Today we had the devastating
news that our beloved 15-year-old Sheltie, Nutty, has cancer of the mouth.
It started off an ordinary,
perfectly pleasant day.
Boyfriend on a Short Fuse
noticed yesterday that there was a bit of blood dotted about on the floor and
we thought one of the dogs might have a scratch and weren’t too worried. Then he
looked in Nutty’s mouth and noticed he had a pink bleeding growth around the
teeth in his lower jaw.
His appetite has been good
and he is drinking normally (although he always drinks rather a lot), he is in
good spirits and wagging his tail as usual. So we thought it must be some sort
of abscess or tooth infection.
I rang the homeopathic vet
but he had just left so we took him down to the conventional vet in Elizabeth Street.
While Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was waiting with Nutty, I popped into the off licence
next door. At this point I wasn’t too worried and joked to the assistant, `I’m
taking my dog to the vet, so if it’s bad news I’ll need a glass of champagne
and if it’s good news I’ll need a glass of champagne’ (shades of Mrs Bollinger).
Imagine my horror when she
diagnosed squamous cell carcinoma (a type of mouth cancer). I am no longer the public weeper I used to be, I
actually dislike public displays of emotion the older I get (very English), but
the pain was so visceral, like a knife in my heart and I just lost control. I burst
into tears and was unable to stop sobbing for hours afterwards. While I waited
to pay I was sitting in the waiting room full of people, just sobbing.
Boyfriend on a Short Fuse
stormed off with Nutty as he hates it when I cry and everybody else studiously ignored
me.
I couldn’t believe the
diagnosis. Nutty has always been so lucky, somehow untouched by the ravages of
illness or old age. He is a super-dog. This is so much worse than Mum dying,
isn’t that odd? But I love my beloved boy more than anyone, more than
boyfriend, more than family. He is my family. He has been part of our pack for
over 15 years. He knew my mother and grandparents, we have so much shared
history. He is always with me, his little foxy snout always smiling, never
complaining, he is so stoic.
I’ve taken some Ignatia for
the grief and feel a bit calmer, but it is a nightmare. We aren’t that keen on
this vet so I have booked a telephone consultation with the homeopathic vet,
Richard Allport, tomorrow morning.
How I pray there is a
treatment, the conventional vet can only offer surgery. She advised against
this as the cancer often recurs…. But oh, surely it is worth trying. He is such
a strong dog.
Boyfriend on a Short Fuse is
doing his healing method, I am doing Reiki (I trained in it years ago and am
rusty but it comes back) and we are chanting.
What else can we do?
No comments:
Post a Comment