08/03/2026
To all of my clients, I have had several of you ask me what happened to Echo when you bring your dogs in for a Groom or Pet Sitting, I appreciate you caring enough to ask. This has been a traumatic and painful experience so it isn't easy for me to talk about. So I wanted to share this post to inform you.
This is Echo.
She was my 14-year-old miniature Dachshund, my kayaking partner, my hiking companion, my camping buddy, and my snuggle bug. She was healthy, playful, happy, and loved beyond words. On July 6, 2026, I rushed her to what I believed was the safest place I could take her after she was injured by another dog.
Fifteen minutes after leaving Jensen's Animal Hospital in Petoskey, Echo died in my arms.
It has taken me some time to process what happened that night, but I have now decided to share our story publicly in the hope of preventing another family from experiencing what we did.
When Echo was injured, I immediately called Jensen's Animal Hospital, which was an hour away. I had chosen Jensen's as my veterinary hospital because they provide emergency care for established clients, whereas the nearest 24-hour emergency hospital, Bay Area Animal Hospital in Traverse City, is approximately an hour and twenty minutes away. In an emergency, twenty minutes can make all the difference.
When I called the emergency service at 9:57 p.m., I was told that the on-call veterinarian would return my call and that if I hadn't heard back within 20 minutes, I should call again. We immediately began the hour-long drive to Petoskey.
About 20 minutes later, I realized the veterinarian had been trying to call, but her restricted number was going straight to my voicemail. Her messages repeatedly instructed me to call her back but did not include a callback number. I contacted the answering service again, and because they could not provide her number, I gave them my boyfriend's phone number. She called him, and I explained that Echo was limp, unable to walk, and struggling to breathe, making gurgling sounds. Despite this, she repeatedly asked whether Echo could walk.
Cell service was poor during our drive, but I was able to tell her we would arrive around 10:50 p.m. About ten minutes before we arrived, she called again, repeatedly asking whether we were in Petoskey yet. I told her several times that we were less than ten minutes away.
When we arrived, the veterinarian was not there. We waited about ten minutes before calling the answering service again to let her know we had arrived. Another five minutes passed before she pulled into the parking lot. She slowly got out of her car and approached us outside, wanting to examine Echo in the dark. I told her, "Come on, we need to go inside. This is serious."
She then turned toward me, pointed her finger in my face, and said, "YOU NEED TO LEAVE!"
I stood there in complete shock, holding my critically injured dog in my arms. She repeated herself, "YOU NEED TO LEAVE NOW!"
Had my boyfriend not stepped in to de-escalate the situation and explain that we had driven an hour because we desperately needed her help, she finally agreed to let us inside.
Inside, Echo was taken for X-rays, which revealed three fractured ribs, a dislocated vertebra, and multiple lacerations. I knew her injuries were serious, but I still believed she deserved every possible chance.
According to the medical records, Echo received penicillin, dexamethasone, diazepam (Va**um), and subcutaneous fluids. Because I am a dog groomer, the veterinarian asked me to shave the hair around Echo's wounds so they could be treated, and I did.
When I asked about pain medication, I was told that because she had administered a steroid, she could not give Echo pain medication. I replied, "Yes, you can. Give her tramadol." She then asked whether I had tramadol at home. I found that response difficult to understand, as we were in an emergency veterinary hospital.
She told me my options were to leave Echo overnight in a crate with an incubator light and no staff present until morning, or to take her home, keep her warm, and return the following morning. She then sent me home with two unlabeled syringes containing additional diazepam and dexamethasone.
She never started oxygen therapy despite Echo's obvious breathing difficulties. She never administered pain medication. I was never given a formal prognosis, survival odds, a discussion regarding the possibility of imminent death, a recommendation to transfer Echo to a 24-hour emergency hospital, or a discussion about humane euthanasia. Instead, I was sent home with prefilled syringes that were not labeled with medication names, dosages, or administration instructions.
Fifteen minutes after leaving Jensen's Animal Hospital, Echo died in my arms.
The next day, I requested Echo's medical records and was told that this veterinarian typically does not write notes or records. The records were not provided until eight days later, after several requests. After reviewing them, I identified concerns regarding omissions, inconsistencies, and documentation that I am currently having evaluated.
I also asked the veterinarian who normally cared for my pets if she could review any exterior security camera footage to see how I was treated upon arrival. I was told the hospital did not have exterior cameras.
I will always wonder whether the outcome would have been different had we gone directly to the 24-hour emergency hospital in Traverse City.
Losing Echo was traumatic enough. The way I was treated that night and the questions I continue to have about her care have made that trauma even more difficult to process.
After more than 25 years as a dog owner and professional in the pet care industry, I have never experienced anything like this.
The veterinarian I am speaking of is Dr. Sarah Michelin. I have filed a formal complaint with the Michigan Veterinary Medical Board; I will be contacting the Better Business Bureau, and I am currently exploring my legal options.
I am sharing Echo's story because I believe pet owners deserve compassionate treatment, honest communication, and the opportunity to make fully informed decisions during a medical emergency. If there is one thing I hope people take away from this, it is to ask questions, advocate for your pet, and trust your instincts when something doesn't feel right.
I will always wonder if making different decisions that night could have changed the outcome, and that is a burden I will carry forever.
Rest in peace, my sweet Echo. You will always be loved.
Update: since this post was made we have discovered that the vets controlled substance license has lapsed back in 2000. I have started a fundraising account at
https://www.givesendgo.com/justice-for-echo?utm_source=share
please help raise funds to hold this vet accountable.
Thank you for taking the time to read about this and for all of your support.
