Ask Me If I Give A $#%&*^&^

I was just reading the post I wrote yesterday. I'll admit to venting a bit of pique with that one, but today it just doesn't seem to matter that much. In fact, it can be passed on to the people who were the objects of my post that not a one of you is as important to me, right now, as one little white and brown spotted mutt. In fact, none of you or what you did means a tinker's damn to me, anymore.

We saw the veterinary oncologist today and got the news that Rocky's Mast Cell tumor was a grade II. That means that it multiplies aggressively. His ultra-sound imaging showed him to be free of any tumors or lesions internally or in his lymph system but there were a few cells visible in the underside margin of the excised area where the tumor was removed.

Next Monday, he starts a regimen of 18 radiation treatments and a 6-month course of chemo. He was doing so well. The other good news is that his chances of a complete recovery exceed 80% so, we are going for it and I guess I will have to settle for less fancy appliances in our place in WV. $4800 worth of cancer treatments, in this case, buys a lot of unconditional love and he doesn't talk behind our backs or try to deny our truth. He just is totally sweet, uncomplicated, spoiled rotten Rocky-dog.

Now THIS is what adoption is supposed to be about. I suppose I could send him back to the shelter with a note stating that he was draining our retirement funds and dared to come to us with health issues. But that's not how it's supposed to work. He is loved, totally and freely and whatever we have to give is his.

He is completely ingenious, so I don't have to worry about him turning friends against me or demanding that I choose one over the other. For him, the more love and friends, the better. He loves the vanilla scent of the candle I am burning for a friend who needs a job. He doesn't complain about my activism causing anyone any discomfort. I'm Mommy and I can do no wrong. Daddy's pretty darn infallible, as well.

So next week, we make the 25 minute drive to Winter Park and back, twice a day, making sure that Rocky has his E-collar on at night so that he won't lick at his radiation burns and they will instruct us on how to administer his once-every-other week shot and his once every week pill for the chemo. And if I post something about adoption or the EMS/BSE that some adopter or barfmuggle or any-frickin'-body else doesn't like..then just ask me if I give a flying f***!

I am at peace with my priorities. And, as my youngest son would say, "Damn Skippy!"