Yesterday, I helped a friend (she's older and is like an adopted Grandmother to me) take her older dog to the vet. Katie (the dog) is a 100 pound lab and REALLY doesn't like to go the vet. She has been limping and I feared it was something bad. I was right, Katie has osteoscarcoma. Bone cancer.
Katie is my friend's last tie to her husband that died a few years ago and has been my friend's constant companion since he died. This friend adopted a dog from me, Cassie, a year and a half ago that I found on the street so she has two dogs now. Someday I will write Cassie's story. It is a pretty great one.
Katie is at home now with a Fentanyl patch for pain and my friend is taking some time to get herself ready and say goodbye. Katie still loves her biscuits, her sister (Cassie) and her baby (my friend's great grandson lives with her) but we know that the time will be soon, probably in the next week or so. No one wants her to suffer in any way.
Katie had to stay at the vet's (my good friend Helen is her vet. I make all the animals I love go to her) for the day (this is when I took time to go run) to be sedated for x-rays and blood work to confirm what was happening. When I picked my friend up to go get Katie she said, "some people won't have pets because they are too afraid of losing them and this pain. That is like not marrying your true love because they will die some day. I wouldn't give up what she gave me. Even to avoid this."
Needless to say, I didn't get to make it to my meeting with the coach last night.
(Picture: Katie a year ago, trying to kiss her way out of a nail trim.
16 hours ago