Couple of things upfront…posting from a phone in the hospital waiting room, will have to be terse. And to understand the whole situation, you should know that we lost our beloved dog Sadie July 30, 5 months ago, to a suddenly-diagnosed tumor. I have been unable to post about that loss, suffice to say we were hollowed out.
Just over two weeks ago, dropping off some extra pet supplies at the county shelter, we made the mistake of going inside “for a look.” Despite various bright-eyed youngsters vying for our attention, an elderly beagle caught my wife’s eye. He was listed as being 12 years old, but seemed much older. Very calm, sort of vaguely impaired – either his senses or his cognition. But we just wanted him to have as good a life as might be granted to him. We were stunned to seein his medical records that he’s been bounced around between shelters since 2010 – at least four years in the shelter system!
And so I returned a few days later and adopted the dog we named Mr. Rogers. His initial vet visit revealed anemia, cause unknown, and bad teeth, and a sensitive disk in his back. He managed to fit into the family well, getting along with our other dog, Simone, mostly by ignoring her. The cat, Lefty, reacted with bored didain…“Of COURSE you brought home a dog,” he seemed to sneer.
Mr. Rogers turned out to have a good appetite, eating anything we offered, and he liked the big thick orthopedic beds we have left over from Sadie. But his favorite thing was walking. Despite some arthritis and wasting in his back legs, abd his poor senses, he loved to pace along sedately right behind me as often as I took him out…which has been pretty often, given his small bladder. Yes, he tries to tell us when he needs to pee, but he’s on a very short timer so if I hesitate in jumping up, well, it’s too late. We understand old age ain’t for sissies, and we have a big bottle of white vinegar.
We don’t do much to celebrate Christmas, but we do have family over. We were excited to get to introduce Mr. Rogers to my relatives. But a few days before Christmas, Mr. Rogers started being very picky about food. By Christmas Eve, Mr. R stopped eating entirely.
All day Christmas, we tried to find something he’d eat. Nothing – he even turned his head away from chicken broth.
And today nothing either. He was restless, even unwilling to lie down, getting up frequently to wander around listlessly. But he was drinking fine and wilng to walk.
And so we are at the vet. Diagnosis: a huge mass in his spleen. A “cavitated” tumor. This explains the anemia…he’s been gradually bleeding to death. But anemia also might be the trouble with his cognition – by starving his brain of oxygen, it can make him vague and slow.
What to do with an old dog facing major surgery? Time to fight for him, or to let go gently?
While we love him, he’s so new to the family, and so “not quite there,” that we’re not so emotionally bound up in the moment…we can at least try to be objective.
Well, the thing is, the anemia. If fixing the bleeding might bring him out of his mental fugue, he mightnit seem so…OLD. It’s still a crapshoot…if the tumor is benign, he might have a few good years left. If malignant, six months to a week, and maybe not so good.
In a lucky break, I renewed his pet insurance before this diagnosis. It’s not the best coverage, but we haven’t had any in the past, and only got this (it’s hard to insure an old dog!) with the adoption process. It will go a long way to defray the costs involved.
And so here I am, waiting late in the animal hospital. While I’ve been posting this, he’s been in surgery. Maybe it’s a waste of money. Maybe it’s just torturing him unnecessarily. But maybe it’s a second chance for Christmas.
They just told me he’s out of surgery. The spleen is out. Prognosis unknown, but they found nothing else bad.
Merry Christmas, old man.
