The Last Goodbye

How can you measure the love you have for a small little dog named Mack? He was my hero, my love, the spirit of my heart that held a huge piece of it in his little paws. That's why it's so hard to write the next words which are the final ones I will write in the journal of our journey together through the hellish disease called osteosarcoma.

My precious little dog was the epitome of fortitude, strength, endurance and devotion, because, despite what he had going on with him, he was the same little dog I brought home the very first time and who became the dog we loved to the very end of his life.

Wednesday the 30th of October was, just like what the other days of the last week or two had been like, a battle to get him to eat.  We'd tried literally everything in the book to entice him to eat and nothing up to that day had really worked.   We woke up with the usual hope that this day would find  Mack free of pain enough to want to gobble up his food. If he truly was unable to do that, then we knew that it was the end of the road.  If he could not eat, what was there to do? If he would refuse what he had loved his whole life and was hungry and still wouldn't eat, then we knew that we were going to have to make a terrible decision.  So that morning it was like the others, he would try so hard to come by the food and then veer away at the last minute.  Maybe once in the two to five times we tried that morning, he would grab at the food and then run from me and I knew.

I am not sure why that particular day seemed like the day to decide, but it was, because as the days had gone by with the introduction of new pain medications, we knew in our heart if it wasn't enough to get him to eat then there was little we could do.  He was getting thinner and more spacey as the days rolled by and it was becoming pretty apparent that whatever it was could not be overcome by the medications which were pretty powerful.

The last attempt to get him to eat was met by the sight of him running to hide from me and it was then that I made the call to the euthanasia vet group and we made the appointment to have him put to sleep that afternoon. Funnily enough the last question I asked of lovely,  sweet Rose was if anyone ever called and canceled and she said that there had been instances of it and it wouldn't be the first time. It was a funny question to ask when I'd just made the appointment but it just came to me in that instant.
So the time was set and it was early morning yet, so I grabbed my camera and decided to shoot some last photos of my beautiful little Mack and try to capture the moments that I felt would comfort me later on. I shot about 45 or so photos and then decided to put my camera down and give him a massage and that's when I noticed something in his mouth that looked like a bone that was stuck in his gums.  It was enough to take him to Bob and ask if he saw what I saw and it was then that I decided that I couldn't just let him go this way without really knowing what was going on with him. Up to that moment we had no real idea what it could be that was causing him to not want to eat and I hated to think we'd put him to sleep for a tooth problem, so right then and there I made the decision to take him to our vet. and have the X-rays done.  It was the last ditch effort to ensure I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what was wrong with him.

The appointment was at 3:30PM and as I drove down to the office, I said a short prayer that our vet. would tell us what to do.  I needed her to tell me it was time, if it was time.  It was a quiet drive with Mack falling asleep as we drove to the office and me petting his little head and massaging his neck as we drove in silence.  We arrived and he perked right up and wanted to get out and as soon as I opened the door he was standing and ready to jump out of the car and we walked into the door of the hospital.
He wagged his tail at everyone and every dog and he was curious about his surroundings but he wanted up in my lap and I let him and we sat and waited.  Then they came out and took us to a room we'd been in before and our beloved vet. asked me what was up.  I went over what we thought and that we had made the appointment to put him to sleep that day but because of the tooth issue I felt we needed to know just what it was that was going on with him. She agreed and said she would check it all out once she had him sedated and hoped that her X-ray machine was working ok and then we'd have more information.  I actually didn't get to say goodbye because they took him from me and walked away and I left the room to go back to the waiting room.  I was assuming that we'd be back in the car not much longer from then and he'd be drowsy but with me and we'd be going home.

They gave him the light sedation and once that had taken effect they brought me back to where they were going to take the X-rays and she showed me the inside of his mouth and everywhere and she then asked me what had I seen and strangely enough, it wasn't there…weird I know, but truly it was there and Bob and I both saw it and it was not a small piece of bone or whatever it was and now it was totally gone.  But she couldn't see it and neither did I so she said, well let's get the X-rays done and once that's done come back and we'll have a look at them.

I can't say why I knew when I walked in, but the looks on the faces of all the people there looked like masks of sadness that screamed oh no…it was almost palpable and I knew it wasn't good news.  Shockingly it was not good news and we had NO idea. Once she could show me the actual X-rays, there was a true visual truth staring at us that the bone in his jaw and in his face was nearly all GONE. It had been destroyed by the cancer that had lurked there all this time. It had taken what was bone and turned it into nothing.  His teeth were sitting in gelatinous tissue and nothing supported them and it was so devastating to me to see this that I almost couldn't breathe.  He had endured such pain and suffering without an obvious outward sign other than not being able to eat and I couldn't believe it.  As he lay there I put my hand on his soft body and I asked should we let him go and she said yes. That was the answer to my prayer.  We knew then that it was the only thing left to do for him and that was to let him go to be free of pain and suffering. There was no point in waking him up just to let him go again in a day or two.  This kind of pain could not be controlled by pain medications and probably he had endured this for so long that I felt bad that we'd waited so long to decide to let him go. It was heartbreaking but I knew it was the only thing we could do for him. So as I said my goodbyes and told him that I loved him, I left and as I opened the door to go to the waiting room he must have heard my voice and lifted up and was coming out of the sedation and I was in a panic that he not see me and I rushed out of the room so he wouldn't see me leaving.  I couldn't be brave enough or strong enough to be there for him as he took his last breath but as my husband said, he probably wasn't aware that I was not there but knew I was still in the building and they quickly administered the final anesthesia that would take his life.  They asked me if I wanted to see him and I said, no, I was ok not seeing him. I couldn't manage that either. It broke my heart later on that I chose not to,  but it was the way it felt to me that prevented me from doing it. My heart and my mind were numb and I was too distraught to manage much but just move in space.

There was a lady in the waiting room that had been waiting for an appointment with Dr. O. and she had been asked a few times if she really wanted to wait and she said, no I'm fine, I'll wait and I know that God sent her to be there for me.  She didn't have an appointment and had just decided to drop in so Dr. O could see her little dog's ear and she was going to be seeing her after me.  She and I talked and we shared stories and she actually got me through the time when I know that Mack's life was ebbing away. I know I sat there showing little emotion but it was so unreal that I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it and all I wanted to do was be gone from there. It was unreal and nightmarish but I was lost in denial that it was happening at all…it was unreal looking back on it. I was not able to be there to know for sure what he was going through, but for some reason I knew that I was led there to have it happen the way it did. The very vet that loved him like family was the one to let him go and to hold him when he left this earthly world and that was ok.

For me, I loved him like no other pet I'd ever owned, they all were wonderful but he was my heart. Save Oreo who passed in September and Gale who was our family dog, he held that special place that will never be filled.  I could not have asked for more answers to prayers than what happened that day. If I'd not seen the mystery bone in his mouth, I might not have had the X-rays done to know for certain what was going on and if the lovely lady in the waiting room had not been there, I don't think I could have gone through with it and if I had not made the appointment with the vet. that day, she would have been off the next day and we would have had to wait another day or so and it would have been too hard for poor Mack and the level of pain he was experiencing.  It all worked towards the end that was meant to happen. They handled everything for us and arranged the cremation company to pick him up and expressed their regrets for our loss.  They handed me his leash and harness and I almost wanted to throw it away right then but I held on to it for dear life.  I couldn't believe I was leaving without him but one day in the next few days we will receive back the remains of his physical form and it will be a form of closure.  His urn will sit next to our beloved Oreo's and a photo will be made to testify to his existence and a testament to the love we had for this little brave, wonderfully strong dog who endured more than we ever would have asked him to do, but did.  He hung on for us and he was my hero. I can't imagine the pain he must have had knowing the devastation of his bones, but even on the day of his passing, he wagged his tail, he ran with me from room to room, he sat on my lap and rested, he tried to jump up on the window seat on the patio and looked out over his domain, he tried to jump down from the counter when I did his last pain medication application and he tried to jump out of the car when we arrive at the vet.'s. He wagged his tail at the little dog waiting in the waiting room and he came up to someone at the counter and let her pet him.  He was light in his step and his eyes shone brightly and with that memory I will close this post with heartache I knew would be a part of this story. I knew when we took him to our hearts that his time would be only as long as was meant to be, it was the way he was meant to leave us as well, with his strong heart beating to the end.

We loved you with everything we had our sweet Diggie Dog and you took a part of our hearts that we will never be able to replace.

Rest in peace

Mackenzie Foster

Born November 1999 left us on October 30, 2013 at around 4:00PM.

We Are In Dark Places

It is a dark place that seems to have glimmers of hope like a flickering candle off in the distance, but yet you know that one breath of air and it will be distinguished and you will be plunged into darkness again. The fear is unrelenting since we're now in an unfamiliar place and there is no road map to follow, especially in the dark.  It is beyond comprehension when you look to his little face and see light shining from his eyes and you know he is still there wanting us to do something, anything at all...

We are in that dark place.  I will have to start at the day we went to the oncologist. I called our vet. trying to reach her because I truly felt I needed guidance and perspective about doing the x-rays. It goes without saying that when you hear your dog snuffling and snoring when he sleeps that there is obstruction to his breathing and to imagine putting him out for even 10 minutes scared the heck out of me. I woke up at five in the morning saying, NO, we can't do this, so it was imperative that I hear from our trusted vet. She finally called about a half hour before our scheduled appointment with the oncologist and having the x-rays done and we talked. It was good to talk with her, I have felt that I could share just about anything with her from the very first day we met and she loves our dog.  If she spoke from a place of love for him then I knew I could trust her judgement. I told her my concerns and she agreed, what we would find would just confirm what we already knew, that he had suffered some kind of traumatic issue within the face and that the jaw was canted off to the side for a reason. The two reasons for this were catastrophic, one, the cancer had weakened his bone structure and it just broke or the cancer was back and was forcing the malformation, or both were true. Of course these scenarios were not good. They could not be fixed.  So as I walked into the appointment, I was relieved.  I felt a sense of peace about my decision and I told the oncologist we were not going to do the x-rays or the CAT scans and we were going with what we surmised to be an issue that cannot be fixed.

 It was then that little Mack became a hospice patient, he was given the final diagnosis, terminal.  It was not as dramatic as that, but it was like giving up.  It wasn't as dramatic again like that, but I felt that we had done as much as we could do for him and we were not going to find a miracle in doing more.
Hospice is really not about dying as much as living the best life you can live. I experienced that first hand with my father who really wasn't a true hospice patient because he didn't really need what they had to offer for much of the time he was under their care. It was pretty funny back then because when they would come by for a visit which was every week, he would more than likely be gone and they would say, oh, okay, well, we'll see him next time! He was off driving to his old town about a ninety minute drive away and did this up until a week before his death.

So hospice patient Mack met the hospice veterinarian, Dr. Barry and he was what you would expect from a doctor who does this kind of thing for a living. Kind, attentive, compassionate, saying the right things, explaining the things we might not understand to a tee, expressing that we were doing the right thing and we heard all of it through the ears of what we thought were pretty receptive ones, but when he suggested we consider doing it that day, we both backed off, took a step back and said no.  It's not today.

I think to some degree he is right about some of the things he said, but in some ways as my vet. said when we talked the same day we met the hospice people, it's easier said than done.  We can't just snap our fingers and think, yes, we will do this now.  It is not an intellectual decision. It is made with our hearts and minds and spirits. We are not paper mache people with nothing making us up but paper.  We bleed and cry and mourn.  There is no easy answer to this and we have tried to ignore his illness for so long we just can't get past that this is the same dog we thought had beaten bone cancer.

It wasn't a shock to hear that they did not get clean margins though...I still remember her saying it and I tried not to hear it with my heart.  It would have broken if I'd let it sink in.  Now we are faced with too many issues to absorb and we can't get to that point where we say enough is enough. But I think we are fast approaching the end of the game.

So this morning, at the very early hour once again of 5:30AM, I'm awake,  holding my little guy.  He is restless and goes to the side that he never goes to and lays down but he can't get comfortable so I take him outside and we go out and he runs to pee and then he leaps up on the deck with such agility that it's amazing when you consider he hasn't really eaten much in the last few days.  He slowly walks inside but then runs to the door to be let back in and yet he doesn't want me to stay out and he doesn't want to be in.  Finally I put him on the bed with me and lay down to hold him again.  Soon he is fast asleep and I'm trying so hard to put my arm down but can't and I'm awake now, so I get up and make coffee and leave him there to sleep.  He finally gets up with Bob and then we start the game anew of what will he eat today.  I manage to get him to eat a vienna sausage and I find that so weird since that happens to be the only thing my Dad could eat when he was in hospice and the last days of what he could manage to get down. I find it to be strange yet comforting...We are giving it one more go with some very expensive custom compounded pain meds for which we will probably not use much of, but that will bypass his mouth and be given transdermally.  Dr. Barry suggested it as the middle ground to go on and we are hoping against hope that it's still the pain which is preventing him from eating, but I feel it's something else and can't put my finger on it and can only guess because we didn't go all out to find out the definitive diagnostic reason.
The sausage is a hit but we know it's not enough to exist on and we are concerned he will only go down hill faster given these circumstances. Hospice is really just about doing the supportive things we can do given the circumstances and as far as fluids go we can go to our vet. to have that done...but we can't do that forever and expect a good outcome.

The saddest part is watching him wanting to eat and not being able to and having him going from one end of the house to the other standing near or by his water dish or his food bowl and not being able to make the leap of eating.  I've tried not to give him rich and terrible foods because it will prevent him from getting a balanced diet and he won't eat the dog food we used to use.  So we know this is not supportive care that is leading to a good quality of life and as Dr. Barry said, it won't get better.

It is hard to make that final decision.  It seems like a date with death. As much as I know intellectually I'm letting him be free to be happy and whole and healthy again, it is the selfish part of me that says I can't let him go.  It was not ever supposed to be that way, but the last dog and the love of my life will be gone.  It tears at me from all angles and I'm not sleeping.  And in the dark of night I wake up and I know it's not about the pain, it's about breathing and that is what is causing all of the anxiety for him. Not the pain, just the breaths and what is that doing to him?

I will go to the pharmacy and pick up the pain meds and we will go through the motions of applying it to his little ears and we will wait and then we'll make a decision. It will be either the hospice vets we call or the regular vet. but we will have to make a decision. Even my own husband is waffling back and forth and we are at odds at times as to the time frame or the reasons.  But no matter what we will have to decide for the good of the dog and not us.  We will have to say our goodbyes when he's not stressed and having issues.  That will be the only thing that is right about this whole thing.
We love you little guy.

Hating Bone Cancer and Crying All Day Long

Mack and I were just sitting together on the porch that faces the prettiest part of our yard. It followed  an attempt to feed him a new food and hoping that he would be so hungry he could overcome the pain for just that little bit I gave him. It wasn't a good experience. He ran again as if I was hurting him and it broke my heart.

So we went outside and said let's sit on the window seat and we did...looking out on nature and the beautiful and gorgeous day it is today and trying to wrap my mind around deciding when I will need to let him go.  I can't be prepared no matter how hard I try and I even spoke with the hospice people this afternoon and felt like, no, we don't need you now, we can deal with this another time, but knowing in my heart of hearts that isn't true, that we are facing it much sooner than we want to admit.

But if I can't commit to them coming over and talking to us now, then I know I'm not ready to put him to sleep but he really isn't doing well at all and I know this and I know that when they go in tomorrow and do x-rays that it will be living, black and white proof, digitally that he is not going to be with us much longer.  And to top it off I caught sight of him, as if for the very first time,  in the mirror this morning,  and it looked like a fun house mirror of his face, because there was a huge distortion to his jaw that has taken place in such a short time. I never noticed it until today. His little jaw has gone side ways and we are actually seeing his little lower jaw jutting out where the upper jaw used to be...it is beyond tragic to know this is what is happening to him and how uncomfortable he must be.  There in lies the sadness I'm feeling at this moment and beyond, because even though I am not ready to let him go, this decision may be out my hands by Thursday. How can we let him suffer with the pain that he must have? Can it truly be controlled by just a simple pill every day?  It can't happen and it won't be for his best interests if we make him suffer through another few days of trying to get him to eat something.  It won't matter if it's filet mignon, if he can't eat it, it is shear torture for him and we have to acknowledge that much sooner than we expected to ever have to deal with it.

So it's a goodbye of such epic tragic proportions that my heart literally aches. I used to say there goes my heart and with his passing it will feel as if it's being ripped out of my chest and I once said, I want to go where he goes...It is a terrible feeling that my life is nothing compared to what he means to me.  I have tried so hard to think positively and to consider I was so lucky to have had him this long, but no matter what amount of time I've had him it will never be enough in my heart of hearts. He is my heart, simply put, we made a connection and he is my love. A love of such great sweetness and tenderness that without it I will be left adrift and alone.  Even though I have my wonderful husband, for some reason this loss will feel as if a huge part of my life has gone cold.  It is a horrible feeling and one I have fought to not experience and yet being human we will have to go through it one way or another.

So my little Mackster is my heart and with his passing I will lose a huge part of it and the hole will be huge and painful and horrible and all the adjectives you can think of that describes loss.

I hate cancer and I hate this with all my being and there is nothing anyone can do about it and I am mad and sad and angry that this is what he faces and we lose.

We love you Diggie Dog and we will for the rest of our days and beyond.

We Know Now

This couldn't be worse...or could it be? It is the nightmare that is the truest of all nightmares.  We had so hoped that this would not be related to his osteosarcoma.  We believed in our hearts that this little guy was going to beat this thing called bone cancer. Period. End of story.  And then there came the"but". We didn't want to know the outcome of the surgery, we asked specifically not to be told and now looking back I wonder if we were just being foolish and unfair to him and maybe at that particular time in space, we could have done more to have avoided the issue we face now.  It appears the bone cancer may have spread to the upper area of the bridge of his nose and now it could very well be broken...or so the oncologist we spoke with said.  We spent a good deal of time talking.  It seemed like hours when it was just about an hour and we looked down on this little guy and thought what have we got here? She suspected it right away and knew what we were dealing with and had the compassion to give it to me straight without quibbling.  I knew we had asked her not to let us know and she didn't and yet we wonder now if we were just denying the fact that the surgeon couldn't get a clean margin.  When he had the surgery the tumor was large.  It was a large part of his jaw, but we thought we had clean bone and yet the pathology report said otherwise.  So it's had this time to grow and be what it is, bone cancer and it's probably destroyed the bone that was his nose.  The poor little guy has a hard time eating, his breathing is different, his little nose can go from side to side...which the doctor was able to do and shouldn't be able to do and he runs from us if we try to feed him.

It's not looking good for our little Mack.

So on Thursday we go to the oncology department again for x-rays and we'll see what is going on with the area and if they need to,  they'll do a CAT scan, but it may not be necessary. They may be able to see it without having to put him through anything else.  He came home with pain medications and when we find out on Thursday what we're dealing with, it may be time to contact the hospice vet and discussing pain management issues with her.  But we'll also be picking a time and that seems so unreal to me because basically we'll be putting to sleep a pretty healthy dog because he can't eat...seems so unfair to me and to him.  They discussed feeding tubes and Bob is not a fan of the idea but I might consider it if it meant that he was in a good place with no pain and could tolerate it.  If the only thing wrong is the broken bone, and no sign of cancer, the oncologist said they can't fix it...so it would again mean putting to sleep a dog who has no sign of cancer but a broken nose? How can we do that? I have to ask myself what is best for Mack, but when he looks at you with life in his eyes, how can I put him to sleep?  How do you put him to sleep when the only thing wrong is a broken bone?  Of course the vet. did say we could inject him with Fosamax which is a drug to build bone back up and they have done that for dogs with bone cancer fractures...so we could go for that if there is no evidence of cancer or discernible cancer that is.  I believed in my heart that he was free of it, but I was deluding myself I know.

My little Mack is my heart and I can't even begin to imagine or consider letting him go and we are beside ourselves now with the loss of his sister and now this.  It is breaking my heart in two.
Can there really be this much pain when you lose a special pet like Mack?
I am dreading and hating this day and the days after and the day when we say our last goodbye.

I keep praying for a good outcome and I know that God listens, I just know that it's not always going to be what we want.

What is the issue!!

I wish we knew what was going on with him, but now we're back with him not wanting to eat and acting like he's afraid to take anything from me.  It is frustrating and mind numbing when we realize it's so much like what Oreo began to do when she didn't feel well.  It is so hard to know what the issue is with him. You so wish they talk!! They could just look at you and simply say, I don't feel well here, I don't feel well here.  It is mind reading and you are guessing at the reasons why they are acting like they do.  He is acting like he doesn't feel well and we are at Tuesday and we still need to make it to Thursday or sooner.

I even asked Bob should we take him to the ER? Do we know what to tell them when we do? That he is not acting like himself? That he seems desperate to tell me something but I don't know what it is? That we are at a loss as to why he is doing what he's doing, even though he slept ok last night, that he seems to be restful for the most part except after giving him a bath this morning?  It seems as if he can't find the spot he needs to go to, and he keeps telling me to find it and let him know!

So this is where we are after so many relatively good months and November 11, 2013 will mark 11 months since his surgery. But it's also the month we finally made a follow up appointment with the original surgeon who did the removal of his jaw and now another oncology appointment on Thursday of this week so we can follow up with the doctor who showed us such compassion and concern.  I fear we are seeing something so similar to Oreo that we are facing another long goodbye...how can it be that he would have the same thing?? But he sits here shaking like she did and trembling...it's like a nightmare and I can't get out of it.

So we will face another bad thing and we have no idea what we'll do...put him through the hell that was oncology? Or surgery? Or just let him go?  What is the answer again...

We will check him in tonight if we have to at the ER and we'll be praying for a miracle either way.

We love you Diggie Dog.

Oh No...

Just when you think your life is just sailing on, that nothing ahead looks bad, that most of what you went through is a thing of the past, it's just clear sailing ahead,  you get rocked by a huge wave and your swamped with despair and worry. And suddenly the shoals of life are coming at you...

We had such good times the last seven months of Mack's recovery. He had a recent check up and all was well and everyone was thrilled by his progress, which given his remarkable recovery from maxillary osteosarcoma and the removal of his jaw and cheekbone, it was pretty rosy. But as life would have it a big wave of uncertainty hit us, we watched as we began to see some odd behavior never seen before and wondered, what are we seeing now?

He started to drink his water, but as he approached the bowl that he's been drinking out of for probably  10 years, he stopped and jumped back as if it had attacked him.  The process continued until we noticed he just would not drink water. We tried every tactic there was to encourage him to get water from his familiar bowl, but it was to no avail...

We tried different bowls and different colors, shapes, types and depths, but he would still come to the water, wanting it so much, but unable to get it anywhere near his mouth.  Finally I resorted to putting it in a spoon and letting him lap that until that became a traumatic experience.  We tried water in a syringe, only he would have NONE of that and eventually we were considering putting water in all of his food in order to make sure that he was getting adequate fluids.   Of course this meant taking him back to the vet. we had just taken him to for his regular check up and asking her what all this could mean.  We also noticed one other strange and disturbing thing and that was when we gave him one of his all time favorite biscuits, he tried to chew it and then promptly spit it out...that was not a good sign.

So we took him to the vet. that has known him since we first got him and she did a thorough examination once again, taking his temperature, trying to look into his mouth, checking is eyes, his back, his neck, the whole enchilada and she didn't find anything unusual.  She asked us how his overall appetite was and that has not diminished, thank God, but the fact that he was acting like a jack rabbit when it came to drinking water, well that was disturbing.  But what was more disturbing was her observation that she thought the eye that was on the side of his surgery appeared to be enlarged, bulging a bit more and definitely not looking as good as she last saw it...

Unfortunately that is the side where the osteosarcoma was found and removed,  right below the eye in question and now the weird and disturbing drinking and eating behavior just serves to heighten our anxiety about the cancer and whether this is a sign of something happening.  We are beside ourselves as  it is, because recently our other dog, his sister Oreo (another blog to come) has been diagnosed with lymphoma of the intestines. She has since survived septicemia by emergency surgery and is now scheduled to begin chemo for several months with a 50-50 chance of remission.  Talk about stress, and now this.

We watched tonight as he didn't want his soft food.  At first I thought I would hand feed him again, but decided to walk away from the dish and let him decide if he was hungry enough and brave enough to eat it.  Turns out that was the right decision because he did eat out of the dish, but while watching him he would lift one leg up and teeter on three legs, move forward and do it on the opposite side and then back up and try again, then teeter some more and try to reposition himself to the side so he could attack the food again, instead of the usual vacuum cleaner eating he's always done. It was a much longer and harder process and his sister beat him by finishing in record time when she's never been one to be the first to finish.   Concerning beyond words is all we can say...

So tomorrow will be a day of extreme anxiety and watchfulness.  We will wait as patiently for both dogs to finish their vet. appointments, one for the chemo she will have for the next six months every week to two weeks, the other for the results of the two x-rays and dental exam and skull exam to see if there is anything going on. We are not putting our heads in the sand now and we know there may be some rough seas ahead, but we can't help but pray for deliverance from the rocky shores ahead. It is a far distant shore we face, the tossing and turning of our little boat that holds our precious family is at risk.  We can only bow our heads and pray for the merciful God we believe in to answer our many prayers for deliverance from pain and suffering for our little ones.

So onward we sail with our little Mack at the helm, and we can only shout out to him, You go Mack, you beat the odds, let's see if you can't do it again, sail on buddy, sail on!

The Vagaries of Life

It's been quite some time since I last wrote, but since that time, Diggie Dog has reached his 7 months post op and doing well. He is full of energy, has a great appetite and seems to be feeling pretty darn good. No issues other than with his eyes which are chronically dry and have a bit of wheeping on the surgical side which seems to be constant since the surgery. His last check up with his favorite vet was pretty darn good, he showed nothing unusual going on and he showed no signs of ill health. There are no signs of the incision and it's healed almost to the point of not even being able to see it, which is testament to the surgeon who did the job!

But sadly within the last few days, his sister, Oreo has developed a very serious kidney problem and we are beyond worry, so a new focus has to be made to find out what is going on with her and why she is so sick. It will be the beginning of a new blog, titled Little Girl. She is that, our little girl. We are beyond devastated because this is not a good situation, not one that will have a particularly great outcome if we can't get her to eat and recover because the damage may have already been done.

For now our Mack continues to do his best to defy the odds and is our miracle dog, now we have to pray for another miracle for Oreo.

Nothing New is Good News

The last post was "published" today but it was written many moons ago. I have taken a break from writing and mostly because there has been little change since the beginning of Mack's situation in December and the last few months and that makes me smile. Thank God! Thank God there has been so little to write about him and that is a good thing. In two days it will be four months post surgery and the only thing stronger and more definite is the love I feel for this little guy and the unbelievable proportions and depth it's gone to.  If you could see him now you would see a fully grown out curled up dog, sleeping dog who is at rest.  He doesn't necessarily have the same energy levels he did before, but then again, we have to remind ourselves he is 13 years old.

It's ok that I took a break from writing, no one is reading my blogs, so I can just take a rest from the constant rumination and thoughts that this blog can bring out. If I start thinking post surgery I start thinking about counting out the months, then I go from there to what the doctors have said about this and then I get depressed.  If I were to believe he was not cancer free, it would mean that if we're lucky we have about 12 to 18 months or less with him,  but I don't go there. I believe he is cancer free and we will have him for his natural, long life.  I can't believe anything else and refuse to accept that we did this for nothing.  He is cancer free. Period.

For all intents and purposes, he is a totally normal dog. Eats like a fiend, runs outside to explore the yard and sits on the deck and loves the outside and the sun. He runs pretty much where ever he is going and if he knows I'm coming home, he will bark and whine and run around me when I get in the house.
He sometimes even initiates play with our other dog Oreo and sniffs the air like he was a puppy again.  When we feed him he dances to his dish on his back legs even though the one leg has no cartilage or knee joint left and yet, he sleeps on his back and relaxes only when I'm home with him.

Sadly I had to break him of his habit of sleeping with us on the bed. I was not getting any sleep and sometimes I think he wasn't either. If I tried to move and he was right next to me, it was like I was sleeping up against a wall of dog.  He would not budge and so I would have to cede my space and eventually find myself sleeping on the very edge of the bed. It wasn't working for my back and I certainly know it wasn't really allowing him to sleep freely. He was vigilant with where I was on the bed, at times sleeping with his back legs against my back and kicking me when he moved.  It was not good for me and I had to convince myself he'd be better off in his own bed. Besides his bed has the same mattress we have!  His crate his is own space, I think it works out ok that way.

He is still the love of my life, I say this because it's so true. Something about this dog from the very beginning was a love affair and he felt it too. I know he did, because I was the only one who could have him in my lap as a very tiny puppy and he would just go to sleep.  No one  in the family ever got him to do that because most of the time he was a wild and crazy dog~but with me, he calmed down and stayed in my lap the entire time I was there. I would look for him when I came in and he would come up and grab my hand and want to play.  A truly wild and energetic dog and he stayed that way for a long, long time. Until of course we got his biological sister and that changed the dynamics of our play time. We thought we were doing the right thing by getting him a playmate, only to find out that she was not a sharer of toys and dominated the play time whenever we tried to play with him. We have to literally lock her out of a room and play with him for a little while just to have that time. Or go where she won't go and have that quiet and loving time alone.  She turned out to be very jealous of his attachment to me because she is attached to me and she considers him an interloper. We have to continually correct and protect him from that attitude and as long as we have him, he will be the top dog, no matter what Oreo thinks.

We go along on our way on this journey and pray we are spending quality time with him.  We were away for ten days and it was such a long time to be gone. I wanted to be home as soon as we left and couldn't wait to get home when we head that way. It is so like a child that you hate leaving him. It was way too long for me and I was never so happy to get home and have him in my lap.  Just the happiness and frantic way they greeted us told me that they had missed us.

Life moves along at this pace and it is ok that I don't fill pages of this blog with anything more than for now, Mack is a winner.  He is strong, healthy and gaining weight and he looks great. We are due for some new pictures of his four month recovery and then I'll send them along to his veterinarians and hope they enjoy knowing of a success story.  That is what I consider him, the miracle dog.

My sweet Mack, you are like a Mack attack to the heart.

The More Things Change

It's such a beautiful day outside and we spent some part of it just sitting in the grass, Mack and I, looking at the trees and for Mack, smelling whatever was blowing in the wind.  Usually his habit is to lay down on the deck, lay there with the sun shining into his eyes with his eyes shut.  But all of a sudden he was up and gone and around the corner from me, laying down on the grass that is nearest the side of the house.  Odd behavior in some ways but at the same time this is the first time he's actually gone off on his own without knowing where I am and been out "exploring".  He used to walk the entire yard and sniff everything and everywhere and so this little change in habit was either a good sign or not, hard to know.

The last few days I've felt a sense of unease about him. He is still eating great, has been going to the bathroom just fine, drinking water, and sleeping pretty soundly, but in some ways there is a sense of anxiety on his part whenever I'm not in sight of him.  Even when he's with me, he seems restless and ill at ease.  I can't tell what all is the matter because for some reason I'm not speaking Mackese, but he seems to want to tell me something and I'm not getting the message.  I try so many things, like do you want to go out? Do you want a treat? Do you want to lie down? Do you want to sit in my lap? And none of these are the answers he seeks. I can't get into his head and I wish at times I could read his mind, but he's like a little infant that I can't comfort and with it comes frustration and worry.  That has been the last two or three days. Last night I finally relented and gave him a benedryl because as the vet. said, the skin irritation is coming back to bother him and he has more and more spots that are flaring up again. They look so angry and red that the spray has to be done almost twice a day. Always in the same spot and area and he licks them till they are raw.  We have yet to figure out what causes this but it seems to come at the same time every year. If we could figure it out I'd keep him away from it all the time, but the vet. says it's more likely to be a pollen based issue, since it's seasonal.

It comes to me at times when I look at him that more has changed than stayed the same for him, since the lively and spirited little Mack is not with us anymore. I can't relate the new behavior to his old one and find that he seems different to me in more ways than the way he looks and that bothers me more than I realize.  I guess it comes down to the thought that we took him in one way and he came out another and with it came the attendant  changes in his spirited personality that I thought would not be effected.  They didn't tell us we'd have a different dog when he came home and that with his new appearance he would be deaf and so that makes me wonder all over again was it worth it to do that to him, to change the very dog he was before to what he is now.  He is far more anxious than I realize, he shivers at times, he begs me to do something that I can't figure out, he follows me from room to room, cries more when we're not in the house with him, looks all over for me when he can't see me in a frantic search for security and sleeps less soundly sometimes and coughs in his sleep and sometimes seems to struggle to get the next breath.  Snuffling is fine, but when he seems to have difficulty breathing, that is not fine.  Before the surgery, he didn't need me as much, he was independent and funny and boisterous and playful and interested and happy and just as happy when we were there as not. This new dependence on us you would think would be flattering but it's worrisome because this is not the dog we had before.  He is different, and I wish as the saying goes, "the more things change the more they stay the same" would in reality be true for him, but the more things changed, the more different he became.  Maybe this change in behavior comes down to the deafness factor and the inability to judge the world by sound.   It would be rather frightening to have that happen and not understand what is going on in your life and relying on sight to guide you.  I'm sure that it has something to do with some of the changes we see in him.

But then I have to remember that he's a dog, with the acceptance of his life just the way he is and how he is with no angst attached.  He is not worried about what he's doing or how he's acting because he doesn't think he's different.  I just know the subtle differences that he has now because I'm more attuned to them and see them as significant and worth noticing.  I can't know how this will play out and that influences me to worry more, that is the biggest difference that could relate back to my sensitivity about this and his new behaviors. At least I hope that is the case.  I keep thinking improvement will mean a return to his old self a bit more every day and when I don't see that it does worry me.

Such a long break from writing, but then that is a good thing. We are so pleased with what seems like a very happy dog. The only signs of some things that are not picture perfect is his persistent issues with skin eruptions that have no cause, the need to be in the same room with you at all times, and the tail in the down position most of the time.  That worries me the most since a tail is an indicator to us that he is not feeling up to par. If there were things going on with him we'd have little indication, but the tail up or down seems to be a way of saying to us, things aren't right here...but then again I could be imagining things and worrying that it is something, when in fact, it's nothing.
Our wonderful oncologist vet. who we only met once has kept in touch and I've sent pictures of the little guy looking great and he does look good and she's written back to say that she spoke with the surgeon who did Mack's surgery and doesn't know what to do with the information.  This is because I asked that we not be told anything. It was a decision I felt I could change if I wanted to but for the moment I wanted to be left in the dark because I felt that he was going to be fine, that we did everything we could for him and if there was anything going on, there was nothing we could do for him so why know...she asked if we wanted to know and so far I've left the email alone and I'm not really sure I want to know. Bob said he'd write to her and tell her to tell him and he'd be able to take it, but I just know that the minute she writes what she knows, that he'll be teary eyed and sad and morose and then I'll know it's not good. I just keep thinking in my mind that he's been cured, and maybe she wants to tell us that it's a good prognosis, but being that it's cancer of the bone, I'm not sure those will be the words she says.
I've gone back and forth about hearing what she has to say, I'm already a mess when it comes to thinking about losing him, so why have to get the bad news all over again? Why torture myself over his  illness, which I think has been taken away?  But then I begin to think of the reasons why it would be good to know so we can make plans, have a ball park idea of what to expect and then go from there. If you treat it like the elephant in the room, the elephant will eventually effect the situation.s  How can it not?  Large issues loom larger.

So I haven't written back yet, but I feel as if I will and then my world will be colored by what she says and what they found. I guess I like living in a make believe world better than reality and sometimes that is necessary, because it's one of the better coping mechanisms out there, avoidance and repression.
Eventually though, it rears it's ugly head and reality slaps you in the face, which I fear could be where we're heading, but I try not to go there either!

So here's the little munchkin looking good and through the screen of our porch, he looks luminous and sweet and loving and cute and all those wonderful things I absolutely love about him.
My sweet Diggie Dog what would you have me do? Hear the words or ignore them?

Confusion...

Since the last writing not much has been going on by way of the little Mackster's health issues but then again we are just so happy to have him doing well and feeling great. The only issue has been the itching and red spots that continually come up to bother him and we have tried everything we can to make him more comfortable. If we could find the one thing that would rid him of all these spots that he licks till they are bleeding, we'd be one step closer to ensuring that he was truly comfortable. But ever since we moved to this house nearly two years ago and specifically to this yard, this has become an issue.  We never noticed this in the old yard. So whatever it is, it has to be plant based and in abundance.  Every year we go through this and during the winter months, he gets a reprieve.  But we've had such a warm winter, everything is blooming as if it's Spring already. I wish I had a magic pill to give him to to make this go away, but sadly the only thing is an antihistamine tablet every twelve hours.  Usually not enough to end the hot spots from happening though.
His hair is growing out pretty well, but unfortunately he will always have a slightly lopsided look to his face. If they were trying to comfort us with saying we'd be the only ones to ever know he had the surgery, they were wrong.  But that is ok, we love him anyway~
The only other issue we have with him is that he is constantly in need of going outside, when he never was much into it before, now it's every five minutes. He wants to go out and sit on the deck. I know this was a great place for him before but he would go out, lay down and pretty quickly want back in after a short time, but now, it's go out, stay there for a little while, lay down then get back up and want in which is similar to before but very different now because as soon as he's back in for less than five minutes, he wants back out to do the same thing all over again.  It goes on like this for hours and days, we can't figure out what it is that he wants and we keep trying to understand Diggie Dog language we don't apparently speak.  Sometimes I wonder what it's about, this separation that he so desires.  Yet, when I'm anywhere in the house, from one end of the house to the other, he HAS to be there with me. There is no just leaving him in one room while I go to another, even if for three minutes or less, he gets up and trots along with me so that he is within eyesight of me.  If he's trying to give me clues as to his need to be away, this behavior says differently, but at the same time when he's outside, I don't necessarily have to be there with him while he's on the deck, so this causes great confusion. I feel as if I'm always trying to read his behavior and translate it so I can give him what he wants, but just as a child isn't sure of what they want at times, you just keep guessing and trying new things. The attachment issue I can understand since he doesn't hear as well as he did before, this could cause the need to follow my lead, but there are times when that isn't an issue at all. Especially if he is interested in getting his food taken care of, then I don't exist!  And he isn't in need of seeing me at all, just Bob making his dinner up for him~
So we are trying to learn a new language we aren't sure we will ever understand and trying very hard to please a dog who can't speak. I wish we knew how to give him what he wanted but I feel like I'm failing every time he looks at me with those big brown eyes and seems to be saying, do something.
Maybe it's the skin issues, maybe it's the jaw, maybe it's pain, maybe it's boredom, who knows. I hope in the days we have ahead of us that I find out some clue that gives me the right answer and maybe then we'll get Mack the Diggie Dog on an even keel that he's happy with and we are too.

Musings On A Little Dog's Greeting

I thought it would be a while before I felt the need to post something, but as it turns out, this would not be a very good journal of time without something every so often, and especially since it involves the mighty Diggie Dog.

It comes to mind how much I miss him during the day when I'm gone.  In fact the first thing I think of when I'm coming home is that I can't wait for him to greet me, with his wagging tail; his front feet out in front of him with his butt in the air; or sometimes a soft little sound that is half howl and yawn, not quite a full greeting and of course his warm brown eyes looking up at me saying it's so good you are home. He usually sidles up to me with his body as close as he can get, all 11 pounds of him along my legs, so that I can pet him like crazy. It's such a great feeling to have him here and ok.  He sometimes doesn't know I've come home because of his hearing loss and I can often sneak in and catch him in his bed in Bob's office, but sometimes he picks up cues his sister is giving out and knows that something is happening. He will greet me at the door then, especially if his sister Oreo begins a more insistent bark that is more like a heralding of the return of someone important. He seems to know to come to the garage door rather than the front door because his sister Oreo is not going to the front door but instead stays in the bedroom and barks her warning.  A weird habit of hers that has no rhyme or reason to it, but it means that she knows someone is coming from the garage door and not the front door and she knows the difference. Mack must also know the same thing.  ... But it doesn't happen all the time as it did before his surgery.  He is like a beacon of light where you are drawn to it and that is my Mack. He is a true beacon of light and love.

For him I wish I knew what he thought about when we're not there, it would be fascinating to know.  I don't imagine there is such a thing as boredom with them, but maybe I'm wrong...but I imagine that he lives for the time when we are there. In fact when I'm home, he has to be where I am.  I don't know who said it but they said that because he is hard of hearing he will probably become more "needy" and "clingy" .  I do see this in him;  but I can't figure out why it's so important that he have me where he can see me at all times since he never did this before his surgery. I can only imagine that it has something to do with his hearing loss.  If I leave a room, he comes with me, if I go to someplace in the house, he is there, if I sit down, he wants to be sitting next to me, if I lay down, he wants to be there as well.  It is not particularly a "neediness" that is confining or bothersome, but you have a constant shadow beside you that makes you think what will I do when that shadow is gone? You can't help but think it and feel the desolation that goes along with that awful thought.  I have had him since he was 8 months old and at this point it's been 13 years of greetings and love.  How can you imagine not having it? I can't.

So today I'm thankful for that greeting of love.  I am thankful that he gets his cues from his little sister and that even though he can't "hear" us at times, he still greets us with the same enthusiasm he did years before and before the surgery and hearing loss. Thankful that he is my little dog that wags his tail and sits as close as he can by me, as a reminder that he's still with us, still loving us, still needing us. I couldn't ask for more and believe me when I say, I look forward to the same greeting for years to come.

The New and Improved Diggie Dog

I haven't written since my last posting and I guess that's a good sign because thankfully he is the same if not a bit better. He runs now, he eats like a starving dog, he loves to cuddle, he is responding to our calls, even if it's only 50% of the time, and he is the dog he was before. He is showing much more curiosity about the world around him and seems to love the new patio furniture he can jump on from the ottoman.  He leaps without issue.

The hair is finally growing in and and we had him groomed to even him out a bit, which did a wonderful job of giving him a more "normal" look. He will eventually have more hair on one side of his face, but I have a feeling it's going to be a rather dark area there. I haven't figured out how he's going to get to a place on his face that is a literal fold in the skin. I have some concern that he will have a cleaning out issue there. So will have to be sure to ask our vet. about that. We do have a hard time dealing with the issue that our regular vet. is only available on Wed. and Sat. so we have to be prayerful that we can afford to make appointments during the times she's there, or we'll have to consider going to someone else. We both do not want to do that, but we may be forced to in order to get the necessary drugs and vitamins that he takes or when dealing with something other than the usual.  We'll have to discuss this with our vet. and see if she has a solution. We never did take our other dog Oreo to the old vet., so she's free to go without needing her records and maybe that is what I'll do. If I take her to a new vet then we'll establish her with someone we can use in case of an emergency.

Here's how he's looking these days...

As you can see, he has that cute smirk...

The picture above is post surgery of 4 weeks, a little over a month from the day he had surgery. There will always be some issues with his eye. They told us that it would more than likely weep a bit more than the other one, when they told us first that it would tend to be "drier". So it's pretty obvious that the entire side of his face has been compromised as far as sinus and drainage. He does ok, we have to remember to wipe his eye out and I'll have to find some gentle wipes to use. Haven't had a chance to go somewhere to find them so will today.  

The picture above is the way he normally poses for me...

Sitting on the new couch on the patio and he loves it there. But of course this is the way he normally "poses":  his face away from the camera because he doesn't like it.  He sees the red light flash for focusing and has learned to look away immediately! Still with early morning light I love the way he looks. Looking off into the distance and a calm look on his face. I always wonder what he's thinking about. I will never know, but it probably involves his wish that I would put the camera down and leave him alone~

This picture is a side view taken four weeks post surgery and of course this is a major improvement over the original picture 3 days post surgery. He has the hair growing from the side of his nose which we hope grows longer, of course he needs his eyebrows back too~

We are so grateful for his recovery and the excellent surgical results. The inside of his mouth that I've been able to peek into when he's yawning looks pink and healthy and by now the stitches should be almost all gone. They said four to six weeks so we're pretty sure they are gone by now. He is into his second month now and we are going to start putting more distance between blogs and photos, unless there is something to think about or tell or show. It's the way of life, when in the throes of something major and disturbing you are more likely to write and pour out your heart. But when things are "normal" you tend to become complacent and happy that there isn't anything to report...that's where we are now and I'm loving it. 

I can't say when I'll be back, but I have a prayer in my mind that I will conclude this blog (as long as Blogspot lets me), a long, long, long time from now. It has been said by many people and at many times that he is a miracle dog, and sometimes I have to say both my husband and I feel that too. He's a miracle in our midst.  I can't put my finger on it and I can't say why we feel this way, but others have also said the same thing.  Amazing because through the Grace of God he's still with us.  We love you Diggie Dog,  the greatest dog ever! The Mackster is back!

Worried

What is worry? A feeling of being out of control and not understanding the consequences and having a sense of heightened concern whenever something happens?  Well, that was me this morning.
Two nights ago, for the first time since finding out about his cancer and the subsequent surgery, I put him in his crate to sleep. During his recovery I felt that he should be near so I could tell what was going on with him and so for several months he's been sharing our bed, but more like taking over. So over the last two days I've started to wean him away from sleeping with us.  Another reason he was allowed to sleep with us at night was because I treasured the time with him and still do, but I realized that I wasn't sleeping well and that could not continue, so I had to retrain him to welcome his little crate again. He whined for a good hour, little whines, not outright crying, but still a little there and sometimes a little louder, but eventually he stopped. He did one final frustrated whine/hmmpp (that's how I can describe it) and that was it. The next night he didn't make a sound, just went in his crate with a little coaxing and fixed his covers up to lay down. Unfortunately it lasted until around 7:30AM when I heard him retching.  Dogs can have upset stomachs, throw up and then be fine.  He came out of his crate and promptly threw up what appeared  to be his dinner from the night before. This is not normal for him and it appeared not to be full digested even though he'd eaten almost 9 hours before. He quickly did the doggie thing and re-ate it, which is entirely too gross for words, (but that's a dog for you), that by the time I was able to see what it was, it was gone and I couldn't judge how much he'd thrown up. He got up on the bed and quickly curled tightly into a ball next to me as if he was spooning.  Normally he stretches out his entire body so that almost ever inch of him is touching some part of you but this time he was in a tight little ball, which indicated something was not right in his world. Eventually he stretched out with his head near my arm and fell asleep and woke up when Bob came to take him out. He did fine after that and begged for his breakfast and ate every bit of it, so it appears he's ok for the moment. He is laying down beside me with his body fully stretched out and not in a ball and seems to be very peaceful. He's not restless or acting as if he can't get comfortable so we are at a loss as to what might have caused his vomiting. I can only say that we watch him like a hawk and Bob says, stop worrying about all the things that could be wrong, he's ok, stop the worrying.  But for some reason that is hard for me to do. If you know what is going on, you're more at ease, but when you have no idea what to expect, you are waiting for the next shoe to drop.  I know that is what is playing a huge part in my worry. I worry about the smallest change in his behavior that might mean nothing, the restlessness that might mean he is just having to go outside or the lowering of his tail because he's bored...The difficulty is knowing how to set aside the fact that he underwent surgery for cancer four weeks ago today. It is like the old adage, the elephant in the room and for some reason you can't ignore the fact that he was given this marvelous and wonderful chance, but it could simply be a reprieve for the moment. No matter what we want to believe, he had a terrible cancer.  The only thing I can do is pray that the miracle that I think is him, is truly that, a miracle and a cure. But no matter, the worry will probably always be my constant companion and be the little voice waiting for signs of things to come.  But maybe that is the issue, the signs I'm "seeing" are not important and have no relevance. I'm adding their importance because of what I know, not because it is reality.
I will promise to worry less and enjoy more, that is the lesson here.

In My Lap

Sometimes when you think that Diggie Dog has changed, then you see him doing something that he always did, and wanting you to do as he used to do. I have him in my lap, across my legs with his head down on the side. He is comfortable and relaxed and he is happy. I would imagine if a dog were uncomfortable he'd seek a place to lie down, but not want to be in someone's lap and so I feel like he's ok.  I was tempted to begin the regimen of pain killers because I feared that he had been suffering all this time and we just didn't recognize it. But tonight, just as I anticipated his need for the pills, he did something so like his old self that I'm pretty sure he doesn't need the pain killers.
I have noticed a kind of lethargy though, but that might still be the residual effects of the surgery. He's been knocked out so many times in the last three weeks that it's probably still coming out of his system. He has a weakening in the back legs, but he had that prior to the surgery so that isn't new, but I've decided to take him to the veterinarian hospital in Gainesville to visit his surgeon for a one month follow-up and see what they think of him. I also wanted to have them check out his stuffed up nose and ask about it from their perspective and the fold in his face that "appears" to be completely folded into itself and does not provide us with a way to clean it. He won't be able to have the hairs cut from there and most especially if he's sensitive to anyone touching that area. I wonder what he'll be like with his regular groomer if I can't even come near him with scissors? His groomer hasn't seen his improved state and we are excited to hear from the surgeon when he sees the photos I've been sending.
I would have thought we'd have heard by now from the surgeon but I have a feeling he went away for a longer visit than most vets are allowed since he works for the university and students are probably not back from their break yet.  He will have tons of emails to answer and my email has probably been relegated to the bottom of the pile. I just hope he hasn't left the university after having done the surgery on Mack, I'd like to have some continuity with his care.
He is in my lap and that makes my world so much like it was pre-osteosarcoma. He was always seeking out a place to be with me and he's here just as he used to be. That makes the beginning of the new year special to me. I pray that this is not short lived, that 2013 is a year full of health and longevity for him and that we have vanquished this horrible cancer. I believe we have.  I believe that he is the miracle dog of 2012 and 2013 and so on. I just feel in my heart that he is cured.  Maybe we're fooling ourselves, but I don't think so. The world looks brighter.  Mack is back.

 

New Year, Different Dog

This has been my refrain since his surgery, he's not the same, and no matter how I try to figure out what is different, I can't.  I see glimpses of what he was like before the surgery only to disappear a day later.  I can't put my finger on what makes him different.  Maybe it's his sleeping so much which has been a ton since the surgery. But I have to remember we are only 3 weeks post op so that is not that much in recovery time to see him feeling more like himself.  But then I think, dogs recover much faster than we do, but how do I know how much recovery he's undergone, when he can't "tell" me that? I know a part of the return of my dog is the hearing loss, because if you can't hear your world, you are not as engaged with it. If sounds are stimulators as they can be, then not having any sound creates a kind of silent world, where you don't hear anything so you can't react to it.  He can't hear our voices, the sound of the cabinet where his food is or the sound of other dogs barking, so he doesn't have the interaction he once had.  Also he can't hear the sounds that cue him into the next thing in his life, so there is no next thing, until we move around the house and begin showing him things we're about to do...then the old Diggie Dog comes a bit more out of his shell. Do dogs feel depression when they can't hear? Do they feel left out? Do they feel down because they are alone in their silence? Do we understand deafness in dogs? These are questions I have but no one seems to know the answer and I haven't found too many veterinarians who have had words of wisdom about this. They just shrug their shoulders and say well, dogs learn to adapt very well to their environment and their disabilities. But how do we know that?  Just because he continues to do his thing, does that mean he's happy? I wanted him to be healthy and happy, but I wasn't expecting the change in the personality of my dog.
I want my old Mack back as they say. I want that spark that he had, the fire in his eyes and the little swing of his tail and the wagging and giddiness he had when arrived back after an absence.  He barely knows we're there but he's shown signs of coming to the door knowing that we're coming in, and we haven't figured out what cues he's using to figure that out yet, but he is trying.  It's a silent world he lives in and yet at times we swear he can hear something. He can hear a whistle but it's as if he doesn't know which direction it's coming from and he can hear a clap or loud noise but he often turns and looks in a different direction than the sound.  We keep hoping when the swelling goes down the hearing will improve and the veterinarian said there is a remote possibility this could happen and we are hanging on to that hope.
I think we're still dealing with his deafness and that we didn't know it could happen. We were not told about this kind of thing because it doesn't happen often, but now we have to deal with it and what issues come with it.  We pray that his vision stays clear and he can see us, because that would really complicate things. I can't imagine having a blind and deaf dog to contend with when he can't see you or smell you or hear you.  When I'm in my darkest moments about all of this, and there are still times that lurk behind my heart, I've asked myself was it worth it to do this to him?  I haven't gotten an answer yet because my Diggie Dog is here with me and for the most part he is doing well.  He still wants his food, his treats and his bed and he snuggles close and licks my face and hands and looks up at me with those big brown beautiful eyes and there is a connection there.  We can't know what would have happened if we'd chosen not to do anything because we didn't let that happen.  But he is different and I can't put my finger on what makes him different. Maybe one day he will seem just as he was, funny, full of life and running around as if the world was his oyster and he was the king of his world.  I see glimpses of that every so often, so maybe it's just a matter of time and the answer to my question will be hell yes, we did the right thing. I pray that is the way it turns out.