January 12

If she had lived, Cookie would be 15 years old today. The void her passing has left is visible every day. New dogs are in the family, but nobody holds a candle to her.

Miss you, Goonie.

Losing the battle

Despite her multiple battles with cancer, Cookie had seldom had a sick day in her entire life. Two weeks ago, she began acting lethargic and like she might be painful in her abdomen. I gave her injections of antibiotics and anti-nausea medication, and she got better.

I had to leave town for a week, and was apprehensive about how she would handle me being gone. I boarded her at my clinic, and my boyfriend picked her up for the weekend because he didn't have to work. Last Saturday, she began vomiting and acting lethargic again. She also developed a green nasal discharge. On Sunday, she wasn't any better, so my boss met my boyfriend at the clinic to examine Cookie. She ran bloodwork and repeated the drug regimen I had used the weekend before.

On Monday, she was still sick. My boss called me and told me that if I was a regular client, she would be having the euthanasia talk, but being that these were special circumstances, she wanted to know how I wanted her to proceed. Abdominal radiographs showed no obvious obstruction, but Cookie's intestine appeared more thickened than it had on the films I took in mid-March. I asked her if she could just try IV fluids and repeat the antibiotics and antiemetics, and if she didn't improve by the next day, we would euthanize. Cookie bounced back wonderfully overnight. For the duration of my absence, she was completely and utterly spoiled by everyone. Clinic staff went out daily to buy her double cheeseburgers, she was allowed free run of the clinic, my boyfriend went in to work late and took off early so he could drop her off and pick her up rather than leaving her overnight.

I returned on Thursday afternoon. Everything was seemingly back to normal, except she only wanted sliced meat and cheese cubes instead of her regular food. She spent the day at the clinic with me yesterday, as had become her routine.

Last night my boyfriend and I went out for dinner, and left Cookie at my parents' house. When we returned, Cookie was again lethargic and painful. I gave her the medications, and prayed for another turnaround. This morning she showed no improvement. As I was getting ready for work she was obviously uncomfortable, and for the first time in her whole life I heard her whine in pain. At that point, my decision was made. As much as it devastates me to lose my very best friend, she has been too good a friend to force her to live in pain.

I took her to work with me so I could keep an eye on her, just in case anything changed. I called my parents and my boyfriend to let them know what was going on. Fortunately, my schedule of appointments was lighter this morning than a typical Saturday, so I was able to sit with Cookie and tell her how much she means to me. The clock ticked far too quickly toward noon. My parents, brother, and boyfriend all came to be with Cookie and I. My boss volunteered to perform the injection, and Cookie quickly and quietly left us. Today is one of the saddest days of my life.

On March 13, 1993, my father and I picked Cookie out as a 9-week-old puppy and brought her home. She has been my very best friend for half of my life. I have shed many tears for Cookie over the years: her nearly-fatal anesthetic reaction, her multiple cancer diagnoses, the prospect of losing her, and ultimately her death. My father, I have only seen him cry twice. Once was at my grandmother's funeral, and the other was today.

I know I will have other dogs and I will love them, but Cookie will always occupy a very special place in my heart. I will miss her until the day I die.

Run free, Goonie. I miss you.

One week out

I can't believe it's been a whole week since my first chemo treatment. Mom took me to work with her yesterday to check my CBC. I was really good and held still while she put the needle in my arm to steal my blood. Then I got to hang out in her office, and she fed me a cheeseburger and french fries for lunch!

I should have seen it coming, but I was lulled into a false sense of security by my cheeseburger and fries. As I was dozing after I finished lunch, Mom and another person snuck up on me, held me down, and trimmed my nails! How rude! I squirmed and kicked and protested, but they wouldn't let go until every single one of my nails was trimmed. I was mad, so I didn't speak to Mom for almost 10 minutes.

Mom says my CBC came out good, so I can start on my second round of Cytoxan tomorrow. As far as I can tell, "Cytoxan" means sliced ham in the morning, so I consider that a good thing.

Happy Easter!

Today was lots of fun. Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa spent all morning making lots of good-smelling food. Every once in a while, Mom or Grandpa would "drop" something on the floor so I could eat it. I feel kind of bad, because Duke and Nellie don't get the special treats I get, but Mom says it's because they are too fat and I'm too skinny. I got to eat honeybaked ham, prime rib, and even some frosted sugar cookies. I really wanted some chocolate, and kept begging for it, but Mom says that's one thing I still can't have.

I'm feeling pretty good. I'm still on my steroid every other day, and I have to go to work with Mom tomorrow to get my blood taken. I don't like needles, but the medicine I got last week can suppress my white blood cells, so my mom needs to know if I can continue my treatment this week, or if we need to wait a week.

I figured out yesterday morning that I can climb up on Mom's new couch! I thought it was too high so I kept laying on my old couch, but when Mom wasn't looking, I climbed up there and took a nap. She didn't yell at me, but she told me if she's going to have two couches crammed in the living room, I'd better lay on my own! Something about me monopolizing all the room on whatever couch I'm laying on, or something. A pup just can't win.

So far, so good....

I'm feeling pretty good this morning. My mom said she was worried that I wouldn't feel well because I had such a long day yesterday, but after a good long nap, I'm doing fine. I woke mom up this morning by serenading her with the "I'm hungry, please feed me" song. She's pretty good, she got right up and put dry AND wet food in my bowls! She says I'm spoiled, but I know she doesn't mean it.

Starting Chemo

First of all, I'm a lucky dog. REALLY lucky. I'm a Boxer who has made it to fourteen years of age. For almost two and a half of those years, I have been living with cancer.

In November of 2004, I was diagnosed with cancer for the first time. My mom felt a lump on the back edge of my right shoulder blade that turned out to be a nerve sheath tumor called a neurofibrosarcoma. I had surgery, but the tumor had grown microscopic tendrils that had invaded the surrounding muscle. I went to the University of Missouri Veterinary Teaching Hospital for a month of radiation therapy.

In January, 2005, while I was getting radiation on my shoulder, my radiologist found another tumor on the same shoulder. This one was a mast cell tumor, and was cured by surgery in March, 2005.

In July, 2005, I went to a car show with my mom to see my grandpa and his friends. While I was enjoying attention from friends and strangers, my mom was petting me and found a lump behind my left front leg. I had surgery again the next week for another nerve sheath tumor. I was lucky this time, surgery got all of the cancerous tissue.

Everything went along as usual for a long time. Then, a few months ago I started to lose weight. My mom got me all sorts of good, high-calorie food and I leveled off for a while, but then about a month ago, I lost a lot of weight really fast. One morning I woke up, and I had a swelling in my right hind leg. My mom said it was a swollen lymph node. She took me to work with her, and took a sample of the cells from the lymph node with a needle. She said it is lymphoma.

Mom is really sad. She said that lymphoma is one of the cancers in dogs that can be managed, but not cured. Because I am so old, she doesn't want to do anything that will reduce my quality of life for the little bit I have left. She e-mailed back and forth with my oncologists at MU, trying to decide what to do. Because I had lost so much weight, she put me on prednisone. I gained more than six pounds in the first week I was on it!! My lymph node swelling went down, and I'm feeling great.

That all leads us to today. Because I did so well with the prednisone, mom decided a little bit of chemotherapy might help me continue to feel well. I got my first treatment of Vincristine at MU, and I start cyclophosphamide oral treatment at home. She said that other than some blood tests to make sure my blood counts stay high enough, I can still do all the things I like to do. Right now, I think I'm going to get a snack, and then head to bed. It's been a long day!