Okay, strictly speaking not we’re not at one month until Friday. But can’t wait any longer because we have reached the light at the end of the tunnel.
Tate has improved just about every single day the past week by leaps and bounds. His appetite is more normal, he’s off the obsessive paw licking (although he still goes after the incision), and he’s stopped giving me those spooky stares.
The only really kinda “off” day was two days after chemo, he slept more than usual. In his bed, in the bedroom, away from everyone which he never does. But no other side effects. (yaaayyy)
Here’s a partial list of his astonishing accomplishments (if you can indulge me for just one minute):
Day 21 – He scratches the door to be let back in! Balancing on two legs!
Day 22 – Balances on his butt to scratch behind his ear with his remaining hind leg!
Also on Day 22 – Play bow with Loretta (but wisely decides this is not a good idea yet…smarty-pants.)
Day 23 – Tries to scratch behind the other ear but there’s no leg there to scratch with! Figures out a new way to scratch that itch! (Although he prefers Dad’s roughhousing scratches, so sometime he wiggles his semi-stump just to get Dad to scratch him…smarty-pants-plus.)
Also on Day 23 – Steals Dad’s T-shirt, “Look at me! I’m such a bad boy! Now you have to chase me!”
Day 24 – zzzzz…..
Day 25 – Walked all the way around the big block!
Day 26 – Visited Rowdy and didn’t avoid him!
Okay, I could go on but you get the picture. Not to say he’s 100% but he’s himself again. For a few weeks there, he was miserable because he felt crummy, wanted to play but couldn’t muster any energy and on top of that, he couldn’t figure out why he was always in trouble (so much of his treatment felt like punishment). At least that’s Dad’s view of things and I think he’s right.
So when I look back, 2 months ago, we got the cancer speech, ending with “Oh, and if you don’t do anything, you will decide to euthanize him in a matter of weeks because we won’t be able to manage his pain.” And I’m looking at my bouncy, waggy, shiny 4 year old dog, going “Wha-a-a-a?”
Frankly, I think that would be a shock to just about anyone.
But we have come out on the other side, not making too many missteps, not too many things we would have done differently. I was reminded again that “This too shall pass” applies to the good seasons in life just like the bad. Tate was always a refuge for us, a carefree respite from all the bad stuff life throws at you. Hugs and pets throughout the financial distress, the fractured relationships, the grave diagnoses, the loss. But then Tate had the grave diagnosis, so now the season is a little less carefree. But we’re here, older and wiser. Enjoying sweet hugs and pets all the more.
I can’t say where we would be without Tripawds. Thanks for listening, and for sharing, and for letting me vent here so my two boys (husband + dog) wouldn’t have to bear the brunt. : )
P.S. Blood work is in, but I don’t know what it all means…doesn’t matter, it is what it is. I’m just so happy that Tate’s happy.
P.P.S. Colleen, where are you?
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