Ten Weeks of Denial

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It was on Saint Valentine's Day this year that the veterinarian expressed his sympathy before giving us the news that our beloved little Bichon likely had lymphoma. She started out with a couple lumps on her lower teats, but soon developed several lumps in the pits of her legs and two enormous lumps across her shoulders that reached down into her chest on either side. He told us that one a diagnosis was made there is usually only 6 weeks left. He took some tests and sent the blood out to an histologist for confirmation. The blood work was inconclusive because her calcium levels were normal. Thus began our denial. Oh, she must have a reaction to the fleas and all the scratching caused her lymphs to swell up - yeah, that has to be it. I mean she is still acting normal - eats fine, isn't lethargic at all. She will be okay. As six weeks came and went we were all the more assured that the vet. must have been over reacting. trying to get us to do chemo therepy on our darling pooch etc. 2 weeks ago Mitts began being short of breath..but still her chearful, playful self. Ah, it is a little hot in here, that is all, was the answer we gave. Then she did not want the 12 year old to play with her (it is her dog) that was unusual, wonder why she is being crabby? Last week she stopped going all the way on our long evening walks - instead would turn around and wait at the door for us. She is getting older 8.5 years old now, maybe she has some arthritis settling in, she is still eating and going potty as normal, after all. 3 nights ago I put her to bed, she ate a couple piece of her kibble, then looked up at me with her huge round brown eyes, tilted her head a little and wagged her tail. It was so endearing. My husband got home a few hours later from working over nights and took the dogs for their early morning walk, only Mitts did not care to go, so he carried her down the driveway and had her walk back with him. He went to bed and got up a couple hours later to find her curled up in her bed, dead. Ten weeks since her diagnosis we can now stop our denial and trust the vet's expertise. I am glad she gave me that last moment of looking up at me, those lovely eyes - that tiny 8 pound sheep curled dog that has given this family such joy, is now gone. The 12 year old is so very sad, the wound is deep for all of us. Wierd, I never expected to have this much a sense of loss from missing a pet. :(