is worth everything.

To resilient hearts and unwavering love ❤️🐾❤️