For this day, neither I nor DH give a damn about adoption. Rocky is under sedation and receiving radiation, I am weepy and DH is touchy. I know his chances are good, but I have seen two terminal canine cancer patients, this morning, and watched as a sweet man lost his best friend to liver and kidney disease despite all the vets could do. I am going to give the RockMeister that 95% chance his veterinary oncologist says he has, but he better, by Gosh, get better. He came in, this morning, a happy, excited little mutt. He'd better stay that way. I don't want to go down to this place any more often than I have to. For the next 3 weeks, it will be every day.
My poor doggie.
LATER, THAT SAME DAY
Well, by golly, he was happy and feisty and excited when we came to pick him up. It's sorta like, nobody told HIM he was sick. He tolerated everything well, all his vitals are good, he ate like a little pig and took a long walk with his daddy. The oncologist was there today and he is very pleased with everything. He changed Rocky's prognosis from good to excellent barring new or changing test results. One day at a time and today, he is alive and happy. He is also undeniably cute.
Sometimes. you just need a good friend to cheer you up when you are down. He did that for us and he's the bloomin' patient!
He doesn't see himself as a "poor doggie." I guess I better reconsider that thought.
OK...back to mothers, adoptees, surrender, records, and all that Jazz, tomorrow or whenever.
AND THE NEXT MORNING
OK, this roller-coaster (reminds me of reunion) better stop...I am getting nauseated by the ride. Rocky whimpered, a weird groaning sound he has never made before, all night. I am getting him to the vet as soon as they open. If the treatment is worse than the cure....I don't know what to think. He's a bit better after his morning potty walk. I think I better just log off the blogging until this is over.
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