OUT OF REMISSION, BACK INTO THE FRAY!

 Bless me readers, for I have been remiss…again. It has been a month and a half since my last blog post. Normally one might think of the old adage “no news is good news.” That isn’t the case with me. Well, not completely.

Canine lymph node diagram

  On Friday, June 29, my mom found an “abnormal” lymph node. It’s amazing that she found it; it was hardly enlarged. My mom gropes me every morning. She pretends she’s just petting me or giving me a massage but she lingers with her fingers around all my lymph nodes. For the uninitiated, here is a handy diagram to help you find your canine’s lymph nodes. (Excuse the inferior breed pictured but I couldn’t find a diagram featuring a Corgi.) 

 Dr. Freeman at the Veterinary Cancer Referral Center was rather impressed that my mom found it at all. My dad said he couldn’t feel anything and that it was probably just part of my jaw. He was obviously in denial.

 As fate would have it, that Friday was the day before my parents were going to a place called Mexico to go scuba diving again. I’m not sure what that is, precisely, but they do it rather frequently. My mom and I immediately went over to see Dr. Freeman and she confirmed what we most feared: after 14 months, I am out of remission. I started chemotherapy again that same day; the Wisconsin Protocol again. 

 With my parents out of the country, my Aunt Heidi was kind enough to take care of us.  Aunt Heidi always gives us treats.  “Good” treats, healthy treats. She also doesn’t seem to mind following me around with gloves and the pooper scooper since handling “chemotherapy waste” is quite the challenge.  Should my siblings step in my doggie diamonds and then lick their paws (as we all do), it could make them very ill. Heidi was extraordinarily diligent. One might say obsessed.

 Heidi also brought me back to Dr. Freeman the following Friday since my parents were still away. We are certainly very lucky indeed to have someone as caring as Aunt Heidi to watch over us. I was panting for a few days, due in some small measure to the prednisone but more likely due to the higher temperatures.

 While my lymph nodes are back to a “normal” size, we have yet to hear the magic word “remission.”  We are keeping our digits crossed, however, and I am getting the occasional ground turkey with rice dinners. Scrumptious!

Godspeed, Ollie.

RIP dear Draco aka Chewbacca.

 My return to Dove Lewis was not without heartache, however. I learned that Lucy, another Corgi patient, never went into remission and is no longer with us. Her dad must be awfully sad. And Ollie, the pit bull/Basset mix I blogged about months ago, is also gone. And Draco...Fair winds and following seas to you. Good canines, one and all! 

 I did make a new friend, though, Archie. He is a 10 1/2 year old Golden Retriever also going through his second round of chemo. Archie’s dad was very affectionate with me and shared a word of encouragement with my mom. Chemo parents tend to do that when dropping us off for our weekly appointments. It seems to calm them somewhat. And we get treats.

 In the mean time, we will soon be moving to a place called Florida. I suppose that could be considered good news. Heidi immediately put my mom on notice that she will be “suing for custody” (I believe that’s what she said) because she doesn’t want us to go.

 My parents went to Florida to find a house last week and Heidi came to stay with us again. She let us all sleep out on the deck one night with her. She’s always letting us do fun things. And her husband, Mikal, came for a long visit, too. They are quite wonderful people, if I do say so and I will miss them terribly.

Evil triumphs when good dogs do nothing.

  As a family, Yuki, Tomo, Fred and I were also swept up in an unfortunate political cause last month. Once again, the Irish behaved rather badly when they decided to murder a pit bull mix purely because of his breed.  This poor lad did absolutely nothing wrong yet the Belfast City Council deemed him dangerous because of the way he looked.  Northern Ireland’s First Minister, Peter Robinson said, "Destroying a dog that had no history of aggression is folly and shames society.”  We agreed.  What they did was unspeakably cruel and unforgivable. Thousands of people protested and many offered to re-home Lennox to no avail. 

  Unfortunately, many cities in the United States also have bans and something called legislation that allows people to kill certain dogs seemingly because of a whim, a wild hair. It is called Breed Specific Legislation and makes no sense at all. It is pure rubbish and we had to take a stand!

 So we will be leaving Oregon soon. By the end of next month, I believe. I am looking at it as an opportunity to reinvent myself. I could start training to be a reindeer or start an events’ promotion company to celebrate holidays in style. My mom is frantically looking for a veterinary oncologist down there as good as Dr. Freeman. That might be a tough call because she is quite caring and is very good at what she does.  I’m sure these details will all be worked out in due time.

  I'll be watching the Olympics as much of the rest of the world will and I’ll post my keenly observant commentary in a more timely fashion. I understand that one of the Presidential candidates has a relative in the Olympics. They must be beaming with pride. I wonder what sport it is? Can’t wait to see!

  Til next time, be well. Keep calm and carry on!

 

A DIAMOND JUBILEE FOR THE AGES…AND OTHER MORE RELEVANT UPDATES

 Leave it to the British to confuse people for no reason. Normally, a “diamond jubilee” is a celebration to mark a 75^th anniversary. Except for monarchs, then a “diamond jubilee” is only the 60^th anniversary. Why? Because they’re the British and they CAN do it. It would be as if Americans decided football is actually a sport played with helmets and all sorts of unnecessary padding. Ok. Bad analogy. As a Welshman, I often find these Brit idiosyncrasies maddening and even if her royal highness loves Welsh Corgis, I cannot in all honesty understand such confusing contradictions. That said, celebrations were held all over England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland earlier this month. 

Dorgis I say! WHY?

 One disturbing thing I learned about the queen – she had her Corgis bred with dachsunds and called the little mutants “Dorgis.” Why would one intentionally do this? It most certainly would alter our sleek, regal lines and diminish our mental capacity along with potentially impairing our superior herding skills. One needs but to look at Yuki and wonder where the Corgi went, with her square, block head and those ears that don’t know how to stand. How on earth could this be a good idea? Disturbing is all I have to say. 

 So if you must know, I am doing fine. I was limping a bit so my Mom IMMEDIATELY made an appointment with Dr. Freeman at the Cancer Referral Center. I suppose she was worried. After all, two of her friends bid farewell to their furried friends thanks to K9 cancers. Doodlebug Duds’ model/muse extraordinaire, Lukas, is no longer in pain.  

Bailey - we'll miss you.

 And my Mom’s high school friend “lost” his beloved friend, Bailey. (“Lost” is just such a silly description more apt to be used when referencing a sock, keys for the flat or cheater glasses. Certainly NOT one of us.)  Matt very poignantly wrote: “I remember how you fought long and hard through bitter winter, I am sad that you were old and sick. Just a common dog some would say, but I know only how fine and loyal you have been. Just an animal maybe, but to me a noble spirit worthy of this song of grief I now sing. You go on to greener pastures... we all die too soon.” While Bailey and I never had the pleasure of meeting, he seemed a loyal friend and a good companion. A rather natty chap, quite handsome in a chapeau and scarf. 

 

 But I digress. Back to my limp. I have come to discover that playing with the youngster can have its drawbacks. After all, I celebrated my 11^th birthday last month. We have developed a new romp-around-the-paddock protocol, one that forces Yuki to run AWAY from us older folk, instead of chasing us but it DOES have its drawbacks. I am trying to teach this young pup to heel but the concept hasn’t quite sunk in. A pulled muscle here. A bit of heavy breathing there. Don’t be critical! What do you suspect you could do at the age of 77? A marathon? Do an Ironman?

  I have also been trying my paw at pilates. Unfortunately, they don’t make reformers in Corgi size and this one is just TOO long to do me any good. The sled is nicely padded, however, and I’ll figure out what limited exercises I can do any day now.  

  And Yuki! What we do without a monthly visit to Dove Lewis? This time (again) it was Yuki. She managed to chew apart and ingest a piece of a rubber toy that was just the perfect size and shape to get stuck in her small intestine. Very cork-like in dimensions, substance and purpose. I suppose I should hold my tongue. My Mom just reminded me that I actually managed to eat a piece of wire that went through my stomach wall and irritated my spleen. Eating wire seemed like a good idea at the time. But, when faced with another rather stunning veterinary emergency bill, my parents seemed assuaged by the fact that these unfortunate incidents could be compared to paying for college educations and since they had no two-legged children, they could expend their limited funds on our medical maladies; not ivy league educations after their wayward offspring graduate and decide they need to “find themselves” and wander off to live in a ashram in Kansas City. It’s a somewhat convoluted rationale but it works swimmingly for us. Yuki didn’t really need the cone of shame but I couldn’t help but notice how much Yuki resembled a petunia while wearing one and wanted to share.

 So enjoy the start of your summer vacations. June 20^th is the official start of summer in the Northern Hemisphere and it’s also the longest day of the year. I’m hoping some semblance of summer will arrive and stick around in Oregon soon. It rained yet again today. The herb garden is getting there. The irises, peonies and tulips were stunning but are now brown, mere wilted memories of the beauty they once held. Oh, I’m waxing all T.S. Eliot now so off I must go to watch the telly. I don’t think Dogs In The City is on this evening but it is fast becoming my favorite after Hell’s Kitchen. We look like ANGELS compared to those recalcitrant, spoiled mutts! 

 It has come to my attention that these two BRILLIANT videos are not able to be viewed on some "smart" phones and iPads. I sincerely apologize. If any of my faithful followers know how to rectify this inexplicable injustice, kindly email me at thebarneydog@gmail.com.

For those who CAN view the video below - Sing us out, now! Come now! You can do it! 

April is NOT the cruelest month. March is.

  The first quarter of this year has certainly flown by in a flash. I used to count my days measured in pills and needles, meals kept down, and healthy bowel movements. The weekly trek to have my legs shaved and pricked DID get me a solo ride in the car but sometimes made me sluggish. Now? All is good. Days stretch into weeks and into months. All is good.

 

  A few days ago, I marked a rather nasty anniversary: March 13. The day I was diagnosed with lymphoma. Two days later, I started my chemotherapy journey. SO much else has changed in this short year. Where to start?

THIS is what you do in bed!

  My dad stopped flying to California every week (THAT was disruptive!). My mom introduced our newest sibling into the mix (even MORE disruptive).  We’ve reached a détente of sorts, though Yuki still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of what being “on the bed” means. To those of us in the know, it means get up there, lie down, be quiet and stay cool. To Yuki, it’s more of a “WOW! LOOK! I’m on the BED! WOOOOWWW! LOOK! LOOK! Can’t we PLAY? Fix the blanket. Fix the blanket. Fix the blanket…Oh! What's THIS...” She's worse than that "I smell bacon" dog. Mom and I have been getting wind burns with her tail going into hyper-drive. We’re all hopeful she’ll pick it up sooner rather than later.

   I DID have a nasty little scare last December.  It was a bump on my chest. We IMMEDIATELY went to Dr. Freeman at the Veterinary Cancer Referral Center. Mom and Dad sat impatiently while they did a fine needle aspirate. Again. That was how Dr. Freeman originally diagnosed the lymphoma so they weren’t really looking forward to the results. Personally, I was having a great time roaming the back hallways. I hadn’t been back to Dove Lewis in a while. I missed my friends so it was nice visiting with them. Oh? The little bump? A lipoma. Not lymphoma, though “lymphoma” is what my mom heard and her heart skipped a beat. Turns out my mom has a lipoma, too, and it’s not that big a deal. Hers is on her shoulder. Probably a result of those decades of that brief case strap. 

 

  I also managed to mangle a nail. Ordinarily, that’s also no big deal but Corgi’s nails DO have to be trimmed more than regularly. Mine especially. Fred’s nails also grow at a ridiculous rate. When you start to hear them clicking on the hard wood floors, we know we’ll be herded into the car for the groomer. The nice young lady who does our nails at Muttley Crew lives with a Corgi. She said that my nails are a tad brittle; possibly a result of the chemo. One of the back ones split in half. It was bleeding and it didn’t hurt all that much but, if I understand this correctly, once damaged in that way, it could potentially become infected. All that mucking around in the back yard, you see.  So off we went to see what needed to be done. Simple enough; some anti-bacterial cream and an unfortunately unattractive boot on my foot for a few days and I was good as new! 

Fred celebrates in style!

  Fred also managed to cause a bit of a scare and we’re still not quite sure of precisely what it WAS but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He had…gastrointestinal issues. Bluntly – bloody stool. More blood than stool, bloody fool. Nigel, the Range Rover, could probably find his own way to the vet on autopilot since we’ve been there SO many times in the past year. Between Yuki and her ibuprophen episode (a potentially lethal drug to us) and Fred and his “issue,” I thought I heard my parents talking about refinancing the house to pay for our medical bills. I know health care is becoming more of a problem in this country, especially as baby boomers continue to age. They keep talking about it on CNN. Oh - and then last week I had a tapeworm event. Who KNOWS where I picked them up but they’re also merrily on their way now. And Fred bounced back in time to celebrate St. Pat’s Day in his usual way: donning headgear. Fred LOVES headgear.

The Regal Tomodachi

   The only one of us who never seems to have any issues is our older sibling, Tomodachi. She’s 11 years old. Tomo was a rescue from “the pound” in Phoenix. Some inexcusably cruel people left her in their apartment when they moved out. Just abandoned her! Poor Tomo, then named Star (a ridiculous name if you ask me) barked for three days and finally the landlord showed up after neighbors complained. And there was Star in a locked apartment with a few dead plants. She was still a puppy and she wasn’t even tall enough to drink out of the toilet so she had had no water at all. 

 Legend has it that right after Star was brought in to the pound and given the flea bath dip, she sat shaking and very afraid, dripping in chemicals in a strange place with strange animals and strange smells and strange noises all around. My mom saw her and announced: “That’s our dog.” I guess my dad, who was looking for a yellow lab, really didn’t have much say in the matter.  They decided her name was to be Tomodachi, which means “friend” in Japanese because she really needed a friend. It took her a while to understand that no one was ever going to hurt her again. She cringed and hid behind and under things whenever she could. Supposedly, canine socialization occurs in the first 6 months of our lives. If we’re not socialized properly, there MAY be problems. So if Tomo was beaten and abused for the first 6 months of her life (all evidence pointed in that direction), she had to UNlearn all that she had been subjected to during those critical socialization phase and RElearn that people were okay.  She can be pretty stubborn at times but all in all, I think she turned out just dandy.

Yuki waiting for Doug to play!

  Yuki? Well, Yuki is still trying to be a puppy. She was also subjected to some rather abusive treatment in her formative months. She was tethered to a tree with a chain that weighed more than she did. No food or water from what her second rescuer could tell. I will never understand why people choose to acquire a dog and then treat it …well…like an object instead of a living, intelligent, sentient being. Perhaps, with some breeds, the “intelligent” descriptive might not be entirely accurate but we still deserve a modicum of respect. Yuki thinks she will eventually convince Douglas Macaw-thur to play with her. What she has yet to discover is that Douggie can slice her nose off without warning. I fear another trip to the doctor in the near future.

  Here in the Pacific Northwest, March came in like a lion and appears to be going out like a particularly badly behaved porcine relative. It is still unseasonably cold and bouts of snow do come and go. To those not familiar with Portland’s response to a scintilla of frozen precipitation: shut all schools down.  The wet, heavy snow forces our backyard bamboo garden into a series of tunnels. There are what my mom calls “tummy towels” at every door. Because of our shorter stature, our undercarriage does get wet as we romp around the paddock and the towels tend to this temporary inconvenience. But on days like these, it’s better to curl up on the couch and catch up on one’s reading. Yuki has YET to get through "Inside A Dog." She's a slow reader.

  We anticipate a bright, sunny spring, followed by a brighter, sunnier summer. My dad is contemplating going back to work, whatever that means. It’s what he likes to do, apparently. My mom thinks that for most men, their job is their life. For most women, their job gets in the way of what they want to do with their life. I wouldn’t know. My job is to run the fence perimeter everyday, ensuring a secure border. My job is to make sure that the animals I see on the TV don’t get loose in our house. (Animal Planet shows are especially disconcerting.) My job is to make people smile because that’s what Corgi’s seem to do best. So have a smile on us today! We’ll chat again soon!

Holiday Update 2011

  Just checking in briefly to wish Happy Holidays to everyone out in bloggerdom. Again - I am the WORST blogger. I have no sense of commitment, no discipline which is very unusual for a Corgi. I'd rather chew on a sock or lick my front paws or hang out by the stove waiting for something to drop. And lately there have been some rather interesting morsels. I've been told this is the WORST time of the year for we of the canine variety. 

  Poinsettias while lovely, can kill us. Chocolate, of course, but you knew that and macadamia nuts, which happen to be my sister, Douggie's, favorite. Fortunately, Douggie is very good at finishing off ANY of the nut itself but the shells are everywhere. I would imagine that macadamia nuts covered in chocolate would be doubly off limits. 

  Mushrooms. Garlic. Onions... You name it. And for me, raw beef bones can be troublesome due to what the chemo might have done to my gastrointestinal system. So it's better to just stay with the proven commodity - prime rib. Medium rare works.  But when in  doubt, leave it out because the list of things that can hurt us is long and diverse.

  I promise to post a year end wrap-up but I'm waiting for whatever it is on the oven to come out. It's been smelling up the house all day. There might be something we can nibble on. Ya never know. 

  In the mean time, my mom has written her annual ditty. Her year end update. Enjoy and I'll post my own by the end of the week.

_______________________

Twas the night before Christmas. It's been quite a year.
With challenges, issues. With hope and with fear.

The power of nature, at times so sublime,
Reared its ugly head and wreaked havoc big time.

And thousands of people? They just disappeared.
A nuclear meltdown? It's what they had feared.

My Japanese family was all safe and sound
So I looked down at Barney when I came around.

And what to my wondering eyes did appear?
But this lump on his neck. This ominous sphere.

Oh yes. It was cancer. Lymphoma they said.
I thought chemo would kill him. He just smiled instead.

But I overreacted. I thought he'd be gone.
So what's one more dog! We don't need a lawn.

Now it's Yuki and Barney, Tomodachi and Fred.
Not one of us sleeps when they're all on the bed.

And Mark played commuter to Oakland and back.
He gave up on that. His golf game's back on track.

Mark wanted a road trip. "To Key West!" he cried!
From one key to another, we took it in stride.

So I guess we'll stay put. Just hang out for a while.
We'll stay here in Portland. We'll kick it old style.

May you and your loved ones stay safe and be well
As we all bid this year a quick, hasty farewell!

ANOTHER MONTH, ANOTHER BIT OF MAYHEM

  My last chemo session was August 30, 2011. The note from Dr. Freeman said “This concluded his six month treatment plan.” The whole saga certainly made me feel as if I was more than just a “six month treatment plan.”  Jim at the Veterinary Cancer Referral Center said I graduated.

  Jim always had treats for me. I got another adopted sister in Yuki when my mom overreacted to my diagnosis and drove to Yakima, Washington, with Heidi last April, thinking that I was going to die any day now. I got to sleep on the bed all the time which was especially nice. I got special food made by some guy named Paul Newman. (It made up for all those pills my mom tried to hide in my meals. Like I DIDN’T know they were in there!) I went for rides in the car more than the other dogs. I met a wonderful assortment of fellow cancer patients at my weekly appointments at Dove Lewis, like Draco with Chewbacca-like feet, the rather large, attractive tripod muttley pictured here who was doing well when last we met. When I met him he had just had one of his back legs amputated and it didn't seem to bother him one bit. And Jim also gave him treats, of course.

  On the day of my last treatment, a rather large, burly, tattooed gentleman walked in to the waiting room with what I thought was a guinea pig in his hand. Turns out it was the tiniest of kittens he found in the middle of NW 23^rd Avenue in Portland. Truth be told, he didn’t look like the kind of guy who would stop for a tiny, vulnerable fuzz-ball stranded in the middle of a busy street, which only reinforces that “book by its cover” theory. He couldn’t keep the kitten because he already had WAY to many animals. The kitten was too small to be taken in by Multnomah County Animal Services which, from I’ve been told, only services animals by putting them to death so that was probably a good thing.

  Well, my mom made the mistake of eavesdropping, which she does too often. The kitten would have to be hand fed because she was really young. She seemed okay but without someone to foster or adopt her, who was going to pay for tests to make sure? She had some fleas but was otherwise pretty healthy looking. Little does my dad know but we almost introduced a 6^th animal to our menagerie that fateful day. My mom went home and spent the next four hours calling people, posting on blogs and facebook, checking in with Jim to make sure the kitten was still okay, desperately searching for a home for this poor little thing. One of my mom’s friend, Tracee from Seattle, was going to drive down the next day to get her if we couldn’t find her a home. Fortunately, another friend, Holly, was thinking about getting another kitten since her other cat had passed away a little while ago. My mom was actually on the phone planning on going to get her because she didn’t know if Holly was really going to be able to get down there in time. Jim asked my mom, “Is your friend’s name Holly? She’s on the other line right now with the vet…”  Her name is now Miss Boots because she has four tiny white feet. Even when she weighed in at under a pound, she managed to keep the 90 lb. Labrador in check. As you can see, she didn’t particularly appreciate the baths to get rid of the fleas (she looks SO sad) but she’s in good hands now. The hand feeding lasted only one day.

  So, I’ve been cancer-free since April. Seven months. When we walked out of Dove Lewis that sunny August day, one would think we would celebrate. But my mom seemed inexplicably distressed. I suppose with the weekly visits and the drug protocol, and the concomitant administration of additional prescriptions, we had benchmarks to meet. Places to go. People to see. Now we just wait. It’s not a question of “if.” It’s “when.” My lymphoma WILL come back. Dr. Freeman said it could be weeks. It could be months. She even said that there was a Basset who enjoyed four years in remission and we all KNOW that Corgi’s are much better suited for survival than Basset’s. While I am optimistic, my mom is more of a realist. Or so she claims. She always has been a glass-half-empty kinda gal. I believe she claims "Glass Half Empty" is her Native American name.

  Prior to my last treatment, Yuki and Fred got to go to the Dove Lewis “Corgi Walk.” Yuki is still rather skittish around crowds and my mom felt it would be good for her to get out and about. Fred, on the other hand, just barks incessantly. It doesn’t make any difference if you tell him nobody likes a loud Corgi. There were 150 Corgi’s. Some in costume. Some with slippers. Next year, my mom says she wants to staff a grooming table to raise even more money for Dove Lewis so that they can take care of any future Miss Boots that come through the door. She's thinking about a grooming table that just brushes Corgi’s: 10 minutes for $10.  She thinks she’ll raise hundreds. I hope to be there to see her reap the rewards.

  My mom also hosted something called "Chicks Rule" last month. It's become an annual event where people come over and support women who are running for office. I don't know how long of a run that is and, as a Corgi with short legs, that is always a concern. But there were a lot of really nice people here to show their support. There was even a woman named Jennifer Williamson who is running with crutches.

  The theme was red and white polka dots that had something to do with someone named Rosie the Riveter. All I know is we raised some money and I got to play with the balloons after everyone left. Call me crazy but these balloons actually stalked me! See for yourself!

JULY 28th: BARNEY & FRED SMACKDOWN

  Another 6 weeks have flown by. SO much has happened so I’ll break it into semi-digestible nuggets so you won’t be abysmally bored.

  A few days after my last post, my brother Fred and I got into a little fistacuffs. I suppose I might have been feeling a little cranky. All these drugs will eventually do that to even the most even-tempered bloke. But he nipped. I nipped back and before I knew it we were locked in a death grip. (Okay. That might be a slight exaggeration.) 

  That Thursday, my mom was actually “dressed as a grown up,” as she puts it when she has to look presentable or professional. She had off-white linen slacks and a sage and green linen blazer. She was supposed to be going to something called a memorial service for a friend of hers who had passed away a month earlier. The woman they were memorializing was named BettyRoberts. 

  I got to meet her once when she came to a turkey fry at our house.  My mom seemed to really like her. She was a “Hillary person” and I’m not quite sure what that means. According to my mom, she was someone who walked the talk. Bandwagons are certainly made to be jumped on but she fought for equality before equality became a trendy cause du jour. My mom said that there weren’t enough women like her – women who fought the fight because she believed in it. Not because she wanted her ego massaged or her picture taken. She had a lot of fabulous firsts in her life. She was the first woman to serve on the Oregon Supreme Court.  My mom also said also said she was a pretty good poker player. I guess you had to have a good poker face if you were always dealing with people telling you that you were “less than…” But I digress.

  My mom was on her way out the door when Fred and I got into it. And there was blood. It looked worse than it was but since I have a very full white collar around my neck, it looked as if my throat had been slit.

  My mom got between us and then there was even more blood. Truth be told, it doesn’t look good on off-white linen. Fred got me over the eye but apparently my eyes are so tough, he lost a tooth. My lip was punctured, so was Fred’s foot. Yuki was petrified but that’s pretty much her constant state. (She’s still a little tentative more often than not.) 

 Once we all calmed down, my mom decided not to attend the memorial which I thought was something she really wanted to do, getting dressed up and all. But I overheard her on the phone and she said that memorials were for the living and that she had said her goodbyes a few weeks ago. She ditched her bloody grown up clothes, took off her earrings, sat in the back yard, and shed a tear by herself. Fred and I behaved for the rest of the evening in honor of Justice Roberts.

 

 

CHEMO DOGS BEWARE: NO VACCINES!

Has it really been a month and a half since last we spoke? Time certainly DOES fly when you’re in remission, doesn’t it!
 

 One can assume in this instance that no news is good news, at least for me. Since June 11, I have undergone three more chemo sessions with either vincristine and/or doxorubicin. My weight is maintaining and I’m feeling rather cheeky if I do say so myself. Next week I start those nasty little cytoxan pills at home.

 I DID have a little eye issue and there was a disaster averted with my other veterinarian.

 Every once in a while my eyes get a little runny. It happens to people with allergies and perhaps when they don’t get enough sleep. I actually had a tiny growth removed from my eye when I was a little lad and it just gets irritated from time to time. Dr. Freeman with the Veterinary CancerReferral Center thought that I should try some antibiotic eye drops just in case. You see – since my immune systems is rather screwy right now, any infection could do irreparable harm. Now the prescription called for an ointment to be applied twice a day. When my mom ordered it, she thought it would be around $15 to $20 and the pharmacist confirmed that. Well! Imagine her surprise when the same pharmacist called back and said that while the generic form of the drug comes in drops, it wasn’t available in the ointment and the ointment was going to be $117! Now I understand why my mom yells at the television on Sunday mornings when the talking heads mention big pharmaceutical companies. Dr. Freeman saved the day again and switched it to drops. No worries.

NO VACATIONS FOR YOU!

 The other close call was more disconcerting. My kennel cough vaccine was up for renewal. We need it in order to be kenneled. My mom made the appointment (for all three of us more mature dogs, as a matter of fact) and that was that. Fortunately, she happened to mention it to the people at the Veterinary Cancer Referral Center when we were there last Tuesday and they said, “Absolutely under NO circumstances is he to get ANY vaccines!” 

 Once my mom thought about it, it made perfectly good sense. After all a vaccine is simply a small dose of the disease you’re trying to avoid. With my immune system in tatters right now, it might have killed me. (Forgive the melodrama but that’s how it hit me at the time!)  When my mom called Banfield, she was understandably furious and you don’t ever want to see her furious. They KNOW I am undergoing chemo. It is in my record. But they scheduled it anyway. A vet assured my mom that they would have caught it when we came in but what if they hadn’t? It was only caught because my MOM caught it. She’s still debating whether or not to ever go back to Banfield!

Bottom line – I cannot get ANY vaccines until two months after my last treatment, which makes it sometime in November. My mom was a tad upset because that meant several trips – to Phoenix, to Disneyworld, to Mexico – had to be canceled. She’s okay with it now but wanted to string up either the woman who made the appointments or the vet or, most likely, both.

 Here’s the thing: my mom spends an inordinate amount of time worrying about me. What I’m eating, when I’m pooping, whether my eye is goopy, if I’m sleeping too much, if I’m not sleeping enough, if I’m getting my pills... And for some incompetent buffoon behind a desk to almost throw all that caution out the window is utterly incomprehensible! She makes sure I get my fish oil and mushroom extracts every day. I also get a probiotic powder sprinkled on my food in the morning and the Onco-support powder (which tastes like something even a dog wouldn’t eat so she meticulously fills up little capsules to ensure that I get the necessary vitamins and extracts). No one knows which of these little goodies are working and which are worthless but I AM taking them and I am STILL in remission. Have been since April and I intend to stay that way. There you have it. Cheers! 

 The weather has finally cooperated here in Oregon and our household has calmed down somewhat. I got to sit on our deck and soak up some rays with Willow and Fred and Tomo and Yuki have finally signed a peace accord. At least for now.

 There were two other dogs I met at Dove Lewis over the last few weeks who are not that lucky. Jack is a great mixed breed who has a strange stripe of missing fur on his butt. He was only in remission for a short period of time. The lymphoma came back and Dr. Freeman has him on another regimen. And then there’s Ollie. Ollie is a pitbull/Bassett mix. Now, I don’t mean to sound harsh or be one to judge a book by its cover but Ollie…how shall I put this. Ollie looks like a full-grown pitbull who had his legs put in the dryer and they shrunk. He is the goofiest, friendliest guy I’ve met in a while. And he puts that pitbull myth to rest. Ferocious, my arse! He is built like a brick outhouse, however.

Ollie the Pitbull/Bassett baby

Ollie was diagnosed with lymphoma in January and HIS came back so, again, he’s on what Huey Lewis would call a new drug. Both companions in chemo are in great spirits and have GREAT mom’s worrying about them.

In the mean time, my canine circle of friends has been greatly diminished of late. My mom’s friend owns a fabulous place called Vino Vixens on Powell. Her name is Lesa. Lesa’s beloved Cloud passed away last week. Cloud was a cool dog. NEVER flummoxed or upset even when I was attacking his little sister, Marley.  (I wouldn’t have seriously hurt her. It was one of those silly territorial displays.) And another family of friends, Patty, Sayde, and dear, sweet Gertie, bid a sad farewell to Roscoe. Billy, another canine companion in chemo, is doing well so keep up the good work, dude. So stop in to Vino Vixens, buy a bottle of wine, and give Lesa a hug. And go see Patty, Sadye & Gerty at their DoodlebugDuds booth at Saturday Market. They’ve got amazing things for every size and shape dog – backpacks, bowls, raincoats, beds, and a Doodgebuggy. (You’ll have to go to their website to see what it is!)