Molly is our 13-year-old cocker spaniel/boxer mix, and Lea and I picked her up from her big adventure shortly before noon today.
She spent two nights in Brentwood, Tennessee at BluePearl Veterinary Hospital getting targeted radiation for the sinus cancer to which her longish bacterial infection was secondary. She was tuckered and wobbly when we picked her up, and she’s slept a lot this afternoon and evening, but she’s perked up a bit in the past hour or so. I expect we’ll see a larger difference in the morning.
Treating a dog for cancer is not a trivial expense. But Molly is in reasonably good health otherwise, and our veterinary oncologist believes she’ll have a good 12-18 months before we might have to address it again. (And, as Lea said, “I like her more than I like most people.” Heh.)
I’ve never had a bad dog and I can’t even say I’ve known very many. A short lifespan is the cost of a dog’s excellence. A dog gets in your soul and takes a little of it with them when they go. If there’s no downside of suffering, and the option is there to extend their life, then I’m in.
Our greatest Christmas gift this year is the blessing of not having to consider putting Molly down. We are very thankful.