Hey all…. well, 2nd round of chemo done!! Whew…. one exhausted owner and one exhausted dog!! The Good… well, my Onc vet said Patou did great. The girls at the clinic loved him as he is working his Patou magic on them all and they said he just wagged his tail any time anyone looked at him during his chemo. The Bad…. well, the buckling and dragging is still going on even after a great day yesterday where he just hopped up and used his leg like there was never a problem but by the end of the day the leg just pooped out. BUT …. after having a heart to heart with the vet and being given the speech of where do you want this to go if he can’t be very mobile and the quality of his life and are we saving the dog for a poor quality.. yadaa, yadaa, yadaa. So I wanted the vet to examine the leg for swelling or knots or ACL problems etc. SO after the chemo… the vet’s tune changed and all of  a sudden it was “well… the leg is still weak and still being strengthened due to all the strain and weight on that one back leg and suggesting some light physical therapy and that’s probably all it is ” The gait of the dog will change after the amp and the dog AND the leg has to adapt to all of that.”I had told my vet about all the experiences of people here on this site and that it was not too uncommon for this to occur, and mostly with time the leg strengthens and the dog “gets their groove back!!” Ok… now the Ugly.. Well… there is no ugly!! there are no ugly dogs and I had to finish the phrase and movie title, “the good the bad and the ugly”.. well… actually the weather was really crappy here in Indiana today, rain and fog,  so it WAS ugly!!!

Patou is home all snug and alseep for the afternoon, I am sure of that. Just wish my harness had come in as it would have been REALLY handy for all of that today. I do have to sit here and ask myself, do they teach a ‘glass half full or half empty’ in Vet School? Why are the vets so pessimistic sometimes.I’m sure they see all sorts of outcomes and not being in a big inner city and having access to the big Oncology Vet clinics perhaps there is just not that chance to see or hear really good success stories. Perhaps there is alot to be concerned about with this leg, but I still stick to my guns that while there is life and fight in this dog, I will give TIME to heal the benefit of the doubt. I have become a very patient nurse in my years in medicine and there are ALWAYS miracles in the medical field. I have seen them and heard of them first hand.  And believe me if a patient tells you that he/she thinks she is dying…. you had better believe them and move VERY quickly!Don’t get me wrong, I love this Onc vet and he is very experienced and very compassionate with his work and animals and I am glad that I found him. He actually ended his visit by letting me see his recent family photo of his family with their Pyrenees that looks like Patou’s identical twin!! I know that having Patou, his first Pyr cancer patient, that the thought of  ‘this could have been my own dog’ has played through his mind. It would mine if I were in his shoes. This guy is sincere and honest and I know that it was his honesty coming out while he was discussing quality of life with me, not pessimism. I’m sure vets have seen their patients suffer unduly due to people not wanting to let go. I would never want Patou to suffer unduly or cruelly.  I can imagine that when the time comes, Patou will give me one last ‘nose nudge’ and tell me to let him go, this I can believe. And I believe, that while I have the strength that this is my turn to ‘watch over him’ and the role of guardian has been switched, with my pleasure. I wish I had the poem that the late Jimmy Stewart wrote about his dog, that I believe was a black Labrador if I am not mistaken. I will have to try to find it, as I was greatly moved by the poem and this was long before the advances in animal medicine and animal health maintenance, and the value of animals to society and humanity. If I remember, it was a poem of Love and Gratitude toward his faithful companion……  warmest thoughts,

Janet and Patou

Found it!! The Jimmy Stewart Poem~ not as poetic as I remembered but a nice poem:

            “Beau”

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn’t come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag.
He’d dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I’d grab him, he’d turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn’t read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story’s long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

We would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And it if was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in awhile, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house —
I guess I’m the first to retire.
And as I’d leave the room he’d look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs
And I’d give him one for awhile.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I’d fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He’d tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I’d feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I’d pat his head.

And there were nights when I’d feel this stare
And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there
And I’d reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I’d feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he’d be glad to have me near.

And now he’s dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he’s not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so,
I’ll always love a dog named Beau.

    Jimmy Stewart     1908-7/2/97