My Dog Has Cancer, and It Sucks

This is not something I thought I’d ever write. But when I found out this week that my dog has a tumor the size of a grapefruit in her abdomen, I had a bit of a meltdown. I don’t think I’ve cried that much since I lost my passport (not that I’m putting a passport on the same level as my dying dog).

For anyone who has been close to me for the past 10 years, it will come as no surprise that I love that dog more than anything. The birth of my nephew only narrowly beat Daisy for the cutest, closest thing to my heart. I’ve been obsessed with my dog for half of my life and was in pretty heavy denial that her death was ever going to come. Which is why this week came as such a shock.

On Monday I was under the impression that she was getting put down on Tuesday, and on Tuesday I was told she was actually getting put down on Wednesday, and Wednesday (today, as I’m writing this) I was told that she was actually doing a bit better and had pain meds and was perking up again. So I’ve had an emotional few days.

Update: It’s now Sunday night (or Monday morning, if you want to get technical). Daisy has been doing so much better. That’s not to say that her cancer is going to disappear and she’ll be her old self again (she is 15 years old, after all), but she is acting pain-free with the help of her meds. She enjoys her walks, sleeps a lot, and even ran around and played with my dad on Saturday. All good progress.

I don’t want this to seem like I’m going back in denial about her death; I know it’s coming, and soon. She might have a few weeks or months, but she also might relapse and have only days. But I prefer it this way. I prefer having the time to brace myself and cope with it in a healthy way, instead of getting the information all at once, freaking out, and almost buying plane tickets home for the next day in the middle of the week (which is what I almost did last week).

So that’s it. My dog has cancer. Could be worse. Could be an actual human family member, but that wouldn’t make the pain any more bearable. Because, to me, Daisy IS family. She may not be human, and she may not be related by blood, but she’s been as much a part of our family as anyone. And when she’s gone, she’ll be missed dearly. So if you’ve got a cuddly companion snuggled up beside you, do me a favor:

Dig your fingers into the scruffy fur at their neck, kiss their head, and affectionately pull their ears. Give your pet a cuddle for me and don’t take their love for granted.

Bye 🙂

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2 comments

  1. I can relate. I work in the veterinary profession and it is always so hard to see (animal) family members pass on due to cancer. My own pup had cancer in her leg a few years back. Fortunately with surgery it was removed, but I still always worry it’s going to come back. Our dogs are family.

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  2. So I would normally hug my dog for you since he’s such a cuddle bug… but… he was skunked midnight Monday morning last week and he still has a slight unbearable Oder about him that I’m just not willing to stick my face into just yet 😂

    Like

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