Late fall 2014
The pathology report read: Cutaneous (skin) Lymphoblastic Lymphoma, high-grade extending to the deep margins of the tissue sample sent for evaluation. In a nut shell, the vet was right, it was already invading other tissues. This was a highly unusual cancer for a three-year old dog and not common in this breed.
The vet admittedly did not know what to advise, so he consulted with an Oncology Veterinarian in Milwaukee. She advised aggressive treatment with the CHOP protocol. It would not “cure” her cancer but it may buy her up to 6 months. I wanted a second opinion and found a vet specializing in Oncology that was trained at University of Wisconsin-Madison Veterinarian School, Dr. Laura Goodman. She was at the Wisconsin Vet Referral Center in Waukesha.
We saw her about a week later. She examined Lucy and reviewed the biopsy report. She also talked with the Pathologist who did the procedure, who happened to be a colleague at that office. Her advice was do nothing and enjoy her as long as her quality of life is good, do steroids to try to slow this down or aggressively treat her with chemotherapy. It was up to me.
This was so difficult for me. Yes, she was Gabi’s dog, but I trained her and spent more time with her, so she bonded closer to me than anyone. With Steve 1000 miles away in North Carolina, our two cats with him, our two teenagers doing their own thing, and our dog Harvey put down a couple of months ago, Lucy was my lifeline. (I never understood how people could treat their animals like children, until she came along.) Now I was going to lose her too.
I had already researched the CHOP protocol for this cancer and knew from what I read, that her quality of life would likely be compromised. What use is that. That is what a pet lives for, the give and take of affection and unconditional love from its owner(s). So chemo was out.
Doing nothing seemed unfair, as long as what I chose to do, did not cause harm. So I agreed to try her on the steroids. That lasted a little more than two days. She was agitated. She couldn’t sleep for any length of time. She did not want to be snuggled and just kept to herself. I stopped those. She did sleep better and was more interested in being held, but she was tired and walked around with her head hung low. She did not want to play.
On the third Friday in November, ten days after starting her on steroids, I noticed how much she was drinking, yet when I took her out she barely urinated. Her kidneys were failing. When the kids came home from school we talked about what was happening. I called Steve and let him know too. She got a little energy in the afternoon and of course you second guess yourself, so I put off calling the vet. She slept all night, but when I got up with her Saturday morning I knew today was the day. She looked like she was done, like she was trying to tell me something. She just looked at me. She wouldn’t eat or drink and did nothing outside. I called my parents so they could come and say goodbye. I told the kids when they woke up. We called Steve again, then I called the vet. My dad and Gabi went with me. Zach did not want to be there. Everyone was very respectful at the vet’s office. They knew what we had been through. They had a room ready for us so we did not have to sit in the waiting room. It was fast and painless. All three of us were a wreck, sobbing and not wanting to have to say good-bye and leave her.
My dad drove us home. I was in no shape to be driving. I spent the day cleaning the house and boxing up all her things. I didn’t want reminders. By the evening I felt lost. The kids were doing their thing and I had talked with Steve several times throughout the day, so I didn’t have anything new to say. I decided to check out the breeders website, where we got Lucy from, to see if anyone posted any cancer issues with his puppies. No luck, but I did notice he was not breeding them anymore.
So then I decided to check out if any other reputable breeders had liters for Christmas. I thought I would be ready by then, to welcome a new little friend into our home and hearts. I also knew I wanted a male and any shade but tan, like Lucy was. (I think I rationalized it to myself, that then I wasn’t replacing her.) I found the cutest little puppy. He was jet black and the last of his litter left. The breeder was just north of St. Louis, MO, about a 5 hour drive. I emailed them to find out when he would be available. I did not hear back until the following day. Zach and I had just walked in, after going to church and grocery shopping, and there was an email response to call them. I found out he was ready to go. He was 8 weeks old, kind of shy but playful. He liked to snuggle. I asked if they had another liter that would be ready closer to Christmas, but they did not. I was not sure I was ready for this and then she said “We do have a female that is black, they are siblings, if that is what you are looking for?” I told her no, definitely not a female. I impulsively said “I’ll take him, can I come today to pick him up?” It was noon. I had $200 worth of groceries sitting in bags on the kitchen counters. She agreed and we left.
