Sermons in Stone by Luke Robinson

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

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.

Katie's Story by Donna Hakala

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 Clavamox 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

Oscar Baby, by Cindy Wilson

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

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 Lysodren. 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.

Tobey, by Sherri Murray

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

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

Kava and Taz by Laureen Straw

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!

Remembering Bella by Paige Segovia

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