puppy up!

Sermons in Stone by Luke Robinson

2011-06-19T12:24:00.003-05:00

Sunday, June 19, 2011
republished from the 2 dogs 2000 miles blog

And this our life,
exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
Sermons in stones
and good in everything.

I love this passage from Will Shakespeare’s As You Like It and for this Father’s Day, I couldn’t find one more appropriate. It speaks to the fascination and beauty found in the simple wonderment of nature. It’s reminiscent of my father who first taught me that and as a dad myself, it’s a lesson my own boys, Hudson and Murphy, always keep me mindful of.

Life is a messy thing but there’s no finer, more effective therapy for it than a good piece of wood in your hand, the path beneath your feet, and your sons at your side.

This Father’s Day for me is a bittersweet celebration. It was one year ago today we walked the final mile into Boston but it’s also Murphy’s last day. Tomorrow he will be given eternal rest.

A few weeks back Murphy’s left eye ruptured and I made the decision to have it surgically removed rather than euthanizing him then. He was still willful, eating healthfully, and in true Murphy tradition, full of piss and vinegar.

It was a controversial decision and one which tore me up internally. I suspected the rupture probably meant the tumor had breached the orbit, a suspicion that was confirmed by the vet during surgery. At most I hoped for a couple of months together and if we were lucky, a few more than that.

Since the surgery, we have seen a deterioration of mobility in his right hind leg which can only mean motor cortex involvement - that the cancer has finally spread to his brain. And though he has had some really good days this week in Eureka Springs and yesterday at 3 Dog Bakery, I know what comes next and that I cannot allow to happen to my boy.

I have no doubt now the decision I made to extricate his eye was medically unsound but it was not an inhumane one. I don’t write this because I feel a need to justify it to anyone. I absolutely don’t give a goddamn what people think about the choices I have made on behalf of Murphy.

I am writing about it because to me this is what being a father means. It means having to make extremely hard decisions often in the absence of any certainty and always in the face of adversity.

A father’s love is the grit and iron will that cannot be ground down even at the end. It’s looking into the eyes of your dying son and finally admitting, “I can’t save you.”

To all of the fathers who have had to say that and to the ones who thankfully haven’t – this is our day.

Thunder’s Tale by Mark Bucklad

2011-05-13T11:49:00.008-05:00

Hi, my name’s Thunder. I am a long hair miniature dachshund and I am a cancer survivor since October, 2008, when I was diagnosed with lymphoma, just a month after my third birthday. Some present, huh? I will never be cured, but I am getting treatment and am currently in remission. This is not my story. This is the story of two of my brothers.

The first is Butch. I met him when I was very young. He was not. He showed me a lot of great stuff that my human’s couldn’t. Butch came to live with me when one of his parents had to move to an Assisted Living Facility and the other to a Hospice facility. Butch was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma in his throat, a day after I was diagnosed with my lymphoma. He had a difficult time; first with eating, then afterwards drinking. He stood bravely when his prognosis was poor. He went to the Rainbow Bridge to be with his real dad. I’m sure they missed each other. I miss him every day. He was my big buddy. I used to drive him nuts.

I’d now like to introduce you to my next big brother, Laddie. My parents were looking to adopt another before Butch and I were diagnosed and had Laddie lined up. He was looking for a new home because his dad passed away. I found out that not many people want senior dogs. I don’t know why, they’ve been great to me. Laddie used to pull me into his thick coat to keep me warm when I was not feeling well. Chemotherapy takes a lot out of you. Sadly, I was too sick myself to recognize that he was also not feeling well. My parents thought something was not quite right though. Treatment was started, but it was too far progressed. I only got to know him for 7 weeks as he too crossed the rainbow bridge 3 weeks after being diagnosed with cancer of the spleen. I miss him every day, too.

My treatments continue to this day and I hope that my good days continue to outnumber my not so good day. Oh yeah, since my mom is a breast cancer survivor, I wear a Breast Cancer awareness collar to support her.

Yoshi, by Connie McCabe

2010-11-09T02:48:00.016-06:00

In August, 2003, five-year-old Yoshi came into Golden Rescue when his family's house burned down and they could not take care of him. He also had a very nasty-looking, ulcerated grade 2 mast cell tumor on his flank which needed surgery and possible chemotherapy. We fostered him for Rescue A Golden of Arizona and immediately fell in love with the big blond guy. After his surgery, it was determined that the margins were not clean, so he had to undergo 8 chemo treatments over a period of 16 weeks. He did well at first, but about midway through the treatment, he developed a staph infection which put him into serious trouble. His white cell count was very low and fever very high. Yoshi had to spend three days in intensive care and we really worried he might not survive. He pulled through, but then developed a reaction to the ampicillin too. We decided that if Yoshi lived, he would stay with us forever. He did overcome the infection and the allergic reaction and continued with the chemo.

Yoshi did well, aside from frequent allergic reactions and lots of lipomas, until June, 2008. Then he developed a lump on his neck that I asked his vet to check while he was in for a grooming. The groomer found another on his inside thigh. Sure enough, both were grade 2 mast cell tumors and Yoshi had to undergo another surgery to remove them. The neck wound wasn't too bad, but the inner thigh incision was very painful. They were unable to close it properly, as the skin was so tight there. Any walking caused him terrible rubbing and it took a long time to heal. He cried a lot and it just broke our hearts to hear it.

Then, just a month later, when he was getting a check-up from his oncologist, she found two more masses, one on his groin, and another on his inner thigh near the previous one. She performed the third surgery to remove them and put him on a prednisone course of therapy. It would take these wounds a long time to heal too.

But in September, he somehow managed to break a premolar at the gum line that needed to be cut out. So this was his third surgery in just three months and fourth surgery since we had him. But he was a real trooper for this one, and was playing with his Kong within a few days.

All was good until this past May of 2010. I noticed a small lump on his muzzle, similar to many I had seen on other dogs. But this was Yoshi, and so we had to check it out. Sure enough, another grade 2 mast cell. He had his fifth surgery for that, a pretty easy one that time.

Only a few weeks later I noticed a large lump on his leg at the carpal joint. This time it turned out to be a nerve sheath tumor, not a mast cell. This was to be the sixth surgery, and the fifth for cancer. And this was the hardest of all. The oncologist was not able to get clean margins. She did not want to do radiation on him as he was 12 years old and that would have been pretty rough on him. Chemo was not a good option for him either, she thought, as he had problems with it before. So she opted to use a bloodroot therapy on the site.

This was a treatment she had used many times on this kind of cancer with great success. The bloodroot salve eats away the cancer cells that are not accessible by surgery. He did fine for the surgery, but the bloodroot slave treatment is very painful. We had to change the dressing daily for 6 weeks and every day was worse. The salve kept eating away more and more of the tissue until one day we could see tendons. And then the next day the tendons were gone! Then we could see bone. I can't describe how horrible we felt to see our boy suffer the way he did. Once the tendons were destroyed, the joint just hung loose, and he was still in a great deal of pain. His oncologist was very worried, as were we, that he might not regain stability in that joint once the healing began. She had no idea how involved the tumor had been and had not foreseen this amount of destruction in his tissue. We discussed having to put in a plate afterwards so he could use the leg again. She bought him a brace to help him start to walk on that leg.

Then two months later, in late July, the tissue destruction stopped and the healing began. It was amazing how quickly the healthy tissue began to fill in. Yoshi gradually began putting some weight on the leg, more every day. And the bandage changes were less often and less painful. By August, he was feeling good, although the joint was still not stable. But by mid-September, the tissue filled in and held the joint together, even without the tendons. There is very little flexibility, and he has a pronounced limp, but Yoshi can walk and we feel that he is now pain-free, a truly wonderful thing for him. There will be no more hikes or parade walks, but we are grateful that he has a functioning leg and won't need any more surgery to make it stable. Through it all, even when in so much pain, this guy has managed to enjoy his toys and meals and belly-rubs and keep a positive outlook, even when we feared the worst.

In between all of these surgeries and treatments, Yoshi has managed to win a lot of photo contests, some with his best friend Zoie, another rescued Golden. Even though she has not had to deal with cancer, she has had her own problems with diabetes. She was blind when she came into Rescue in 2005. She had surgery to remove the cataracts and has been able to see very well until recently. It has been determined that she now has retinal deterioration, which is incurable, and will once again be blind. But we don't worry too much. She handled the blindness well before, and will once again.

Yoshi and Zoie love to pose for Halloween photos, and I have attached a few. The photo of him laughing appears on the cover of the Mutts Shelter Stories book, and was also one of the top 10 finalists in the Humane Society Spay Day contest. That particular photo embodies everything that is Yoshi – his wonderful happy attitude! The other photos were various finalist and winners in lots of other contests, including the Dog Page A Day Calendar. That photo, which is Yoshi in his suit and Zoie dressed up in her finest, was also a Hallmark contest finalist.

Yoshi continues to improve. He has just returned from a camping trip with us to Flagstaff and did very well. He will never jump logs again or go for long hikes, but he can sure enjoy short walks in the woods and chewing on the big sticks he finds. Thank you for the opportunity to share the story of this big beautiful guy.

Hendrix by Sarah Doyi

2010-08-09T02:02:00.010-05:00

I have loved and been loved by many dogs, but, even from the Bridge, Hendrix is my heart and soul and forever dog. His mother was a Border collie mix stray in rural east Tennessee and I suspect his father was somebody’s hunting dog who loved loving more than hunting! Hendrix found us shortly before my mother was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer and I’ve always believed he was Heaven sent to help me through that terrible journey and the rest of life’s challenges and joy.

Through the Tennessee mountains, we explored trails, cool streams, brilliant autumn leaves and Hendrix always reminded me to stop and sniff the … well, whatever. On one snowy winter day, we spotted several does on a hill behind the Prince of the Forest. We all stood still watching each other. Hendrix took a step. Prince took a step. I gave thanks for the command, “leave it” and so we did! Another encounter turned out not so well as Hendrix, who was quite afraid of turtles, but not snakes, was nailed on the leg by a copperhead. We were blessed with a huge yard and we spent afternoons together in the wooded patch and with Hendrix’s “project” of excavation of an old wall in search of chipmunks.

We spent rainy afternoons together as well. I am a great fan of books by Dean Koontz and when I told Hendrix we were going to “read some Koontz,” Hendrix would leap onto the bed next to me and lay on top of one of my hands. I would read with one hand under his warm furry belly and the book propped against my knees.

Hendrix always loved his food (or anyone else’s) to the point it was almost a joke, but he began to go through the garbage when I was not at home. I couldn’t keep his water dish filled as he would drink it all so quickly and he seemed to be panting around the clock even in cold weather. The vet diagnosed Hendrix as having cognitive dysfunction and sent us home with a prescription for xanax. It took two doses of xanax for me to realize that it was the cause of extreme “garbaging.” The second time, Hendrix tore through our pantry, somehow able to reach food he had never been able to reach before, including a pound and a half of chocolate. The chocolate included some York mints, which not only helped by taking up chocolate space, but made the hurl produced at the vet clinic smell “minty fresh,” as the grateful vet remarked. Realizing that the situation was getting worse, I asked the vet for a referral to a specialist. Our local vet helped and referred us to a specialist in Knoxville.

Hendrix’s appointment with the specialist was scheduled for the same day as my divorce. Dr. S spent 2 ½ hours with us and, though she was unable to do the correct blood test as Hendrix had “garbaged” in the attorney’s office while we were in court, concluded that Hendrix did not have cognitive dysfunction, but probably Cushing’s disease and suggested my local vet perform the tests for that. Canine Cushing’s disease is a pituitary cancer and can be a tumor either on the adrenal gland (which is operable) or on the pituitary gland (non-operable). Hendrix’s tumor was on the pituitary gland. As I read more about Cushing’s disease, I realized Hendrix had several other symptoms typical of “cushpups.” In addition to the extreme drinking and panting, his coat had thinned to the point that, in what had been a lush plumed tail, I could see the outline of the tail bone. His face had a skeletal appearance and he had a pot belly. Hendrix had begun to fall quite frequently and I realized this was due to the wasted muscles in his hind legs, also a Cushing’s symptom. Hendrix had been gorging because the adrenal glands were working over-time and he was ravenous.

After consultation with Dr. S, the local vet prescribed Lysodren. For us, it was indeed a wonder drug. Virtually all Hendrix’s symptoms disappeared and his coat returned as lush as ever. Our daily walks, in addition to bringing us such pleasure, helped build back Hendrix’s hip and hind leg muscles. Lysodren is a hideously expensive drug, and I am blessed that I was able to squeeze out the money for it.

As Hendrix and I learned to live with his cancer, we received a call from the supervisor of elementary education in our county. She asked if we would be interested in becoming a therapy dog team and reading with school children. I’d always wanted to do that, but it was one of those things I never quite got around to. Obviously time was now precious, and Hendrix and I took on the challenge. When Hendrix passed his Therapy Dog International evaluation, my heart almost burst with a sense of triumph both for passing our test and for doing it as a small victory over the cancer. Hendrix spent the next few months of the school year reading with second graders in three elementary schools. I was a public school teacher for over 15 years, but the experience of reading with Hendrix and the children was in so many ways the high point of my experiences in education. At one school, Hendrix read with four little boys with a variety of reading abilities. Hendrix knew instinctively which boys needed him more and the more difficulty one of his boys had reading, the closer Hendrix lay. In one of his other schools, his little girl was speech, vision, and motor impaired and reading with Hendrix allowed her to feel so, so special.

Toward the end of the school year, I noticed Hendrix was coughing from time to time. I took him to the vet, but the vet didn’t find anything amiss. Once the school year ended, the cough seemed to come more frequently and then Hendrix, who had loved his food so dearly, seemed to have less of an appetite. He also began to fall again. We took a walk with corgi friends of his and that afternoon Hendrix seemed like his old self again. He even had a moment of mischief, disappearing, and then circling back to join us from behind! He was worse again the next day, however, and a return visit to the vet revealed that Hendrix had blood clots in his lungs. He went to the vet clinic during the day for IV heparin, but I was allowed to take him home at night after being taught to give the heparin. He seemed so sad and, once so stoic through all the Cushing’s test and retests, snapped at the vet tech who was giving him his shot. During the night, Hendrix would shift constantly from side to stomach and was restless. He was unable to get down the stairs without falling. I called the vet and made The Appointment. We were waiting for the vet and a friend of mine came by to say goodbye to Hendrix. Hendrix’s “Uncle James” always had a treat for my boy, and when Uncle James appeared, Hendrix leaped off the bed and sat before James to get his treat. I canceled the appointment, but the next day Hendrix just seemed worse and tired and at night so uncomfortable, so I called and scheduled the vet visit again.

Hendrix passed to the Bridge from my arms in the yard he loved so well, the warm sunshine and the lilac June blossoms paving his way. Though Hendrix will always be my soul, I have adopted two dogs since then, Hope, a deaf, arthritic senior girl and a young houndador, Sabbath, who is continuing the reading program my Hendrix began and, so, as they say in my tradition, Hendrix’s memory is indeed for a blessing.

Rori by Jennifer O’Connell

2010-07-26T11:57:00.007-05:00

I will never forget that sound you make:
Whuffle
For it is ingrained in my heart as the sound of happiness.

You crawled into my lap,
90 pounds of
warm
whuffling
love
with a heartbeat to match -
a reminder of the beauty of life.
We were told you had 3 days
3 days before that heartbeat stopped.
It has been 54
And still counting…
Your life is a miracle,
A testament to the power of love.

There are some things that will never fade
The mark on the wall from
Golden hair against it after a swim
The same golden hair that decorates
Every item of black I own.
A lake in the Adirondacks
A hike in snowy woods in the dead of winter
The expressiveness of your eyebrows
The way your body fits so perfectly
To warm my feet on a frosty morning

But above all,
My heart will keep your
Whuffle
A gentle reminder
To appreciate every
H e a r t b e a t
To render others happy
And to live passionately

This

Miraculous

Life.

Sam by Cindy Eilenberger

2010-07-19T10:30:00.012-05:00

I believe it is best to say that Sam found me. One day when I came home from work, I found Sam in my spare bedroom whimpering from injuries he had received from another dog. Sam, at that time, was not my dog. But, he had found my doggie door and let himself in.

Sam was not a stranger to me. He had roamed my neighborhood for awhile since his true owners had put him out on the streets to survive on his own. Other neighbors and I would feed and water him to keep him going. But, on that particular day he needed help and chose me to be the one to nurse him back to health.

I scooped him up and took him to a vet. He was ripped up pretty bad down his back and hind quarters. One of his ears was ripped, one eye was swollen shut, and he was bloody everywhere. But, he let the vet do what had to be done without a sound. I honestly didn’t think he would survive. I gave him water through a syringe because he was too weak to lift his head. The tough guy made it though and has been my buddy ever since.

I failed to mention that Sam is a Siberian Husky and at the time we lived in Georgia. Not the best climate for this breed. But, fortunately for us, a wonderful man came into our lives and moved us to Connecticut. Sam now had a daddy and found he was in his element in the snow and colder temps. When it snowed we would laugh while Sam made his Sam angels. He will plop down in the snow and twist back and forth in it making his own special formation.

One of Sam's wonderful qualities is his love for everyone. Kids have always been his favorite though. He loves nothing better than a group of kids who want to pet on him and take him for a walk. He'd follow them to the ends of the earth I think. I think kids sense his gentleness too because they seem to be drawn right to him.

In June 2010, Sam was diagnosed with Lymphosarcoma. Because they said that it had spread to his spleen, stomach, and bones we opted to not do extensive treatment. Instead, we are trying to make him comfortable and enjoy the last days we have with him.

I can see him getting weaker and I know his time will come faster than I’ll ever be ready for. Sam is 11 years old and has been such a good boy. I wish I could nurse him back to health the same way I did all those years ago. But this time I will only be able to give him his final rest. He will pass from my arms to God’s where he will no longer have pain and can run like he so much loved to do. I’ve asked God to make sure he has lots of snow too so he can continue to make his Sam angels. I know I’ll see him again one day. Just as Sam found me in the beginning, I have no doubt that he will find me again.

Katie's Story by Donna Hakala

2010-06-06T17:25:00.017-05:00

Katie was my once in a lifetime dog. The fourth pup in my first litter of Aussies, born 10/11/1998 at 5:55 PM weighing 1 pound. As I watched the pups grow and develop their personalities, I knew she was special and that she would be staying.

Katie loved working with me in training classes and being with her human and canine friends. She hated the Obedience ring, but did earn her ASCA and AKC CD titles. She loved freestyle and rally obedience as well as the conformation ring. Tracking was her favorite. I thought we would have so much more time together to do this sport together, but that wasn't going to happen.

On Nov 13, 2008 my world changed forever. Upon collecting a urine sample from Katie, I almost dropped it. It was the color of cranberry juice. She was acting fine, eating, playing and had no fever. We went to see Dr. Clayton at V.A.C.C. He ran blood tests, took x-rays and set up an ultrasound for later in the afternoon. Her urine had so much blood in it that it had to be sent to an outside lab. Everything seemed normal except for a very small shadow that was partially hidden by her rib cage. She was put on Clava mox for 10 days with a follow-up set up with her regular vet, Dr. Burns. I was terrified because Katie's Dad had passed away 3 months earlier at age 12 from cancer, and that dreadful disease was rearing its ugly head in many Aussies lately.

At her next visit, she was again fine, her vitals were normal, but her urine was continually either pink or red. A complete urinalysis and culture were sent out to a different lab. She was put on Zeniquin for 10 days. On Dec 12 more bloodwork was done.

On December 20, I feared something terrible was happening to Katie. She looked dreadful, wouldn't eat and had a high fever. Dr. Burns did more x-rays, including her lungs. These films showed 3 shadows in one lung. Dr. Burns wanted a specialist to look at them for a second opinion, but my heart sunk, I knew this was very bad. Katie was given 50 mg. of Tramadol twice a day for pain. On Monday the 22nd I got the call — yes, as we feared, it was cancer.

We talked about what to expect and what to watch for. We both agreed that Katie's comfort and quality of life was the most important thing. We added Pepcid AC and Doxy, the latter some think may slow the progress of cancer in dogs. We didn't talk about a time frame, but others I spoke to who had similar experiences thought a few weeks or maybe 2 months, because of the amount of blood in her urine and the lung tumors.

I told Katie that I wouldn't let her go without a fight and I would do whatever I could to keep her happy, but when the time came, she had to let me know and I would let her go.

She was comfortable and happy. Eating well, playing, lots of wiggle-butt, woo-wooing,
and going for walks with the other girls.

Her canine family included her Mom (Maggie), half-sister (Willow) and her favorite — Willow's daughter (Dancer).

The morning of December 31 Katie had a high fever, vomited and looked awful. Dr Burns gave her fluids and a shot of Cerenia and the Doxy was stopped. I was to give her fluids for the day, then a bland diet and cerenia tablets for 2 days. It was a blizzard outside, so we snuggled on the couch and Katie rested. The next day the only food she would eat was buttered noodles, something she would continue to eat if she wasn't feeling well.

By our appointment on January 3 she was eating well again — cooked steak and EVO red bites kibble. To stay on top of things we decided to bring Katie in every 3 to 4 weeks, unless there was a problem.

Mornings weren't a good time for her appetite, so I started playing ball in the house with her before I left for work. This seemed to help and she usually was eating as I left. She had the living room to herself, with cozy beds, the couch covered with a fleece blanket, steak, kibble, treats, and fresh water.

After work she greeted me with lots of chatter and wiggle butt. We would walk through the back woods and cranberry bog every afternoon. I would bring kibble and cooked steak, which she usually finished as we walked for an hour or so. When I had my dinner, she usually got a good portion of it...if it came from my plate it must be good!! Her energy level and weight were good and she still slept on the bed at night. I made her use portable steps to get up on the bed, which from her expression she thought was for old dogs.

On January 20 more x-rays were taken. To our surprise the tumors hadn't multiplied and had only grown slightly. We added Standard Process Canine Hepatic Support. But the blood in her urine was a big concern for many reasons, mainly because of bacteria growth, so her urine was checked every few weeks. All was well — she was playing ball, interacting with her canine family as well as her new friends and supporters that we had met while walking in different spots to keep her happy.

On April 25 she started to lose some interest in food. Tests showed bacteria in her urine, so we started her on 100mg of Zeniquin. Her bloodwork showed that we could start her on a low dose of prednisone to help her appetite. X-rays showed the tumor in her belly area had grown, but those in her lungs were the same size as before.

Again Katie bounced back and was doing well. Friday July 31 she got a great report and we made a new appointment for 3 weeks.

That weekend she didn't eat well and refused to go for her walks, but she still played ball and followed me everywhere. On Monday August 3 she didn't look right so I took her to see Dr. Burns. Her gums were pale and bloodwork showed her red blood count had dropped. He gave her an injection of Epogen, which we hoped would give us more time. We would know within 48 hours. She was fussy about her food, but ate some and drank water and broth. She still wanted to play ball and slept on the bed.

Wednesday August 5 she jumped in the car, greeted the staff at V.A.C.C. with chatter and wiggle-butt. After we went into the exam room, she looked at the cookie jar as usual, but when I gave her one she spit it out and lay down at my feet. I was shocked. I had no idea that this was it. Katie had had enough. Dr. Burns walked in and was just as upset as I was. We hadn't discussed this yet. She had defied the odds and given us such hope.

I could take her home and bring her back later; he could come to our home, or go to a special place — whatever I wanted.

Katie always loved Dr Burns and the whole staff. It was time to let her go. It was the kindest thing I could do for her, and I had promised her. I don't know how she got to the office that day. She had almost no blood pressure and her blood was like water and a pale pink. Katie had given me one last gift; she had gotten us both to a safe place where we would both be taken care of. She passed away peacefully in my arms.

The whole house was in mourning — Katie had always taken care of all of us; what would we do without her?

It has been 10 months and I still can't believe my beautiful girl is gone.

On February 6, 2010, Maggie passed away and joined Katie at The Rainbow Bridge. She was 15 years old. Dancer and Willow stay close to me. How can they understand where their family has gone?

Katie loved life and lived every minute of it. I hope she knew how much she was loved and adored. I feel her everywhere and know that we will meet again.

Katie 10/11/1998--8/5/2009

Can you help this beautiful girl?

2010-06-06T01:25:00.005-05:00

Natalie Bartizek is trying to help this adorable dog get a home. Natalie met Luke a few times and was at the Purple People Bridge outing with Luke. In fact, it is her photograph of him that has been used many times with big bridge in background.

She has rescued a sheltie/husky mix named Sox from some awful living conditions. She took her to vet today and she is on meds for ear infections and has a lump on her thigh/hip area. This has been diagnosed as Mast Cell tumor grade 1. She is friendly and sweet. She had bad fleas and has been treated as well for that and is currently staying with Natalie and her two Berners.

The Berner club is trying to find Sox a permanent foster home or permanent home asap. So far we have had no luck getting her into a breed rescue. We will not send her to the pound; it is our desire to help her find a wonderful home.

She has very good chance to be cancer free after tumor removal. She is guessed to be about three years old. She weighs 35 lbs. I have photos attached.

contact info for SOX:

Natalie Bartizek
513-331-9633
nblistmail@gmail.com

Oscar Baby, by Cindy Wilson

2010-04-21T01:28:00.009-05:00

I lost Oscar Baby to cancer on September 3, 2007.

I have fostered and raised many dogs over the past 35 years, and Oscar was, and still is, my favorite. He was a miniature dachshund that we started to foster when he was about 7. His former owner didn’t want him, and surrendered him to a rescue operation. After a month or so, we drove him to Delaware to meet a potential adoptive family – when they heard he was 7, they rejected him as too old, without even giving him a chance! I was secretly happy, because Oscar fit in to our family so well. He came home with me, I paid the adoption fee to make it “legal,” and the rest was history!

Oscar lived to play ball, and loved his stuffed and squeaky toys. He had a fiery, energetic personality so typical of a dachshund. He once won second place at an animal rescue talent show by playing ball. (Oscar was beat by a goat that could walk on his hind legs – go figure!) He won a squeaky toy which didn't leave his mouth for hours.

In late 2006, he started to get what we thought were nosebleeds – they usually occurred at night when we were sleeping. After several tests, our veterinarian diagnosed him with a cancerous nasal tumor which was inoperable. It was devastating news, but we did what we had to do - ensure that he had the best medical care, a healthy environment and oodles of love, attention and toys as always.

Oscar lived an active life until the Labor Day weekend of 2007. He wasn't hungry and slept most of the day. We took him to the vet, who was able to get fluids in to his little body, but he deteriorated quickly. The actual cause of his death was a tumor partially blocking his intestine; he died after spending less than a day in the hospital. Oscar was 14 when he died.

I don't believe that animal lovers are ever ready to see their "fur babies" pass on. Oscar Baby was a dog who seemed to be able to read my mind; he is missed very much, to say the least. He is still with us. I occasionally will get a “ghostly” nudge on my leg where his nose used to tap me.

With Oscar's passing, he allowed us to have room for another dog in need. Gertie, an 11 year old terrier mix, was adopted in February 2008. She was blind, undernourished, abandoned and so heavily matted that the local SPCA didn't know what she was. Gertie has had two surgeries and several mammary tumors removed.

My husband and I will continue to rescue older/special needs dogs for as long as we can. We are thankful for Luke, Hudson & Murphy and everyone who supports finding a cause for this devastating disease.

Puppy up!

Cindy & Don Wilson
Mechanicsburg, PA

Rudy, by Christine Birhanzl

2010-04-19T09:03:00.016-05:00

If I had to choose three words to describe Rudy they would be: loyal, best friend (I know that is 2), and gentle.

Rudy was at the Humane Society at the age of 6 months and was scheduled to be euthanized the next day. I fell in love with him, took him home and he has been by my side since. He has traveled across country with me and put up with me being a foster home for many dogs. At one point, I had 10 puppies that were abandoned that I fostered. He was always loving and gentle to any of the animals I brought home.

He was diagnosed with a cancer originating in glandular tissue (Adenocarcinoma) 3 years ago and I know that his time is limited. It is difficult to think of my life without my buddy in it. I am so grateful that the dear Lord has given me the opportunity to have Rudy in my life. Each day is a gift with him.

I am sure it is hard for some to understand how a person can learn from an animal, but I have learned from Rudy. There is a quote by Anatole France that reads; “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” My soul has been dancing since I held that little 6 month old, mange covered puppy in my arms at the Humane Society many years ago.

(Pictured is Rudy with his mom, Christine, and Rudy getting a healing massage from his friend Pickles.)

4/21/10 Update on Rudy -- Today is chemo day - Chemotherapy in the form of L ysodren. Treatment is best viewed as a means to improve quality of life, rather than increase lifespan. Rudy gets chemo twice a week.Fortunately it comes in pill form. His loyalty to me amazes me.

5/12/2010

Had a scare with Rudy the past few days. He started limping and holding his right paw up. I thought it might be his nails. Rudy has always had fast growing nails. Rudy has NEVER let me cut his nails; believe me I have tried. I have bought the best nail clippers made for dogs and he still refuses. It got to the point where all I needed to do was walk to the drawer where I kept the clippers and he would start shaking. Maybe Rudy has me trained better than I realize. Could he have learned ... start shaking and mom will feel sorry for me and let me alone? He went to the vet yesterday, had his nails cut and still limps. The doc said that he could not see anything wrong with the paw. Needless to say the past few days have been emotional for me. I try to live in the day and be thankful for all of the time I have with Rudy, but my fear of losing him seems to overwhelm me.

I have always wondered if our furry friends go to heaven. I believe they do. I try to hold on to the fact that when Rudy does leave this life and goes to heaven he will meet me again one day.

I read Luke's message to Murphy today on his blog. I sat there and cried. The love we have for our buddies. I think about all of the sadness in the world and I feel a bit selfish feeling this sad about Rudy's cancer.

Well, he is looking at me now and letting me know he wants out or food.

My boy is growing tired. He stays by my side to this day. I thank God every day for Rudy.

Ralph, by KC Tate

2010-04-17T23:03:00.008-05:00

Ralph was brought into our clinic in 1998 by a school teacher who'd found him on the children's playground. She thought he was injured since he walked with a slight limp and was slow moving. With his short little legs and from the looks of his pads, he'd been going for a long while. Once the teacher found out he was heartworm positive, she decided she didn't want him and consigned him to the pound. All of us at the clinic had fallen in love with this funny looking dog and a couple of girls decided his name should be Ralph.

When I found out he was pound bound, I told the Doc I wanted him. He had a heart murmur, but after heartworm treatment, the murmur went away. Doc estimated him to be between 2 and 4 years old. I brought him home during his heartworm treatment and discovered I had a wanderer on my hands. The first week, Ralph took off and I thought I wouldn't see him again; he had a bad case of wanderlust, plus he hadn't been neutered. A couple of days later, he came back, limping and exhausted. A couple of weeks later, he got out again and left. By the fourth day, I had given him up for gone when on a Sunday morning I was reading the paper and heard whining. Checking on my dogs, I couldn't find the source. Once I heard it again, I checked out front and there stood Ralph, whining and wanting in!

He managed to survive heartworm treatment and was immediately neutered. He decided this was a pretty good place and stuck around after that. He was also now getting regular walks - on leash!

As time passed, Ralph took to leaving if the chance arose, but would return within a half hour. I followed him one day in my car and discovered that this dog was taking himself around the block! He didn't go anywhere else but around the block. It became a joke: Ralph wanted to walk and if the opportunity presented itself, he walked himself around the block. We'd laugh and assure the neighbors he would be back.

I got on the Internet one day to see if I could figure out what breed he might be and found a dog that looked nearly identical; it was a Petit Basset Griffon Vendeen. Although the PBGV does not have front legs that point two different directions, there may have been a bit of basset hound in him and he did bay, but he definitely had the attitude of a PBGV: stubborn, independent and a sharp sense of smell.

In 2008, Ralph developed ulcers in his eyes and we visited an opthalmic specialist who was able to age him by looking at the back of his eyes with a scope. He said Ralph was 14 years old, so the vet had been close. By 2009, Ralph began developing calcium overgrowths in his scapular area (the top part of his front legs) and huge knots started developing, first on his right leg, then his left; he began to limp and was in some pain. He went on a regimen of pain pills and Glycoflex, but continued to putter right along.

Soon, he started losing his sight, then his hearing. In December, 2009, Ralph quit eating, which was not at all normal. On January 4, 2010, I had to put my good friend to rest; a necropsy revealed liver cancer, which had not shown up in previous blood work. It just came on within a couple of months and within a couple of weeks, he was gone.

Ralph was to have been an adoptable dog and many people were interested in him, but I discovered early on that he did not play well with others; he liked to chase balls, but wouldn't give them back and would try to bite you if you tried to take it. I was never able to work that out of him, so he stayed with me. An amusing note: It did not dawn on me that my neighbor's name was Ralph and now I had a dog named Ralph! I went out into the backyard one day and called for Ralph. Out of nowhere came a response – my neighbor was outside next door and thought I had called him!

Ralph also had a fetish for car interiors. I was bringing him back from the vet one afternoon when I stopped by my doctor's office. The secretary had heard Ralph's story and was delighted he was with me and went outside to see him. She came back in laughing, telling me he was so cute, especially the way he was gnawing on my door panel just like "he was eating an ear of corn". I didn't think it was real funny when I saw what he had done to the car door panel. Ralph definitely was a character and there will never be another like him.

He was truly something else and will forever be missed.

Tobey, by Sherri Murray

2010-04-16T19:12:00.017-05:00

Tobey was a rescue puppy from F.A.C.E.S. (Friends Assisting Canines with Essential Services) located in West Springfield, MA. FACES had rescued his mom, who was a purebred Dalmatian and she gave birth to a litter of 12 puppies! Tobey appeared to be a Dalmatian/black lab mix. He was all black with a white spotted chest. We adopted him on October 24, 1998.

On Easter of 2008, Tobey had a seizure and we rushed him to Shoreline Emergency Vet Clinic in Shelton, CT – wonderful people over there – and he was diagnosed with heart cancer. He had a large tumor wrapped around his heart. His heart cavity would fill with fluid/blood and keep his heart from being able to beat. They drained the fluid, kept him for a couple of days and explained our options for Tobey. We could let him continue on until the fluid filled up again and they would have to drain the fluid again when he would have another seizure or we could do surgery and have a little hole opened in the pericardial sac, which would allow the fluid to escape on its own. Either way, this was a terminal situation, but the surgery could give Tobey another year, which we felt was a long time for a puppy life.

Unfortunately, right before the surgery, they discovered his cancer was the fast growing kind (heart cancer tumors can either be fast growing or slow growing) and the surgery wouldn't give us as much time as we thought. We did go through with the surgery for Tobey and really wished we hadn't. I slept on a mattress on the floor with him for two weeks and he never really healed.

It was very difficult for him and heart wrenching for us knowing there was nothing else we could do for him. Tobey passed away in the early hours of July 2, 2008 just a month shy of his 10th birthday.

Tobey's time-line was:

* a sign: Tobey's walks were not at the same pace a year prior to his diagnosis. He seemed to have slowed down and we didn't know why. We assumed he was just getting a little older.
* seizure episode on Easter 2008 (end of March)
* diagnosed with heart cancer
* another seizure at the end of April
* surgery was done on April 29, 2008
* month of May was a long struggle with minimal improvement for Tobey
* June 1st he had another major episode and we thought we would have to let him go. We talked with his cardiologist and opted on waiting a little bit and he did rebound some.
* there were other minor episodes that left Tobey basically listless
* July 1, 2008 he had a major seizure and lost all mobility. A few hours later, he again had a seizure and we were just waiting for my husband to get home from out of town so we could all take him to the vet together. During this waiting period, Tobey was comfortable and not in pain or we would have taken him directly to the vet. At 3:30 AM, July 2, 2008, we said our final goodbye to Tobey.

Shoreline Emergency Vet was wonderful. From the moment we walked in the door to every doctor we spoke with – and there were many – everyone was kind, sensitive and very professional. We have no doubt that we got the best care we could have given our situation. This clinic did have an oncologist and cardiologist for animals. A place that you may want to add to your list of contacts:

VCA Shoreline Veterinary Referral & Emergency Center
895 Bridgeport Ave
Shelton, CT 06484
tel: 203-929-8600
fax: 203-944-9754

Well, this is the history of Tobey Murray. I did speak briefly with Luke at the library the day he was in Newtown, CT and he seemed surprised that my dog had died from heart cancer, so this is why I wanted to include Tobey's history to add to your canine cancer stories.

(Pictured is Tobey couch-lounging and sun-bathing, and with his friend Amber.)

CANCER SUCKS: BITE BACK! by Bekye Eckert

2010-04-13T01:12:00.010-05:00

My journey with Sassy began on January 2, 2007, when a compassionate Ohio animal shelter worker put out a desperate email plea to save a bonded pair of Maltese girls. They were approximately eight years old, in poor physical condition and toothless from neglect, and one had a mammary tumor. Destined for the euthanasia room, instead they were rescued and transported to me in Milwaukee for a second chance at life.

The sight of them trembling and clinging together in their transport crate was heartbreaking. But nothing in all my years of dog rescue prepared me for the sight of Sassy’s tumor: it was the size of a tangerine and dragged the ground!

Although I had surgery appointments for both girls the following day, Sassy had already gone into heat. Given her age and fragile condition, my veterinarian didn’t want to spay her while she was in heat, and didn’t want to put her through two surgeries either. So we waited eight agonizing weeks, me worrying and her hauling around this awkward, uncomfortable tumor.

I scheduled Lexie’s spay with Sassy’s surgeries so they could recover together since they were so bonded, but I needn’t have. Lexie recovered quickly and was rapidly ready to resume her new life while Sassy would require around-the-clock post-op care. She was on heavy pain medication, bruised and stitched from her collarbone to her privates, with multiple drain tubes. When you take a 2-1/2 lb tumor out of the chest of a barely 7-lb dog, it looks pretty horrifying. She would have a slow and painstaking recovery, and needed to be kept away from even her sister to avoid injury and infection. I carried her around in a laundry basket to try to give her stimulation and keep her spirits up, but even so she became very depressed. 2-1/2 months in isolation is an awfully long time. But thankfully the tumor, which was very nearly her death sentence at the overcrowded Ohio shelter, turned out to be benign and Sassy was finally free to enjoy her new life.

Having been separated for so long, however, the sisters had grown apart. But even so, they still shared many similarities.

Both were beautiful purebred Maltese, weighing around 7 pounds.

Both won my heart and subsequently the heart of my fiancé; and in the summer of 2008 both moved with me to Maryland to our new lives with a new last name. Both had been given elegant first names (Cassandra and Alexandra) which were never used.

Both share likes (baby food chicken stix, barking at cats, soft beds strategically placed in the afternoon sun) and dislikes (the evil bath mommy, hair bows, cameras).

And heartbreakingly, as we learned just a few days ago, both now share a devastating diagnosis: malignant cancer.

My husband John and I are no strangers to cancer. Lexie was diagnosed with metastatic mammary cancer last year and underwent two tumor removal surgeries in 2009. She is now nine months past her original prognosis of six months to live. While we are very grateful we are also painfully aware the disease is lurking in her tiny body, ready to strike at any time. This is the agonizing reality we live with on a daily basis.

While Lexie’s cancer battle occupied our thoughts and prayers, Sassy on the other hand was quite literally “fat and sassy,” a toothless biter with plenty of attitude! Not even Luke and the Boys were spared from her “gum and run” attacks; in fact, she enjoyed Luke’s visits so much that she would lurk outside the guest room waiting for another opportunity to give him a love bite!

We had no indication whatsoever that Sassy was sick. In fact, during her recent annual exam she got a clean bill of health. But our blissful ignorance came to an abrupt end two weeks ago when her “sassitude” and her appetite disappeared. Our wonderful vet squeezed us in on a busy Friday night. We truly didn’t know what could so suddenly be so wrong but we certainly didn’t expect what we saw on the x-rays, a diagnosis which was later confirmed by the internal medicine specialist. Sassy had carcinoma … malignant lung cancer.

While we struggle with the quality of life issue … aggressive treatment vs. palliative care … we know that these are the bittersweet days, between diagnosis and the inevitable, and that there is no way to know how many of them we will have. What we do know is that time is not on Sassy’s side as we continue to pray for a miracle cure for this horrible disease.

In honor of her “sassitude” that we hope to see again, we have chosen as Sassy’s fight slogan: CANCER SUCKS: BITE BACK!

Cassandra "Sassy" Eckert
Jan 2, 1999 ---- Apr 18, 2010

Our beautiful and spirited Sassy, diagnosed with lung cancer a mere nine days ago, lost her brief battle with the disease today. She left this world just as she lived in it: on her own terms. The Rainbow Bridge will be infinitely richer (and definitely more interesting) with her bright and relentless spirit.

WHEN TOMORROW STARTS WITHOUT ME
Author Unknown

When tomorrow starts without me,
And I'm not there to see;
The sun will rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me.
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
The way you did today,
Remembering how I'd lay my head
In your lap that special way.
I know how much you love me,
As much as I love you,
And each time that you think of me,
I know you'll miss me too.

But when tomorrow starts without me,
Please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name
And petted me with her hand.
She said my place was ready,
In Heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
All those I dearly love.
But, as I turned to heel away,
A tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I never thought
That I would have to die.

I had so much to live for,
So many sits and downs to do,
It seemed almost impossible,
That I was leaving you.
I thought about our lives together,
I know you must be sad,
I thought of all the love we shared,
And all the fun we had.
Remember how I'd nudge your hand,
And poke you with my nose?
The frisbee I would gladly chase,
The bad guy, I'd "bark and hold".

If I could relive yesterday,
Just even for awhile,
I'd wag my tail and kiss you,
Just so I could see you smile.
But, then I fully realized,
That this could never be;
For emptiness and memories
Will take the place of me.
And when I thought of treats and toys,
I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did,
My dog-heart filled with sorrow.

But then I walked through Heaven's gate,
And felt so much at home;
As God looked down and smiled at me,
From His beautiful golden throne.

He said, "This is eternity,
And now we welcome you,
Today your life on earth is past,
But here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
But today will always last;
For you see, each days's the same day,
There's no longing for the past.
Now you have been so faithful,
So trusting, loyal and true;
Though there were times you did things,
You knew you shouldn't do.
But good dogs are forgiven,
And now at last you're free;
So won't you sit here by my side,
And wait right here with me?"

So when tomorrow starts without me,
Don't think we're far apart.
For every time you think of me,
I'm right there, in your heart.

And you are forever in ours
John, Bekye, Lexie, HollyRose and your "love bite" fan club

Mr. Maxx by Marcia Siemsen

2010-02-03T20:28:00.017-06:00

Maxx started limping on his front left leg in September 2009. X-rays didn’t show anything obvious, but in the interest of safety, Maxx’s vet, Dr. Louis Brad at Gunbarrel Veterinary Clini c in Boulder, had a radiologist take a look at the films. She saw something ‘funny’ and said we should take Maxx up to CSU [Colorado State University] just to be sure. So I took Maxx up to CSU on my 57th birthday, and got the worst news possible. After a full body bone scan and bone biopsy, Maxx was presumptively diagnosed with osteosarcoma of the left proximal humerus. After hearing all the options, I elected not to amputate – Maxx is a 12 year old Great Pyrenees, and he is a big, big boy. I jokingly say that his life expectancy is about 10 years, and that he’s already out of warranty, so I didn’t want a big change for him to have to deal with in the form of an amputation.

But the doctors said that SRS (Stereotactic Radiosurgery, sorta kinda like cyber knife technology that we hear about) has similar results when coupled with chemo as does amputation and chemo. So Maxx had SRS up at CSU with the most advanced tool there is. (They call it the Trilogy). He was in the hospital at CSU for a week. The night of his bone biopsy, before SRS, he had so much pain he had heart problems, and we thought we were going to lose him. But he pulled through and sailed through the SRS with the love and support of the absolutely miraculous staff at CSU, for which we are eternally grateful.

After SRS, Maxx was scheduled for five rounds of Carboplatin. When we went to CSU for round three, we found a lump on his back which turned out to be an osteosarcoma metastases, just a short 3 months after original diagnosis. So on that day, we were SO VERY LUCKY to get Dr. Steve Withrow (IMO THE number one expert literally in the entire world on osteosarcoma) as our consult, and he said to ditch the Carboplatin and get more aggressive, and we immediately started Doxorubicin. So far, Maxx has had two rounds, and is scheduled for three more.

Doxorubicin kicks Maxx’s butt pretty good for about a week – no vomiting or lower GI problems; I think he just feels like he has the flu pretty bad and doesn’t want to eat a whole lot and he sleeps a lot. He has a special blanket that I cover him with, and he gets lots and lots of special human food to keep his strength up until he emerges from what I call the “chemo doldrums.”

After the first Doxorubicin round, Maxx immediately had surgery to remove the mass, and thanks again to his wonderful doctor at Gunbarrel Veterinary Clinic, Dr. Louis Brad, Maxx had clear margins, and a big old scar to prove it! Everyone is keeping fingers and toes and paws crossed for Mr. Maxx. He is just such a wonderful boy; everyone loves him and smiles when they see him.

He was never really sick a day in his life before the dreaded osteosarcoma came to our house. I try to say nothing but positive things around Maxx, and I refuse to cry around him. He has always been my rock, and now it’s my turn to be his. I’d like to please ask everyone in our 2 Dogs 2000 Miles community to keep Mr. Maxx in their thoughts and prayers. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, but somehow osteosarcoma managed to turn one of them into something way worse than mean. He didn’t deserve this.

4/28/2010

It is with profound sadness that I let you all know that Maxx left our world last night (April 27, 2010) here in his home with peace and dignity. He was such a wonderful wonderful boy, always kind, always loving, and always brave. He never met a human he didn't love and vice versa.

My fondest memories of Maxx will be the many times with him in the car, stopped at a red light in Louisville, and people stopped beside me yelling "Hi Maxx" at him from their cars. I had no idea who any of these people were, but they knew and remembered Maxx from everywhere he went - Lowe's, Home Depot, the Louisville Farmer's Market, the parades on Main Street, the festivals, the parks,... He was popular and unforgettable. Children flocked to him, and he just would stand there and smile.

Thank you all for your love and support over the past months. It has been a difficult journey and I hope that with the passing of time the lesson will become clearer. Right now, I'm just so very very sad and broken-hearted. But he deserved one last gift, so I gave him rest.

Marcia

The Greatest Dog in the History of Dogs — Huckleberry Finn by Laura Tidwell

2009-10-30T21:10:00.016-05:00

An old friend knew of my interest in owning a Great Pyrenees and alerted me in the summer of 1998 to a couple of Pyr pups who had just been rescued. I understand that folks had been trying to catch the mother and her pups wandering on some old farm land. The mother got away, abandoning two of the puppies. The pups were only about ten days old; they were malnourished; and they were infested with parasites, internal and external.

I made arrangements to meet the puppies in their foster home (foster parents Lynn Provident and Jeff Davis are two of God's protectors of animals here on earth), and I had an opportunity to bottle feed the four-pound puppies, cradling them over my forearm. Over the course of the next few weeks, I diligently attempted to convince the puppies' foster parents that I was worthy of adopting one – the mischievous one then called "Rex." Before he was ready for adoption, though, Rex's health took a nosedive. He was hospitalized, and the vet wasn't sure he would live. But his foster mom never gives up when it comes to the life of a dog. She persevered; he persevered; and finally he was ready to come home with me. Oh, how I loved that dog; we were as close to soul mates as a dog and a person could be.

I named him Huckleberry Finn, and he proved himself remarkably like his namesake. I like to say he was “delightfully rotten,” certainly capable of civility, but occasionally delighting in absolute mischief. A typical Pyr, he was an independent thinker. You'd tell him to do something and could see him considering whether that was something he actually wanted to do. When we signed up for obedience class, my colleagues wagered how quickly we'd be expelled. (In the end, we did graduate. In fact, we got a standing ovation during our final exam when I commanded Huckleberry to come and he came!) When we were in public, he was remarkably well-behaved. He was friendly with other dogs, loving with humans, and extremely gentle with children. I later fostered another Pyr puppy, and I adopted him as a result of, in large part, Huckleberry's love for him. Huckleberry and Klondike became inseparable. They wrestled and played, they lounged on the couch, they snuggled on the hearth. Huckleberry lived in a wonderful balance of good behavior and mischief – resting his head on the dining room table during dinner, relaxing at concerts in the park, stealing a hot dog from my boss' hand at a company event, serving as a terrific companion on long walks. (Klondike was lacking in mischief; he was just along for the ride.) It was a pretty good life.

Our Klondike had always been a bit "sickly," so although he was younger than Huck Finn it wasn't a great surprise that we lost him first. My sweet Huckleberry had a very human reaction to Klondike's death. The two of us moped and mourned for months. Right around the time Huckleberry returned to "normal" I came home to find pools of blood all over the floor and splattered on the walls, and the blood was coming from Huck's nose. We consulted our vet, and we suspected that Huck had broken a blood vessel in his nose. Things were fine for a few months…until it happened again. Our vet did probes, x-rays, biopsies, and blood work, all of which were inconclusive. Ultimately, we went to University of Tennessee College of Veterinary Medicine for a CT-scan. There, clear as day, was a massive tumor literally consuming his nasal passages (nasal adenocarcinoma).

After many tears and much discussion, my husband and I opted against radiation. In the end, I couldn't bear to abandon him for nearly two months while he was undergoing what seemed to be unbearable treatment. Instead, we tried to combat the spread of the tumor with medication. The UT Vet told me he wouldn't last a month, but I didn't believe them. I knew our time was short, and I did everything I could to give him as much enjoyment as possible. We went to the dog park; we went for countless rides in the convertible; we visited his human friends; we went on long walks; I prepared a myriad of home-made food to help him keep weight on, and when he tired of that, we went to the McDonald's drive-thru for plain hamburgers; and, of course, he had a gob of peanut butter with every pill he had to take. His quality of life was pretty darn good. Huckleberry Finn gave me a wonderful birthday gift that year – hanging around long enough to spend the day with me. Five days later, though, his body decided it had enough. Huck Finn died on November 21, 2008 more than a year after he first showed signs of cancer. He was ten years old.

I love my other dogs immensely, and I'll always have dogs. But I doubt I'll ever love another dog the way I loved Huckleberry Finn. He was the greatest dog in the history of dogs.

Solar’s Journey by Michele Handte

2009-10-30T14:37:00.012-05:00

When he was just shy of 3 years old, Solar came to live with me. Prior to that, he lived with my best friend, Kate, who happens to be his breeder. Solar always loved me from when he was a little puppy and would turn himself inside out when I showed up. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to be near the show ring when he was being shown because he always tried to leave the ring to get to me.

When he was just over two and had finished his championship, which in itself was a harrowing experience, Kate decided that she was going to place him because he would get more attention in another home. I had always told her that I wanted him if she ever decided to do that. Well, the time came, but I wasn’t in a position to bring him to my house with the six dogs I already had. So very reluctantly, I told her to give him to the other home she had for him. I knew the person, as did Solar, and knew they would take good care of him.

It was important that Solar go to someone with whom he was at least familiar. Why? Well, when he was being shown in conformation, Kate let a handler take him home for the evening because he was showing Solar all weekend. She thought it would be a good chance for them to get used to each other, and she was staying in the area. When the handler tried to take Solar out of his crate, Solar bolted and wouldn’t come close enough for them to slip their hands under his collar. By the time Kate got there, he had run off into the woods. For six days they looked for him. There had been sightings of him near the high school, which is where he seemed to want to stay. The kids started throwing food to him, but he would always run away if they tried to approach him. And of course every time Kate went to the school, he was no where to be found. Finally, on the sixth day when Kate was making one final loop before having to drive back to Pennsylvania for the night, she spotted him at the edge of the woods. When she called him, he hesitated and then realized it was her. Talk about jumping for joy!!! He was SO happy to find someone he knew!

As it turned out, Solar’s new mom ran into some tough times about six months after taking him and had to give Solar back to Kate. Kate had him for a couple of months when I decided that I needed another agility dog because Jagr absolutely hated the ring, and I just couldn’t put him through it any more.

It was at that point that Solar came to live with me and became my competition dog. He absolutely loved to do anything with me, whether it was obedience, agility, Rally, herding -- it didn’t matter. He was my dog and my dog alone. Getting along with the rest of the pack wasn’t an issue. He always respected every one of them and never offered any challenges.

For some reason, he decided that he liked to bark at my husband, Jack, when he would come home or if Jack got up to move around the house. I joked that Solar was obsessive compulsive, just like Jack. Jack really isn’t except when it comes to exercise. You don’t want to live with him if he hasn’t had his workout! But the two of them loved each other in a unique way. Jack always said that Solar’s last breath would be woofing at him.

Solar went on to be a great partner in competition and earned his OA, OAJ, NJP, NAP, CD, RAE2, PT, JHD, CGC and TDI. In addition to competing, he was a therapy dog who visited nursing homes routinely. He even did agility and obedience demonstrations at the nursing home in the summer time out in the courtyard. The smiles he brought to the elderly residents were priceless. It was so difficult to go back there after Solar passed because they all wanted to know where he was. Solar and his son, Shaman, were quite the hit with all the folks there.

Solar retired from herding (sheep) and agility in 2007 when arthritis started to creep up on him. We were still herding ducks and working on a started title when he had to have his leg amputated. Solar’s ducks haven’t been worked since.

On December 7, 2008, our world changed. We were out for a potty break at an agility trial, which I was chairing, when another dog tried to grab him by the neck. Solar tried to get away but slipped on the ice and let out a yelp. He came up lame on his back right leg. I thought it might have been a pulled muscle because he had been limping but responded well to massage therapy that weekend. Besides the initial yelp, he never cried or whined. So we went home and iced his leg and tried to keep him quiet. By Monday morning, it was very evident in his eyes that I needed to see a vet right away. So off to our vet we went. She asked to put him under so she could get better films. I agreed, so that meant I had to leave him. Then the call came – Solar had a badly fractured femur; and we needed to go to Pittsburgh right away.

On the drive down, I had a terrible feeling in my gut that he had cancer; but I tried to think positively. When Dr. Payne came into the room after looking at the x-rays, my worst nightmare came true – osteosarcoma. He explained that the only way to make Solar comfortable and try to stop the cancer was to amputate the leg. I didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t live in the severe pain he was experiencing, and there was no way I would put him down because of this. By this time it was late afternoon so they put him on a morphine drip and did the surgery the next morning, December 9, 2008. His chest x-ray was clear then.

Just a month prior, Dr. Payne had looked at x-rays sent by my vet and diagnosed osteoarthritis in his hips. Solar had been limping off and on for a couple months, and I wanted to find out why. When I reminded him that he had seen x-rays 4 weeks ago, he said he knew and just looked at them again that day. There was nothing that indicated OS on those films. My hope was that we caught it early enough.

On December 22, 2008, he had his staples removed, and we met with the oncologist. She would do 4-6 rounds of carboplatin, chest x-rays that day, half way through and at the end of the treatment. So Solar started his chemo with a clear chest x-ray on December 22, 2008. His next treatment was January 13, 2009. On January 21, 2009, I was concerned about panting at night so requested another chest x-ray. It was still clear. On February 4, 2009 Solar was scheduled for his third round of chemo, but his blood levels were too low. We waited another week, and he was able to have dose three on February 18, 2009. Dose four was March 5, 2009 and dose five was March 26, 2009. The final dose was scheduled for April 15, but his blood count was too low. Worse than that, they found three lung mets ranging in size from .8 to 1.3 cm. Our options were a couple of rounds of reduced dosage of adriamycin or go with the Metronomic protocol (Metacam, doxycyclinel & leukeran). I say reduced dosage because Solar’s MDR1 gene was mutant/normal, thus he couldn’t take all types of drugs. Adriamycin is one of the drugs on the list to avoid. After much thought, I decided it was too risky to do that and I thought I wanted to go with the Metronomic protocol, but then decided that a purely homeopathic route was better for Solar. I made that decision because of the change in his attitude when he came off the chemo. He seemed so much happier and had a great appetite. I just wanted him to be happy and continue to eat well for however long we had with him.

We started acupuncture on him, which he really seemed to enjoy. That’s the only vet from whom he wouldn’t try to hide behind his mom when the vet came into the room. We continued those treatments about every 10 days up until five days before he died. He also enjoyed his massage therapy and Reiki with his buddy, Maria. Every time she worked on him, there was such a complete calmness and contentment that came over him.

Solar went everywhere with me and missed a trip only once. That wasn’t a happy weekend for him or Jack. From the moment I left, he lay in front of the door and wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t even go to bed with Jack. Then it started ... He howled most of the night at the door. When he finally stopped howling, he whined. I promised him I would never leave him again, and I didn’t. He went to St. Louis several times with me and made many weekend trips to lots of different places. He would never leave my side. Even when Kate, my best friend, would try to take him out, he wouldn’t go. He would only leave with me.

His last trip was to Pittsburgh with Jack and me. It was a very special weekend just a couple of weeks before he left us. It was on that trip that I knew the end was coming soon. I could see him slowing down tremendously. We spent a lot of time just sitting by the river watching the boats and people go by. He was really content and happy.

On June 22, Kate and Solar’s girlfriend, Riot, came to stay overnight with us. I asked her to come and say goodbye because I knew the time was coming soon. Solar had a good day that day and enjoyed seeing both of them. Riot and Solar gave us Shaman four years ago.

It was the next day when Solar struggled to walk and started walking in circles that Jack and I discussed letting him go. His vet knew how much he hated going there so she agreed to come to our home. The decision was made and the appointment set for Friday, June 26, 2009.

Solar had a horrible night on Thursday. He just couldn’t stop coughing and wasn’t able to walk at all. We tried to reach the vet to come that night, but she wasn’t around. But I guess it was meant to be that way. Once the coughing settled, he had a peaceful night. And I had some very quiet and reflective time with him on Friday morning. It was so peaceful. I told him how very much I loved him and how much I was going to miss him, and we talked about all the fun things we’d done together and about him being able to see Jagr again. There were so many things to talk about in so little time. I could feel him hugging me as he pressed himself against me on the couch. I told him it was ok to leave me and that he would always be alive in my heart. Then it was time. He passed peacefully in my arms with his dad by my side.

The most beautiful picture of him is hanging in our family room watching over us every day. Nothing can replace his love for me, but seeing that picture helps. I have never had a dog love me with such intensity and with all his heart and soul as Solar loved me. I hope I was worthy of that love.

I love and miss you with all my heart, Solar.

Salty’s Badge of Courage

2009-10-20T00:33:00.009-05:00

It's rare that people who post to our blog share the graphic nature of their dog's treatment in photos, and I'd like to thank Lonna Coleman and Salty for their permission to allow us to post some of Salty's radiation photos. They might be disturbing for younger readers but we feel they are necessary. All too often veterinarians can unwillingly downplay the effects of radiation (and chemotherapy). As Lonna wrote to me in her email, "While considering radiation as one of the cancer treatments for Salty, I really wanted to see photos of the effects of radiation on the skin but found nothing. So, I was determined to document it during Salty's treatment with the intention of sharing it with others. Our experience has been that vets tend to downplay pet cancer and cancer treatment, possibly for the sake of pet owners. But with me and everyone I've met along the way who have pets with cancer, the fear is 'fear of the unknown.'"

Thankfully, Salty is doing very well, as you'll see in his photos. We can all learn from his experience, and I thank Lonna for contributing this detailed blog of his treatment.

A Tail of Courage over Cancer By Lonna Coleman and Salty

At 7 years old, a lump became visible on Salty’s right hip. My heart dropped! From observation only, our vet diagnosed it as a Lipoma. A sense of relief! A needle biopsy revealed a few round cells. Despair!!! Histopathy of the lump, after removal, reported it as a Grade 1 Soft Tissue Sarcoma, a tumor originating from the nerve sheath. Utter despair!!!!!

Because of the location, the right hip, one of the most common sites to administer a vaccine, our vet believes a vaccination was the cause of Salty’s tumor. [Lonna adds that, "Since Salty's tumor was caused by a vaccine, I've been doing everything possible to support The Rabies Challenge Fund.] I’ve since learned that, in regard to cancer and injection sites, it is extremely important to have our vet map out injection sights on our pet’s chart each and every time they administer a vaccine.

Because Salty’s tumor was in a difficult position, the surgeon was not able to excise the tumor with wide enough margins, typically curative for peripheral nerve sheath tumors. So, radiation therapy was recommended.

We were left with a decision to leave it and have it return within a year as a much more aggressive tumor (possibly a Grade 2 that could metastasis to his lungs), or treat the tumor with radiation, giving Salty only a 16% chance of the cancer returning in 5 years.

We soon discovered that deciding on a treatment was much more difficult than receiving the diagnosis, realizing that our decision would determine Salty’s life span and possibly affect his quality of life.

At times, we were leaning towards diet and supplements alone. But, with the exception of using Maitake mushrooms to successfully treat Lymphoma, there’s insufficient research using diet and supplements in treating cancer.

After considering these facts: Salty’s age, research proving that radiation treatment will give Salty an 84% chance of the tumor not returning within 5 years, and knowing that Salty jumps into everything head first with all of the joy and enthusiasm he can muster, we opted for radiation as well as diet and various supplements (with the exception of antioxidants and wormwood) to aid his body in its fight against cancer. We were told by our vet, as well as the oncologist, that both antioxidants and wormwood can block the effectiveness of the radiation.

In Salty’s case, the oncologist recommended 20 treatments in a period of 5 weeks. Our vet’s only concern was that Salty wouldn’t be the same dog after being anesthetized 20 times, once for each radiation treatment. But, after talking to the oncologist, our vet was extremely happy with both their procedure (an injection of Propofol, intubation and isoflurane gas), and the experience they have gained from performing such a vast number of anesthesias.

The total cost of Salty’s radiation treatments was $5562.40. And, because we didn’t have the money, it was a consideration, but definitely not the determining factor. We ended up applying the entire amount to our credit card.

Salty always entered the Portland Veterinary Oncology Center taking the place by storm, rushing in to meet and greet everyone in the building with his whole body wagging. And then, he led them down to the room containing the linear accelerator saying, "AWOOO" (his expression of ultimate joy) just before they "knocked him out". This “ritual” continued through all 20 treatments.

Each treatment took approximately 30 minutes, from the time Salty went with them until the time he was returned to me (ready to walk out of the building and jump into the car). The bulk of the time was taken up with putting him to sleep and waking him up (the radiation itself took only a matter of seconds).

The last 3 radiation treatments and the following two weeks were the hardest part for both Salty and I. When Salty started experiencing a lot of pain in the irradiated area after his 17th treatment, it was very hard to bring him in for the next 3 treatments, knowing it would hurt him even more after it was already hurting him so much. Salty was also beginning to show signs of a 2nd degree burn in the area of the incision where the tumor was removed. Over the next 3 days, this spread over the entire area. The extreme skin tenderness and the 2nd degree burn were the only side effects Salty experienced from the radiation treatments.

Several times a day, I needed to soak the area with Epsom salts and apply an all purpose salve from Wise Wo man Herbals. It was too painful for Salty to accept the salve in the beginning, so I sprayed the area with refrigerated Aloe Vera until I could apply the salve.

Our greatest challenge was preventing Salty from licking the irradiated area, and it was vital that he didn’t so as not to affect the healing process. We were told that it was very important to prevent him from scratching, licking or chewing, since the skin in this area is easily injured. After several days of frustration and sleepless nights, I came up with a solution that worked, an E-collar AND a No Bite Collar because neither one of them worked alone!

It took almost 3 weeks after the final radiation treatment for the entire area to heal, and the only thing we are presently applying to his skin is Vitamin E. We were told that the side-effects of the radiation on the skin and coat of dogs receiving the same treatment can vary with each dog. So, we can only wait and see, but Salty’s hair has been coming in on the outer edges and slowly working its way towards the center (causing the area to become smaller as time goes by).

We’ve never regretted our decision, especially after meeting and talking with a lady who was going to the Oncology center during the same period of time. She was having her cat treated with radiation for a Soft Tissue Sarcoma as well. Her vet removed it once, it returned in 6 months, her vet removed it again, it returned in 3 months, her vet removed it again, it returned in 1 month. At that point, she opted for radiation treatment. I was told that Salty would have had the same case scenario if we didn’t choose radiation. After radiation, there’s only a 16% chance that the cancer will return in 5 years. We’re hoping that Salty will be within the 84%!

photos from top to bottom:

Salty at AKC Central Point 2009
Salty and friend
Salty's surgical/radiation wound
Wound healing nicely
"Open Jumpers"
"Open Weavers"
"I AM A Cancer Survivor!"

Kava and Taz by Laureen Straw

2009-10-13T00:46:00.008-05:00

I had the pleasure of meeting Luke, Murphy and Hudson at the Berks County Animal Rescue League's "Carnival for the Animals" in the Reading, PA. area on October 11. Poor Luke didn't even have a chance to sit down at his booth with the boys before I approached him and bombed him with questions. He was very gracious and answered every one of them. I only recently learned about his adventure and the disease he is bringing so much attention to...cancer. I lost one of my Schipperkes, Kava, in June of this year and I have another one, Taz, who's days with us are numbered.

Luke asked that I email my story so here it is as best as I can tell it.........

My husband and I adopted Kava in March 2001 from the Berks County Animal Rescue League. I'll never forget the day I saw him. I went in to donate supplies and walked through to see the animals. There he was in a kennel as soon as I walked through the door. He had a squeaky toy in his cage and brought it over to me and dropped it at the door with the biggest doggy smile I had ever seen. I fell in love instantly and my husband and I adopted him. It was obvious he had a rough life until then. At the time, our vet estimated he was about 8 years old. When we brought him home, he and our other Schip, Taz, became buddies and our favorite thing to do was to go for walks together along the trails of Blue Marsh Lake.

Last October, Kava developed a tumor on his paw that was surgically removed and disintegrated so they could not conclusively tell if it was cancerous. After that, his weight started dropping and he managed to stay with us until June of this year. It wasn't proven but we are all pretty sure it was cancer. He was always such a happy boy and gave us so many years of joy. Above is a picture of him from October of last year at Halloween.

Now, Taz has a large inoperable tumor on his side and is also losing weight rapidly. Today is his birthday...He is 17 years old! Here is a picture of him with his party hat right after having some special treats to celebrate. We know our time with him is limited and every day is precious as it was with Kava. We take comfort in knowing Kava is waiting for him at the Rainbow Bridge where they will be together again.

I lost both parents and other family members to cancer. It is a disease I would like to see a cure for in my lifetime for both people and animals. As I told Luke I admire him and the boys for drawing awareness and support for a most worthwhile cause. I wish him, Murphy and Hudson a safe journey!

Bon by Linda M. Scarborough

2009-10-12T12:30:00.009-05:00

I wanted to share the following story about my faithful companion. I became aware of you and your efforts today and I can't thank you enough for what you are doing for canine cancer. It is a passion for me and Malcolm's story has touched me deeply. I hope my story will inspire you and your efforts! Thank you!!!

My golden retriever is nine years old now. March 13, 2009 was his second anniversary as a cancer survivor.

In January 2007, I came home from work one evening and was sitting in my computer chair. My dog, sitting facing me, was still excited that I was finally home. As he was panting with his mouth open, I noticed a lump between his cheek and his jaw on the inside of his mouth. I called my husband to the room since I had never noticed this before. Upon getting a second opinion from my husband, we made an appointment to see our vet that weekend. Our vet said the lump needed to be removed and biopsied. Following the outpatient surgery, he said further steps would have to be taken if the area grew back. We watched and waited. The report on the biopsied area came back "inconclusive." Bonham Lance, "Bon" as we call him, returned for his check up after a few weeks and the vet confirmed that the lump was growing again.

Our veterinarian referred us to the Virginia-Maryland Regional College of Veterinary Medicine at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia. I started talking with my friends and family that had experienced treatment with their pets at that facility. Based on their experiences, I prepared to spend several hours meeting with experts that could hopefully diagnose and cure my beloved pet. A young student named "Maggie" seemed very compassionate as she examined Bon. Then a young man examined him and didn't hesitate to tell us that Bon would be staying with them. He would have surgery the following day to remove his lower jaw. They told us that they would try to leave his left canine tooth if possible. I wasn't prepared to hear that we would be leaving him and that surgery would be performed so soon. My emotions got the best of me in that stark examining room and the tears continued to flow as I drove back home without my dear dog.

Once I got home, I began to research canine mouth cancer online. I saw some photographs that showed dogs with their tongue dangling out of the side of their mouth. I also read that they would drool and slobber as a result of this operation. I am thankful that I prepared myself for the cosmetic changes that could occur as a result of this operation.

As I sat nervously at my desk the next day, Maggie called frequently to give me updates on his surgery and his recovery progress. I just kept telling myself that "he is young and strong and he will be okay." Maggie finally revealed that they had to remove his canine tooth in order to get enough of a margin on each side to assure that the cancer had been completely removed.

Bon continued to make great strides with his recovery and we were actually able to pick him up a few days earlier than expected. It took about two weeks before we received the official results of his surgery, but we finally learned that all of the cancer had been successfully removed.

The next few months were learning experiences for all of us. He wore a "lampshade" as we called it, but it was actually an "E-collar" to prevent him from scratching his mouth while it continued to heal.

When he was a puppy, we had struggled to find a food that he liked. He had a sensitive stomach and sensitive skin and we settled on a special dry food that seemed to agree with him.

Throughout the first seven years of his life, he had never really had a big appetite like most dogs. Changes followed his operation. The Blacksburg vet hospital sent us home with canned food and instructed us to make the food into small balls for him to eat. It was very discouraging at first as he struggled to learn how to chew and manipulate this new food in his mouth. His mouth would go one way and his tongue would go another. It reminded me of a young child eating solid food for the first time. It was not a neat process. He didn't seem to have any desire for water and we worried about dehydration. After consulting with the vet, they instructed us to put chicken broth in the water to create a stronger desire for him to drink. We were also told that he was actually getting a sufficient amount of water from the canned food and that he may not drink as much as when he was eating dry food. We eventually weaned him off of the chicken broth and now he drinks regularly and has the best appetite that he has ever had in his life.

I found myself always looking for easier ways for him to eat. I purchased a kitchen gadget used for making melon balls and I use this to scoop his food into edible meatballs from the can. I also discovered a large plastic, elevated feeder with two wide bowls. Not only has this made it easier for him to eat, it has made it easier for me to clean.

We had been living in Roanoke, Virginia during this time. A week after Bon's surgery, my husband found out that we would be relocating to Richmond with his job. My first thought was that we would be forced to leave our wonderful vet. We moved to Richmond in June 2007 and I spent the first few weeks in our new city visiting dozens of veterinary facilities throughout the area to find the perfect place that could accommodate our dog for boarding and care. I am happy to report that we have been very pleased with our final decision.

Last year on one of our daily walks following his surgery, a lady yelled at us to see if our dog would like a drink from her water hose. While we had quickly adapted to his dangling tongue, it was apparent that others, like our neighbor, thought he looked extremely thirsty.

Most recently while we sat in the waiting room at the veterinary office, one man commented to his wife that our dog had the longest tongue that he had ever seen. We never stop to elaborate on why our dog has a long tongue as we have come to overlook this characteristic that makes him look a bit different than other dogs.

We will celebrate his tenth birthday in November and hope to have our wonderful companion around for many more years to come!

Meggie’s Story by Cindy Taylor

2009-08-20T02:01:00.004-05:00

I was in a meeting at work when a colleague tracked me down, phone message in hand. Call your doctor, it said, and further down the note was the phone number of my veterinarian, Dr Debbie Cowan (NCSU DVM - 93). A chill went through me. Three nights before I’d felt swollen glands under my nine-year-old golden retriever’s neck, the next morning, a trip to the vet’s office, then a fine needle aspirate. With tears in her voice, I heard Dr Cowan say, “Meggie has lymphoma.” It was January 2008 and the next week a biopsy confirmed the results. Without hesitating, we had an appointment with the NCSU vet school oncologists and Meggie’s journey began.

Meggie was my son’s dog. Chosen from her litter at 4 weeks old, she came to live with us a few weeks later and this family of two suddenly couldn’t remember what life was like without a golden retriever to share it. Now nine years later, my son was a sophomore at NCSU and Meggie had become my dog, my reason to come home each day. I wasn’t ready to face life without her.

The oncologists were straight to the point; no treatment meant Meggie had 4-6 weeks to live. Unacceptable. Steroid treatment alone could give her a couple months. Not enough time. Full chemotherapy followed by half-body radiation treatments was the best they could offer at the time. A year, maybe more if we were lucky. “Go for it,” I said.

Meggie‘s chemo was complicated by her heart murmur and a difficult reaction to one of the chemo drugs. Also she was diagnosed t-cell lymphoma, the more aggressive form, but her remission came fast and it stuck. By the summer of 2008, Megs had finished radiation and though her beautiful coat came out by the handful, she was by all accounts, well and cancer free.

By the fall of 2008 her coat was coming back and the itch she’d developed in the hot summer months was subsiding. Still during the weekend of Thanksgiving, I knew something was terribly wrong. An emergency trip to Raleigh found Meggie admitted to ICU with aspiration pneumonia and a diagnosis of me gaesophagus. Had her lymphoma returned undetected? Oncology resident Dr Angela McCleary-Wheeler worked tirelessly, questioning, researching, and looking for an answer and a treatment. No lymphoma was found, but a neurological condition, myasthenia gravis, was later determined. I was told that megaesophagus dogs don’t usually live long, but with new methods of feeding Meggie, we adjusted and amazingly Meggie’s energy returned to pre-cancer levels. The weeks of questioning had brought about a realization: Meggie was alive 11 months after a diagnosis of t-cell lymphoma. “A miracle,” the oncologists said.

With Meggie’s renewed spirit I began to count the months. Her year anniversary came and went and we decided it was time to think about giving back.

Ironically, the month before Meggie was diagnosed, I had read of Morris Animal Foundation’s Cure Canine Cancer Campaign. I ordered Meggie a dog tag that contributed and learned of the connection between canine cancer and human cancer. A cure for one is a cure for both.

Knowing that our local American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life would be held in the spring, I wanted Meggie to walk the Survivor Lap. Would a dog be allowed? I emailed the organizers and found the reaction overwhelming. They would be thrilled for Meggie to participate! I immediately created her a Relay event page and posted it on the Golden Retriever Forum, whose members had been my emotional support during Meggie’s treatment. Within minutes, donations began to add up. What fun, I thought; Meggie can raise some money for cancer research.

Within twenty-four hours, Meggie had exceeded her $200 goal and still the donations came. People began donating in memory of their beloved dogs lost to this devastating disease, and in honor of the dogs that currently shared their lives.

Soon a new idea evolved; Meggie’s Survivor Lap would embrace the memory of the dogs on her fundraising scroll. Her purple survivor shirt was altered to fit and it began to quickly fill with names like, Bailey, Chance, Tess and Riley.

One member wrote a news release and shared it with local and national media. The Winston-Salem television station, WXII, picked up the story and posted it on their web page. Meggie was invited on their morning show the day of the Relay and the evening news covered her lap, which she proudly led as the Stokes County Relay for Life official mascot.

Meggie collected donations from 28 states, Canada, The United Kingdom and Australia. The $3907 she raised was the highest of any individual to walk in her event this year.

The messages from people telling me how much Meggie means to them, by surviving the odds, walking Relay, being an ambassador of hope, helping educate others on the connection between canine cancer and human cancer keep coming. The evening of the Relay, Meggie rode into the high school stadium in her wagon lovingly decorated by people involved in the event, people we had never personally met. All around we heard excited voices saying, “There’s Meggie!” “Meggie’s here!” and “I saw her on the news!”

Meggie is now 11-years-old and maintaining her remission. She is still my reason to come home each day and I am greeted with joy and bouncing and golden smiles. But she no longer belongs to just me. I share her with the people around the world who call her their hero. And for one special night in May, I shared her with the people of Stokes County, North Carolina.

Bailey by Sarah Fairbrother

2009-08-18T13:29:00.005-05:00

Bailey came to our home as a foster dog through Rudy's Rescue, a Labrador Retriever rescue in Rochester, NY that rescues dogs from kill shelters all over the country and gives them a second chance at life by finding them forever homes. Bailey’s owners had decided to move out of state and left her off the packing list.

She was in rough shape, even for a 10 year old Lab. She hadn't been vaccinated properly in a few years; her teeth were worn and yellow; arthritis caused her to hobble; and she had two softball-sized fatty growths, one on her side and one in her groin area, both of which hampered her mobility even further.

In the beginning she could barely make it up and down the four steps on our porch to go outside for the bathroom. She spent all her time in her crate, often refusing to come out. She was sad, confused and depressed.

Thinking the growths on her side and groin were merely fatty deposits, we still decided that removing them could do nothing but improve her quality of life. We soon heard back from the vet that the growths were malignant Grade 3 tumors. We were devastated but wouldn't know more about her prognosis until we could get her in a week later for a chest x-ray.

In just a week and a half after her surgery, Bailey blossomed and her personality was finally shining through. She would excitedly jump around and play with our two other dogs, even play with toys and bring them to us to tug or throw for her. So the bad news that we assumed was imminent was going to be tough for us to swallow. Here is this dog that finally started living after what we can only imagine was a string of bad years being neglected and unloved… We knew one thing for certain. Regardless of the news we were about the hear, we would do everything in our power to make her remaining time the best it could be, whether it be years or just a few days.

The day we went back to get the results of the chest x-ray was tough. The week leading up to her appointment felt like an eternity, not knowing what we were going to hear, but preparing for the worst. Dr. H. walked into the room and delivered the news. He was shocked at what the x-rays had revealed. He could not be happier about what he saw–nothing! He was expecting her to be riddled with nodules of tumors throughout her body and that just wasn't the case. She was tumor free. He explained to us that the tumors were mast cell tumors, a form of sarcoma that was localized to the growths themselves. It's hard to say what the progression of the tumors were since we don't know how long they were there, but we do know that they are history!

We truly believe that Rudy's Rescue saved Bailey's life. And we are very proud to be a small piece in the puzzle that makes it possible for Rudy's to operate and continue to save the world, one dog at a time. Bailey looked cancer square in the face, saw the new lease on life that Rudy’s granted her and kicked its butt. And now she's running and playing and loving life, and certainly not looking back. TAKE THAT CANCER!

We hope to find Bailey a forever home so she can live out the rest of her retirement and get all the belly rubs, ear scratches and love she could ever possibly want. Her profile and information can be found at www.RudysRescue.org where she and several other Labs are awaiting the loving homes that they deserve.

We hope that someday Rudy’s Rescue will no longer be needed and every animal will have a place to call home, but in the meantime we will continue to be the voice for these animals and let them into our hearts and homes so that they can have a better life.

Rocky’s Story by Kathy Tristan

2009-08-18T01:10:00.009-05:00

Valentine’s day 2001. Our daughter, Eileen, who was a junior in high school, brought home a black and tan ball of fur with huge paws and announced she had bought a Rottweiler. My husband, John, less than thrilled, asked who was going to take care of him. Eileen said “I am. He’s mine.”

It didn’t take long for the whole family to fall head over heels in love with the fur ball who came to be known as “Rocky” or “Rocky Boy” or “Rockers” or “Rocky Poo.” He was obviously intelligent. We all got involved with his care and training. For the first couple of weeks I took him to work with me and kept him in my office while I taught my P.E. classes at a local elementary. After a bit I came home during the day to let him out and play with him for a while. Eileen got a real taste of “motherhood” when he wouldn’t sleep at night and she had to take care of him and get up in the morning for school.

Time went on and the boy grew. AND THE FEET KEPT GROWING! By the time he was finished growing he was 122 pounds and his feet were bigger than the palm of my hand. He was a gentle giant and oh so loved.

The true test of Eileen being able to take care of him came on July 11, 2007. Eileen and I took Rocky to the vet a week earlier because we noticed he was limping yet it didn’t seem to slow him down much. The vet, not wanting to get too invasive, thought maybe he had strained his ankle joint from all the hard running and cutting he did or was developing arthritis so he prescribed anti-inflammatories and said if it didn’t look like it was getting any better by the following Monday to bring him back in and he’d take an x-ray.

It didn’t get any better. In fact it seemed to be getting a little worse. So, back we go to the vet. Dr. Craig Meyer of Lake Travis Animal Hospital in Austin, Texas took the x-ray and came back to show us, “The last thing I thought this would be…”. He truly thought he would see some arthritis but he said the word…OSTEOSARCOMA. I knew immediately what he was saying but knew I had to hold it together for Eileen who was now a senior in college. In fact she was in her last semester. She waited to hear him explain what this meant. She held it together pretty well until we went to check out. She gave me her wallet and she took Rocky outside and cried like she had never cried before. Upon leaving the clinic we both were sobbing.

I called John and he was devastated. Eileen called her boyfriend and he was in shock. The hardest part was yet to come. Telling Eileen’s siblings who were 13 and 19. As soon as we got home, Brianne, the 13 year old, asked what the doctor said. I held her and then told her that Rocky had cancer. She immediately started to scream, “NO!” and fell into a lump on the floor. Ian, the 19 year old wasn’t home. I called him to see when he would be home. He was at lunch with his girlfriend. He also asked what the doctor said. I told him I would talk to him when he got home. He insisted I tell him. I kept insisting I would tell him when he got home. Finally, he broke me and I told him Rocky had bone cancer. The line went silent. In 5 minutes Ian came in the front door. And immediately went to Rocky and bawled like a baby. He and his girlfriend had immediately left the restaurant and come home.

We then told the family of the options and prognosis. Eileen called to make an appointment with the Texas Veterinary Oncology Clinic in Round Rock, Texas, a short 8-9 mile drive from our house. We insisted they be frank. The doctor explained that amputation and 4 rounds of chemo were the protocol. Eileen asked if that would cure him and she said, “More than likely not. It would actually stimulate the cells to spread.” Kind of like when the cat’s away the mice will play scenario. Amputate the source and the cells get even more aggressive. But Eileen heard the words 4 weeks if you do nothing and 9 months if you do the protocol. That’s all she needed to hear. Yet, she had a very difficult time making her final decision. She didn’t want to make the wrong decision. After all, what if Rocky didn’t take to only having 3 legs? She didn’t want him to be mad at her.

I took the other road and started surfing the web. I found a Yahoo group called “www.bonecancerdogs.org.” I found this group to be more than helpful yet I couldn’t get Eileen to look at them. It was as if she wanted to avoid dealing with the whole thing. Yet she knew she had to make a decision. Finally, after many conversations with her, one night while she was in the shower I printed and placed on her bed excerpts from the site. I think the most compelling thing I put in the document was “Whatever decision you make it will be the right one for you and your dog.” She came out to tell everyone goodnight and turned to go to bed and sat down on the step in our living room and began to cry. I asked her what was wrong. She said, “I know Rocky needs the surgery. I don’t want him to be in pain.” Of course, in my mind I’m screaming, “THANK GOD. We finally have a decision.” But it had to be her decision. After all, as she told us 6 ½ years earlier he was her dog. So, we began to think of how she could pay for all of this. Remember, she is a senior in college. We gave her a car for her graduation so she decided to take out a bank loan and put her car up for collateral.

July 24, 2007. Surgery day. Rocky goes in for the amputation. He ended up staying until the 26th. He wasn’t up and moving like they wanted him to be. They assured us he would be back to his old self in a few days. HA! Rocky was depressed, wouldn’t get up for anything. Water was brought to him to drink and food was literally shoved in his mouth. This went on for almost 3 weeks. The first weekend in August, Brianne and I were going out of town and Eileen had a weekend babysitting job, leaving John to care for the depressed pup. He was scared to death because he didn’t want anything to happen on his watch. He was able to get Rocky to eat though. He made him some chicken and rice and he gulped it down so when I got back we made some more and he wouldn’t touch it. So, I did something I swore I would never do. I started making him doggie versions of people food. Chicken liver meatloaf. See, I didn’t want him to get used to this diet because our budget just couldn’t afford it. So, we gradually weaned him from the special diet and mixed his regular food into it until the special food was all gone. He was still moping around and was on and off his food.

One night at about 1 am (I am off in the summer and I am a night owl) the kids and I were watching TV when Rocky stood up and started staring in the direction of the fireplace and dancing around. We looked but didn’t see what he was looking at. Finally, Ian said, “Mom, he’s looking at his leash.” As soon as I picked it up Rocky went nuts. Jumping, dancing, barking, panting. So I moved towards the door and opened it. He flew out the door and kept going. We had finally reached the turning point. He didn’t ever get that leash on him that night. I jogged with him. We came back and everyone was so excited. Rocky was back!

Rocky did quite well through all of his chemo treatments and all his chest x-rays were coming back clear. The oncologist was even excited. She told us at his last appointment that he no longer needed to come in for x-rays. At that point even she thought he had a chance. This was in April 2008. The nine month mark since his diagnosis and amputation.

In December 2008 he wasn’t eating much and was lethargic. I called Eileen and she made an appointment with Dr. Craig. He didn’t see anything at this point. He had only lost about 3 pounds but his weight was still over 100 which we were told was the weight we wanted to keep him above. See he dropped from 122 to 116 right after the surgery and finally settled in at 106.

After Christmas the lack of appetite continued as well as the lethargy. So, we took Rocky back to Dr. Craig. He did a CBC and an x-ray. His white cell count was not where it should be and the x-ray showed fluid in his lungs as well as what appeared to be some masses. These masses also appeared on his upper heart and liver. He went ahead and drained the fluid and said to keep an eye on him. It was a Friday evening just before closing time. He said if we needed anything to call him during the night. If we felt he needed more fluid drained to come back and they would take care of it. We went back the next morning. Dr. Jason Foster took Rocky and drained a liter of fluid off his lungs. Jason was direct as I had asked him to be. He said we needed to say our goodbyes over the weekend and expect for Rocky to leave us during the next week. Eileen was the strong one this time. I completely broke down crying. Eileen said, “Mom stop.” We drove home in silence. This day was exactly 18 months since his diagnosis.

I spoke with Dr. Craig during the week about how to handle the euthanasia. I told him Eileen wanted Rocky buried in the backyard and he agreed to come to the house at the end of the day on January 15, 2009. The night of the 14th Rocky hardly slept because he had such a hard time breathing. Eileen woke me at 3 AM and I told her it was time to put him out of his misery. She agreed. I told her I’d call Dr. Craig first thing in the morning to alter our plans. We would now take Rocky to the clinic and then bring him back home. The family wanted to be there. All except Brianne who went on to school. I think she didn’t want to see him after he was put down. So, I called Dr. Craig but he wasn’t in yet. He called me back as I was taking Brianne to school. He said he would still come to the house as soon as he could rearrange the schedule. So, I called home and told John and Eileen. What I didn’t know was they had already coaxed Rocky into the car. Poor baby. So, now they had to take him out and get him back into the house.

When Dr. Craig got to the house Rocky was lying on a sheet on the living room floor. We all circled around him. We each had a hand on Rocky. He looked at all of us as if to say, “It’s been a fun ride, thanks for all the love and thank you for doing this for me.” Dr. Craig began the cocktail. I held Rocky’s head in my hand and he peacefully drifted away to The Bridge where he had 4 legs and was once again healthy.

After Dr. Craig left we carried him in a wagon to the spot waiting for him under his oak tree. We told him goodbye one last time. He was lowered into the crevice in the ground facing the tree. Eileen tucked his favorite toy under his remaining front leg, we gave him a few more pats and touches, then covered him in the sheet he was carried out in and began to cover him with dirt. Understand, we live in the hill country in central Texas so the dirt doesn’t run very deep. We bought bags of top soil to cover him. Ceremoniously, we placed the dirt over him. Mourning doves flew from the tree at that moment. WOW! What a sign.

My hardest day was the next one when I went back to work. Having to keep it together all day. I came home and went outside to sit by Rocky and the tears just flowed. I sobbed for a solid half hour. I’m sure my neighbor behind me thought I was nuts. Oh well.

The days have slowly gotten easier but even sometimes seeing his picture in the digital frame in the living room can cause me to get teary eyed. Brianne finally dealt with it in her own way. We were in the backyard pouring more dirt over Rocky and I asked her to come help. She poured the last bag over him and the tears finally began to flow. At that moment she decided we needed to build a sitting area around Rocky. Kind of a meditation spot. A place to go and think. So, we have made plans and cleared the area of the kids old playscape. When the weather cools down from the 100+ we are now having we plan to really get started on it.

Dr. Craig has been a godsend. Not only did he care for Rocky but he visited with me at school on occasion to see how everyone was holding up. See, Dr. Craig is the husband of one of our teachers and also a parent at my school. Thank you for all you did to make this journey more bearable.

Most of all, thank you Eileen for bringing this beautiful boy we called Rocky into our lives.

Rocky
January 7, 2001 – January 15, 2009

Lexie by Bekye Eckert

2009-08-18T00:18:00.006-05:00

We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan. - Irving Townsend

Lexie came into my life after I received this email from an Ohio shelter’s rescue coordinator on January 2, 2007:

Snowball and Baby Girl are both eight years old. Neither one has any teeth. Snowball has an underarm tumor that needs veterinary attention. Their owner is now in a nursing home and has not been able to properly care for them for a long time. They are both in need of a grooming. Neither dog has ever been around children. If you can help with either of these two girls, please contact me immediately.

One look at the picture attached to the email and I was determined to move heaven and earth to save those little girls! They had arrived at the shelter filthy, matted, toothless and terrified. Baby Girl (now Lexie) had a crude tattoo in her ear, indicating she might have been a breeder dog in one of Ohio’s many puppy mills. Her companion’s “underarm tumor” was the size of a tangerine! Given their age, lack of socialization and deplorable physical condition, their chances of being adopted were nil. In fact, many dogs who arrive at shelters with tumors like Snowball (now Cassandra, nicknamed Sassy) had, would have been immediately euthanized.

The small dog rescue group I founded, New Beginnings Shih Tzu (& Friends) Rescue, accepted both girls into the foster program. My friend and fellow rescue volunteer Sharon Hines in Columbus coordinated the intake and temp fostered them until transport to me in Milwaukee. When they arrived, Sassy had just gone into heat, so we had to wait 8 nail-biting weeks before her tumor could be removed, and both girls spayed. Thankfully the tumor was benign. By the time these tiny diamonds in the rough blossomed into the beautiful gems I knew they were, they had totally taken up residence in my heart. In 2008 the girls and I moved to Maryland to join my fiancé, John, and Sharon adopted them for us as a wedding present. Hence they have names that weigh more than they do!

In early 2009, nearly two years to the day since Sassy’s successful mammary tumor surgery, we noticed a small hard lump on Lexie’s abdomen. Lexie was as bright-eyed, perky and happy as ever, but knowing the increased mammary cancer risks of dogs spayed later in life, we opted for surgical removal even though she was ten years old. My vet discovered two other, smaller lumps during the surgery and all were biopsied. We weren’t particularly worried as Lexie did not act sick, so the biopsy report was unexpected and totally devastating: malignant metastatic mammary cancer with lymphatic involvement. I cried for days; the very thought of this beautiful little girl’s body being invaded by such a horrible disease was just so awful.

John and I are no strangers to cancer. John’s late wife, Peggy, a passionate advocate for the animals and longtime cat rescuer, battled with cancer for four years before it extinguished her life far too young. I do senior and special needs rescue and have lost seven precious little ones to it: Harley in 2003, Lady Jane and Hiker in 2004, Tiki and JJ in 2005, Blaze in 2007 (two months after Lexie’s rescue), and Franklin in 2009 (two months after Lexie’s diagnosis). But I don’t care how many times you lose loved ones, it never gets easier. And it’s especially heartbreaking watching one as incredibly sweet and loving as Lexie truly need a miracle.

Lexie recovered rapidly and well from her first surgery. As soon as I would let her out of the “sick bed” (a portable soft-sided playpen I keep for dogs in recovery) she immediately returned to her first alert duties, barking at the outside cats and running to the door to announce the arrival of just about anything or nothing at all. She was lively and playful and still did not act sick.

We began supplementing Lexie’s diet with Colostrum, Missing Link and fish oil capsules, which Lexie didn’t mind so long as they were presented properly: surrounded by copious amounts of Braunsweiger. (Ick! says me, the vegetarian.)

In late June 2009 (four months after the original surgery) the evil disease reared its ugly head again. We found a small hard lump on her shoulder and another one on her abdomen near the original surgical site. And to compound the terrifying turn of events Lexie, who was never a big eater anyway, was starting to lose weight. John and I were so scared for her that we couldn’t even talk about it. Our vet ran her through all the tests (again) to determine her suitability for surgery (again). While we both know that with her diagnosis all we were doing was rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, we and Dr. Gividen agreed that if surgery could give her additional time/quality of life, it was worth it.

She was determined to be as good a surgical candidate as she could be given her age and disease; however, the weight loss was a concern. We started giving her Pepcid to quell nausea and “doggie junk food” to tempt her palate, and even resorted to hand-feeding her when we couldn’t inspire her to eat any other way. She obligingly gained back nearly half of the pound she lost. When you have a 7-lb dog with malignant cancer, you celebrate even the smallest of victories.

Lexie underwent a second surgery on July 24 to remove the new tumors, which we had biopsied. The report confirmed our worst fears: more malignant metastatic cancer which had spread either through the lymphatic or vascular systems. The margins weren’t “clean” so the devastating disease is still in here, lurking, waiting to strike again. Every day is bittersweet … full of gratitude that she is still here and enjoying quality of life, but tinged with the sobering knowledge of the inevitable.

John and I celebrated our one year anniversary on August 1, 2009, with our precious little Lexie still bright-eyed, happy and loving, and diligently performing her first alert duties. We agreed to serve on the committee for a Blessing of the Animals to be held at our parish on October 4, and we hope our Lexie will be there with us to be blessed at that ceremony. We know time is not on her side or ours, but we continue to pray for a miracle cure for the devastating disease of canine cancer.

Chance – A Bond That Will Never Be Broken by Christin Lynch

2009-08-17T01:13:00.010-05:00

Where do I begin with Chance? Well, it all started about 10 ½ years ago when I received a phone call from a friend who had a puppy that she could not keep. I had just moved out of my parents’ house and was missing my pets from home. What was the harm in looking, I thought. Well, it was love at first sight. There before me was this tiny little bright white pup trying to climb onto the bed. He was way too small to get up there, and danced around hopping on his back feet till he noticed that there was someone new in the room. He was the cutest thing that I had ever seen and we instantly hit it off.

I took him home and was a little concerned that I wouldn’t be able to take care of him so I called my mom and asked for help. She told me to schedule an appointment at a local vet, find a local pet store and stock up on chew toys ‘cause he was going to need them. Then she asked me what I had named him. Name…hmm. I hadn’t thought about that until I remembered that there was this cute dog in a movie that he looked like and his name was Chance. Chance sounded like a good name too but it was a shame he would never really know that he had a name.

After a couple of months I had noticed that he never came to me when I called his name. Sure, he came when I motioned him to come but I never put the two together. So I took him back to the vet and there I found out that my cute little pup was deaf. They had told me that his ear canals were not fully developed and that I was in for some hard work.

Chance being deaf never really was that difficult to adjust to. We started off slow with hand signals and we had so much trust in each other that it almost came naturally. Before I knew it, he would come, sit, stay, shake, and lie down. He also never would go further than maybe 20 feet before checking to see where I was. So it all worked out and I never really thought too much about it. I talked to him, called his name when I motioned for him to come; it was, dare I say, easy for us.

Over the years we shared many memories that I will cherish forever. From camping trips and lake visits. Oh yeah, he even rode sea-dos with us at the lake. We covered many miles together. One of Chance’s favorite places was the beach. He loved to swim. It didn’t matter where we were – if there was water he was in it. My mom had a swimming pool and he would never get out of it. He loved jumping off the diving board, especially onto your head. If you were floating on a raft he would make every effort to get onto it too.

All these great memories were much needed because on May 21st the worst news was delivered to me and that was when he was diagnosed with lymphoma. I had noticed some hard small balls in his throat and when I had made an appointment with our vet she knew that what I had said would not come with any good news.

I opted for an alternative approach with Chance because I had heard so many mixed things about chemo. We decided that a quality of life would be better than quantity. My regular vet prescribed him some prednisone and our holistic vet started him on herbal supplements and tweaked his diet a little. It seemed like things were going well but about 3 weeks into it his lymph nodes had gone up again, so we tried a higher dose of the prednisone for a few days and it worked but didn’t work for long. We weren’t sure how far along he was but it wasn’t looking good. I made the best of it and spent every moment I could with him making new memories.

What made things easier for both of us was Chance was able to go to work with me and the support that I had from my co-workers and friends was amazing. We lived every minute to the fullest until he looked at me with those huge brown eyes and told me that it was time. The hardest part was trying not to be selfish and keep him around even though what I wanted for him was peace and comfort. I made the hardest decision of my life but it was the best for my friend and loving companion of 10 ½ years.

I think about him every day and even though he is not here physically anymore he lives inside me and I can feel his presence everywhere. I love my Chance and I thank him for making me a better person and am so happy to have shared part of my life with him. I grew up with him from that excited nineteen-year-old girl and that 7-week-old puppy, we formed a bond that will never be broken.

Lily of My Heart by Rebecca Forrest

2009-08-13T23:35:00.012-05:00

We had a dog that died of cancer. She was our sweet Lily girl, a black-and-white and speckled border collie.

Lily lived a courageous life. She was diagnosed with diabetes when she was about two years old. From then on, she got two insulin shots a day and had hundreds of blood tests.

She was wonderful through all of that. She never flinched from her shots, and if we were late in getting one to her, she’d remind us. She might have been looking forward to the treat she got after each injection—the only treats we could give her.

In addition, Lily ended up with intermittent seizures. She even got good at letting me know when one was coming, so I could often get her outside in an open grassy area where she (and the carpeting indoors) would be safest.

But all through that, she was a fun, demanding, mischievous, playful, and affectionate girl. She loved to chew on the toughest toys—she destroyed Kongs regularly. And she also liked the difficult puzzle toys that smart dogs thrive on. One of her greatest joys was to unwrap presents on Christmas and eviscerate a bunch of plush squeaky toys.

She went on for more than nine years with her diabetes. She was with me through the loss of my husband Steve and the long lonely years that followed. And she was with me when I met and fell in love with Virgil, now my husband and best friend. I think she loved Virgil as much as I did.

Finally, late in November of 2008, Lily had what looked like swollen glands in her throat. When we took her to the vet, she was diagnosed with lymphoma, but the outlook was good.

However, she was almost unable to tolerate the chemo treatments. After the second treatment, when she was dreadfully sick, we said “That’s enough.” We couldn’t put her through any more. Fortunately, the chemo had been partially effective at reducing her tumors, so she recovered enough to go on for a couple of weeks.

As December progressed, I bought and wrapped presents for her and for our other dogs, 12-year-old Alex (a black lab) and 10-year-old Glory (a red fawn greyhound). Lily was slowing down, but still seemed bright and willing to go on a little further.

We really hoped that she would make it to Christmas day so that she could unwrap her presents. Each day, we weren’t sure. But the days finally passed.

On Christmas morning, we had all three dogs and Lucy, our tabby cat, in the living room with us by the tree. Lily and Alex each opened multiple presents. (Glory and Lucy prefer to observe.) Lily bounced around, shaking the toys, and going first for the juicy squeaker. She and Alex flung white fluff all around the room, until it looked like there had been a snowfall. Oh, they had such fun. Lily played and played, going from one toy to another.

Virgil and I didn’t even think of opening our own gifts or even having breakfast. We stayed in the living room with the animals for hours, until Lily was finally worn out. She fell asleep in a nest of white fluff and torn-up toys.

Well, that was Lily’s last good day. Two days later, we had to let her go. Oh, how we both miss her. She was my heart dog. My sweet Lily Minkle.

I do think she would be proud to know that we have since opened our hearts to two greyhounds, brindle Logan and black Zelda.

I’ve included some pictures of Lily in my arms as a puppy, Lily and Alex together, red fawn Glory, tabby Lucy, Logan, and Zelda.

Marley and Me by Jennifer Walton

2009-08-13T04:13:00.006-05:00

This is my story of Marley Rasta Dog, my best friend and co-pilot in life.

Eleven years ago my life changed forever. I was living in Baltimore and working at a little pub in Fell’s Point, also going to college at night. I was 23 years old and on my own. As I came home one night I was startled to see a shadow moving through my trash can out front, and upon closer inspection realised it was a dog. Now I was always a cat person until this point, and had never had a dog of my own. I had no idea the deep and spiritual connection one could have with an animal – but my heart went out to this guy. He was young, and shaved to the skin. Someone had spray painted him with green paint, the words “Cops Suck” down his sides. He had a huge chain choker on his neck, but to this day remember the huge silly grin he gave me as I looked down at him. I was hooked. I opened my apartment door and he ran straight in and plopped down as if at home! Being unsure of what to do I left the door open a jar, in case he just wanted a moment’s reprieve. He looked at me and bounded back out the door, as if wanting to play or chase something. I followed and watched as he ran straight into the street and was almost hit by a car on the busy street.

That is all it took for me to decide it was no longer HIS choice what he was going to do, but mine. In the subsequent 10 years, admittedly tables have turned, and he has had his way more often than not! But this was a big decision, keeping this dog. At first I thought I would only keep him until I could find a good home! I was naive and did not realise that was my first day as Marley’s mom. So, there I was with a dog that was shaved to the skin, slept no longer than 15 minutes at a time, was on constant alert, and already tickled me to death. Bob Marley was playing on my radio, and therefore, Marley was born, my Roots Rock Reggae dog.

The following months were hard as I also realised Marley was prone to attacking children, or essentially anything under 3 foot tall. It was seen as a threat and I believe it has always been because he was abused at some point before I found him at around the age of 2. He also had trouble being around men, but not to the extent that he was around children. I thought to myself over and over, how can I keep a dog that displays such violent tendencies! Always on alert and never sure what he was going to do next.

As the years passed, Marley calmed down. I worked with him a lot in those years, constantly re-enforcing good behaviour, but mostly just giving him lots and lots of love. There was a dog park we frequented in Baltimore, and I will never forget the day that I ran into a woman that we had seen a couple of years earlier at the same dog park. She came over to me after a few minutes of watching Marles and commented, “ Is that the same dog you used to bring to this park? He seems like a completely different animal! You have done so much with him. He is so much more happy and relaxed. I can not believe it is the same dog!” I was a proud parent, and realised what a lot of love can do for an animal that came from such a rough beginning. Not to at all ignore the fact that the things Marley has taught me over the years are of any less value. I have learned from him that if you are determined to do something, than never give up! I learned this one day as I watched him chase his 1 millionth squirrel in the park, always vowing to catch one, never has!, but has also never given up trying! I have learned the value of unconditional love most of all. I have learned the importance of taking care of someone else, because what you get back is far greater than what you bestow. I have learned what it means when they say man’s best friend.

Marley is an amazing friend, and has been fiercely loyal to me for his entire life. Boyfriends have come and gone, friends have disappeared, but he is a constant. I have etched in my memory every moment we have shared. I have had to pick him up from jail on 2 occasions! I have had numerous run-ins with animal control. But I have also held him in my arms to keep warm on cold camping nights. I have woken up before dawn to take walks in the rain before work and never once thought twice. We were a team.

Last week Marley went to the vet for a routine check up. When I got a call the next day saying his liver count was 3 time what it should be, I felt numb. I was not ready to hear this. I guess we never are. This past week has been a roller-coaster for me. I am sure that Marley also is wondering why his mom is crying and weeping and holding him closer than ever. He still looks at me as if to say, “you are embarrassing me, do not hug me in front of the other dogs!” I still do not know the outcome of the results, as we are on different medicines. But I do know this: I have for the first time been confronted with the inevitable death of my best companion. Whether that be next week or next year I have faced what that moment will be like. I am living the roller-coaster of trying to let go, as well as be strong. I am telling myself I gave him the best life I could have, and he returned the favour. But, as is life, when it is time, it is time. We have no control over that. I will always have my memories, sometimes bittersweet. I also know that I can never be touched the same way again. He was my first. I wanted to share the story of my dog Marley. Of our friendship and our bond. I am lucky enough to have a friend who is a photographer who has documented our life together since the beginning. I smile thinking he has been in almost every picture with me taken over he last 11 years.

3 YEARS LATER

I lost my Marley. It has been 2 weeks and 2 days. Today is the first day I am able to sit and try to put into words the terrible sense of loss and grief. First, let me backtrack. Marley 3 years ago was diagnosed with cancer erroneously. He ended up having Lyme’s disease, which is treatable and the medicines worked wonders. The whole ordeal was a scare as I thought I was saying goodbye to my man then. Miraculously the vet had a misdiagnosis, and after a few days Marley was back to normal and life continued on. Well, with the nagging whisper in my head that I would have to face this again one day, the inevitable end. But, time has a way of healing and forgetting and soon it was just like old times, trips to the seashore, playing in the surf, strange hotel rooms, and always shotgun in the convertible, wherever we went. Life was good.

Then a few months ago a routine trip to the vet, as Marles had a nagging, hoarse cough. All his blood work looked good, and the cough was the only persistent symptom we saw. Because Marley was part husky, his neck was strong and thick and full of muscle. It made it very difficult to feel the tumor growing there until it was very large and un-moveable. X-rays from our vet showed a huge mass in his throat, and because of the size and position it was not able to be surgically removed. X-rays also showed small white nodules in his chest and lungs. The diagnosis – thyroid cancer.

So, here it was, back again, but this time no misdiagnosis. Marley had a cancerous tumor and it was growing around his larynx, slowly causing him to be unable to breathe. Dr. Prowell, Marley’s vet, knew that the options were few. But I highly respect her opinion, as she is always very honest and straightforward, not talking in circles. She gave us the two options she saw – let Marley live his last month(!!) with the aid of anti inflammatory drugs to ease breathing and let him go when his quality of life became challenged. This she said would be difficult because he will still want to eat, go on big walks, wag his tail, but he will begin to have issues with sleeping through the night and being comfortable. It is hard to say goodbye to a pet when they still want to walk and eat and kiss you!

The second option – take Marley to a specialist, a radiologist / oncologist for treatment ideas. This is what we opted for. So began the deluge of doctor’s, x-rays, trips to veterinarians 2 hours away, and through it all trying to be brave and hear what our options were for our boy. We met one of the leading specialists in canine cancer in the United States today. He looked at Marley’s x-rays and sonogram and looked into his eyes. His diagnosis — intensive radiation treatment followed by chemotherapy, to try and reduce the size of the mass as well as fight the nodules in other parts of his body. His diagnosis was Marley has a few weeks left with no treatment and perhaps a year with pursuing the full course.

So, big decisions to make, and of course time and money play a factor, a big one. But the most IMPORTANT factor for me was to approach this so that I knew I would have no regrets and that I had done everything I could, whilst keeping the quality of his life intact. I know Marley, better than anyone else alive, and I know that a sick Marley on chemotherapy would not be a Marley that would even want to live. My Marles lived for 2 mile hikes in the woods, chasing squirrels, barking at neighbours' cars. If these things were taken from him, his quality of life would suffer. Therefore, chemo – not an option. Radiation was less intrusive, and had a good shot of working. So we signed up for radiation therapy. Marley would have to go to 18 daily radiation visits in Virginia, over an hour’s drive away.

It was our only hope. So began the new part of our journey. We drove every day together, Marley shotgun, to Springfield Virginia to the clinic. I would wait as Marley would be taken into the back and treated, and about an hour and a half later stumble back out to me, still drunk from being anesthetized. I will not go into the entire treatment, although I will point out the important parts of these journeys. We made some really amazing friends at the clinic. Marley started off his sessions having to be carried to the back as he did not want to leave his mom (this was the hardest thing for me to watch) to trotting back after a week’s time with his new friends Miss Jen and Miss Becky. They were lifesavers and the work these women do is inspiring and commendable. They are good people. We always stopped and got a treat on the way home at McDonalds and a huge walk when Dad was done work. Through it all, fingers crossed that this was working and we were doing the right thing. We got a lot of funny looks as Marley was completely shaved around the neck, and answered many questions as honestly as we could.

In the end, the treatment did not work for us. Perhaps the tumor was too large; perhaps we found it too late. But we did all we could. Marley was so brave throughout. Marley was laid to rest May 18, 2008. He will always be loved and remembered.

Turbo by Linda Schroeder

2009-08-07T23:06:00.007-05:00

Turbo has been fighting for his life for 11 years. The runt of a litter of purebred Australian Cattle Dogs, no one wanted him. Then, all the wrong families wanted him. He was passed from home to home every year until he reached age 5. At that point, I heard about him. He was out of control and spiraling down toward euthanasia. As a trainer, I volunteered to help. And drove home with him in the back seat of the car.

For weeks, Turbo raged at my other dogs. He would not let me pet him. Slowly, gradually, he started to trust. The first night he placed his head on my shoulder to sleep, I knew he had ‘come home’. That is where he has slept for 6 years now.

Five weeks ago, Turbo was diagnosed with lymphoma, Stage 3+. Given his age and condition, there was nothing we could do but try to control the symptoms. He had four to six weeks, they said. Not one, but three vets and countless tests later. Six weeks.

Turbo is in Week Six. He has highs and lows. On his low days, he does not eat. Nothing entices him. All he can do is look out at the world with sorrowful, sick eyes. I apologize on those days and force his medication down his throat. I cry. I rage at this disease that comes with no warning. I cry.

On his high days, he turns in to his old self, “Mr. Fun Police”! No one else can fetch, run, play, or have any kind of fun at all! He guards his food from the other five dogs, and eats it all. I believe in my heart he will live forever on high days.

But there is a trend. The bad days are worse, and the good days are not as good. The swelling increases in his lymph nodes, and I see his legs bow out to compensate. I increase his pain meds so he can walk with me.

Stubborn and with a strength of character to be envied, Turbo continues to fight. When he stops fighting, he and I will have to make the final decision. And when that happens, I will miss him. Forever. For Turbo found his way home….and his home is in my heart.

Shortly after we posted his story, Turbo lost his battle with cancer and was given rest. Linda wrote, "I miss him already. I could not ask him to stay just for me."

Cupcake by Heather Neil-Rice

2009-08-06T10:04:00.004-05:00

Cupcake was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a week after her 2nd Birthday, just 9 months ago. Cupcake is my heart and it literally broke when my vet called to tell me that the ovary he removed during her spaying was indeed cancerous. He had already researched the odds and options and told me that with surgery alone there was a >90% chance that the cancer would return with a large risk of metastatic disease. He suggested seeking evaluation at Angel Care Clinic with Dr. Kathy Mitchener in Bartlett, Tennessee, almost 3 hours from home.

In some ways I suspect our visit to Angel Care was unusual, because I already knew my precious girl had cancer. I desperately needed a hope of treatment and a potential cure. The staff at Angel Care, from the front to back door, is so understanding and compassionate. Words cannot express the immense gratitude I have for Dr. Mitchener, Peggy and Jessie.

Our evaluation appointment turned into the first round of abdominal chemotherapy. My "take" on this is that Cupcake had IV fluids for 30 minutes, then sedation (Toradol) by IV, an ultrasound with the chemo injected into her belly and then she got shaken up like a milkshake, returned to me for more IV fluids - all of which took about 3 hours. She got pills, pills, and more pills, a new diet regiment, and this yummy liquid called FISH OIL. This new EVO dog food without grain was not known to be sold in Arkansas so Cupcake and I left that first chemo session heading across town to get the food that "cancer does not like!"

About 5 minutes down Stage Road, Cupcake started screaming like a traumatized child, and 5 minutes later she was still crying and yelping in the Ethan Allen parking lot. So thank goodness Dr. Kathy had given me her cell phone number to call her just in case something occurred on my 3 hour trip home, by myself with Cupcake. Hysterical, I called my husband and he could hear her crying and yelping, and started getting upset that I agreed for her to have this treatment in the first place. Dr. Kathy advised me that she felt like Cupcake was having a reaction to the Toradol and to walk her and talk to her and see if she will drink. I did so and things appeared better, so we continued to head to the store that has this dog food that "cancer doesn't like!"

I kept focusing on this as it is something I can get and it will help her get better. At the pet store the gentlemen realized my dog was sick and anxious and that I was near to loosing it completely. Food purchased, nose blown, Cupcake a little calmer, we headed out now towards Little Rock . . . and the screaming started again. Dr. Kathy called to check on us about 20 minutes later and heard Cupcake and told me to turn around and come back to the clinic. Bottom line is that Cupcake and Toradol don't mix.

For the four additional rounds of chemo, Cupcake got a gas mask without IV sedation and did amazing. My sacrifice was that she was not sedated in any way for the IV fluids after chemo and I had to hold her and rock her and entertain her so that her IV would not obstruct.

Now she is 9 months out from diagnosis, chemo complete and she is in remission with a clean abdominal ultrasound, taking her vitamins, curcumin, fish oil, eating EVO dog food - ALL like she was born to do so. Oh and let’s not forget we combat the constipation from the EVO with pumpkin pie filling and Metamucil. Most days her coat is orange and she smells like a stinky seal from the fish oil. She often wears pink bows to proclaim her cancer survivor status and I cherish every day we have together.

Keyeagan by Dawn Donelson

2009-08-04T11:23:00.004-05:00

This story is being written for my mother as it is a new pain that they are dealing with. My mother has always taught me to fight and to believe. She has tried her hardest to protect me from any and all pain. To see her go through this awful disease, bone cancer, makes my heart ache. I can't help her or heal her heart. I can only watch as she continues to believe but is so helpless.

Keyeagan, a 6 year old Great Dane, was diagnosed with bone cancer a year after my own dog had passed from this dreaded disease, and only a month after her 11 year old Great Pyrenees had been diagnosed. A disease that we all were hoping to have seen the last of has somehow grabbed tightly onto our family.

Keyeagan was the sparkle in my parents’ eyes. The new child, if you would, in the house. He went to bed with my parents and awoke with them. He proudly took his stance at his food bowl at breakfast and would enjoy anything he could convince you to feed him, without being caught of course, from the table.

Keyeagan always wanted to play but never quite understood his enormous size. He would playfully chase the cats and dart around the grandchildren as if they were road cones, being very careful not to bump them. He was the human dishwasher/trash compactor. Anything that was left unattended on the table would disappear without an ounce of a trace, leaving the plates clean and shiny as if they had been washed. He seldom got caught doing this.

As I am typing this, so many memories fill my head. Keyeagan did so many things to make us laugh. You know those priceless moments...

For instance, once my parents were playing badminton with their grandchildren and he was running back and forth trying to catch the birdie. If he got it we had to chase him around until he dropped it.

I can remember another time when we were covering the swimming pool. Keyeagan was watching and thought this large cover was going to hurt us so he leaped clear over the side of the pool on top of the cover to attack it and save us. Memories of those funny moments fill your head while at the same time break your heart.

Keyeagan was a protector, a cuddler and a joy to my parents. He was their happiness and there comfort at the end of a long day. Losing him has broken my parents’ hearts and seeing the tears fall from their faces crushes my own heart. Knowing I cannot stop their pain hurts but realizing that Keyeagan is not in pain anymore brings comfort.

Woof by Andy Donelson

2009-08-04T11:18:00.002-05:00

An odd name for a dog some might say but he was proudly named by our daughter when she was 2 yrs old. You see, she referred to dogs as woof-woof and when she was asked what to name him, she proudly said "Woof."

I clearly remember the day we went to see the litter of pups. He knocked us over by jumping onto our laps. When we asked to purchase him, the breeder told us that he was not perfect. He had a spot on his nose that might not fill in with the black coloring. How silly to say this...Woof was every bit of perfect to our family.

He was a lover, a protector, a companion, a playmate and my best friend. He has been gone for a year and a half and I still sleep with his teddy bear and cry thinking about him. My heart still aches and has an empty spot which has not healed. I had never had to experience any type of cancer. When he was diagnosed with bone cancer, I was sure he would beat the odds because our love was so strong. His eyes told a story...and that story was for us to be together forever. I had never hated anything until I had to live with this disease.

Woofie, as he was called, was spoiled. He had a party on his birthday, was visited by Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and was constantly given little love gifts. He slept with us. No, not on the floor...right beside me in the bed all night long. I kissed him goodbye when I left for work and hello when I came in the door. He was and still is my baby boy.

We have so many memories that I don't know where to start...so I will just start with something that he loved. Woof loved the snow. Whether it be running and diving head first into a snow bank or simply eating the snow. We'd stand outside and he'd eat his way around the yard. Looking at me every now and then for approval. And boy when he didn't want to do something forget it. He had such a stubborn streak. I can remember having to push him with all my might to get him to move somewhere. Also when he was mad at you or even jealous for some reason, he'd lift his leg with just a squirt to say who's the boss. And he knew what he was doing. What I would give to see that look today.

He was a smart, loving friend and he can never be replaced.

Woof taught me the value of love. True unconditional love. And he showed me determination. We fought as hard and as long as we could with this disease. And we did it all together. I am to believe his soul is still here with me...at least that is what I tell myself so I have the strength to continue. Like I said in the beginning, Woof was always perfect to our family. And he is so greatly missed. But you know what? I'd do it all again just so I could have him in our life to love. And to be loved by him...

Woof -- a Poem by Dawn Donelson

2009-08-02T23:56:00.008-05:00

Everyone says I will know
When it’s time to let you go,
But how can I just say goodbye
And live on without you by my side?

For 10 great years you were my friend
So how come now it has to end?
You brought so much joy into our life
And I know you thought I was your wife.

The times you gave a back off bark…
Remember all those times at the park?
My protector, my baby, my best friend
Endless love that knows no end.

So many memories fill my head
I smile inside but tears I shed.
All those memories will be kept in my heart
And never be forgotten.

You will always share a part of me
And I will think of you quite often.
When we see flurries falling from the sky
I will get tears in my eyes.

Remembering how you loved it so
And how much you enjoyed just eating the snow.
The kids grew up with you right there
I hope you know how much they cared.

If I’d had known we’d part like this
There’s so much I would’ve changed.
But sometimes life is thrown at you
And you are left with pain.

I hated having to give you a scold
When you didn’t do as you were told.
Your stubborn way was so true
And I will miss that part of you.

The looks you gave, your gentle smile
That warmed me inside out
All those looks of trouble and even the looks of pout.

The playful way you bowed your head
While waiting for a treat
And all those nights of hogging the bed
Or just laying at my feet.

Your snuggle time was dear to you and something I will miss.
It’s something I would ask for if I could have a wish.
I never could stay mad at you my big ball of fluff.
And boy when you wanted, you could sure be tough.

But you always knew when I needed a lift
And lifted your paw when you want to be pet.
Now your foot is too sore to lift up
So you rely on your mommy to take care of her pup.

Our house will be no longer a home
Without you there with us to roam.
I will miss your bark, your smell, your eyes
I will feel lost without you by my side.

Your bed, your bowl, your teddy bear
Will be all that is here with me.
You kept us safe,
Because you cared.

You guarded our home when we weren’t there.
Time passed quickly and your love had no limit
I always knew you cared…
So once again I ask myself,
How can I live with you not there?

There will be nothing to come home to
No smile or wagging tail.
No one to remind me that someone always cares.
Everything will be so empty
Without you being here.

And those who once felt protected.
Will now have to deal with fear.

I do not know how to find the strength
Or even where to start.
To pick a day to say goodbye
And the day to break my heart.

Remembering Bella by Paige Segovia

2009-07-09T16:17:00.015-05:00

I have about a million things to say about Bella, some funny, some heart wrenching, but most importantly what I can say about Bella is that I loved her with all of my heart. Bella was a throw away, purchased by someone who thought that the small fluffy ball of white was the cutest thing that they had ever seen and then, when they realized that she wasn’t the perfect dog, it was time to get rid of her. She was about 3 months old when she came to live with us.

Bella taught me patience in life. She taught me that it was best to discipline with love and not anger and that most things could be solved with a hug and a kiss. Bella loved life. Chasing coyotes and unfortunately cars were her passion. Tugboat was another of her passions. She decided from the moment he came home that he was hers and she took over his education until he was about 10 months old. For some reason when he turned about 10 months old she decided that he was my problem. Even though she gave him back to me, she still loved him dearly. Tug has had some moments this past week of what seems to be confusion. I know that he knew that she was sick but I don’t know what all he understands.

Cancer is an evil disease that affects not only the one who is sick, but the family members who love them. It’s a strain that cannot be explained.

From the moment that Bella was diagnosed until I held her and kissed her goodbye, she was my reason for being alive. So many nights I held her, sang to her, rubbed her tummy, her ears and her shoulders, singing to her and talking to her and begging God for a miracle. I am bitter, my faith has been tested, and this is something that I have to accept and live with and find peace with – the fact that I have lost her and there is not a reasonable explanation as to why. I know that it is not my position in life to question God – this is my belief – but I am so hurt right now that I am having a hard time with my faith.

So many nights I just wanted to freeze the moment – I hated each morning that the alarm went off as I would have to leave her for the day. Every meal that she had from the time she was diagnosed, I hand fed her; most of her meals I cooked. Despite all that we were doing and all that she was eating, she was still losing weight. Giving her meds to her became a challenge – she hated the pills and could tell anytime I had it hidden in her food and would immediately decide not to eat. So I then started dissolving the pills in mineral water and giving to her with a syringe.
Towards the end, the tumor had continued to spread, grow and disfigure my beautiful baby. It had already taken over her eye and the right side of her face. This tumor was a hot bed of infection and ultimately it was probably the infection that took the final toll. Cleaning the tumor daily was also a huge stress for her, but a necessary evil. I would always just hold her and love her afterwards and tell her that she was the most beautiful Bella in the world.

The Neoplasene actually killed a part of the tumor, but the type of cancer that Bella had was shooting out tendrils in the bone and it just kept growing and spreading. I think that on certain types of cancer, the Neoplasene is the best option.

Bella's death cannot be in vain – her passing at such a young age from such an ugly disease just cannot be in vain. There is no plausible reason that cancer should still be such a deadly disease. Or that such a young dog should die from it. Where are the answers? Where are the answers for all of the millions of dollars that have been raised?

I am sure that I am rambling — Bella deserves so much more than what I can put in writing and it’s also so very hard to even think when I can’t stop crying. I have cried so hard that there are times my eyes are so swollen I can’t see. It’s hard to drive or to work. Everyone tells me that it will get better with time. I don’t know that it ever will.

We are going to plan a Memorial for Bella and would like to raise some money to make a donation to 2 Dogs 2000 Miles in her name. I am also trying to figure out how to join Luke to walk the 2 miles across the Potomac River.

I so want to hold my baby again and tell her that I love her so much.

Attached are some pictures – the one with the puppy – that is Tugboat. Then there is one with Bella and Zoey, the 2 white girls, and then one with Bailey. Bailey and Bella decided last year that they hated each other – it was sibling rivalry of the extreme. Most people would have gotten rid of one or the other. Part of the lesson of patience that we had learned with Bella got us through a most difficult time, and we didn’t give up either dog.

Usually male dogs will fight until a butterfly passes by, females fight to the death. By the time that Bella had gotten sick, both Bailey and Bella were once again sleeping on the bed with us.

I am sure that Bella came into my life for a reason. Compassion and patience are the first things that come to my mind. I hope to honor her in the way that she deserves in her Memorial and maybe if we all pull together we can find a way to beat cancer for not only our canine companions, but our family members and friends.

Bella - February 14, 2006 - June 30, 2009
You are my Pyr Angel - Mom misses you so much.

Paige Segovia

Lucie

2009-06-26T00:19:00.007-05:00

I lost my vision in the spring of 1997. I was frightened, angry and didn't want to live a life of not being able to see and enjoy things. I was a nurse and also lost my job because I couldn't perform the duties of a registered nurse. I did not want to live. I became very depressed. I was encouraged to attend a rehabilitation facility that taught visually impaired persons how to adjust and live again. I refused, but one day I fell down a flight of stairs at my home and was hurt very badly. I was home alone and I couldn't even dial a phone to get help. Then I went to Pittsburgh Vision Services where I spent 12 weeks learning to do things a new way. Here I also learned about guide dogs and noticed that people with guide dogs were a lot more independent, safer and could get around much faster. I did lots of research and applied to The Guide Dog Foundation in Smithtown, NY.

Ten months later, I received a call from the school that they had a dog for me. I went to the school, was matched with Lucie and we began training together. Lucie was a lot different than the other dogs in my class. She was very obedient, had impeccable manners, was very focused and not distracted. About a week into training, I was called into the office of the head trainer and the trainer that trained Lucie and then me. They told me that they had to tell me something about my dog. They proceeded to tell me that Lucie was raised in a prison. It was a new program called, Puppies Behind Bars. They went the prison several times to observe and were very impressed with the program and accepted 1 dog to give it a try. They got Lucie in August, 1999. Lucie was the first graduate of the Puppies Behind Bars program. I received many offers for interviews and she and I have been featured in many articles.

I have been a very big support of Puppies Behind Bars. They teach inmates to raised puppies to become potential guide dogs. They have since stopped raising for guide dogs schools and are focusing on raising dogs for explosive detection dogs and assistance dogs for veterans.

Lucie was raised in Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in Bedford Hills, NY. This is a maximum security women's prison. These women did a wonderful job. Lucie was born at Guiding Eyes guide dog school. When she was 6 weeks old she failed 3 tests they give all the puppies and she was discharged from their program. She was given to Puppies Behind Bars with 4 other puppies that failed to start the program. Guiding Eyes felt she would never be a guide dog. They were wrong; with love, nurturing and dedicated teaching, she became a guide dog. She was considered one of the best guide dogs ever. I was told she was extremely intelligent with a remarkable memory. She just had to do something once and she knew it.

Lucie and I did so much together. We traveled to 17 states, many cities, traveled to New York many times to attend Puppies Behind Bars functions and met many, many people. We traveled to the prison where Lucie was raised to meet the women that raised her. A New York TV station even video taped our visit and it was featured on the news. There were many tears that day as those women were very proud that they had a part in making my life easier and much happier. When I got Lucie, people noticed that I was much happier. She gave me a reason to live and do things again. I was totally independent. I just had to tell her where I wanted to go and she got me there.

On April 25, 2006, Lucie did not get up as usual. She laid in her bed, next to my bed. I got up and noticed that something was wrong. She was very weak. My daughter and I immediately took her to our vet. He didn't know what was wrong but noticed that her lymph nodes were very swollen. He aspirated one and sent it to the lab. The next day, he called me with the bad news; diagnosis lymphoma. He had already talked with Dr. Terrance Hamilton in Cleveland. He was considered one of the best oncologists in the field. I chose to take Lucie to him and we did so the next day. Chemotherapy was started on April 27, 2006. She went into remission with the second treatment and did very well. She continued to work and wanted to work. She did have a problem with Vincristine and that drug was discontinued and give another drug and she did fine with that. In September, 2006 Dr. Hamilton left the practice and Lucie's care of transferred to Dr. Nathaniel Myers in Pittsburgh. Chemo was completed on December 6, 2006, which was also her 9th birthday. It was a very happy day and the office celebrated along with us.

Lucie continued to do well and had frequent checkups until June, 2007, when Dr. Myers found, via an ultrasound, several internal lymph nodes that were swollen. This was a good indication that the cancer beast had returned. He did aspirate the lymph nodes and the test results confirmed that she had relapsed. I chose to restart chemo as she did very well before and we anticipated a return to remission. She received 3 treatments with the last being Adriamycin. She became very sick after that treatment with a horrible cough. Our vet, Dr. Bryan Krazel, who is absolutely wonderful, did an xray and Lucie did have some fluid in her lung. He gave her an antibiotic and Lasix. She was a little better. The weekend came and on Sunday morning, July 15, she became much worse and was struggling to breathe. We took her to an emergency facility where tests confirmed she was in congestive heart failure. She was admitted to the hospital, put on continuous oxygen and given mediation to decrease the strain on her heart and the fluid. She was in critical condition. She was discharged the next morning and we had to transport her with oxygen to our vet. We now had bigger problems. She could not have chemo and her heart was now affected by the chemo. We could give her medication to keep her going for a while, but how long was unknown. She was never going to get better. I promised her in the beginning that I would not let her suffer; if we reached a point when her quality of life was affected and she was suffering I would help her. I had to keep that promise to her. I chose to end that suffering. It was the worst day of my life and the most difficult decision that I ever made. She passed away on July 16, 2007, surrounded by her family and the veterinary staff that loved her. She had the most peaceful death that I have ever witnessed.

She helped me each and every day to find my way. I wish I could have helped her. I was so devastated to lose her. I received condolences from all over the world. She was a famous dog that helped so many people; not just me but each inmate in prison that they can do something good. Many have been released and gone on to do great things and Puppies Behind Bars has been successful.

So this is Lucie's story. I miss her terribly and think of her daily. She will be forever in my heart and in my memories.

Judy Goldman

Daisy (Blindsided: Two Dogs with Cancer) by Hope Lisle

2009-06-11T23:33:00.015-05:00

I have read that one in four dogs will die of cancer. It appears that the statistics at my house are going to be at least two in four dogs will die of cancer. In December 2008, I had been battling osteosarcoma with my 8 and 1/2 year old American Bulldog, Lily for 17 months. I had also started to worry some that Lily's puppies, Rosie and Britney who were 6 years old, might develop osteosarcoma. The one dog that I wasn't too worried about was my Boston Terrier, Daisy. Daisy was 8 ½ years old and I thought that was young for a small dog. I actually used to joke around with my friends and tell them that Daisy would outlive all of my American Bulldogs because I thought small dogs lived longer. Then, on Valentine's Day of 2009, I learned how wrong I was. That is the day that I lost my beloved Daisy to brain cancer.

Daisy's health problems began when she started having seizures on December 30, 2008. I rushed Daisy around to three different veterinary clinics and she had 7 seizures within a 23-hour period. When I finally got an appointment with a neurologist, Daisy was put on medication and monitored in the I.C.U. for 4 days to make sure she did not have any more seizures. I brought Daisy home, kept her on medication and she acted completely normal. She never behaved like she felt bad and to my knowledge she never had another seizure. Then my heart was broken into a million pieces on Valentine's Day when I woke up and my Daisy, who always slept with me, was not moving. She was gone. Daisy had died in her sleep a few days before I had an MRI scheduled to rule out brain cancer. I knew two other Boston Terriers who had seizures, so I had not been as worried as I should have been. The veterinarians told me that Daisy had died from an astrocytoma and that even if I had done the MRI sooner the outcome would have been the same due to the location and aggressive nature of the tumor. One of the things that I always liked about small dogs is the fact that they are supposed to live longer than large dogs. Before I lost Daisy, I honestly did not know that you could lose a small dog at such a young age.

Boston Terriers have always been my favorite breed and Daisy was absolutely my dream dog. Daisy behaved like a large dog in a small package. She was extremely intelligent, energetic, outgoing, friendly and athletic. She was like the Energizer Bunny – she never stopped. She thought everyone was her friend and she wanted to greet everyone by jumping up and licking them in the face. Daisy (aka CH Bandit's Darling Daisy AX, AXJ, NF to name a few titles) was an AKC Champion and an International Champion in the conformation ring. She also had excellent titles in agility and we were working on her MACH (Master Agility Champion). Daisy was also a model who appeared on a couple of Boston Terrier calendars.

I have always been an animal lover but Daisy is the first dog I owned to have any official obedience, agility or conformation training. She was extremely intelligent and that quality made her a fantastic dog to learn agility and obedience with. She could think a lot faster than I could. I will never forget the first time that I laid eyes on Daisy. I had seen a few agility dogs on television and I had decided that agility would be a cool sport to try. When I met Daisy for the first time, this little four or five-week old puppy was running in circles around her brother who was twice her size. She would run around her brother and then take a flying leap over him. I knew then that I had found my "agility dog." I'm sure that I probably drove the people who owned Daisy at the time crazy, because I would not stop calling them to see if they were going to let me have this puppy. Later on, when I started taking agility classes with Daisy, one of the
instructors would often criticize my technique and tell me what I did wrong. However, it really didn't seem to matter if I made a mistake, because Daisy almost always compensated. The time spent training Daisy for agility created an incredible bond between the two of us. Daisy also performed well in the conformation ring. Some of my Boston Terrier breeder friends might say that there were dogs who matched the Boston Terrier standard better than Daisy. However, Daisy was just a little show-off. She enjoyed being the center of attention and she had attitude.

Daisy's favorite things were eating, agility, stuffed animals and traveling. If Daisy could have had things her way, she would have eaten all of the food I was giving to my three American Bulldogs in addition to her own food. When it came to training, Daisy was highly treat-motivated so she was easy to train. Daisy excelled at agility and she always wanted to be moving. She was not the type of dog who wanted to sit in my lap and be held. Daisy adored stuffed animals and always curled up with one of her stuffed animals when she went to sleep. Her favorites were her stuffed Easter bunny and the lion that roared. She had lots of stuffed animals because almost every time I saw a cute stuffed animal, I would bring another one home.

I love to travel and Daisy was the perfect travel companion. Because of Daisy's small size I was able to take her places I could not take my American Bulldogs. As soon as I pulled my suitcase or her travel bag out of the closet, Daisy would get really excited and start running in circles around the house and up and down the stairs. She knew we were going somewhere. Daisy traveled with me all over Colorado and to places like San Francisco, Sante Fe, Washington, D.C., Annapolis, Las Vegas, Orlando, Houston and Memphis. Daisy was a frequent flier and she especially loved airports. During the almost 9 years that I had Daisy, I only flew somewhere without her one time. Daisy always behaved perfectly at the airport. When I got ready to put my belongings through the x-ray machine at the airport, I would take Daisy out of her bag and she would stand motionless on the table in her perfect little "show-dog" pose. People would often ask me if Daisy had to be sedated to fly and I would tell them “No, she just knows the routine." When we arrived at our destination, I would occasionally let Daisy out of her bag while we were waiting on the luggage to arrive and she would stand right next to me and follow me around just like she did in the agility ring. Daisy also loved hotels. One of her favorite things was jumping back and forth from one bed to another in the hotel room. If we stayed in a really nice hotel, Daisy was so well-behaved that she just seemed to belong there.

Daisy was an incredible little dog who was so active that she seemed to pack 15 or 16 years into the 8 ½ years that we were together. She introduced me to a lot of people that I would never have met otherwise. There was never a dull moment when Daisy was around. I didn't realize that the little dog who tagged along on all of Lily's chemotherapy appointments had cancer also. It just seems especially cruel and ironic to have lost a dog that was as intelligent as Daisy to brain cancer. "Daisy Crazy Baby" I will always love you. I will never forget you.

Lily-American Bulldog

2009-01-19T23:04:00.006-06:00

Lily is the puppy that I didn't want my husband to get because I was intimidated by American Bulldogs. Now, I can't imagine life without her. We brought her home at the age of 8 weeks and our "guard dog" was on duty in less than 24 hours. She wanted to be with us every minute of the day. As a awkward, teenage puppy, Lily was mischievous, rambunctious, somewhat destructive and extremely shy. We decided to breed her when she was 2 years old and she had 18 puppies, earning the nickname "Big Momma". As Lily matured, some of her craziness vanished along with her shyness. She became an extremely loyal, loving and obedient dog. The dog that I thought was supposed to be so tough does an excellent job of guarding the house and the vehicles. However, when she is not preoccupied with her job of "lead guard dog" , she can be somewhat of a diva. She can be extremely stubborn and she does not like to go outside when it is hot or when it is cold. If it's raining she does not like to get her feet wet. Her favorite activities are going on walks, eating, riding in the car and "girls day at the spa" with her puppies, Rosie and Britney. Lily is now battling cancer for the second time. In March of 2005 she was diagnosed with stage II mast cell cancer. The lump was surgically removed and followed up with 6 months of chemotherapy. The mast cell cancer has not returned. I was on vacation in July of 2007 when the kennel that Lily was boarded at called me to tell me she was limping. I told them to use their own judgment about whether or not to take her to the vet because I was going to be home in a couple of days. After I picked Lily up at the kennel and brought her home, she seemed to be fine. I never even saw her limp. I did go ahead and make an appointment to take her in to the vet based solely on what the trainer at the kennel had told me. I will never forget the shock and disbelief I felt when the veterinarian told me that Lily had osteosarcoma. The veterinarian was telling me that my beautiful girl, who appeared to be so healthy, had only 3 or 4 months to live. I knew all about osteosarcoma in humans (primarily teenagers) because I had done a clinical rotation at St. Jude Children's hospital years before when I was a pharmacy student. Yet, I was not educated about osteosarcoma in dogs because I had small dogs ( Boston Terriers) for most of my life. I wasn't the one who had decided to get an American Bulldog and I had not done the research. Lily was referred to an oncologist in Denver and I also got a second opinion at The Animal Cancer Center at Colorado State University. Both oncologists agreed that the probabililty of Lily having osteosarcoma was about 95%. I decided to have Lily treated at CSU and the battle was on. After going over all of the statistics and the risks, I was told that Lily was a good candidate for the limbspare surgery due to the location of her tumor (right distal radius). I was also warned that there was about a 20% chance the cancer could return in the same leg but that a recurrence would not affect her longevity. I decided to give the limbspare surgery a try and I knew we would have to go to plan B if the cancer returned. Lily's standard greeting, whenever I came home, was to stand up on her hind legs and hug me with her front legs. I just couldn't imagine not having the "Lily hugs" and I was worried about how a dog with such broad shoulders was going to get around with only one front leg. Lily had her limbspare surgery on Aug. 13, 2007. The surgery was followed with a 3-month recovery period where she was only allowed limited activity and 5 rounds of carboplatin. The oncologists were hesitant to use doxarubicin because of its cardiotoxicity and they thought Lily's heart might already be slightly enlarged. Lily's recovery went along pretty well until the oncologists took a x-ray in Jan. of 08 and saw that the cancer had recurred. Lily's leg was amputated 4 days later. She recovered without complications and I could not believe what an excellent job the surgeon had done. This time the oncologist thought it was best to go ahead and risk the doxarubicin and closely monitor her heart, so she had 5 rounds of that drug. Lily and I made it pretty well through the first 11 months of her osteosarcoma but her battle became much more difficult in the summer of 2008. In June of 2008, I took Lily in for a chest x-ray and the oncologist told me that she had one lung met in her right lung. Lily was started on the metronomic protocol (piroxicam, doxycycline and cytoxan) and I was told to return for another chest x-ray in one month. If the lung met was slow growing I might have the option of having it surgically removed. I returned for another chest x-ray in July and I was told that the lung met in the right lung had doubled in size and that Lily now had another lung met in her left lung. This meant that surgery was no longer going to be an option. The oncologist also said there was no point in keeping her on the metronomic protocol because it was not working. I was devastated and when I asked the oncologist how much longer she thought Lily had to live and she told me 2 months. I had been planning on flying to Memphis the next day if Lily was stable. Now there was no way I could go off and leave Lily if she only had 2 months to live. I decided to drive to Memphis with Lily and my Boston terrier, Daisy. While we were in Memphis, we had the pleasure of meeting Luke, Murphy and Hudson. Lily's health declined more in August of 2008. She no longer wanted to go on walks and I noticed that her left front leg was swollen. I took her back to CSU and she was diagnosed with hpertrophic osteopathy. The oncologist prescribed rimadyl and tramadol. (She also received an I. V. infusion of pamidronate in August and another one in September.) A short time later, Lily's back legs began to swell also. The veterinarians kept increasing her dose of tramadol until she was at the maximum dose. The vets later added gabapentin in with her tramadol and rimadyl. Lily and I had some really rough days in August and September. Lily was in pain and she did not want to walk. I had to buy a wagon and put her in the wagon, take her outside to go to the bathroom, put her back in the wagon and bring her back inside. I also bought a harness from tripawds.com because lifting a 90-pound dog was difficult for me. I asked my friends at church to pray for Lily. ( One friend told me that she didn't think there had ever been so many people praying so hard for one dog.) There were some days where Lily did not want to eat and the entire refrigerator was stocked with food just for Lily. Then one day, I couldn't even get Lily's medicine down her so I took her to my primary veterinarian and asked them to give her a rimadyl injection. The next day, Lily had an appointment at CSU and they gave her a rimadyl injection also. The rimadyl injection lasted for 24 hours and I noticed that Lily seemed to improve after that. I started taking Lily in for rimadyl injections twice a week and she seemed to improve a little bit. As a pharmacist, I was familiar with pain management options for people and I was really frustrated at how limited the options for dogs seemed to be. I finally started to consult some veterinary pain management specialists and Lily saw 2 different pain specialists at CSU. The wholistic pain specialist massaged Lily and gave her an accupuncture treatment. Lily began to improve some. Then the anesthesiologist added ammantadine to her other drugs and the improvement was significant. I continued to take Lily to CSU for accupuncture and laser therapy and by the end of October, Lily no longer needed the harness or the wagon. She began to walk, even run, down the street to the neighbor's house who always gave her dog biscuits. By November of 2008, Lily seemed to be feeling really good. I was not doing so well though, because I didn't know what the status of her lung mets was. I called CSU and told them that I wanted to have a chest x-ray done and that I wanted to be sure there was not something else that could be done for Lily. I dropped Lily off for the chest x-ray and when I returned to meet the oncologist I was trying to prepare myself for the inevitable bad news that I was going to receive. When I walked into the examination room the oncologist was smiling and I was really confused. Then she showed me Lily's x-ray. The lung met in the left lung had disappeared and the lung met in the right lung had decreased in size from 7 cm to 6 cm. She smiled and asked me if I knew what that meant. I knew exactly. Lily was a candidate for surgery. The oncologist then went on to say that the veterinarians did not have an explanation for why Lily's lung mets had improved. I was told that her case even stumped Dr. Withrow, the veterinarian who started The Animal Cancer Center at CSU 30 years ago. Then the oncologist told me that they could do the surgery the next day and asked me if I needed time to think about it. I told her that I didn't need any time to think about and that I would bring Lily back the next day. I took Lily back the next day (2 days before Thanksgiving). The plan was to do a ultrasound of her abdomen and if everything looked okay they would proceed with the surgery. Then we ran into one final obstacle. They found a mass the size of a tennis ball on her liver. I had to make a decision about what I wanted to do. If the surgeon removed both lesions, it meant that Lily was going to have 2 huge incisions that were perpendicular to each other. I made the somewhat frightening decision to proceed with the surgery. When I picked my girl up on Thanksgiving Day, she looked like a patchwork quilt. Lily had a smooth recovery and the lab results for both lesions that were removed came back positive for metastatic osteosarcoma. Lily had a chest x-ray on Christmas Eve that came back met-free and she has had 2 rounds of carboplatin and gemcitabine given 4 hours apart on the same day. Lily's surgical oncologist says she is hopeful that the osteosarcoma is back down to a microscopic level and the medical oncologist said that Lily is now in uncharted territory. Lily's primary vet, one of her oncologists and one of the pain managemetn speacialists have all referred to Lily as a "miracle dog" on separate occasions and I am thankful to have a little more time with my girl.

Teddy Bear

2009-01-17T09:52:00.006-06:00

Teddy Bear's Story

It was Christmas Eve day 2003 when I (Stephanie) finally got the first email from the Yorkie rescue I joined pleading with someone to go get this little dog..he was about to be euthanized. His owners were moving and no longer wanted him. I called my rescue coordinator to tell her I'd go for him and by the time she called the people back that owned Teddy Bear, they had already taken him to the vet to be euthanized. Luckily the vet hadn't gotten to him yet and he was still alive. Teddy's owners were instructed to get him back and were given instructions on a time and place to meet me. I made the 60 mile drive one way to go get him even though I had just had neck surgery and wasn't supposed to drive more than 2 miles. Something told me I had to get this little dog that day. No one else volunteered to do it being that it was Christmas Eve. I was going through a very dark time in my life at that time and I was so hoping to help out somehow with a rescue so this was my chance. So off I went with a crate and a blanket not knowing what I was about to get into. Finally after waiting for 2 hours in a diner parking lot and getting call after call from Teddy's owners that they had to do one thing or another and then would be there, they finally arrived. When they got out of the car and started walking towards me with this sickly looking creature and handed him over to me I couldn't believe my eyes. This wasn't a Yorkie...but what was it??? Being that it was December, it was very cold, so I hurry got the fleece blanket I brought along and wrapped him in it. I asked them how old he was and they 'thought' he was 8 or 9 years old...they weren't even sure. I asked them what they feed him and they told me anything that's on sale, usually the Walmart brand. I cringed at that answer. Then they turned around without so much as a good-by and off they went. They didn't give me so much as a dish, a collar, a leash, or any thing that may have been his. It was as if he was an old rag and they were just tossing him out. I put him in the crate and he and I cried all the way home. I had never seen a dog in this poor shape. He was very weak, could barely stand up and his eyes were very infected from what I could tell. So, Teddy and I drove the 60 miles back home and we both cried all the way. I couldn't understand how someone could let a little dog get in this shape.

When I got him home I put him down on the floor on his blanket and he wobbled over to where my dog's dish was and ate all the kibble that was in his dish. He then went to the water dish and drank like there was no tomorrow. He would try to stand up and would fall because he was so weak, but he was determined to eat and drink which he did with gusto. I would carry him outside and help him stand up so he could pee and then I would carry him back inside. Since it was Christmas Eve and my vet wasn't in until the day after Christmas, I carried Teddy around in his fleece blanket wherever I went. Instead of going to Christmas Eve candlelight service that night, I sat by the lights of my Christmas tree holding Teddy telling him everything was going to be ok. My other Yorkie, Kobe, and my Brittany Spaniel, Jazz, sat by us and were so accepting of this little guy that was taking so much of my attention. It was as if they knew he needed special care.

The day after Christmas I was on the phone calling my vet first thing in the morning to get Teddy seen. They got me in that day. When I unwrapped Teddy from his fleece blanket and set him on the exam table, both vets came to examine him and came to the same conclusion...Cushing's Disease. The hair loss, the bladder infection, the eye infection, the excessive drinking all pointed to Cushing's. So, Teddy underwent bloodwork for the test. I was given antibiotics to put him on for the various infections and home we went to wait. I was told the results would take 2 weeks. In the meantime, since I was only fostering Teddy, his ad was put on Petfinder. As the days went on and we awaited the results of the test, Teddy continued to improve. He got strong enough that he could finally walk on his own. He had a great appetite and never had an accident in the house. His hair started to grow and his infections cleared up. In the meantime he would follow me from room to room. Emails started coming in from people that were interested in adopting Teddy. He was not able to be released until the results of the Cushing's test came back. One day as I was sitting at my computer I saw Teddy go over to my other Yorkie and do the play bow with his tail wagging. I broke down in tears at seeing that. Another night when I came home from my 4 to midnight job, he barked for the first time, wagging his tail because he was so happy to see me. Again I broke down in tears. This little dog couldn't have Cushing's...he was improving, not getting worse.

Finally one day the phone rang and I saw it was my vet on the caller ID. I was so nervous about answering that phone because I didn't want to believe that he had Cushing's. The first words out of my vet's mouth were "the test was negative, he doesn't have Cushing's, we believe it's a case of starvation. His bloodwork was excellent. Teddy will be alright. "I grabbed Teddy and just held him tight and cried but they were tears of joy. I knew then, after the fight he went through, I couldn't let Teddy go to another home. He was staying right here with me. Since he came to me on Christmas Eve, that was the day we celebrated Teddy's birthday every year. Teddy was the best little dog. He was so devoted to me and showed me every single day how grateful he was. I could take Teddy, without a leash, into a crowd of a thousand people and he would stay right by my side, never once taking his eyes off of me. Teddy enjoyed going out in the back yard and just laying in the sun. I always said he looked so content and was out there thinking. He was my little man! Teddy enjoyed running along the fence barking at the neighbor dog Molly, two houses over. He was such a happy little guy.

In October of 2007 I noticed that Teddy had some problems with his one eye so off to the vet we went. She diagnosed him with Dry Eye and put him on a series of drops and ointment. One day as I was holding his head to put the drops in, I felt a lump at the side of his neck just below his jaw. Something told me this wasn't going to be good. I raced to the phone and called my vet. She took him in that day. That was the day my heart broke...Teddy was diagnosed with Lymphoma. From all I read about Lymphoma, Teddy only had weeks to live. I made those the best weeks of his life. I tried to make him as comfortable as possible. When I saw the light going out of his eyes and his health deteriorating, I knew it was time to let him go. Dec. 10th 2007 Teddy and I made our last trip together to the vet. I held him and said my good-byes as he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. Teddy took a big piece of my heart with him that day. When I found out about 2Dogs2000Miles and what Luke and his boys were going to do, it touched my heart.

I know Teddy is looking down on Luke and his boys saying "PuppyUp!"!"

TT Rudowsky

2009-01-13T21:17:00.003-06:00

TT entered our life March 11, 1995 and she bid us farewell on December 12, 2003. She had been afflicted with a form of epilepsy and thyroid issues prior to the age of 2 but hemangiosarcoma is what ultimately took her from us on December 12, 2003. Our time with her was much too short but filled with so much love and many, many wonderful memories leaving us feeling, to this day, that she is still with us.

She came into our lives amidst an immense amount of stress and chaos due to aging parent issues and she lightened so many of those days with laughter and joy. We already had an 11 year old golden retriever, Tawny, when we brought TT home and initially I felt like we gave Tawny a death sentence. How would she ever endure the stress of a puppy especially one who seemed to have boundless energy and wanted to be the ‘top banana’! I needn’t have worried…Tawny took a bit of grief from TT initially but when enough was enough she let her know it and their relationship grew into a very close and solid bond. Tawny and Greg, my husband, were TT’s best friends. I strongly believe when we lost Tawny 3 years later, TT missing one of her best Buds went into a deep depression. Ebony, our kitty, who had been a constant companion of Tawny’s since arriving the year prior when my father-in-law passed away instantly bonded with TT through that difficult time for all of us.

We’re hikers and my husband is an avid backpacker as well so TT grew up enjoying nature. We’re originally from New York and while still living there she frequently hiked the Catskills, the Adirondacks and many of the areas of New England. I think some of her best times were when she was backpacking and camping with Dad!

Another great enjoyment of ours was kayaking. We had a double kayak…I would sit in the front and she would be in the middle with Greg in the rear. I often said she enjoyed it so much more when I didn’t go (smile!) then she had the front-seat, and dad, all to herself!

In April, 2003 we embarked on a life changing experience retiring, selling our home in NY and traveling the States and Canada in a motorhome. We were fortunate enough to have TT still with us on the beginning of that journey. She was right there with us hiking the Tetons, parts of Washington, Oregon and Colorado State, enjoying the warmth of the Southeast, Mt. Rushmore and so much more!

Although we checked her regularly, a requirement from our Vet in NY for continuing with medications for the first year on the road, the early signs of the cancer were not picked up by the Vets until it was way too late to do anything medically to help her. She was diagnosed with Hemangiosarcoma in November, 2003. We could have tried chemo but with sound advice from the Vet who diagnosed her we chose not to put her through that. Losing TT was one of the most difficult times of our lives. We miss her dearly but will be forever grateful for being able to share not only the 9 years of her life but especially for those 9 months of fulltime living with her while on the road. It enabled us to be with her 24x7 just enjoying life which is what she did best! Love you and think of you everyday TT…Love, Mom

Every Day Is A Gift!

2009-01-13T11:27:00.003-06:00

My husband had planned to adopt a bloodhound and give it the name “Nosey” for obvious reasons. As luck would have it, before we had a chance to even look for a bloodhound, after our old dog died, we met a litter of Labrador Retriever mix puppies that had just turned 8 weeks old and were available for adoption from the Morgan County Humane Society. Knowing that if these puppies didn’t find a home they could potentially be euthanized, we adopted not only the yellow lab (whom we named Elvis) that I had my eye on but we also adopted his sister, a black lab mix (whom we named Nosey).

From day one, Nosey lived up to her name. As we put them in a shopping cart, Elvis promptly laid down and took a nap but Nosey placed her paws on the edge of the cart and made sure that she was aware of everything as we passed by. Thru the years she has lived up to her name of Nosey. We often times remark that she is more nosey than any cat ever thought about being. We took both pups thru obedience school and Nosey graduated second in her class-having only received “marks off” her score because instead of focusing on my husband, she was being “nosey”. The one good thing that came out of those classes wasn’t the obedience training but the advice our obedience trainer gave us. She instilled in us the habit of checking our dogs weekly for any changes in the dog’s body. Little did we know that following that advice would actually make a significant impact on Nosey’s life.

On Christmas Eve 2006, we notice a pea-sized lump on Nosey’s neck. Knowing that the lump was new, we watched it closely over the next couple of days until the vet’s office would open again from the holidays. We were preparing for the worst because the lump seemed to grow every day. We were able to get her in fairly quickly and our worst fears were confirmed – lymphosarcoma. She began chemo with the Madison-Wisconsin protocol on December 2006. After 16 treatments over a span of about 27 weeks, she was declared in remission. Throughout that treatment regimen she never did complain, in fact she soon became the vet clinic’s star patient. Each week she would have blood drawn from her neck and then the next day have her chemo. Through it all we learned to treat every day as a gift. This was especially true when other dogs we knew passed away (who had been diagnosed after Nosey) and yet Nosey seemed to exhibit amazing results from the treatments. The vet referred to her as the poster child for chemo.

Then in March of 2008, at her 6 month post-treatment followup visit, the vet noticed a swelling in the glands. Blood tests revealed that the cancer was back and in April she started a 2nd Madison-Wisconsin protocol regimen. Early 2008 the oncology clinic had purchased new equipment to do the blood testing in their own lab and so Nosey was able to get her blood tested and the chemo done on the same day with just a brief wait. After a few visits, she had the routine down pat and would actually walk right over to the scales to be weighed. After she was weighed she’d jump up on the treatment table and just sit by and wait for the technician to come over and draw blood. Almost as if to say – “here I am – let’s get started”. By the middle of summer, she had an ever growing fan club not only with the folks at our regular vet but also with the oncology clinic. She was such a good patient that the new technicians would occasionally trim her toenails while they administered the chemo. Unfortunately towards the end of the treatment, the vet noticed that some of her internal organs were starting to show the effects of chemo and they had to switch some of the “tried and true” medicines to other medicines.

She finished the 2nd regimen treatment at the end of November 2008. Went back at the end of December and received a clean bill of health. Dr Lucroy said that the following month would be the critical period. If she could make it until the end of January without the cancer coming back then he’d consider her in remission and she would not have to come back for 3 months. Unfortunately on January 3, 2009 we noticed the lymph glands were swollen. This came as such a shock so soon after her last oncologist visit. Because she has received her lifetime recommended dosages for the medicines used in the Madison-Wisconsin protocol, she has started taking chemo treatments again and the vet says if these medicines don’t work, they have other families of medicines they can try.

In true lab fashion, she loves everyone and has a way of making everyone around her feel special. She will even smile at her “friends”. The vet technicians vie for her attention and brag that Nosey smiled for them. Throughout her whole ordeal she still seems to be the sweet loving girl we’ve known and loved. Every day with her is a gift. Because her cancer was diagnosed early (thanks to our weekly doggie “self” exams) and her age (5 years) at diagnosis, she has responded very well to chemo.

We take her every where we go to make the most of the limited time we have together with her and as such she has developed a “Diva” personality this summer. It’s almost as if she tells our other 2 dogs – “I’m the adult” – “I’m supposed to go with Mom & Dad”. The other 2 will stand idly by when we are leaving and wait patiently for their treat. Nosey on the other hand, will refuse to take the treat until she knows for sure that she is going with us. Nosey has been my husband’s constant companion for the last 2 years and we cannot begin to imagine the void in our life when the cancer finally wins. But for now, we encourage all our friends, family and acquaintances to remember – every day is a gift. How you use that gift is up to you. Use it wisely!

Linga by Erich Trapp

2009-01-11T00:04:00.008-06:00

Linga (known to her closest friends as “Tingles”) was, we like to think, a present from her father. Some time before she showed up on our doorstep, we had been feeding a mangy stray we named Hairy (because he wasn’t – hairy that is). He came and went as he pleased but after every meal he’d always bring us treasures he’d find on his journeys – once it was a doll’s head, another time a brand new sneaker, occasionally the daily paper from across the street – always interesting things a dog might find on his travels. In time, with lots of good food (and subsequently lots of presents left on our doorstep), Hairy’s hair finally did grow out, and it was a beautiful coat of yellow-red, soft, with a bit of a wave to it. He really was a handsome boy. Yet, as mysteriously as he had appeared, one day Hairy simply disappeared, never to be seen again.

It was some time after that, maybe a year or so, that we heard a dog calling in the neighborhood. It was a mournful call and it bothered everyone in the family, person and dog alike, but search as we might, we couldn’t find the source. However, one day, a beautiful yellow-red dog showed up on our doorstep, looking a great deal like Hairy! Could this be his daughter? We have always liked to think so – our last, and most special gift from Hairy. And, when Linga showed up, we never again heard the plaintive call of the dog we could never find.

She immediately took to all the other dogs in our home, and everyone, dog and person alike, loved her. Everyone was drawn to her. There was something very sweet about her nature -- she was a beauty, inside and out. We called her our “Wild Child” because, among her interesting habits she loved to bury herself in our sandbox. The previous owners of our house had built a huge sandbox (about 10’x12’) for their boys and all our dogs loved to dig in it. However, Linga had a special passion for the sand (perhaps because she was almost the same color), and she would lie on her side in the box and literally bury herself, covering herself and becoming virtually invisible.

She also had other wild ways about her, like burying her food “for later” and bringing us baby bunnies, nests and all, totally unharmed, in her gentle mouth. Of course, I’d then have to go and figure out where in our fields the nest had come from and return the bunnies to their mother. This was a seasonal delight to Linga, and with each new batch of bunnies, she’d bring them through the door for us to “enjoy.” Surprisingly, the bunnies all survived, and I always managed to find them a place she wouldn’t disturb again. Our mother bunnies were very patient.

Another favorite activity of Linga’s was what we used to call “I must possess you!” Linga would insist on getting right in your lap or right in your face until she was the undivided center of your total and complete attention. This isn’t particularly unusual, as many dogs employ this tactic, but Linga was especially talented in possessing people and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She had many other endearing qualities, the best of which was enjoying a good cuddle after flopping down on me, her entire body covering mine. No one enjoyed being hugged as much as she and I miss our snuggle-fests.

Linga had several health challenges in her life, including a life-long battle with Pannus, an immune disease of the eyes. Perhaps it was this compromised immune system that eventually led to her leukemia. We had gone to the vet for a routine geriatric exam, thinking we’d get a clean bill of health. We left with a death sentence. Her white blood cell count was literally off the chart, and the vet gave her only weeks to live. Having seen what chemo did to several human friends, I opted not to take that route, but the vet held out one hope – a supplement called Transfer Factor. I started her on it immediately and, much to our surprise and joy, she responded so well that her blood work returned to normal within two months. She remained on the supplement for the rest of her life. Through supplements and a complete change in diet (she ate better than we did), she maintained her good health for almost three more years.

Linga lived with us for 13 wonderful years and filled our lives with more love than one can imagine. I have had many dogs in my life, and loved them all dearly, but I have to admit, Linga was truly one of a kind -- my sweet little red-haired girl. Thanks, Hairy, for the best gift ever! We will always love you, Tingles.

Holly

2009-01-08T21:28:00.003-06:00

My girl "Holly" passed away last November 15th, 2007. Holly died after a brief battle with an agressive form of cannine cancer. She was only 7 years old.

Holly came to me as a stray when she was 6 to 8 weeks old. She litterally followed me home on Jan 8th, 2000. It was a Saturday and I headed to work around 8am, she was about 1/2 mile down the road, all alone and chasing every car that passed. I drove on by as it's not unusual to see dogs alone out in the county, but she was still there that afternoon when I returned from work and she chased me all the way back to the house. When I opened the door, she raced past me into the house and ran from room to room, then back out the door.

My other dogs immediately fell in love with her and welcomed her into the family. She found herself her own forever home. She chose us when she was just a little 6 to 8 week old fur ball.

Holly was a great lover of life in the country and loved to run the pasture and swim in the pond. She was smart as could be, and even took care of house breaking herself.

Holly first showed signs of ill health about 6 months before she died, but I did not recognize them. When the first major sign revealed itself it was too late. The vet took off a leg and Holly never missed a step, even escaping house confinement to run the pasture and take a dip in the pond 3 days after the surgery. I just couldn't keep my good dog down and she never complained.

The amputation only bought us an extra 2 months, the cancer spread too fast for treatment and on November 14th I came home from work to find her crying with pain. the next morning the Vet gave her the only relief available.

I will always remember Holly with her free spirit and fun loving ways. she will be forever missed.

Cinnamon & Ephram

2009-01-03T15:30:00.013-06:00

CINNAMON

We rescued Cinnamon on June 10, 1994. She was found wandering the streets of Maplewood, NJ by a local rescue group. They told us that her fur was all matted and she looked a mess. When they brought her to the groomer, they said that she sat so nicely and was so calm about it all. That was Cinnamon. She was the most mellow, laid back dog I've ever known. The only real issue was that she suffered from separation anxiety for most of her life with us. We can only assume that she was abandoned, so I certainly understood her fear of it happening again. The vet estimated her age to be about two.

When we brought her home for the first time, she flopped down on the floor, rolled over and exposed her tummy. I would think that most rescued dogs don't do this right off the bat, but Cinnamon was so grateful and so trusting from the start. She always let me groom her without a fight, even nail clipping!

She never knew how to play with toys and I couldn't get her to show any interest. Whenever I gave her a new toy, I usually found it buried under one of the couch cushions! Cinnamon never met a meal she didn't like! Her favorite seemed to be garbage, and she was very creative in figuring out how to get to the garbage no matter where we stowed it. I even put a latch on the cabinet door to prevent her from getting into it, but one day I came home to find the drawer above the cabinet had been pulled out and my silverware was scattered all over the kitchen floor. Plus she broke the panel off the drawer and it had to be glued back on! ok...she actually never got to the garbage, so the latch thing worked, but at that point, she trained us to take the garbage out nightly!

We had discovered a new dog park not far from where we were living, so we decided to take Cinnamon there to see if she would like it. When we stepped through the fence, Cinnamon sat there for a moment taking it all in. She was beside herself! She probably thought that a place like this only existed in her dreams, yet here it was in real life! The look on her face was priceless! Five minutes later, she was completely hooked on dog parks! When we moved about an hour south, I found another dog park in the area. That was definitely Cinnamon's favorite thing to do. She became the unofficial mediator, barking at dogs that were playing too rough, trying to break it up! She literally shrieked when she knew we were going to the park and I picked up her leash.

During her time with us, we adopted three other dogs (not at the same time). Cori was our first cardigan welsh corgi who we adopted when she was 10. Cinnamon & Cori tolerated each other's presence, but they never really interacted all that much. We fell in love with the cardigan corgi when we met one at Cinnamon's obedience class. Cori passed at age 14. We then brought in another cardi named Cody. Cody was an 8 year old retired show dog. Cinnamon seemed to warm up to Cody a little more, but, unfortunately, 8 months later, Cody died from liver disease. I was having a really hard time with losing these dogs and was reticent about bringing another into the house, but in March 2005, Ephram came into our lives.

Ephram's breeder, who lives in Indiana, was going to be traveling to North Carolina to evaluate a litter, and since North Carolina was closer than Indiana, we made arrangements to meet her there to pick up Ephram. We brought Cinnamon along, because after all, she had to approve! Cinnamon seemed to give her approval, and was having fun running around with all the cardi pups in the backyard. But something happened that day that was very unusual for Cinnamon. She had an accident in the house. I was very apologetic, but was told not to worry about it, since there were plenty of accidents with all the puppies in the house.

When we returned to NJ, Cinnamon had a few more accidents at home. She kept being treated for UTI's, but finally, in December 2005, we did an ultrasound and found out that there was an inoperable tumor on her bladder. Our goal was to keep her comfortable and to make sure her quality of life was good. She had always been a couch potato, so hanging out at home and being the couch potato that she was, was just fine with her. I still brought her to the dog park when I could, and if you saw her running around there, you would never know she was sick. Ephram was the only dog that was able to get a rise out of her. He was relentless in trying to get her to play or chase him, and he was successful quite a few times! I think that because of Ephram, Cinnamon lived longer than if he wasn't with us. At one point, it almost seemed like Cinnamon was passing the torch to him, knowing that she had to go soon, and giving her approval for Ephram to take over her responsibilities.

Cinnamon was starting to have other problems associated with the tumor. It was getting larger and pressing on her bladder, that she felt like she constantly had to go. We had to get up many
times during the night to let her out. She still enjoyed her park visits almost up to the last day, but on March 18, 2006, she had trouble getting up and refused to eat. When Cinnamon wouldn't eat, you knew there was a problem. We knew then that it was her time and we called the vet to make the arrangements. My husband and I were with her to the end, and when it was over, I flung myself over her and in tears, said that I couldn't do this anymore. I was so heartbroken, losing a dog a year (first Cori, then Cody a year later, and then Cinnamon a year after that) that I didn't want to go through it again. A few weeks later, me, my husband and Ephram were on our way to Indiana to pick up one of Ephram's sisters!

Cinnamon was with us for 12 of her 14 years and not counting some little bits of destruction on her part, she was a beautiful, wonderful companion and we miss her dearly.

EPHRAM

Ephram was the most sweetest, shyest, handsome momma's boy! He was born on 7/9/04 and came into our lives on 3/5/05 at 8 months old. As it is, cardigan welsh corgis aren't that common, but Ephram really had some unusual things about him. The first thing one would notice was the cowlick on the top of his head that looked like a mowhawk! Then there were his eyes. One blue and one brown with a blue speck! So, he wasn't show quality, but we were never interested in that. He was very shy (cardigans tend to be kind of reserved) and when he went to his first obedience class, he tried hiding under the chair! Of course, I wouldn't have any of that! Not only did he pass the course, but he received a special ribbon from the trainer as most improved!

Ephram enjoyed playing ball and frisbee and was really relentless when it came to both activities. He learned very quickly to bring the item back to me and as long as I threw it, he would bring it back! He'd do it for hours if I was willing (I wasn't!) He also enjoyed stuffed toys and was very rough on them. I wish someone would make an indestructable dog toy!

He constantly tried to get Cinnamon to play, and every so often, she would chase him. She was so good with him. He'd climb all over her and she would calmly let him. Eventually, Ephram got introduced to the dog park. He wasn't as crazy about it as Cinnamon was at first, but, eventually, he started having fun in spite of himself! He was more comfortable though around other dogs than people other than his family. He was afraid when we brought him to Petsmart or places like that, but I kept trying to get him accustomed to those situations.

In May 2006, he developed conjunctivitis and was limping a bit. He was treated at the vet, but while the limp seemed to be better, his eye problems seemed to be getting worse. We ended up taking him to a veterinary opthalmologist. Eventually, with several different medicines, the eyes got better. He did limp occasionally, but we thought he might have hurt himself jumping for the frisbee or running at the dog park. In January 2007, he developed a cough. My vet thought it might be kennel cough, so he gave him medicine for that, but when the cough persisted, he took an x-ray. It was revealed that there were masses on his lungs. My vet had never seen anything like that in such a young dog, so he referred us to a specialized animal hospital. We did not want him to be cut open, so they first tried a needle biopsy, then a true-cut biopsy to get a bigger piece of tissue. The internist there was fairly sure it was cancer, but the pathology showed that it might be pulmonary lymphomatoid granulomatosis, which is treatable. So the plan was for him to get 4 rounds of chemotherapy followed by another x-ray to see if the masses had shrunk. Unfortunately, some of the masses had gotten larger and they informed us that there was nothing else they could do. Since he was so young, I wanted to give holistic medicine a shot as a last resort. I found a holistic vet and Ephram was treated there for several weeks, but again, the masses had gotten larger. Between my local vet, the specialized hospital and the holistic vet, you'd probably faint if you knew what we spent, but if Ephram could have been saved, it would have been worth every penny. We never did find out what kind of cancer it was. Primary lung cancer in such a young dog is extremely rare, so it most likely started elsewhere and spread to his lungs. With the limping he had on occasion, I suspect it could have been an osteosarcoma, but we will never know.

As with Cinnamon, we wanted to keep him comfortable with a good quality of life for as long as possible. We now had his sister, Kayla, who joined the family shortly after Cinnamon's passing. Ephram & Kayla enjoyed each other's company and played with each other for hours on end. As with Cinnamon, you would never know he was sick if you were watching him play. I decided that I was going to continue taking him to the park and doing things with him that he enjoyed like ball and frisbee and whatever else he wanted to do. On May 9, 2007, two months shy of his 3rd birthday, I brought Ephram & Kayla to the dog park. At this particular park, there are 2 separate areas; one for small dogs and one for large dogs. We were in the large dog area where the pups were hanging out with some of their friends. They often enjoyed running the fence between the large and small areas chasing the dogs behind that fence. Both Ephram & Kayla started chasing some of the small dogs on the other side of the fence when Ephram just collapsed and died. The park attendant helped me with getting him to the car. I had to drop Kayla at home and then brought Ephram to the vet to send him for cremation. I have Cori's, Cody's, Cinnamon's & Ephram's ashes along with some of their favorite toys and other personal objects on a shelf in my bedroom. I guess it's almost like a shrine, but it gives me comfort. Afterwards, I felt so guilty for bringing him to the park, but someone said to me that Ephram gave us a gift that day. Had it not happened the way it did, he would have ultimately gotten worse and it would most likely have gotten to the point where we would have to make that dreadful decision. It took a long time for me to realize it, but what that person said was right. Not only did he give us a gift, he went doing something he loved!

Not a day goes by that I don't think of all my pups. Their photos are by my computer so I see them everyday and I can only hope that they all found each other somewhere over the rainbow bridge and are happily romping there, healthy and without pain.

I know this was a long post and thank you for reading this far! I want to conclude by saying how in awe I am of Luke. I am so grateful for his massive undertaking and have been following his journey from almost the beginning. I pray for his, Hudson and Murphy's safety and I offer my humble abode to them should their journey take them into New Jersey.

Codi

2009-01-02T05:24:00.006-06:00

As I grew up, I always knew that I wanted a German Shepherd Dog. I even believed that I would name him (it would be a boy) 'Codi'. There was something about GSD's loyalty and their beauty that drew me in. Once I was married, I already had two dogs, a Shiba Inu amd a Jack Russell. The desire of having a German Shepherd never wavered.

In September of 1996, I learned that there was GSD male pup at a local pound. Against my husband's advice, I made an appointment to meet the puppy. My husband was concerned because we already had two dogs and he wanted to be a Police K9 Officer. He thought four dogs would be too much. I had to meet the pup, though. There was something driving me to go.

At the pound, the Animal Control Officer brought this long legged GSD boy out of his run. He had the floppiest ears and the goofiest attitude. He wasn't afraid of anything and started licking me instantly. His whole body wiggled when he wagged his tail. I knew this was my boy. There was something about him that made my heart happy. I shelled out a whopping $5.00 for him, signed the paperwork saying I would have him neutered and away we went.

Over the next few days, I made all my vet appointments (who later determined the pup was about 4 months old) and set about naming him. My husband did not like the name Codi. It wasn't "tough enough" for a GSD. So, we tried many names on him. I kept coming back to Codi and he seemed to respond to the name better than all of the others. Codi it was.

Over the next years, Codi and I bonded stronger than any of the other dogs in the family. My husband became a K9 officer and we added dog #4 to our pack. Codi remained as goofy as ever. Anytime I had to go in the car on an errand, Codi would come with me. I always felt safe with him around. He would patiently wait in the car watching diligently for my return. Those ears never stood up, though, and he forever looked like a puppy.

Of course, he was not above getting into doggie trouble with his K9 brother, Jag. They both once ate 20lbs of Italian cookies within the space of 5 minutes. Nothing was left but a bunch of crumbs all over the kitchen floor. Codi also learned how to open the doors in the house and break out of any crate imaginable without disturbing anything. We would come home and find him sitting outside of the crate and the crate in perfect condition. There were also occasions when he would run off of our property and I would frantically search for him until he would sheepishly come home.

In 2002 I took Codi away from his pack. My husband and I split up and I had no choice but to leave the other dogs behind. I rented a house on a lake and Codi was in pure heaven. There were plenty of swimming days and tons of squirrels to chase. I watched him change from goofy to protector. It seemed as if he realized he was in charge of the protection in the household. His ears even stood up at six years old! I have a severe abhorrence of spiders and mice. I happened to live in a cottage that had almost every species of spiders imaginable and tons of mice. Whenever I would call across the house, "Codi, spider!" Codi would come running, look around the room until he located the offender, eat it, and then look up at me with the happiest "I saved you, Mommy!" look on his face. There were also times that I would come home from work to find a dead mouse laying on the kitchen floor and Codi sitting by it wagging his tail. I would tell him, "Get the mouse" he would pick it up by the tail and when I commanded him to bring it outside and leave it, he would deposit it in the leaves and then come back for his loving. He was always so proud of himself! My boy had the brightest light in his intelligent eyes that I had ever seen in a dog. The best days we had at the cottage were the ones when we would sit on the edge of our dock and watch the boats go by.

Well, the door opening also continued. One night, while I was working the midnight shift, my neighbors called to say that Codi was sitting at the bottom of the stairs to my cottage and barking non-stop. When they checked on him, they found him staring up the stairs to the parking area (we lived at the bottom of a 42 step staircase) and the door to the cottage wide open. When I went home to lock the house back up, I found tooth marks in the dead bolt. Apparently, dead bolts weren't even a deterrent for him! He even, accidentally, locked the dog sitter out of the house when he was trying to get out of the house again!

Codi's separation anxiety really started to blossom the older he became. After we moved to an apartment, he crushed the doorknob to the outside door, I am sure in an attempt to open it. One day he even pulled all of the molding off from around the door. When my boyfriend (now husband) tried to pull the rest of the molding off to fix it, he couldn't even pry it without tools! Codi was extremely strong! Once we moved in with my boyfriend, we attempted to keep Codi in a crate. (We were afraid he would break through a wall length window in our foyer trying to locate me.) We tried every crate imaginable, even the supposed "gorilla tough" indestructible types. Nothing could keep Codi in. He would give us a look like, "Are you kidding me?" and you could see his wheels turning on how to get out. When we returned, Codi had the wires mangled and would always be on the outside of the crate. He chewed on so many crates that his teeth were starting to wear down to nubs. A repairman once asked my husband if we owned a grizzly bear! Trust me, I tried every calming solution out there, including, meds, which I hated and immediately took him off of, on to natural remedies and pheromone sprays. Finally, we were able to contain him by building him a wooden pen in part of the basement. It's not to say that he didn't try to get out, but he was never able to figure out how to do it exactly!

Codi was never overly sick a day in his life. Around 10 years old he started having some hip problems, but nothing too severe. I didn't know which season he liked better, summer or winter. Summer days were spent lazing in the grass and chasing balls and winters were spent playing in the snow and chasing snowballs. He would bark relentlessly at us until we would throw the biggest chunk of snow at him. He loved it.

In December of 2007, I noticed Codi wasn't really acting like himself. My husband kept telling me Codi was fine, but I felt something deep down was wrong. He would lay on the floor with his head between his paws and look up at me with pleading eyes. Codi never laid in this position, but I did not take him to the vet. After all, what would I tell them, Codi was laying down differently and was looking at me funny? Now, I wish I had listened to my instincts.

In January, the coughing stated. Codi also started ignoring his food, which I knew was a total sign of something being wrong. He never skipped a meal. Off to the vet we went. My vet thought he had a cold and prescribed him some antibiotics. His glands were slightly swollen and the cough was starting to turn into a wheeze. We did an x-ray on him to see if there was something going on. The vet only saw that his trachea was slightly raised up and his heart looked a little funny on one side. She wasn't really concerned though, because his heart was normal size. She wanted to have the surgeon check Codi before we tried an MRI on him. She thought that Codi may have to have a minor surgery to fix his trachea. On February 18th, I brought Codi to see the surgeon. I had started to notice that the glands in Codi's neck were starting to swell. Once the surgeon checked the glands in Codi's neck and the rest of his body, he stood up white as a ghost and declared that every gland in Codi's body was enlarged. I knew by his face that it could be cancer. The surgeon aspirated a neck gland and my stoic boy never even moved a muscle.

During the next couple of days as I waited for a definitive answer, I tried to wrap my mind around the possibility of my strong boy having cancer. I researched everything I could and everything on the internet was pointing towards a very short life expectancy. A nine month time frame was the longest I found. I couldn't put Codi through chemo at his age as he was 11 years old. Two days after the visit to the surgeon, my main vet called with the diagnosis, Codi had lymphoma. She gave him 1-3 months to live. I was shocked and broken hearted. This couldn't be happening! Within a week, I brought Codi to a holistic vet, hoping upon hope that we would have a miracle. The treatments started to work for about two weeks. I had to go away for two weeks, which included nonrefundable vacation and another week of training for work. I was never so torn in my life. I left Codi in the very capable hands of first, my parents for the vacation, and second my husband for the week of training. The reports while I was away were not encouraging. He was having good days and then he would have a really bad day. It was now mid March. A month after Codi's initial diagnosis.

When I came home, Codi had a great day and I was so hopeful. We had an 11 month old puppy at this time. The three of us set out into the back yard to have fun in the snow. I built them a snowman and Codi and the pup had fun jumping on it and tearing it down. Codi even wanted me to throw the snowballs at him, which I gladly obliged him. That was the last good day he had. Over the next couple of days, Codi would only get up to go outside. I was feeding him chicken broth and rice, but even that wouldn't hold his interest. One night, he was having a horrible time breathing. I still couldn't bring myself to face the truth. I was waiting for a miracle. Codi was pretty despondent and wouldn't even respond when I called his name. I asked him to give me a sign. He was the only one who could give me permission to do the unthinkable. Immediately, he reached out both his front paws, grabbed my hand and pulled it to his chest. I had my answer. Codi was asking me to let him go.

On March 25, 2008, my husband and I said goodbye to Codi. He was two months away from turning 12 years old. I love this dog more than I ever thought it would be possible to love a dog. He was like a child to me. We have another puppy now, but the house is still empty of my big boy's presence. I miss him every day and look for signs that he is still around. Sometimes, when I am having a really bad day, he sends me the signs. I don't think I will ever stop missing him and I know that some day, I will see him again. Until then, I have memories of the greatest dog I have ever known. I love you, Codi.

Brock

2009-01-01T01:01:00.006-06:00

Brock was at our local high-kill shelter and he was even more at risk, not only being a Rottweiler, but he'd been adopted then rejected because he had heartworms. I initially went to get a female Rottweiler puppy that I knew could be adoptable, but she was fortunate to find someone before I got to her. I hadn't paid attention to the crazy dog trying to grab the water gushing under his feet from the area being sprayed; I was talking to another rescue volunteer with my fingers loosely through the wire door of his run. Suddenly, I felt my fingers being slurped, not licked, just thoroughly washed! I looked around and there was this gorgeous, big handsome boy. After noticing the rejection on his card, and that he was only two years old, I adopted him. He became Brock when he walked into my house and looked around, then headed straight for me. I called him Brock and he gave me a big lean and a head butt. Heartworm treatment went well and we discovered he has genetically bad knees, he's bow legged. I didn't care; he had the most intelligent face and looked so happy.......he was home.

I've been fortunate with Brock. Most of the Rottweilers I've rescued usually have bad hips: dysplasia, or bone problems: spondylosis, but I've never had to deal with cancer. I noticed, after about six months with us, that Brock had a growth on his face and one on his right front leg. I had them removed, sent to a lab and tested. The one on his face turned out to be a melanoma, but the one on his leg was a cancerous sarcoma. Both were successfully excised and we could only make sure they didn't return.

Brock is still cancer free after six years; I continue to check for any foreign growths or lumps, but nothing has come up and we remain vigilant. Brock has become my confidant, faithful companion and is very attentive. He was diagnosed with spondylosis just a few months ago; hopefully, he'll be with us for a few more years before it gets any worse. He's my big teddy bear and my heart. I'm glad he found me that day!

Big Tex

2008-12-31T19:29:00.004-06:00

Big Tex was rescued from a local kill shelter in the Fall of 2005. C.L.A.W. (The Citizen's League for Animal Welfare) is a rescue group who pulls animals from three different kill shelters in our county.

Tex was an 8 month old Labra-Dane who had been owner surrendered. He was in bad shape and needed immediate help. My husband and I volunteer for this group and we became his new foster parents.

When Tex came into the foster program, we knew it might be a long shot for him to find a forever home. He had been hit by a car, with injuries left untreated. He was also badly underweight and had visible hip damage.

The gash along his back, between the shoulder blades had healed, but not without leaving a scar. Both hips had external scars along with internal bone damage. The bones had been allowed to heal incorrectly.

So we went into "protective parent" mode... and adopted Tex within days of him coming to our foster home.

While his hips "looked" strange, especially when looking down at him from above, they didn't seem to cause pain. We were advised against painful surgery, since it wasn't disabling or painful for him. He ran, played, rolled and wrestled, living life to the fullest. A happy life with his own canine sisters and constant flow of playful foster siblings.

The next 2-1/2 years were blissful with Tex. He was the perfect dog. No issues whatsoever. We firmly believe because he was once a foster kid himself, he took extra care in welcoming other fosters into our home. It was like he was trained to do so.

Tex could always be counted on to welcome (with open paws) any foster dog in need. He knew the drill, the fear of a new place, the uncertainty of new dogs, it is scary for those coming in. Never once was there a grumble from him toward a new foster. It didn't matter to him... male, female, big, little. He would just give then a big sloppy grin & sniff, then trot off with them for a tour of the place.

We noticed periodically, what we thought were dreams when Tex was sleeping. Once in early Spring '08, he had what we then called a "nightmare." Thrashing and whining in his sleep, until we went to him and brought him around. Not until May '08 did we realize we had a problem.

Two bad seizures in one night. With me on the phone to the vet getting advise. The next morning we went to the clinic where he was prescribed Phenobarbital. We spent a couple of weeks getting the dose right to control the seizures. Then the next couple of weeks were good. But with NO warning, he had severe allergic reactions to the med. He broke out in huge whelps all over, ears, around his eyes, lips, even between his toes. Then on to the steroids. More and more of different meds.

He had also developed the habit early on in '08, of rubbing his head with his big paws. Prior to the seizures, we once thought this was just a cute thing he did. Once the other symptoms began, we began to realize this wasn't just a habit.

His head rubbing was obviously indicating pain which was gaining momentum. We tried numerous pain medications to help him find the relief he was so desperately seeking, but nothing worked.

Through two months, many vet visits, prescriptions, tests, x-rays... and watching our boy steadily decline, we were ultimately told he had a brain tumor. Knowing already we couldn't begin to afford a costly surgery or expensive medications, we knew we had to face the heartache of letting him go. Thus relieving his pain.

By mid July my husband held our gentle giant as he departed this world. Leaving a huge empty space in our home and hearts.

This was without a doubt, the hardest decision we've ever made. We had lost much loved dogs to old age before and that's hard enough. But never one so young and so deserving of a good LONG life. One who had experience such a rough beginning in his first year.

My husband and I have a life which combines two very different worlds. Our paying job is a ladies retreat center, our volunteer job is dog rescue. The retreat guests come here knowing we also do animal rescue. Our ladies love to interact with both the personal and foster dogs. This always opens up the floor for many animal discussions.

It's truly hard to grasp the number of people with experiences involving canine cancer. We hear of it each and every weekend. It seems with each passing year, there are more types being mentioned. More and More people losing pets to this disease.

I very much appreciate the Big Dog and his search for an answer. Some way to stop this terrible disease from taking our beloved dogs. My prayer is the cure is found and kids like Tex can live out their years happy and pain free.

Buddy

2008-12-27T20:39:00.005-06:00

My dog Buddy was diagnosed with multilobular osteochondrosarcoma on December 15th. Buddy was a Katrina rescue and a clear case of abuse. His back left leg is withered and nubbed and an X-Ray revealed that he has buckshot in him. Some of you might know him from the youtube video Our Big Dog posted of him!

On December 17th Buddy and I drove (I did most of the driving) 6 1/2 hours to Columbia, MO to the Univ. of Missouri Vet School. After the Bone and CT scans results I was faced with some very hard decisions to make. I finally decided on having the tumor removed along with part of his jaw and his left eye. Buddy had surgery on Dec. 22nd and we were able to come home on Christmas Eve.

Since bringing Buddy home I have barely left his side. Because part of his jaw was removed he has difficulty eating. The doctor put in a feeding tube that I've been giving Buddy water and his meds through. I've been liquifing canned food for him and he has been able to "drink" it normally. Today he actually ate some canned food out of my hand. I beleive he will be able to eat on his own tomorrow. Of course, he may still want me to hand feed him.

I took Buddy to see Dr. Mitchner yesterday and she gave him some better pain medications. He has been awake more today than the past few days. He's wagging his tail more and even gave his little sister a look that could only mean "you just wait a week or two and I'm taking you down". Lily (the little sister) was very gentle with him today. Lily and Buddy were so happy to see each other. I almost cried watching them wag their tails and kiss.

He has been through so much in his life and just keeps on going. When he went outside this afternoon I grabbed my camera so that I could take pictures of him to send to the Doctor's who cared for him in Columbia. Buddy took one look at the camera and ran from me. I had to chase him around the back yard for 5 minutes before he decided to go to the back door and sit down.

Clear your mind of all other thoughts and picture this...a poor one eyed, three legged dog with staples covering the left side of his face running for his life from a wild woman with a camera. I'm so glad that I have a privacy fence.

puppy up!

Sophie

2008-12-27T00:10:00.003-06:00

Last May, Sophie was stung by a bee in our backyard. Her face swelled and she looked like the elephant man. Naturally, it was Friday at 6pm and the vet’s office was closed. We went to the emergency hospital where she was treated with a shot of steroids and given some Benadryl. The swelling disappeared as quickly as it happened, but Sophie was really thirsty. After 2 days of non-stop drinking, she started having some accidents in the house and looked really uncomfortable. She couldn’t pee. By Monday, things had gotten worse. We went to her regular vet thinking she had a urinary tract infection. He took a blood sample and x-rayed her looking for an obstruction. There were 3 possibilities for her problem – a u.t.i., bladder stones, or a tumor. The blood sample ruled out the u.t.i., and the x-ray ruled out the stones. Her bladder was beyond full and she needed an ultrasound right away.

That morning her daddy was teaching a class and I knew he wouldn’t answer the phone. He knew we had gone to the vet. I called and called until he picked up. I told him our little girl and I were on our way to Tampa for an ultrasound because our vet wasn't sure about what was wrong with her. Troy left his class and headed to the specialty hospital where they had better technology than our local vet. Then I called my Dad and through tears told him what was happening. He wouldn’t let me drive by myself (you know how dads can be) and since I had to pass his house anyway, he insisted on driving while I sat and kept Sophie comfortable.

We had to leave her at the hospital while they catheterized her and did some testing. We went back that night and were given the news. Sophie had transitional cell carcinoma and the tumor was in her urethra. The doctors were researching the treatment options and would give us more information the next day.

We had 2 options. The first was to end her life. The tumor was inoperable. The second was an experimental treatment at the University of Florida 2 hours away. The treatment was extremely expensive – more than we could afford - and they understood if we decided against it.

Sophie was a Christmas present for me. She was 4 weeks old when we picked her out and visited every week until she was old enough to come home with us. Before her 1st birthday, 9-11 happened. Shortly after, her daddy and two friends formed the K-9 Forensics Recovery Team (www.k9forensicsteam.com). They wanted to help fill a void for law enforcement. They trained every week and have become a part of many high profile murder investigations. The team has volunteered their time to help where ever they are needed - all over Florida, the southeastern United States, Panama, and Aruba. Sophie is not just special to us. She has a job.

We didn’t sleep or eat for days. Every night we took the hour drive to see Sophie. After days of wrestling with this life or death decision, we learned that Sophie was a good candidate for the experimental treatment at the University. She would be the 4th dog in their research. They estimate the bill to be around $16,000 without any complications. We already had a $2,400 tab at the hospital and the first treatment would run roughly $6,000. We had just paid off a credit card and knew we could charge her treatment to get started and take it on faith that we’d find the money to pay the bill in 30 days.

Memorial Day weekend, we loaded up the family and headed to Gainesville, FL to get started. Her first treatment of radiation was a procedure called Stereotactic Radiation. It is used in humans to treat brain cancer. With a CT scan, the tumor is pinpointed and then blasted with a large dose of radiation. This is followed by several rounds of chemo to make sure there are no little cancer cells anywhere waiting to grow.

Sophie's story aired on most of our local news channels, CNN and there have been several newspaper articles over the last 7 months. The Tampa Bay area has donated enough money to pay all of her current medical expenses and her future expenses. For this we are beyond grateful. Troy said it has restored his faith in humanity. (He’s a deputy sheriff and doesn’t always get to see people at their best.) I am overwhelmed. I never expected this kind of support.

I’m happy to say that after her initial radiation and 8 chemo treatments, the tumor has been reduced by 80% and there are no signs of the disease spreading. Sophie hasn’t missed any work.

1 in 4 dogs is diagnosed with cancer and nobody knows why. Nobody knows why humans develop cancer, either. Human and veterinary medicine are an overlapping science. If we can find the root of canine cancer, we can not only save our companions, but save ourselves from this horrible disease.

UPDATE. November 2010.

Our friend Laura Fergueson set word today that Sophie has passed away. You can read the full article from the Tampa Bay Tribune here. Our sincere sympathies go out to Sophie's family and friends.

Sophie's service will be held at 6:30 p.m. Friday at the Thomas B. Dobies Funeral Home, 9944 Hudson Ave., Hudson, FL.

Troy Fergueson plans on speaking about Sophie's life and dedication to the community. Items from cases she helped solve will also be displayed, as will Sophie's urn, which contains her ashes. The public is welcome.

About puppy up!

2008-11-28T12:58:00.001-06:00

puppy up! is our version of man up or cowboy up neither of which can hold a candle to the undaunted spirit of the puppy. Their instinct for survival is so great that they're unaffected by self doubt or discouraged by uncertain outcomes or the opinions of others. It's that spirit that we carry throughout the walk and that of cancer patients who struggle physically and emotionally with challenges. We've tried to capture that spirit in our puppy up! brand.