When I was younger we had a puppy with parvo. My mom took it to the vet and the prognosis wasn't good. The vet told my mom to bring us to the hospital to say our good byes. He didn't think the pup was gonna make it. His name was patches. I was only 6. I remember going there and seeing this skinny, scrawny little puppy with a feeding tube in his nose and an IV. It was so sad. We kissed him and hugged him. Amazingly enough he pulled through.
We had him for 4 years. Unfortunatly he turned into a biter. He bit everyone in the family except for me. HE loved me. The last straw was when he bit my two year old sister in the face and she had to get stitches. My mom gave him away to a woman with older, grown children. One day the woman's daughter in law was lying down on the couch with her eyes closed and her head back. Patches bit her in the neck. They put him to sleep shortly after.
He was a shit-zu. A decent, child friendly breed. The vet was suprised how he turned and attributed it to either emotional trauma, or some brain damage from the parvo disease.