The Longest Day Of The Year

June ended this year in the worst eventful way possible for us at the hound compound. We had tried surgery to remove the cancer from Willow's leg. Two weeks and many bandage changes after the surgery it became apparent that, not only did they get all the cancer, but the large wound that was left behind was having issues healing. Originally, we had wanted to save her leg even if they didn't get all the cancer because we already had growing issues with Zappa's terminal bone cancer and the thought of dealing with two in-firmed dogs did  not seem like a viable option.

Of course, as someone one said, everything goes at once and that seemed to come true. June 22nd I took Willow in for a bandage change and the vet basically said that the time had come to take off her leg for her sake and ours. The healing would be faster and since there was still cancer, she was going to lose the leg anyway. Why put her through the trauma of bandages and cones more than once? It all made sense so I brought her in the next morning and left her there. Surgery didn't take place until the afternoon and it all went well, but she was going to spend the night (again) in their care.

Wednesday morning I called to arrange a pick up time for our little tripod. When I first saw her hop in I was heartbroken by her loss, but surprised by how well she got around. This wound was large, but very clean and neat and instead of bandages, she just had on a pink Nike Just Do It tee shirt on with one sleeve tied off and it was cinched around her waist. She looked very snazzy and could not get out of there soon enough. She did end up with a cone because we stopped at McDonald's on the was home and I got her some Ice cream.

I got her settled in at home so she could rest. We'd turned my basement studio space into our canine oncology ward so she wouldn't have to deal with stairs since the vets orders were to keep her calm and secluded for two weeks until it was time to take her staples out. Kathy and I'd been taking turns sleeping down there with her for the previous two weeks so we already had the routine down. I was resting with her and Zappa when he started making the kind of noises that signaled he was in pain. he was up to date on his meds, but I figured maybe it was time to take him back in for an adjustment and maybe something stronger.

I call and may him an appointment for the next day, but his cries of pain became more frequent persistent so I loaded him up in Kathy's car when she got home and took him right in that afternoon. We didn't have to wait long in the waiting area because his heart rending moans  made everyone aware of his immense discomfort. The Dr was the one who originally diagnosed his cancer examined him and we discussed more treatment options. They could give him increased doses of the painkillers he was already on, but they would more likely just make him loopy and not really do anything to help his suffering.

The only real option was obvious, but I didn't want to make that kind of decision without talking to Kathy first.The Dr gave me a few minutes alone so I could call her.  I could barely speak I was so choked up, but she knew what I was trying to say and she gave me her blessing to end his suffering. I spent a little more time with just me and Z-Dog telling him what a good boy he is. When the Dr. came back I told her what we needed to do. Ideally, I would have liked to have him put down at home surrounded by his family and fellow dogs, but it was not to be. They asked if I wanted to be there at the very end, but like a coward I declined and left it to the professionals.

I cannot say enough good things about everyone at Huffard Animal Hospital who helped us through this. Everybody was so kind and understanding, saying and doing all the right things. They left me to grieve by myself after they took him away. They asked if I wanted his ashes but I decline that too since we already have so many photos an painting to remember him by.

It was a quiet ride home that evening, When I got home, Kathy was down stairs with Willow, crying like I was. The first thing she said to me through tears was "he was such a dick" and he was, but he was out dick. He was the loudest dog of our three, always announcing our comings and goings with incessant barking and keeping us abreast of who may be passing our house. I asked Kathy the question about his ashes, knowing what here answer would be, but she surprised me. She said "I don't even want YOUR ashes". That's love.

happier days

It's a lot quieter around here now, and that's not a bad thing, but for a while it hasn't seem much like coming home without his relentless trumpeting of our arrival. At the very least, the neighbors can finally get some peace. It's been two weeks now, and Willow just got her staples out and she's doing fine. She's going to have a scar showing until her fur grows out for her winter coat this fall, but she's getting along well, using the stairs and the doggie door like a champ. We've even been out on a few short walks to build up her strength but now as I'm walking her I can't get the Lynard Skynard song "Give Me Three Steps" out of my head. 

pre-op

 Sandy has always wanted to be the top dog in our house, and now he's got his wish. At least until Willow is at her top 75%. Willow was looking for Zappa for a few days after he left us but I think even she has moved on. I've learned a lot from her these past few weeks. Her life seems to be a simple three step plan (no pun intended) 1. Live 2. Love 3. Adapt.

someone new to push around

Thanks to everyone for their help and well wishes these past few weeks. It has really meant a lot to us and has aided us in this ongoing grieving process. I only hope that soon I can move on like Willow and start trying to make this blog funny again. At least funnier than this.

seab....