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.

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

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

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.

Turbo by Linda Schroeder

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."

Lucie

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