We Sure Didn't See This Coming

Dear Sophie,

Part Two of catching up finds a few more white hairs on my head and, after this, I'm surprised there are any more red ones.

As we do every year after the reunion trip, we visited the vet for your annual vaccines and a check-up.  You had a few little bumps I wanted checked out, and we needed to make sure your shoulders were still in good shape.

On that Friday afternoon, the little bump I wanted to show the doctor was gone but, in looking for it, I found one on your side that hadn't been there before!  Considering all the time I spend with my hands on you, I wouldn't have missed this one if it had been there for long.  The vet didn't like it either so she sent in a needle biopsy of it.

Four very long days later on Tuesday afternoon, that obscene six-letter word made my stomach sink.  Cancer.  The vet wouldn't know its depth until she could operate, but it was serious and needed to get taken care of right now.  Blood work on Wednesday preceded surgery on Thursday.

There's no debating that prayer is powerful!  When we dropped you off at the animal hospital, I fully expected to dissolve into tears in the van, but I didn't!  Trusting the hospital staff's promise to call if anything went wrong, I actually went home and took a good long nap.  The peace throughout this whole ordeal was incredible, especially the way I always worry about everything!  I awoke to an e-mail from the vet with attached pictures of you about one hour post-op, so I could see for myself you were all right.  And in just a couple of minutes, I talked to the doctor and you were cleared to go home anytime, with thirteen staples closing up your six-inch incision.

You did amazingly well all weekend.  I kept you quiet and resting all weekend with your fox and your blanky but, after those few days, you were acting like nothing ever happened!

The best news came on Tuesday morning ... the pathology report came back.  Yep, the vet got all the cancer!

I really worried this might end your career as a service dog but, after only a few days, I knew you'd still be going at it.  It was hard to keep you down.  You were ready to play and couldn't understand why I wouldn't let you.

Finally, yesterday, only four weeks after diagnosis, just three and a half weeks after surgery, you were back in harness and out for a three-hour work.  Granted, it was nothing strenuous, but still downright amazing!

As an incidental bonus, I didn't even have to shave your hair or trim it back.  No one would even see your boo-boo unless they're looking for it.  Guess that's one of the benefits of being a long-haired dog.

You and I had so many prayers going up for us, Sophie, and we felt and experienced ... and so immensely appreciated ... each one.  Truly, we came through this on angel's wings.

Slowing Down

Dear Sophie,
I'm a little late getting this posted; that's why the dates don't match up. But you must admit these past two months have been nonstop chaos, putting me behind on everything! So let's work on catching up.
Your 58th flight carried you across the country to our annual family reunion. Thankfully, we have a great vet who dispensed your colitis medicine on a "just in case" basis, knowing as well as we did what could happen if we were caught thousands of miles from home without it. Practically the moment we got to Cousin Jim's house, I was dropping a pill and a half down your throat and you were medicated for the rest of the trip. That pretty much told me these cross-country flights have just become too much for you, so I made the sad decision not to take you on any more. Am I still going back East each year? Absolutely!! But you'll get to stay home with Daddy, which I'm sure you'll enjoy more anyway.
The reunion keeps getting better every year and you had such a good time playing with all new children!

You often sacked out in your crate when you needed a rest, but you seemed to be a little more involved with the festivities this year than you were in years past, maybe because of the absence of any firing cannons or raging thunderstorms.
Now fast-forward to the night before we were to leave for home. Just when I thought there wasn't much more mischief you could get into! I had never seen any reason you couldn't go outside alone. Jim has an incredibly spacious back yard with grass and trees and the wonderful scents of birds and squirrels and other sorts of various wildlife. It's a dog's dream sniffing spot!
I thought you were staying outside a little longer than usual so I went out back and called you. You didn't come, even when the call turned into a command. I figured you were way up on the hill and you didn't hear me. Fifteen or so minutes later, I called you again and, this time, traced a few scratchy noises to the side of the house. A flashlight, a shovel, and twenty minutes of frantic digging freed you from being wedged in tight UNDERNEATH the porch!

How you got that way I'll never know but there must've been something really incredible under there for you to pull something like that. It's just like you to end your cross-country flight experiences with one really memorable hoopla. Anything to make Mama's hair turn whiter than it already is.
The flight home was a little easier on you because I babied you all the way, reversing our roles and being your support as best I could.

Now that you're getting a little older, Sophie, I'll need to be watching for things I never had to before so as not to expect things from you that you just shouldn't be doing anymore. You willingly do anything I ask you to, whether you can do it painlessly or not.

So, to that end, I promise you to be continually mindful of your advancing years and your retreating comfort level. You've served me faithfully and beautifully all these years, and now it's time to begin turning the table a little.