So. This morning. Emmett's appointment. We bucked up, said no crying, we need to be brave for Emmett. Deep breaths, etc. We drive to the animal hospital making lame attempts and jokes and reaching into the backseat to rub his silky ears. We are ushered into an exam room, and are visited by a fairly inept surgical intern with zero social skills. Then the surgeon bursts into the room. He
A day of “lasting” and of tremendous gratitude
I caught myself "lasting" nearly everything today. Today is the last day Emmett will eat breakfast on four legs. Today is the last day Emmett will wrestle Lucas to the ground on four legs. Today is the last day Emmett will nap like this: It was his last four-legged car ride, and his last four-legged dinner. His last four-legged Frosty Paws, and his last four-legged belly rub. But each
Wednesday’s the day…
Wednesday is the day. We take him to surgery at 9 AM, and he'll have to stay for at least one night but perhaps up to three nights depending upon how fast he's recovering. I am relieved beyond belief that this option will eliminate the cancer. As I watch videos of other three-legged dogs, I realize we are so incredibly lucky that his tumor is a soft-tissue sarcoma because it doesn't cause the
The Big Decision
The past few weeks careened past us leaving everything in their wake, everything except one question: What are we going to do? We met with the oncologist. He was wonderful, kind, thorough, honest. He presented us with the two options we already knew. Surgery plus radiation therapy (every day for three weeks), which would push the cancer into remission. Or amputation. We have had many long,
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