I am heartbroken. I am sick, depressed, despondent. My good old girl is gone.
For those of you who’ve been around a while, you’ve read the posts about Fat Dog and Not Quite Fat dog—Kayla and Jake, our dogs.
Fat Dog, Kayla, is gone. So very fast. We had no idea of the cancer inside of our dear old girl. She never whimpered, never whined, never showed us any clue…until the last few days when she was sick, and even then she didn’t whine or whimper. She just began to feel bad.
All the visits to the vet over all the years we had her –all her shots and check ups and good food and everything!, all the things we did to make sure she stayed healthy did nothing in the face of goddammed cancer. I hate that word. I hate Cancer. I can’t beat it up. I can’t holler and scream at it. I can’t stomp it and wring its nasty ugly neck. I can’t do a thing to get rid of the anger at Cancer that I have. And I can’t do a thing to stop the sick I feel in my stomach. I can’t do a thing to stop my sobbing. I can’t do a thing to stop missing my old girl. My best friend. My beautiful girl. And all this time she had it growing in her and no one knew. She was my friend, my walking buddy—my good old beautiful girl.
The last few days, we knew something was wrong, and we took her to the vet and the x-rays came and the surgery came, and she was gone. Without the surgery, the mass could have ruptured, with the surgery, there was a hope, a small small small hope, but when Cancer is around, it likes to squash hope! Cancer likes loss. Cancer loves to make people sick. Cancer loves to make people cry and mourn. Cancer thrives on it. Bastard!
I won’t go into details, I can’t. It doesn’t matter. There was nothing we could do—she was too far into the cancer inside of her. Fucking Cancer. I hate you, Cancer. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU CANCER I HATE YOU!
She could have lived a longer without that STUFF inside of her. She was going on twelve and for a bigger dog, that’s old, but she was healthy – or so we thought. I was just thinking the other day, just days ago, when we were walking together (Oh! My buddy! My walking buddy is gone, how will I walk my mountain without her….I can’t – dammit! I am too sad, I am too too sad….) and I thought, “Oh, we are so lucky to have such healthy dogs! I bet Kayla lives another few years – I bet she stuns the vet by living to a very old dog!” What an arrogant statement! What a selfish one in it’s way – for when dogs live to very very old, they do suffer. But she seemed to be so happy! Other than her arthritis, she seemed so healthy! Sneaky sneaky cancer.
I was excited over a new arthritis medicine we were going to try – we didn’t care if it was expensive, we just wanted our old girl’s last …years I thought…to be good. I had visions of her being able to walk like she used to instead of plodding along and having to rest. Little did I know it wasn’t just the arthritis that made her feel more tired than usual. But her appetite was good, and she yodeled her thanks and love and she sat out on the porch and sniffed the wind and she barked at passersby and thunder and she did all these things as if she were healthy and never whined or cried or whimpered or acted as if she had anything growing inside of her. Even when she began to get sick, she never whined or cried! She was strong and brave and beautiful. SNEAKY BASTARD CANCER! SNEAKY BASTARD!
It was quick. Once she fell ill, we brought her to the vet and he x-rayed her, and there it was. Big. Ugly. Nasty. Cancer. But, he said, it could be something else, maybe just a mass that could be removed before it ruptured, and then she’d be back to where she was! Hope! Hope! There was a tiny tiny chance of Hope and a few more years maybe! But I saw in his eyes, even when I felt hopeful, I saw in his eyes that he knew and he told us there wasn’t a very good chance, because of her blood work.
God, the very day we found out the mass was there, was the very day we lost her. We spent the last few hours between x-ray and surgery to be with her and pet her and love her as we did all her life. She sniffed the wind. She looked all around – oh, friends, it was as if she KNEW….the way she sniffed and looked so wistfully-my heart is breaking.
Our vet, bless his heart for he had to do this very thing to his beloved friend not that long ago, opened her up and when he did, it was too late. Bastard Cancer had done its vile thing. Had done it so well that Bastard Cancer took our girl from us that fast.
Someone said, “But she was old anyway and may not have lasted much longer even without the cancer.”
I don’t care, I say. The cancer made it too fast. The cancer made her feel bad in her few last days. The BASTARD CANCER took her earlier than I thought she would go.
I hate you, Cancer – I despise you. I despise you and hate you forever. You evil evil cancer. You mean vile evile cancer.
My old girl – oh sob!- my old girl! Oh, friends – how can I stand it? How do I stand it? She was my friend. She was my good good girl. I can’t stand it. I feel loss loss loss. Good Man Roger and I have cried until our eyes swelled shut. Our Not Quite Fat Dog Jake doesn’t realize it yet, maybe he won’t. I don’t think he’s as “aware” as my old girl was – she was special. Yes, we all think our pets are special, but don’t you know that just like some people are special, so are dogs? But more than that, she just had expressions…she had these looks in those big dark soft brown eyes. My girl, my good old girl. I can’t stand it.