What a lovely Thursday evening, spending quality time with my dog Spencer in the veterinarian waiting room. No, it’s not an emergency, but instead of going to vet tomorrow on a day off (yes, I’m taking a vacation day), I rescheduled for tonight, since there’s snow heading our way tomorrow. If it’s snowing, I’m staying in bed with a romance novel and not driving around town.
So, Spencer has been wheezing and breathing heavy when he lays down at night. At first, I thought it was just the extra weight he’s put on, but I began to worry. The gool old Web offered lovely suggestions about possible causes such as heartworm. Oh, jeez. Luckily, it’s not heartworm, but I wasn’t being a worry-wart for nothing: Spencer has bronchitis.
The hard part about waiting around while Spencer was getting the x-rays and blood work and a shot of steroids (a possible cure), I saw two crying owners of dogs. One dog likely had cancer and the other was poisoned. It looks like the poisoned dog was going to be okay, but the other dog — a chocolate lab mix — may not be okay. The woman who owned the dog rushed out from the office in tears. I overheard the vet then explaining the situation to her husband. There is a chance that it is not cancer, but it will take more tests to rule it out.
In November 2004 I was that crying woman. My dog Chewie was diagnosed with liver cancer. It happened so quickly. He wasn’t eating and was lethargic, so I took him in and tests were done. I learned the news within three days. All I could do was take care of him until he was too weak and then finally make that decision, that heartaching decision, to put him down.
Tonight there’s a woman in tears about her dog. I hope she doesn’t have to make that decision and a happy ending occurs. I’m sending blessings her way. Please help her out by sending your prayers, blessings, thoughts, or whatever you choose to call them, her way also.f
Damn pets. They give their hearts to us, but then they break our hearts.