My Fire Hydrant

We are now approaching the third year anniversary of Bailey’s cancer diagnosis, and I can’t help thinking about it and being so very thankful for these three extra years I’ve had with her (why can I NEVER write about this without getting teary??!)

I’m thankful that I chose NOT to do chemo and/or radiation. Understand, that was the right decision for my pooch. It may not be the right decision for someone else’s pooch. Anyone who shares their life with a pet will one day be forced to weigh their options and make their own decisions. At the time, I didn’t know that Bailey would live for more than a few months. But I knew enough about her personality to know that the ends would not justify the means. It comes down to this: Know your pet and do your best to make an unselfish and informed choice.

I have the best circle of friends–and especially those of the veterinarian persuasion. I’m so thankful I have a vet that I’m comfortable with and that I trust. Every time Bailey has a trauma, Dr. Blakelock talks me down off the ledge. She is incredible.

And then there’s Dr. Dicke, who I work with. She is my hero on so many levels (if you can get a hold of the August 2008 issue of Veterinary Forum, page 24, you will read about a BIG reason why she’s my hero). She lets me ramble on about Bailey (even when she has a mountain of work on her desk), helping me to figure out when I need to get Bailey to Dr. Blakelock and when I need to stop indulging my very vivid imagination.

My teammates at the office are part of the best circle of friends I mentioned two paragraphs ago. I can’t think of any other place I’ve worked where they understand the reasoning behind calling off from work because there’s something wrong with your dog. Yes, it can make office life a little more stressful for the folks left working. But everyone at the office understands the need to take care of your pooch and everyone pitches in to cover the loose ends. I’m so thankful that I work with such an empathetic, wonderful bunch of people.

So here we are at the start of the holiday season. Our world continues to be troubled, my retirement fund has taken a nose-dive, and the weather is turning cold with a likelihood of snow (which will annoy Bailey no end because she won’t be able to potty outside). Things could be worse. I’ve got a job I love. I’m relatively healthy. My mom is doing fine. And Bailey-the-Bichon has survived another year to torment and tease me.

Who could ask for anything better out of life?

Fastest. Agility Dog. Evah. Run Sprinti run!

I was over on the Pet Connection blog, checking out what Gina Spadafori had to say, and came across this wonderful story of a dog–Jazz–who competes in agility, was diagnosed with cancer in 2006, given just a few months to live, and yet is still competing and winning championships! Does this sound familiar?

Bailey and I continue to check in with Dr. Blakelock once a month, and each month my heart is overwhelmed when I hear that there’s still no sign of the cancer we found in December of 2005!

For Bailey and for Jazz, those oncologists definitely under-promised and over-delivered. Is that great customer service or what?

I was reminded yesterday how therapeutic my little blog was when I first learned that my little pooch had the BIG C.

Bailey is now 2 years, 2 months, 1 week and 1 day free from cancer–how cool is that !! We continue to visit Dr. B. every month and she continues to poke her finger up Bailey’s butt looking for the nasty cancer–nothing yet!

So much has gone on over the past year….including a horrible recall. I think I need to find some time and start up writing again.

Once again time has gotten away from me and I’ve neglected my little fire hydrant! Bad puppy!!

Bailey is now 13 months with the cancer remaining dormant–very good news! But I’ve noticed a few new things going on since the fall.

It used to be that she would wake me up every morning to go potty between 7 and 7:30. Now, I have to root her out of bed, and if I left it to her we would sleep until 9! This might be because it’s the middle of winter (though I don’t remember her behaving this way last winter), and it’s still dark at 7:30. It might also be because she gonna be 11 years old in March. I think my little girl is becoming an old lady.

She also seems to be drooling more then she ever did and she has not slacked off on licking her front paws. I am very certain that the paw licking is not an allergy. I feel sure it’s a habit she’s gotten into–Dr. B. says she probably does it for “comfort.” This of course makes me nuts because when I hear that my dog is licking her feet for the same reason a baby sucks its thumb, I feel like I’m not being a good mom. So my pooch is going around with apricot-colored front feet and an apricot-colored muzzle. Her face constantly looks dirty.

I sound ungrateful. My sweet girl has lasted twice as long as they predicted, and I’m complaining about her face looking dirty! I don’t mean to complain—I think I’m (once again) being neurotic and looking for problems where none exist. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter if she drools, licks her feet, or sleeps late–The best thing that could happen is for her to die of old age, and not cancer.

One (possibly) good thing that has happened in the past 2 months: In December, Dr. B. was a little concerned about the tartar buildup on Bailey’s teeth. The last thing we want to do is put her under for a dental. So Dr. B. Prescribed some dental raw hides from C.E.T. (we would have gone with Iams Tartar treats, but Bailey tends to break them in half and swallow large chunks instead of chew them.) Bailey gets one a night.

They’re like doggy crack! She loves them! She’s addicted!! They have a very strong smell–not unpleasant, sorta meaty. If I haven’t given her one by 8:30 in the evening, she starts to sing and dance and won’t stop until she gets her chew. And at our last visit, Dr. B. says they’ve totally taken care of the tartar on her teeth.

Of course, they give her gas–not alot, just enough so that you catch a waft of aroma and you wonder “is that a doggie fart?” It’s all very lady-like. Every now and then a tiny little ffffrrrruuupppp can be heard—Bailey will look around at her butt as if to say “you talkin’ to me??” and with a confused look on her face.

It’s really pretty funny. My sweet precious little puppy fluff has turned into a drooling, farting, chew-addicted old lady! But that’s just fine because I still have the pleasure of her company.

The holidays are making me nuts! So much going on, so little time to blog it. Gonna try and catch up a little this week on all the stuff that’s happened recently.

First, last Wednesday was Bailey’s one year anniversary for her cancer surgery. STILL NO CANCER SHOWING!! That is by far the very best Christmas present I’ve ever received!

And talk about little stinkers….we had a big Christmas party yesterday, potluck, lotsa food, lotsa sweets, lotsa people. At one point, Bailey got up on my lap and I swear, I could smell chocolate. Hmmm. OK. Next thing I know, a bunch of people are yelling “she’s got the fudge! She’s got the fudge!” and little Miss Bailey had raided someone’s gift bag and was gobbling someone’s home-made fudge!

Great. So now I gotta think of a way to make her vomit up the fudge because chocolate is bad–can be poisonous–for dogs. Turns out she only got 2 pieces, so I was breathing a little easier. But then, she started to make those noises–you know–that nasty, rolfing kinda vomit noise. Yes. My pooch was very cooperative and puked up the offending fudge without any urging from me. And, can we talk massive!? It was an enormous mass of brown chocolatey gunk. Not only was it the fudge, but Miss Thing apparently also got into someone’s chocolate cake, too!

So she had more bad food then I realized (and generally I watch her like a hawk). After the vomits she was pretty subdued. Poor pooch went to her bed for a lay-down (just like a collage frat boy after binge drinking!). And I was left with a chocolate mess on my bedroom carpet.

Not that I minded that much–would rather have it on my bedroom carpet then still in Bailey making her even sicker. And I have a really great stain remover that I use on my carpet:

1/2 cup peroxide
1 teaspoon of ammonia

I keep it mixed up in a spritzer bottle. All I had to do was spritz it on, and towel it off and all the staining disappeared!

And Bailey, though embarrassed at the mess she made, recovered from her upset tummy enough to eat her supper and then play a big game of chase-the-kibble (I toss a piece of dry dog food, she runs after it and eats it).

Also this weekend was the Raindog Parade in Cincinnati. A buddy of mine shot a video and posted it to YouTube–I could not resist sharing:

We had another good check up with Dr. B!

It’s now 10 months since Dr. Schertel operated on Bailey and removed her left anal gland and 2 of her lymph nodes.

There has been a part of me that’s been holding her breath for the past 10 months waiting for that other shoe to drop. I’ve been afraid to schedule things (grooming and vet appointments) too far into the future. I’ve been afraid to buy too much dog food. I’ve been afraid to plan trips. I’ve been afraid to plan for the holidays. All because I’m afraid that I might jinx Bailey’s chances.

OK, how twisted is that!?

But Dr. B. said almost the same thing. Bailey might be in need of a dental or stone-removal surgery in the not-too-distant future—but Dr. B. feels reluctance to put Bailey under anesthesia. She doesn’t want to do anything that might wake up the cancer.

I’ve even hesitated to type the following words into this blog: Is it possible that this really IS a slow-growing cancer? And that Bailey might live for a few more years instead of a few more months?

There. I’ve said it. If you’re reading it that means I had the courage to actually publish it. Just looking at those words makes me feel anxious.

My mom says: “Look. She’s had 10 good months. Aren’t you glad you decided not to do the chemo and the radiation?”

Yes I say with all my heart!

I’m thinking of throwing a party. A party to celebrate Bailey’s one year anniversary. I wonder if I can get myself past this paralyzing feeling of anxiety that if I do it I’ll seal her fate.

NINE MONTHS WITH NO SIGN OF THE CANCER!!!!

WOO-HOO!!!! Went to see Dr. B. this morning! Bailey is now, officially, EIGHT MONTHS FREE OF CANCER!!!

This past Saturday, Bailey and I went to visit Dr. B. for Bailey’s monthly check. At Dr. B’s practice, you’re shown into a kind of “consultation” room that has an exam table, a chair, and some wall cabinets that, I think (because I haven’t checked–honest!), are probably empty. There you wait until the vet-tech (like the nurse before the coming of the doctor for a human patient) comes in to conduct the preliminary examination–symptoms? anything unusual? what are you feeding? And then the vet-tech takes Bailey away to the mysterious back room to check her weight. And I wait for her return.

The vet-tech brings Bailey back. I schooch my chair up close to the exam table where Bailey is nervously sitting (actually, I hold onto Bailey’s harness to keep her from jumping off the table). I drape my arms around her on either side and she sorta settles down, laying between my arms watching the door that leads to the back room because she knows that’s where the next torturer will come from. And we wait. My face is pretty much in Bailey’s butt–or at least it’s sorta buried in the flank of her left back leg–and as I surround Bailey with my arms, my love, my protection, I myself feel surrounded by her warmth, her softness, her doggie-odor.

I love the way my dog smells, but I don’t know how to describe it. She smells like other dogs I’ve shared my life with. She smells like warm and fuzzy memories. She smells like the innocent embrace of a child, my child. She smells like safety. And approval. And acceptance. Warm feet on a cold, snowy day. A tiny earth mother giving me reassurance. Old popcorn. Her aroma tenderly enfolds me in a gentle cloak of contentment. And I start to cry.

I cry because I am so overwhelmed with the feeling of loss that I know is coming. The tears simply flow.

Dr. B comes into the room and is immediately alarmed–what’s wrong with Bailey?? I feel stupid. But she’s very understanding, my vet. She hands me the kleenix and tells me to stop worrying. And she takes Bailey to the mysterious back room where she pokes around inside Bailey’s little butt looking for the cancer. The time they’re gone feels like forever. Finally they’re back—and—NO CANCER YET!