This is a series of articles from the Full Cry, Articles appeared in Jan 1983, June 1983 and April 1987 I chose to put the closing article 1^st, I want to thank Terry for letting me use these and Charles for finding the magazines.

 More On Mike’s Coon Hound Paralysis.  April 1987

Lew and Sandy Parks
7727 Rescue Road
Owendale, Michigan 48754

 My articles about Mike, (see Full Cry January 1983, page 129 and June 1983, page 66) brought many telephone calls our way. The first call was from New Jersey and the last call was from Washington State. Coonhound paralysis is alive and well throughout the country

The first question asked is, does my dog really have coonhound paralysis? My vet doesn’t know much about it.

Most vets have never seen coonhound paralysis and little has been written about the disease. Mike’s first sign was a raspy voice like losing his voice. In the next stage he stumbled and was weak in the front quarters followed by loss of control of the hindquarters.

The other owners I have talked to have said it can take from three days to a week to go down. Some dogs are sick for 2-3 weeks while others a month or more. I am glad to say, none of them went as far down as Mike or were down as long as he was.

Some of the dogs, like Mike, have had coonhound paralysis more than once. Usually each time the dog gets sick the illness is more severe and lasts a little longer. Each time the dog goes down it is because the dog has been chewed on again. Each time the dog is infected by the saliva the illness begins again.

Lew’s solution to this problem is to tie Mike at a tree before he shoots the coon out of the tree. It’s like if you are a diabetic, you must avoid candy bars. It doesn’t mean your dog has to stop hunting, only take precautions. The hound will be somewhat like a person recovering from an illness, he won t have the same stamina. Long distance runs will wear the dog down quickly. Hot weather is really hard on Mike when hunting. He tires more quickly. If Mike gets into a frenzy or extra excited for a period of time it is hard on his system. How you manage your hound will depend on how long he lives.

I have been asked if Mike is mean because of his illness? While Mike was recovering he hated to have males near him, even Lew. knew he was defenseless and was threatened. It was also easy to startle him when he was recovering, making him snap. Mike is now terrified to go to the vets office, even with tranquilizers. My vet feared for his life during Mike’s last trip and so did I. Lew and I have muzzled him ourselves to give him vaccinations and it doesn’t bother him now. Once Mike was steady on his legs his fear of males changed.

Mike was four when he had his first episode and is now 8 and living a normal life. At present he is spending some time with Lew’s brother Dan at Swartz Creek training pups since his main hound died. The vet said it was fine for him to sire pups and Mike was pleased with the news. None of his pups have shown any side affects at all.

The vet gave Mike steroids and recommended vitamins. When Mike started to atrophy (loose muscle tone and weight) I started adding cod liver oil to his food. It is important that the hound gets enough water and has good urine output. Mike developed bedsores but none of the other owner’s dogs have had this side affect. I hope you don’t have to experience this illness in your kennel but the possibility does exist. Our phone

Number is (517) 678-4429; if you have any questions about Mike’s Coon Hound Paralysis.

Mike Has Coon Hound Paralysis

January, 1983
Sandra and Lewis Parks
 7727 Rescue Road
Owendale, Michigan 48754

Everything seemed to point to a great night of hunting, light rain and no wind. I took along my registered Bluetick, Lost Creek Blue Mike, a three year old, and old Buck, an eight-year-old grade Walker. We set off for a cornfield next to an old barn that belonged to a good friend. A prime October night, one I would never forget.

I drove up to the old barn and turned them loose. Within seconds we hit a track and the race was on. Mr. Coon must have been all over that field because those dogs had a hard time lining him out. Both dogs made a bawl in the corn and returned to check in. Suddenly Mike streaked into the corn and screamed a track toward the barn, that coon is safe I thought. I could hear Mike treeing in the barn and I went to him. Buck was running around and around, but I couldn’t see Mike. As much noise as the two were making it should be easy to see the coon. They weren’t in the barn; instead they had the coon cornered between two flatbed wagons piled on top of one another. Shining my light between those two flatbeds I saw a big ole coon and Mike was down on his belly trying his best to fight that coon. There was nothing I could do, that ole coon was beating upon my best dog and poor Mike couldn’t even stand up or back away. I tried to call him out, but he wasn’t about to leave that coon. I pleaded with him but he couldn’t get away. I thought, “If I don’t do something my dog is going to be dead.”

I eased around to the other side of the wagon, loaded my rifle and tried for a clear shot. I had to wait quite awhile then suddenly the coon backed up. I aimed at his head and fired. The coon dropped, at the same time Mike yelped and fell over too! My God, I killed my dog!

I could see the coon was dead and Mike was still breathing, but I could see blood coming from a hole in his neck. He couldn’t get up and I couldn’t reach him. Finally after four or five minutes he started to raise his head and I got him to crawl toward me. I pulled him out and saw he was plum tuckered out with a gun shot hole in the neck.

I loaded Mike carefully into the truck and Buck jumped into the box. I can’t leave that coon after what he had done to Mike. It took a length of wire, a lot of cussing and pulling to get that coon out. As I ran back to the truck my anger towards the coon changed to fear for my dog. I raced to the nearest town, Bad Axe, and called the vet from a gas station. It’ was a long thirty minutes as I waited for the vet to get to the office. He gave Mike a shot of antibiotic; the bullet fragment in the neck would do no harm so he left it in. The bullet had hit the coon’s skull, fragmented and apiece ricocheted into the dog’s neck. He was chewed up pretty bad and very sore. The vet said to take him and with plenty of rest he would be all right.

Three days later he sounded like a dog with laryngitis. While jumping up in his pen at feeding time his legs gave way under him. Wasting no time we made another trip to the vet. He said it was typical case of “coon hound paralysis.” It would probably be three weeks before he would be back to normal. Mike spent three days at the vets. Sandra was going to pick Mike up from the vets and had agreed to nurse him back to health. I’ll let her tell the rest of the story.

My nursing began the first week of, November when my five-year-old daugh­ter and I picked up Mike. The doctor had tried to prepare me for what I could expect. Mike couldn’t stand, move his limbs, or lift his head. The doctor re­assured me that he had read of such cases in the vet journals and even seen one or two and the dogs had recovered in about three weeks with near 100 percent success. He would need to lie on a padded bed and be rolled over several times a day to help prevent bedsores. No additional medication but a bottle of vitamins he sent along, a 60cc. syringe would help give him water since he couldn’t lift his head to drink. After much discussion at home the guest room seemed to be the most logical place for him to stay. It was warmer than the garage and close to the bedroom for general care and what general care! An old piece of linoleum would be put down to protect the hardwood floor and old blankets were collected from their hiding places around the house. The blankets folded up into a nice size to help protect his already slim form that resulted from heavy hunting.

My daughter and I had a long discussion in the isle of the grocery store deciding which size and style of disposable diapers were best. After a lot of talk I whittled her out of elastic, quilted pampers and we settled for the no brand special, toddler size that could be opened flat. The diapers were sent from. Heaven and saved lots of time and energy. She was convinced that he needed a supply of baby food and a dozen plastic bottles. I persuaded her into a supply of canned dog food instead. Our list of expenses was only beginning to total over and above the vets bills.

The doctor and nurse carefully loaded him from the canine size stretcher into the back of my 0mm between the bags of groceries and diapers. His body was very rigid and sensitive to the slightest bump. My drive home was slower than usual, not sure if I was carrying a load of eggs or a newborn infant home, to be put into the nursery.

It was hard to believe this was my husband’s number one hunting dog that had filled my freezer with coon skins, neatly secured in plastic bags, leaving no room for a loaf of bread. So vulnerable lying on his green blanket, unable to move, with his bright white diaper tucked under him. Despite his condition his eyes were jumping for joy. Happy to be home with familiar faces to comfort him. When I walked into his room to check on him he would manage to thump his tail on the hardwood floor. Even when he heard us talking in the next room his tail would respond with a number of thumps hoping we would stop in for a visit.

We settled into a daily routine, up 45 minutes early to have enough time to feed Mike and clean up his nighttime messes. He could just control his mouth enough to chew at the edge of the linoleum to make small piles of confetti. The number of hours he lay idle would drive anyone to some kind of pastime. He refused to chew on a rawhide toy in preference to blankets or old towels to gnaw on. His appetite was surprisingly good, he ate three times a day and usually drank a pint and a half of water per meal. All food had to be fed by spoon. We did a lot of talking during his meals. I wondered if it wouldn’t be very similar to a human suffering temporary paralysis from an automobile accident. He could move his head slightly but not enough to lift it. His digestion seemed normal, thank you disposable diapers. At times he would try to make a raspy sound in his throat when mealtime approached but nothing like the sound of a good coonhound bark. I often wondered what I would do if his bark returned before the paralysis healed.

As time went on he lost all movement of his head and neck area. He could barely open his mouth halfway, feeding time slowed up but he continued to be hungry. Until this time I had rolled him over three times a day. Now I rolled him over every time I entered the room. I spent more time rotating his stiff limbs and massaging his neck muscles. Even with padding and rolling his protruding hipbones developed bedsores. The vet had given us some wound powder that helped the growth of new skin and helped prevent infection.

By Thanksgiving Mike looked like a rack of bones even though he was eating like a horse. I called the vet and he explained it as atrophy, lack of muscle usage was interfering with the normal absorption of food nutrients. He had lost all power to wag his tail, move in the slightest or make any sound. I was quite surprised to think I would be having a guest in my spare room during Thanks­giving season. I was sure he would die of this atrophy condition instead of paralysis. It was like watching a stroke patient. Even though they couldn’t move or speak you knew they heard and understood every word you spoke.

It was suggested to me by a relative that vitamin C, B, and calcium might help. I started by giving him 250 mg. of C. 100 mg. calcium and 100 mg. of B complex three times a day. He would eat them right out of my hand like candy. His bedsores were an increasing problem and becoming ulcerated. I wasn’t sure where to turn, the local pharmacist recom­mended benadintine iodine to clean the sore and gel foam powder to pack the sore with. This product was used for patients with leg ulcers. It was like powdered feathers but did its work. I lightly packed it into each of the four sores. I tried to bandage it with cling gauze and elastic bandages but none of them worked. I discovered the powder adhered well enough without covering. Before I applied the gel foam, I washed the area carefully removing any of the loose ulcerated mass with iodine. While talking with a member of the coon club she suggested using cod liver oil. Since the supplements I was giving him did not include vitamin A or D. there was no fear of an over-dose. This made a difference in his coat and his ability to put on fat.

Christmas came and Mike was able to move his hind leg enough to kick his diaper away. We hung a few wreaths in his room, something new to look at. This added more laundr₇ but I continued trying to use the diapers. At times he could thump his tail but not on a con­sistent basis. No matter how rare his thumps, it was a sign of encouragement. As my husband left to go hunting I wondered if Mike’s mind was reacting to the excited barks of the hounds outside his bedroom window. When the commotion settled down the children were usually in bed and this left more time for me to work with Mike, cleaning his room, attending to his needs and our frequent evening chats. I was getting quite good at one-sided conversations and reading his mind and eyes when he needed an extra drink or a gentle brushing and massage. My prayers continued being answered a little at a time.

By January, he could move his front legs but with no real strength. He could manage to move off his blanket just enough to make extra cleaning. He worked long and hard for such a little distance but it was a sign of progress. Later in the month I returned home from shopping, made my usual check on Mike and found an empty room! The worst crossed my mind. Mike was dead and Lew had removed his body. As tears were filling my eyes and my heart was sinking I heard a sound in the closet behind the sliding door. One of the double sliding doors was open and to my surprise who was inside lying on a pile of outgrown clothes, but Mike. I laughed and cried all at the same time. By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what all the excitement was about. Once Mike was off his blanket, he could make good time on the wood floor. Needless to say I made sure both doors were entirely closed from then on.

food towards his mouth. Usually while feeding in this manner he showed increased movement in his hind legs.

By the end of the month he would push against my hand or off the wall when he was close enough to the wall. He was trying to push himself up with the front half of his body but the back half wasn’t strong enough to roll his back legs under him. His muscle coordination and return of strength were quite rapid from here on. He tried again and again to put his whole body in an upright position. It made me realize what it must be like for a person during physical therapy and the frustration they must go through.

The first of February found him trying to stand up but doing more falling down. You could hear his thud throughout the house as he landed. After two weeks of diehard practice he could stand on all fours before falling. The next week, he was wobbling around the room. If the door was left open, he reached the carpet, which helped his footing but gave me heart failure. Just like watching a baby taking those first unsure steps. Each day brought a new accomplishment. It made all the messes and endless time worth it all.

March brought a new season and a new dog. A barking bundle of joy dancing on my kitchen floor looking for some goodies while I prepared dinner. I tried to keep him in his room when I couldn’t give him my undivided attention. Feeling his oats, he wanted to leave his mark wherever he could. He had mastered lifting his leg again. Mother of necessity found a piece of firewood about ten inches in diameter in an upright position with a cushion of newspaper and diapers at its base. This contraption met his approval and served its purpose. In the early days of March, I took Mike outside for a walk. It took five minutes to mark all the evergreens before we ever hit the road. I was so proud that the neighbors all smiled out the window as we passed by. They had all followed his progress during the months. He had taken a part of all of our hearts.

Lew took him out for trips to the woods for evening exercise. And was trying to convince me to let him enter Mike in the opening nite hunt at another club. I wasn’t sure he was ready for such a big step. There was still snow in the woods and Mike’s hair was still thin. The tempera­ture had dropped to the low teens and it might be more than he could handle. We increased his time outside and added exercise in the garage. By the night of the hunt they were both ready but Mom still had her doubts. My eyes never closed until they returned at 4:00 a.m. The temperature had fallen to 5 degrees. Every negative thought crossed my mind. When they reached the house Lew had a first place trophy, big enough to knock the spots off a hound! It sits in an honored corner of my living room as a reminder and will remain for years to come. The three weeks recovery time had turned into an eternity but it now seemed all worth while.”

More On Mike

This is the second part of Mike’s story with coonhound paralysis. The first was told in the January 1983 issue of Full Cry (page 129). Since then we have had phone calls and letters from New York to Walla Walla, Washington asking about coonhound paralysis and telling their exper­iences. I almost refused to write this episode. If! Had realized a repeat perform­ance was possible on day one...After Mike’s recovery from his first illness in February; 1982, he hunted on to win a first place trophy at Langsburg, Michigan, before the month ended. The first hunt he had placed in, and number one at that. Our story changed from miracle to catastrophe.

Mike had been laid up for three months before he won his first place trophy. Naturally we planned great things for him, after all, the hardest part was won. Lew continued hunting Mike and finally placed at a hunt in Ferry, Michigan, two fourth place trophies. This hunt was during a streak of very hot weather. While hunting Mike had broken a nail. During the hunt Mike stumbled coming off a tree and had to lie down on the way out of the woods to catch his breath. Lew didn’t think much about these signs; Mike was probably still a little out of shape.

When the hunters returned home I was full of questions about Mike’s condition and performance. Always a Mother at heart, I thought it would be a good time to see the vet for a check up. He needed his rabies updated and his nail could use a closer trim than I cared to give. Our appointment was set for 2:00; it was going to be another scorcher so I made sure the dogs were watered early in the morning. As I got close to Mike’s pen I saw him laying flat out in the hot sun, not moving a muscle. “Mike get out of this hot sun, get up you fool hound,” but still he didn’t move. I found myself racing in his direction with my heart pounding. Just as I reached him his head slowly raised and he gave me a half smile! As my heart slowly returned to normal I decided to move him into the cool garage until it was time to leave for the vets. Before we reached the garage Mike stopped to lift his leg and stumbled, just the heat I reasoned.

Mike was very comfortable in the garage and seemed to be back to normal. I was looking forward to going to the vets. I even took along my pictures to show how bad Mike looked when he was down. There was a Mr. and Mrs. team of vets new to our area. I had told them about Mike when they treated a batch of our puppies. They were presently treating another dog with coonhound paralysis and I was looking forward to comparing notes. “Time to load up Mike, and see what the docs think of you now.”

When we reached the office I went in first to see if he would muzzle Mike. He was not a good patient on top of the fact he didn’t trust men when he felt vulnerable. Dr. Ellis decided to muzzle him right on the tailgate before he had time to react, it worked great. Doc thought Mike was an exceptionally good-looking Bluetick, of course I agreed with a smile. As Mike jumped off the tailgate down he went in a heap. He was very slow to get up. A few paces into the yard and down he went again. My eyes flashed at the Doctors as we watched him struggle, hoping he would tell me what was happening. Mike tried to get up but couldn’t, the doctor picked him up and carried him into the office. My eyes burned as I followed them and my heart ached. “No, it can’t be-not again Mike.”

Thinking back, the timing was perfect. Nearly a week ago before Ferry, Mike had hold of a coon after the dogs knocked it off a tree. Coonhound paralysis had its stages and this was the first, stumbling and inability to walk, followed by change in voice, and possible loss of voice. Doe gave Mike a physical exam and a shot of steroid, his nails were clipped and the diagnosis was given. Mike had coonhound paralysis again! Mike looked pathetic laying on the examining table, muzzled, scared, and the topic of conversation. I couldn’t understand how this could hap­pen again, wouldn’t he be immune or something? Not many case studies were available on coonhound paralysis and even less information on repeat cases. The vet said that if a coon had chewed on Mike, Mike chewed the coon, or he was in the close vicinity, it could set it off again. I would take Mike home and keep them informed of any change in his condition.

On our way home all I could think was how would I tell Lew his best dog who was just ten points away from becoming a Nite Champion was going down again? That night we did a lot of talking. Well we knew how much time it would require to see Mike through this illness. Lew didn’t want to see my summer ruined by returning to 24 hour a day nursing. We called the vet back that very night to say we had decided to have Mike put to sleep. What good is a coonhound who can’t be around coon? The doctor thought we were react­ing too soon, after all, “maybe” Mike wouldn’t be down so long this time. He could still be used as a stud after he recovered and he was so close to being a Nite Champion. We decided to give it one week and judge his condition. I had put so much time in him already, what is one more week?

It should be easier to care for him this time. Warm enough to make his room in the garage. The vet suggested building a 12-inch high form 5 foot by 5 foot filled with straw would make a good bed. The straw would allow the air to circulate under his body and give him extra padding. He would have enough room to be rolled over easily. Mike needed no medication. When he went down he would have to be rolled over a few times a day to prevent bedsores and his joints from becoming stiff.

Mike was quite comfortable on his straw bed. The garage door went up and down according to the temperature. We kept the garage, as well as Mike, sprayed for flies. At the end of the week Mike couldn’t stand up or use his legs to more around, he stayed down for a week and a half. He used his neck muscles and could peek over the edge of his bed and look outside. There was a lot to watch with the children’s bikes going in and out of the garage. Even the Avon lady, who was a close friend, stopped by the garage to say hello on her way inside. The children were always chattering to Mike as they headed for their wading pool in the backyard. Mike hadn’t lost his voice and usually greeted men with an unfriendly growl-females a tail wag.

The middle of the second week I was carrying a heavy tray full of bagged corn ready for the freezer. When I opened the door to the garage I got a surprise-Mike was sitting up smiling at me. I yelled for Lew to come see the surprise. Such a ham, after I game him a big hug his strength was already gone but he laid down easily. Only the second week and a good sign! The next morning was rainy. I peered into the backyard to check the garden and my heart stopped! Mike’s back half was in the wading pool and his front feet outside the pool propping him up. I grabbed two large bath towels hanging by the tub and ran full speed to the backyard, nightgown and all. When I knelt down it was almost comical. Mike looked quite proud of himself and was in no hurry to leave. I bundled him up in towels and carried him into his straw bed. I hollered to the kids to rush me more towels. After a good rub down it occurred to me that these were my best towels. As my heart returned to normal I wondered if this would turn into pneumonia? How could I explain to the vet that I had managed to let a dog with coonhound paralysis fall into a swimming pool? I still couldn’t believe he was strong enough to get that far. He had never even crawled out of his 12-inch high bed. All the home remedies raced into my mind. I grabbed the kid’s liquid penicillin and filled a small syringe with whiskey. Kill it or cure I had to try something. Needless to say I did a lot of worrying. Luckily the sun came out and the temperature went up. There seemed to be no ill affects from his dip in the pool.

He did more sitting up and walking around his pen. He wasn’t very steady on his feet and couldn’t step over the wooden frame without tripping. His condition was slowly improving. At the end of one month he could take limited walks in the yard. Mike liked to walk out to the kennel and lay in his pen or under a tree during the cooler parts of the day. I was always watching the amount of water he was drinking and the temperature, watching for dehydration. The cool evenings and hot days seems to agree with him.

Not bad, down and up in one month. Now we couldn’t believe we had con­sidered putting Mike to sleep. Mike had more exercise gradually added to his schedule. He really looked good. He had not developed bedsores nor did he lose a lot of weight. In fact, Lew even took him out one night while training a young dog. Maybe Mike would make Nite Champion after all, he only needed a few more points.

By the middle of September, Lew wanted to enter Mike in a hunt at Sanford, Michigan. I wasn’t sure he was ready, but Lew said he could always pull him out at any time. They came home with an 8th place trophy. One more place in a hunt and Mike would have it wrapped up. Mike was good and tired when he got home but looked good. Another week of rest helped before they left for a hunt at Cadillac.

The date for Cadillac came all too soon. This could be the big hunt or the cause for another episode of coonhound paralysis. It was a hot weekend and it looked like stiff competition. To my surprise Mike earned a 4th place trophy and totaled his score to 120 points.

Mike’s story is hopefully one of a kind. So far I have not heard any specific cases where coonhound paralysis has hit one dog more than once. Mike shows no signs of ill affects from coon hound paralysis except some scar tissue from bedsores. Friends ask if I would do it all over again. . Yes I would, you may only have one great dog of a lifetime.