Apr 25 2010
Shasta (10/22/97 – 4/22/10)
It’s been a rough week (three, actually). My sweet Shasta was diagnosed with bone cancer. She’d been limping for a few weeks, which I tried to treat with her usual glucosamine, baby aspirin, etc. No response, so I took her to the vet for x-rays. Yikes. Expected to see a fracture or somesuch, but instead got a bone cancer diagnosis with only 1-2 months to live. Yikes x a zillion.
A visit to the doggie oncologist gave me the options. Amputation and chemo/radiation for palliative reasons (there is no cure) and a possible life extension of a year or so, chemo/radiation for 6-8 months life extension and pain reduction, or pain meds and let it roll. She’s almost 13. Her body is in no shape to have a front leg removed, much less deal with the surgery. I already have a tripod dog, so I’m not afraid of a little amputation, but at her age, not really a viable option. Radiation/chemo — $3200/five treatments/4-5 month extension of life, not something I wanted to do to a dog who hates the vet visits, not to mention the cost and the idea of spending her last months in trauma. So, I opted for a peaceful couple of months at home managing the pain and giving her what she wanted — simply to be with me. It only took 3 weeks for her pain to reach a level even double doses of pain meds couldn’t manage. The cancer had moved on to her lungs as aggressive bone cancer does first. Her breathing was just beginning to become labored, her gums not quite pink indicating she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Her normal deep woof has turned into a shallow slight bark and only when absolutely necessary. She wasn’t reaching down to get water, so I held her dish up and fed her cottage cheese from the palm of my hand. She wasn’t greeting me at the gate or following me out if I had to leave wishing this would be the time I would take her with me.
It sounds more pathetic than it appeared; she bravely tried to not let on about the pain; to look at her you’d only see the limp, not slight, but not life-threatening looking. But at night, she just could not get comfortable no matter which way she tried to lie down. Her anguish, her pacing, and her little cries of pain became too much for me, so I made the heartbreaking decision to let her go. I will be forever haunted that she was excited to go with me for a ride Thursday morning. I wish I had been taking her to Disneyland. Or to her favorite beach or to the creek for a romp. But, maybe I was. Maybe she’s running free right now chasing something or eating plums or sitting quietly by some little creature. She’s definitely still with me. And I know that’s one thing she really wanted.
Of all my dogs, Shasta was the one who took care of me… of all of us. She watched out for everyone, barking when someone came to the gate, rounding us all up at night for bed, sleeping closest to the door. Walking me next door to visit friends and neighbors (never mind that’s where the good treats were!). She took care of everyone and everything. It was her job, and she loved it. Once she sat outside next to a bird that had fallen from a tree for the entire day, protecting it from harm. When it unfortunately didn’t make it, she got up and came to sit beside me. She was a sweet, caring soul and I hope wherever she is, she knows she is, and will always be, loved.
Kathy at “What Do I Know?” lost her beautiful Golden, Bailey, a few months ago to bone cancer. Her journey was not the same, but sadly, we both ultimately reached the same sad ending. The loss of our beloved pets. The difference is, I didn’t go through my journey completely unaware of bone cancer or feeling like I was the only one and I thank her for that. As well as the many lovely friends and family members who helped me not go through it alone.
R.I.P. Shasta.
