By: centraljersey.com
Two weeks ago, New Hope and Lambertville lost one if its long term icons. "Little Girl," a white Toy Poodle belonging to Jim Martin of New Hope, died at the age of 13.
Jim and Little Girl have logged more pedestrian miles in New Hope over the past decade than the meter maid.
Jim is a World War II veteran and lifelong resident of North Main Street, New Hope. He is an artist of wood sculpture, having mentored with Nakashima. His home was his studio and workshop.
Decades ago, Jim and his wife decided to get a dog. He wanted a German Shepherd. She wanted a Toy Poodle. So their first dog, you guessed it, was a Toy Poodle named Bijou. Jim’s wife has since deceased, but in keeping with her preference, each successive dog has been a Toy Poodle. "Little Guy" succeeded Bijou and "Little Girl" has been his first mate for the past 11 years.
Little Girl, all 7 pounds of her, accompanied Jim’s every waking moment. Their morning ritual walk prompted waves and honks from merchants and commuters along Main Street. On weekends, both of them enjoyed mingling with the merchants and shoppers. Some visitors returned each year with part of the agenda being to see Jim and Little Girl.
Jim called her a real "chick magnet" with a special talent for attracting attention from the young ladies; little encounters with which Jim was more than willing to participate. He said she really knew "how to work the crowd."
At about 11 years of age, Little Girl was diagnosed as having bad heart valves. At first she was asymptomatic, but soon began to develop fluid in her lungs causing cough and shortness of breath. The condition is called congestive heart failure, or CHF.
These symptoms responded dramatically to some standard medications. Shortly thereafter, however, she began to accumulate fluid in her abdominal cavity (ascites) due to her diminished cardiac output. Ascites is not painful but uncomfortable if the belly becomes distended – probably like being terminally pregnant. The drugs controlled the fluid in the lungs, but were ineffective at preventing the ascites.
We began performing a simple procedure called abdominocentesis in which we withdraw the fluid from the cavity using a needle and a large syringe. This provided temporary relief, but more fluid would accumulate within a few days.
Some folks at this point might have considered euthanasia. But Jim (and we agreed) felt that she was still enjoying life and was not ready to go.
The procedure became ritual. Every other day, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, F at 8:30 a.m., holidays included, Jim, Little Girl, Sherry (our nurse/technician) and I gathered around the ultrasound for abdominocentesis. Little Girl not only did not resist – she submitted to the treatment as if she knew that we were helping her.
She would lick Jim’s nose, then stick her face into a gas anesthesia mask. Within seconds she was under light anesthesia, we withdrew the fluid and Little Girl and Jim would retire to the couch in my private office. Cradled in a blanket in Jim’s arms, Little Girl would sleep off the anesthesia while Jim remained on the couch snoring away!
We repeated this process for 19 months, 192 times, once every other day. Start to finish required five minutes. It took longer to wake Jim up than the patient.
Although she continued to eat well, through the months she lost weight and her hair coat became thinned and disheveled. To the casual observer, she wasn’t much to look at. But she felt good and we all loved her. I affectionately began calling her "Phyllis" for the resemblance of her hairdo to Phyllis Diller.
We all fully expected her to give up and "run out of gas" any day, but I’ve never seen anything like her. This 7-pound dog had an 8-pound heart. Her will to live and be with Jim was remarkable. Every moment together was a treasure for both of them.
But nothing lasts forever. We all had been ever watchful that we weren’t prolonging her life for self-serving reasons. Two weeks ago it became apparent that she finally had had it. She feebly licked Jim’s nose one more time and Jim kissed her Phyllis Diller hairdo. There was sadness, but no regrets and no remorse. We put her to sleep peacefully at 13 years of age.
Little Girl’s physical stamina amazed me from a purely medical perspective. But I will always remember her by her will to live. She would not let a little inconvenience like bilateral congestive heart failure separate her from her master.
Little Girl and Jim Martin confirmed once more that the companion animal bond is not to be taken lightly.

