No News Really IS Good News!

I have been so remiss in updating this blog -- it is disgraceful! However, since I started this blog to help me cope with what I was certain were going to be some very dark days, the lack of updating is actually a good thing!

Sam is doing GREAT. He has finished his every-other-week chemo treatments and has graduated to maintenance treatments once a month. He no longer has to have the dreaded IV chemo that ruins his appetite and makes me sure he is on death's doorstep. Instead he gets the pill form (really, human oncology needs to take lessons here) and just has to have blood work to check on his white blood cell (WBC) count. This is great news!

Dr. Kelly (the oncologist) says he is doing great. At his last appointment she said if she did not know Sam, she would never even know he had cancer. There is no sign of lymphoma ANYWHERE in his physical exam or his blood work.

Sam of course, does not know the difference, but G and I sure do! He is acting younger than he has acted in years and runs around the house like a puppy. He loves to go to Dr. Kelly's office and bays when he sees his favorite nurses (Amy and Garret). The first day I met with the oncologist, Dr. Kelly told me that doggie chemo was nothing like what I was thinking. After having dear friends go through chemo for breast cancer, I thought I was going to have a sick puppy that was going to lose his hair. When she said they jokingly called what they gave "youth serum" I thought they were just trying to make me feel better about what I thought was going to be torturing my dog. They told me eventually Sam would LOVE to come to see them because they made it such a pleasant experience. For obvious reasons, I thought they were lying. Seriously? A dog LIKING to go to the vet? And not only that, a dog LIKING to get poison injected into its veins?

Not so, not so at all. They were so right. Sam loves to go there! He doesn't shake or whine at all!. In fact, he has gotten so he jumps out of the car when we get there and starts baying when he walks in the door. He really gets going when he sees Amy and Garrett (his favorite nurses)! They spoil him rotten -- G says it is like having a rock star for a dog. They actually pre-soak crunchy dog biscuits in water so he can chew them easier! Although I think he always hopes they forget because then he gets canned dog food served to him in a dish by Miss Amy. I think he knows she has a soft spot for hound dogs named Sam -- she lost her basset to cancer and the experience of working through that with Dr. Kelly as her oncologist inspired her to go to vet tech school and now she works for Dr. Kelly! Sam loves her.

This is such a relief for G and I. We were convinced when EVIL DR. PARK AT SUN RANCH VET IN LOS LUNAS misdiagnosed him that we were too late to save him. Now we have a beagle that acts much younger than his 14 years and are looking for another one to add to our family.

I am so grateful that this has all worked out for the best. I was terrified back in August when we finally got a correct diagnosis. I thought he certainly was not going to make it to Halloween, let alone to see his 14th birthday and ring in 2010 with us! We are so blessed and lucky to still have our Sam with us. I think he is going to love having a puppy to train! Maybe soon I will turn this back into a blog about G and I ... but I sure do love talking about Sam. I will have to get him to pose for some pictures soon ...

A moment please ...

I know I have been remiss in updating this blog -- the last month has been pretty wild and I promise I will give you an update on the happenings of Sam. And me. And Grant. But today I want to dedicate this to another dog -- my Torre.

I got Torre during a VERY dark time of my life.

I was living in Connecticut and working at a grooming shop. Her owners came in one day and said they were going to put her down because they were having a baby. Well, something in me woke up and said, "YOU need to take this dog." So I did. Torre was always there for me, unconditionally loving me when I did not love myself. She was my pillow many nights and my constant companion. When I moved back to New Mexico, Torre flew Delta while I followed on my Southwest jet.

We moved in with my parents -- she thrived being around their dogs. When my brother got a puppy, she would let it hold on to her tail with its teeth while she pulled it around. She started going on walks with my dad -- he would snap the leash on her and she would hold it in her mouth -- always the master of her own destiny. She walked with m dad almost every day until her poor legs just couldn't do it anymore. Still, every Sunday he would let her out of the fenced yard to run around with him and indulge in that doggie delicacy -- cat poop.

Torre stayed with them when I went to college; I would come home to visit, but over time she became less and less my dog and more and more my dad's dog. When I moved to Albuquerque, there was no question that she would stay with my parents.

Torre loved to play in the snow when she lived back East -- she would stick her nose down in it and take off like a snowplow. Living in New Mexico, she didn't have snow, but she had a pool -- and she loved to play in that as much as the snow. She loved peanut butter biscuits from PetCo, bacon and pretty much any other sort of people food -- she was not a fan of veggies, but if you built it up enough she would take it, no questions asked. She loved to play with the cardboard paper towel rolls and wrapping paper rolls -- she would snatch them up and run around the house with them. I used to wave them in front of her and she would go nuts trying to catch them. One day she took a 2 liter Diet Coke bottle out of the trash and managed to twist the top off -- she then proceeded to lick the mouth of the bottle. That became a ritual -- give her the bottle to play with. She would carefully tear open squeaky toys, take the squeaker out and walk around the house squeaking it; forever after ignoring the very expensive toy it came out of. When she was younger, she would always greet my with a big bark and a Torre-Hug - running up to me and wrapping her huge paws around my waist. She would smile up and me and wag her tail. Even the last time I saw her, she tried to do it for me; I got down and hugged her instead.

As the years went on, Torre got old -- just like all dogs do. They don't realize they are supposed to live forever. She was on heart medication, arthritis medication and a whole host of others. She actually had a pill box that had the days of the week on it; actually, she had two - one for the morning and one for the evening.

She went in for a checkup today and Dr. Brown said she was in kidney failure. He and my mom made the decision to put her down -- anything else would have been cruel to her.

So here is to Torre -- a wonderful dog that helped me put the light back in my life just by being there for me when I was not there for myself. Even though I had all the people in the world pulling for me, nothing made me feel better than rubbing her belly and looking into those big brown eyes.

To Torre -- wherever you are, I hope you are running and playing with puppies and laying under trees eating peanut butter biscuits. I love you.