Two Stories about the Dogs

1.

For some reason, three-year-old Maddie has suddenly become obsessed with puppies.  Despite the fact that we have two adult dogs, a cat and some fish, she wants to bring another furball into the family. She saw a Bichon Frise puppy in the mall pet store, and she talked about it for days.  She kept saying our dogs needed someone to play with.

"But they have each other, Maddie," I told her.  "Do you want us to get rid of Mallory or Sindri so you can get a puppy?"

"Maybe one dog can live with another family," she replied.

"Which one should we send away?" I asked.  "Maybe we can get rid of them both?"

She thought for a moment before shrugging and replying, "Nah, they have to live with us.  I want Mallory and Sindri AND a puppy!"

I actually found this touching, that she wasn't willing to sacrifice one of her old dogs even for a new puppy.  When I was three, I probably would've sold my dog for a Luke Skywalker action figure.  Heck, I'm sure I'd have given my brothers away in exchange for the Millennium Falcon.

2.

I was in a full staff meeting this morning when my wife called to say that Sindri had taken a turn for the worse.  Sindri is our eight-year-old Belgian Shepherd--the happiest, dumbest, most energetic dog on Earth.  He'd started limping last week for no apparent reason, but we couldn't get him an appointment with the vet until Tuesday of this week.  Apparently, though, whatever he'd done to his leg was getting worse.  Alecia said that he was yelping and wouldn't let her touch it, so she got the doc to see us a day early.

At the vet's office, Dr. Miller took Sindri back for an x-ray.  When he came back, he told us we may want to have one of his nurses watch the girls so we could talk to the doctor in private.  Maddie and Josie were already bouncing off the walls, so Alecia took them out into the waiting room and let me be the one to hear the news.

The good doctor showed me a big grey smudge on the x-ray, where Sindri's left leg should've shown up as a solid white bar.  It was a tumor.  The size of a golf ball and almost all the way through his leg, just below the shoulder.

Our doctor was very knowledgeable about the treatment of just such a mass--he'd lost his own dog only a week before to almost the exact same thing.  He showed me his poor dog's x-rays to prove it.  Knowing his dog died under a similar ailment didn't make me feel any better. 

Then again, he wasn't trying to make me feel better.

He let me go out to break the news to Alecia, so we could discuss treatment options.  Unfortunately, when I got about halfway to the waiting room, I started to lose it a little.  I pulled Sindri into one of the exam rooms and held onto him for a minute while I tried to get my shit together.  I didn't want Maddie and Josie to see me breaking up--I thought it would scare them.  Finally, I dried my eyes and walked Sindri the rest of the way to where Alecia was waiting.  The girls greeted him like a long lost friend, shouting "Sindri's back!" and "Yay, Sindri!"   I started to lose it again.

I was so choked up that I never even told Alecia what the prognosis was.  When the doc came back to talk about our options, he started right in, not noticing the slightly confused look on Alecia's face.  I say "slightly," because at this point, she sort of knew what I'd been told.

The doctor gave us some options--amputation, chemotherapy, pain management, euthanasia--and told us to talk them over.  Most of them were pretty expensive, and none of them guaranteed any extra time for Sindri.  In fact, the doctor said he could be gone in anywhere from two weeks to six months, depending on where else the cancer was hiding.  Even the most expensive options, if successful, would only give him another year.

Alecia totally held it together in the doctor's office.  I was amazed.  She broke down on the way home.  While Maddie and Josie fought over a ribbon in the back seat, Alecia cried into her hands.  She kept saying something that, at first, I couldn't understand.

"I've been so mean!" she was saying. 

"What are you talking about?  To Sindri?  No you haven't."

"I've been so mean to him," she sobbed.  "I never play with him, I only ever yell at him.  I've been awful!"

"You're a mom, you've had other things to worry about," I told her.  "Besides, he's not gone yet.  He's sitting right behind you.  You can start spoiling him rotten as soon as we get home."  I tried to give her a smile, but I knew exactly what she was talking about.  The dogs became second class citizens as soon as the kids arrived, and neither of us have been able to give them the time they deserve.  Now, that's all we could think about.

The doctor suggested we talk things over quickly, so we could get started with whatever option we chose and not prolong Sindri's suffering.  His tumor's location makes everything from walking to laying down a major pain.  We have some pills, but there's no telling how they'll work for him, so the quicker we get started with treatment, the better. 

But we don't need much time.  Alecia and I already know what we're going to do.

We're not ready to let him go just yet...