Heather’s fight for natural immunity

Two nights ago, as the moonlight filtered in through the den window, I lay beside an 8-week-old pup who wasn’t herself.

Little Heather.

She’s normally the thinker in the puppy pack.

The quiet soulful one.

But now?

She was not her usual observant self.

When I went to pet her curled up body, she was hot to the touch.

She looked up at me with mournful eyes.

And when I lifted her into my arms, she moaned.  

I brought her into the house and checked her temperature.

103.9°F.  Oh dear!

And she looked sad and tired.

A shadow of the pup she’d been the day before.

And that’s when I knew something was wrong.

I observed her for a while and continued to monitor her temperature throughout that first day.

• Runny diarrhea.
• Fever.
• Tummy troubles.
• Lethargy.
• And weepy nose and eyes.

This wasn’t just an infection.

It wasn’t a change in food.

And it certainly wasn’t a freak accident.

It had to be a reaction to the modified live virus vaccine I had given all the pups just two days before.

In other words, vaccinosis!

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term, vaccinosis is what happens when the body reacts too strongly to a vaccine, especially Modified Live Virus (MLV) types, which introduce a small, “weakened” version of a virus in hopes the immune system will build strong defenses.

Most puppies sail through it with little more than a nap and a side-eye at the syringe.

But some, like Heather, have a much stronger reaction than expected.

This was, without question, the most severe vaccinosis reaction I’ve seen in the Dire Wolf Project to date.

And trust me—this wasn’t a watch-and-wait situation.

This was a watch-every-breath, track-every-degree, and prepare-for-anything kind of night.

I stayed with her much of the night.

Eyes on her rising and falling chest.

Touching her belly.

Checking her gums.

Cooling her with a vest and tepid water.

Encouraging her to drink her electrolytes.

Giving her space to rest, but never leaving her side.

At 4 a.m., she stirred.

She gave a weak, soft howl… her version of “Come here.”

And I did.

She needed to go outside, so I slipped her onto my arm and walked out into the predawn night.

She no longer felt hot.

In fact, she trotted (yes, trotted) to her potty spot and peed.

She still had watery diarrhea, though.

But she felt well enough to go visit her siblings through the fence.

After that, we sat together on the porch in a big chair in the early morning sun.

She leaned into me as I massaged her head and whispered prayers into her fur.

And I thought… maybe we’re over the worst.

But by midday, the fever crept back.

104.4°F.

Then 104.2°F..

This apparently wasn’t going to be a linear recovery.

Still, I didn’t panic.

It was a storm with waves in a rhythm of fight and rest, fire and calm.

Now, some of you may ask, why didn’t I rush her to the vet?

It’s a fair question.

So here’s the truth: We could have gone and they would have meant well.

But they likely would have…

• Taken x-rays to rule out intestinal
• obstructions.
• Done a PCR or antigen test to check for parvo (because it’s so common in puppies), which I knew it wasn’t.
• Inserted an IV for fluids.
• Prescribed antibiotics “just in case” of secondary infection.
• Maybe even given her steroids.

And if she were truly failing, yes—some of that might’ve helped.

But here’s what I know after years of experience and hundreds of pups:

When we override the immune system too early, we risk shutting it down before it finishes its work.

Heather’s body needed to fight this battle on its own.

Because it is building real immunity.

Stronger, deeper, and longer-lasting than a sterile intervention could ever offer.

And the moment we panic, we could end up doing something that stops the healing mid-stride.

For example, giving Heather antibiotics in case of secondary infection would also eliminate the healthy gut bacteria she may need to battle the tummy pain she’s already experiencing.

Now don’t get me wrong… I was ready to call a vet should something go horribly wrong.

But there are a lot of things I can do at home, such as providing around the clock care.

My stash of subcutaneous fluids were prepped.

Electrolytes and bone broth were both made available.

Cooling cloths and regular baths administered to reduce her temperature if needed.

That next day, I chose to listen to Heather’s desires and observe her body’s reaction.

In other words, I chose to trust her body’s divine brilliance.

And let me be clear… this was no small thing.

Raising puppies like this takes a ferocity of love that most people don’t see.

It takes all-night vigils, instinct honed through repetition, and a refusal to panic just because something looks scary.

And it takes knowledge.

The kind you can’t learn in a textbook.

Only through experience.

And struggle.

It takes staying up with a pup and whispering:

“I see you. Keep fighting. I’m here.“

As for vaccinosis in general, no one really tracks it properly.

Not in the way it deserves to be tracked.

Reactions are often dismissed as “coincidence” or underreported unless they’re life-threatening.

But even with that, an estimated 1 in every 10,000 dogs is said to have a severe vaccine reaction.

And milder symptoms, like fever, fatigue, loss of appetite, or mobility issues, are far more common… yet rarely discussed.

I wonder why.

Perhaps it’s inconvenient.

Or because it breaks the illusion that every shot is simple.

Perhaps we fear the fire more than we respect it.

But not here.

Not in this pack.

We face the fire.

Heather is not out of the woods yet.

But she’s not lost inside them either.  Last night, she ate puréed canned puppy food and drank a heap of electrolyte water filling up her belly for the first time in three days!

And she’s not alone in this fight for natural immunity.

She’s got a guardian who knows her every breath.

She’s got a team of siblings nearby waiting for her return.

And now, she’s got you, our Inner Circle pack.

So today, please pray for Heather’s strength.

For her immune system’s wisdom.

And for the quiet courage to keep going.

And remember, not all fevers are vet emergencies.

They can also be messages.

Health symptoms aren’t always failures.

They can be the path to strength.

And sometimes, the most powerful medicine is the unwavering presence of a packmate who refuses to leave your side.

Thank you for walking this path with me.

You’re part of the reason pups like Heather can thrive.

Let’s root for her together.

With a tired but grateful heart!

You can find out more about Heather and see pictures at the following link:

https://direwolfdogs.com/pedigree/7507/

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P.S. With all that’s been happening regarding Heather’s health, I wasn’t able to complete this week’s movie yet, but it’s in the works, so stay tuned.

Jennifer Stoeckl is the co-founder of the Dire Wolf Project, founder of the DireWolf Guardians American Dirus Dog Training Program, and owner/operator of DireWolf Dogs of Vallecito. She lives in the beautiful inland northwest among the Ponderosa pine forests with her pack of American Dirus dogs.