NINE 1/2 WEEKS: THE "G" RATED VERSION

  Last Tuesday I went back to the Veterinary Center Referral Center to receive what is apparently the ONE medication my body just doesn’t seem to like very much. I usually look forward to Tuesday’s. I get to spend time with Dr. Freeman and Lauren. They are very nice people although they feel the need to stick me with needles at every opportunity. It comes with the territory, I suppose. 

  Now Jim, on the other hand, knows that the way to a dog’s heart is through his stomach. Jim lovingly gives treats. Repeatedly. Every dog in there knows if they just stand there long enough, Jim will hand over the goods. What more could I ask?

 Back on topic…The drug last week was doxorubicin/adriamycin. I guess it’s pretty effective otherwise I’m sure they wouldn’t be giving it to me.  When I was a doxorubicin virgin, they gave me an EKG to make sure my heart could take it.  Heart damage is one of the possible side effects. Doxorubicin works because it actually binds to the DNA in fast-growing cells. Problem is it can ALSO mess with healthy fast-growing cells like the ones that line my intestines.  Ay! There’s the rub! The result: an overwhelming need to evacuate my bowels more frequently than usual.  Lauren at the Veterinary Cancer Referral Center has a gentile way of asking about the severity of the issue: cow pie or liquid. It evokes a certain "eeewww" reaction but provides an immediate, accurate assessment. 

  The pills I was taking to combat that rather unfortunate side effect worked wonders.  But I stopped taking them Friday.  My mom picked up some metronidazole pills today because there’s no reason to be unnecessarily messy, is there? Of course the organic ground turkey and rice entrees aren’t bad either. I chowed down on that for dinner last night while my mom had popcorn.

  Doxorubicin can also kill the tissue around the injection site if it doesn’t get directly into the vein. It is a testament to how good the people at the Veterinary Center Referral Center are because that’s NEVER happened to me.  YES my legs DO get shaved every week, as you can see, and it makes for interesting conversation. And YES my lymphoma is in remission so I have nothing to complain about.  My mom met another dog there today and he went through the chemo treatments and NEVER went into remission. THAT would be horrible!

The Yuki Dog

The Tomo Dog

  I have this week off from chemo and to make sure I didn’t get bored, my mom decided that another rescue dog was needed.  Truthfully I don’t know WHAT on earth she was thinking. We now have this terminally perky 4-month old Corgi/Australian Cattle Dog mutt that insists upon playing CONSTANTLY.  I must admit we behaved rather badly Friday evening when she was introduced to us.  Honestly we attacked her.  Things smoothed out significantly over the weekend to the point where we essentially tolerate her. Tomo couldn’t care less. She usually curls up in her fetal position wherever she is and catches a snooze. The new puppy DOES have her moments as you can see in the video. It was shot on an iPhone hence the annoying vertical format but you get her generalized joie de vivre...as irritating as it may be.

  She has Corgi-like tendencies like curling her front legs under her like a cat.  She has the large round front paws and the small oval back paws. She also watches TV like I do. Her ears aren’t standing up yet but neither were mine at her age. Her name is Yuki which means either “snow” or “lucky” in Japanese. I think this dog is lucky that my mom got snowed into adopting her. Arf. Arf.

  Also this week my mom had the yard air-rated. I say this only because it served to increase Fred’s anxiety level. You see air-rating pokes hundreds if not thousands of tubular holes in the lawn. It supposedly helps the lawn look better. For me? A lawn’s a lawn. Tree stump. Fire hydrant. Fence post. When ya gotta go, ya gotta go. It freaked Fred out because it leaves little turd-like fingers of dirt all over the yard. Poor Fred doesn't want to step on them and he keeps sniffing everyone of them because they LOOK like they should smell and they ACT like turds meaning that when you step on them they look like smooshed turds. And my poor mom doesn’t even know what she’s picking up anymore since she is on constant poop patrol with the scooper whenever I’m out there with my toxic droppings.

So now we are four. We few. We happy few. I’m just wondering when my bird-brained friend Douglas Macaw-thur will return and what she’ll do with the new addition when she does. Stay tuned!