We bought a lilac girl.
Our first British Bulldog has no health issues. We knew the breed. We thought we knew what we were doing.
The breeder told us she'd had a procedure. Her nostrils had been widened at eight weeks old.
We nodded.
We didn't know what BOAS was.
We didn't know that a puppy needing airway surgery at eight weeks old was a sign of something serious. Something that doesn't go away.
We didn't know what questions to ask.
We were naive. We trusted. That's what you do when you buy a puppy.
She struggled to breathe from the day she arrived.
We told ourselves it was normal for the breed.
It wasn't.
She was fourteen months old when I found her.
It was a Sunday.
I walked into the room and stopped.
She was on her bed. Vomit around her mouth. On the blanket.
I said her name.
She didn't move.
I went closer.
Her eyes were open.
She was looking at me.
Still breathing.
Barely.
My whole body flooded. One second I was standing there, the next my adrenaline hit so hard I couldn't feel anything.
She was 27 kilograms.
I picked her up like she was nothing.
I ran down the stairs with her in my arms. I don't even remember my legs. They just moved.
I got her into the car and drove to the vet around the corner. It was going to be okay. We were going to make it.
The door was locked.
Closed.
Sunday.
I put her down and started compressions.
I drove to the emergency vet with one hand, crying so hard I couldn't see properly, pulling over every few minutes to get into the back and keep going.
Keep her here. Keep her here. Keep her here.
I rang ahead while I was driving. Told them to have a nurse at the car the second I pulled in. Please be ready.
I pulled into the carpark. The nurse was there.
I watched them carry her inside.
I could see staff running out of their rooms to where she was.
Two minutes.
She was pronounced dead on arrival.
I rang my partner.
I don't know what I said.
I was standing outside the emergency vet. Wide eyed. In shock.
He was there in minutes.
I didn't notice the time pass.
I just stood there. Looking at the closed door.
She was on the other side of it.
The worst day of our lives.
We still cry thinking about it.
A few months later, the MDBA released ADAMTS3 genetic testing — developed specifically to reduce the number of BOAS-related deaths in British Bulldogs. Dogs were dying. Breeders needed a way to know what they were working with.
We tested all five of ours.
Three came back as 1-copy.
Less than 2% of British Bulldogs tested worldwide carry the gene. In a kennel of five, you'd statistically expect none.
We had three.
We couldn't undo the worst day of our lives.
But we could decide what we did next.
Years later, I still wonder if our girl was looking down on us. Knowing we'd never want another family to go through what we went through. And somehow leading us here.
That's what I like to think.
We ran with it. We never looked back.