Another donation to Morris Animal Foundation

SUMMARY: In memory of Remington

I've donated several times since his death, as they fund research into animal issues such as canine cancer.

Go here to see the newly added photo and paragraph. Remington's memorial at Morris Animal Foundation.


Remington, young and eager. (Me, too.)

In bandages after surgery for cancer pain relief (surgery was on his pericardium to relieve pressure from fluid buildup around his heart, where the main tumor sat).

Update Post-Vet Visit

SUMMARY: Anemic.

Yes, Tika's breathing is labored as I noticed at home particularly last night. But the doc says that her lungs sound clear, despite still having a lot of fluid in her abdomen. Means that probably the right side of her heart is doing worse that the left side, because the left side more likely causes fluid in the lungs.

Her heart rate is much better than it has been in recent visits--I said that's probably because she's out in the car having the vet check her instead of in the office.

No, there's no sign of infection in her mouth--in some ways, darn it, as we could have thrown antibiotics at it.

When he took her inside for a blood draw and brought her back out immediately, he said that she was very good and probably the sedation contributed--I said, there is no sedation, I didn't give her a pill this time, that's all her deteriorating health.

Yes, her gums are pale. OMG they're almost white this morning; last night they looked pale to me, but not white.  So--very anemic.

And now, back home, I'm realizing that I'm recognizing the symptoms of anemia from when Rem had his cancer and it would rupture and start bleeding out. Lethargy, staggering when trying to walk after first standing up, lying there and looking around as if in a fog.

So we're doing a blood test. It might give us something useful. For example, if her organs are closing down, then that could cause the anemia and there's not much that we can do--it's been a long time coming.

But if all it shows is that she's anemic, we're back to the question of--how much testing do we do to figure out what exactly is causing it? On a 14-year-old dog with congestive heart failure who has outlived her predicted lifespan by two years?

But also, how quickly will the results come in, and will it be too late by then?

Vet says that he looks particularly at four things: Can the dog eat, drink, pee, and poop on their own or with minimal help from me? Then they might not be done yet. But it's becoming an observational game, I think, as in, is her quality of life good?

She has yet to miss greeting me at the garage door when I get home (except when she's been somewhere where she couldn't hear it.) That includes last night, even after not wanting to eat much, not wanting to walk much, and mostly just lying there. One of the other dogs bumped into her, though, and she droopped to the ground-- but, still, she was there.

I'm not sure whether that's enough. As of yesterday, she hasn't wanted to come up the steps to the couch where I spend most of my home time now, so she's a bit isolated--although she was always pretty independent and often spent her time outside or in another room anyway.

Soooooo,waiting for blood test results, some of which might be available this evening.

Hope for Hemangiosarcoma

SUMMARY: Mushroom extract.

This news is a year old, but still worth a read. A compound that has been used for 2,000 years in traditional chinese medicine has more than doubled the average survival time of dogs with hemangiosarcoma. I can only hope that continuing research bears this out so that others won't have to go through what I went through with Remington and so many other friends have been through with their dogs.

Compound Derived From a Mushroom Lengthens Survival Time in Dogs With Cancer, Penn Vet Study Finds

The next big thing would be an easy way to detect the cancer early--so many dogs are diagnosed by autopsy or at the time of collapse. Keeping my fingers crossed for that.

A Tragic Loss

SUMMARY: R.I.P. Risk Scannell.

Our achievements and defeats over the last two days pale in comparison to this: That a friend's Border Collie went to the start line friday night eagerly playing tug as usual, basically took two steps and collapsed, and three hours later died at the emergency clinic. Necropsy showed a ruptured tumor on his spleen. The friend didn't say whether they specified the type of tumor, but the symptoms and manifestation are completely typical of hemangiosarcoma, which took my Remington.

They reminded us to hug our dogs and appreciate them, because you just never know what the next moment might hold.

I just sent a response--

I did hug my dogs several times today, thinking about Risk. I so carefully felt the textures of their coats under my hands and the weight and warmth of their bodies next to me. Tika wasn't thrilled about that and took the opportunity to squeeze loose and go run ferociously at a passing dog to ameliorate her the humiliation, reminding me that dogs bring things to our lives in so many ways, so often not what one might want or expect.

Risk was just 8 and a half, only four months older than Tika, and one Steeplechase away from his Gold ADCH (something that Tika will never achieve)--one which he might well have gotten today, as he has become a steady and reliable competitor. And he was a beautiful dog, too. I mourn his passing, but can only just imagine what his human family is going through.

I was lucky enough to have some photos of him from last July, when my dogs and theirs played in the field after a day of agility.

My Responses to Emails About Jake

SUMMARY: I responded to emails about Jake's passing.

Backfill: added Dec 14, 2018


Jake's versus Rem's seizures:

It's so hard to watch them go through it. This is my second dog whose last day was consumed with seizures. In a way I'm glad that they came all at once--I don't know how I could have lived week after week, watching and waiting and dreading the next one. Jake's seizures were so long and so bad and he was so terrible for so many hours after each one, I don't know that I could have put him through more anyway. [Remington's] seizures were short and recovery very quick, but came so fast after each other on top of known fatal cancer, so it was quite different.

Jake was a good boy:

Thanks for the nice note. He was a good boy right to the end. Well, if I discount the goodies in the car on Saturday. Which, actually, I did. I was annoyed but didn't scold him and kept telling myself, well, he's old, he deserves some slack.

Posted March 6 -- feeling the loss:

The worst part is all my agility dog friends. There seems to have been a rash of old familiar dogs going to the great bone in the sky the last couple of months. Each one hurts a bit.

It has been hard--some ways harder than Remington, some ways easier. I didn't expect a 15 year old dog to go on much longer. But he had been doing so well! Last week I was a total loss to society. By friday afternoon I was starting to function again. I'm doing OK. Until I have to do something like change all the "emergency--rescue my pets" stickers on the windows from 3 dogs to 2.

Posted March 8: Other dogs' reactions:

Tika and Boost don't seem to be particularly affected. First, because they've always been so focused on each other since Boost came to live here, and Jake was such a curmudgeon, in particular to Boost, so there was never a lot of interaction except negative. 

Secondly, they were both there while Jake was having seizures, and after I realized that they were both off the bed and huddling against the door looking miserable, I calmed them verbally and praised them and let them come back on the bed while Jake was recovering. So they both had lots of chances to sniff at Jake and see what was happening and in my own view of the world I think that they knew that something was amiss with him.

The Ghost of Nightmares Past

Last night I dreamed that Remington and I were sitting on the couch, his front end sprawled across my lap as was his usual wont. Suddenly he shot to a sit, his face contorting, and then the seizure started. He thrashed, his limbs stiff and jerking spasmodically, and I just held him as gently as I could so that he wouldn't throw himself off the couch like he threw himself off the bed the night he died.

As the spasms died away and he lay on his side, panting, eyes wide, I gently wiped away the foam and strings of saliva from his mouth and face. I stroked him slowly, comfortingly as my mother wandered in and asked casually what was going on.

"It's siezures," I said, "Just like the night he died. I thought they were done with. I thought they wouldn't happen again."

And I woke up crying.

Remington Memories

For a while I worked on writing down everything that I could remember about Remington, and then started scanning in photos to go with it. I seem to have stalled about a month ago, so I'll put up what I have now--all in one long, huge file, sorry. If I add more later, I'll attempt to clearly flag changes.

Read "Remington, In Tidbits" and look at a photospread of a Squirrelhund At Work.

A Year Ago Today

Remington finished his NADAC Agility Trial Champion title (NATCH). (See diary entry.) Didn't yet know he had cancer. First undiagnosed sick episode was still 2 weeks in the future.

Here are Jake and Rem with the ribbons they won that weekend and the signed jump bar that the host club awarded Rem. Was just going through some photos from back then and found this.




And I must say that I'm still quite unhappy that I still don't have the NATCH plaque, even though asking for it when his cancer was first diagnosed. That'll hurt when and if it ever shows up. Jeez, just realized it's been 5 months now since he died. Still miss him something awful. Still can see him as clearly as if he'd just left the room.

You know, I do NOT miss that, since he's been gone, no food has ever been taken off the kitchen counters or dining table, and the wastebaskets have never been emptied and strewn around the floor. Those were Rem's ways of letting me know that he was tired of me being out of the house. But, boy, I'd be willing to put up with them--

Dumb Dog and Gone Remington

Dumb Tika dog. She's definitely doing the same thing she has for every other walkies method--what's the most she can pull without it horribly inconveniencing her. I think yesterday she was pulling just as much as ever, if not more, on the prong collar. Dang dang dang dang.

Missing Remington the last couple of days. Never know why this pops up. I still feel angry as much as anything. The challenge in managing it is that there's nothing and no one to be angry at, except The Fates, The Universe, The Powers That Be, The Gods.

At the time that Remington was ill and I knew that it was fatal, I developed the theory that it was easier for me for him to survive a while because I'd have a chance to develop an internal mental and emotional model of a world without Remington, and to start working through my grief ahead of time. Well, in retrospect, I think that there is no way that I could ever build a complete model of Remington dying early and me accepting it.

That's because the model that I already had--of him growing older, his muzzle getting whiter, possibly arthritis slowing him down--built slowly over 9 years and everything inside my brain and my heart wanted that model to prevail. For years, when he'd stand up after lying for a particularly long time or when especially tired, he'd push himself to a sit and then haul his backside up, almost as if his spine was pulling his legs up rather than the opposite. It was so reminiscent of what Amber looked like, trying to stand up as her arthritis became so horrible, that I already knew what he'd look like as he grew older.

Slamming an active, healthy, happy dog with a cancerous stake to the heart can't ever be reconciled with what, with all my soul, I wanted--even though, at the same time, of course, I DIDN'T want him to grow old. Still, now I think that, with Amber, even though it was excruciating losing her, at the same time I could look at the way she so badly wanted to play ball and couldn't; wanted to stand and greet me and couldn't; started losing control of bodily functions when she'd panic because she occasionally couldn't stand up; and see that her passing was in a way a relief of her inevitable increasing infirmity and pain.

With Remington, it never seemed inevitable. It seemed unjust, foul, undeserved, cursed, horrific, appalling.

The common litany among so many dog people seems to be "He's waiting for you across the rainbow bridge." Sorry. Bullshit.

I miss him so. It's been 4 months. I haven't cried this hard in at least a couple of those months. The other dogs are curled up at my feet, concern curling their bodies, ears, and tails. I wish it was Rem.

Remington: It was time to go

I've been looking through photos of Rem for a bio-through-word-snapshots page (coming eventually to a web site near you). Came across photos I took a few days before he died. At the time, I thought they were beautiful, but now I see that he looked thin, pale, and very, very tired. Hard to tell with a dog, maybe, especially the pale part, but definitely he looked tired. Poor guy. I was tired, too.

Hemangiosarcoma Claims Another Friend

Two weeks ago, agility friends emailed me that their 11-year-old Flat Coat had suddenly become ill that morning. Upon taking him to the vet, they discovered that he had a gigantic tumor in his heart that had ruptured. Vet said there wasn't really any treatment that would gain them more than a week or two, and he could have been ill the whole time. Diagnosis by symptom and appearance: Hemangiosarcoma.

At breakfast, they had a normal dog. By dinner, no more dog.

It's heartbreaking and still seems so unfair. I rail against the universe!

Like Rem, who 3 weeks before his first (undiagnosed) exhibition of cancer symptoms earned his NATCh and took a ton of ribbons, Tyler not even 2 weeks before had earned 2nd high in trial at an agility competition.

That's 3 hemangiosarcoma dogs lost in 3 months in our small (150 people) agility club.

And so hard to write about. In addition to Tyler's loss being devestating itself--he's been a regular at agility trials ever since I started agility, and I often compare our success rate to his (and he's such a *likeable* dog, too)--it brought back all of Remington's experiences.

Remington Lingers On

It comes and goes. It's been 3 months. Life seems pretty normal. Tika is over being terrified of my every move or noise. Jake is over looking for Remington. I don't cringe every time I turn around and see something, because things aren't reminding me of him much. And then--the last couple of days--don't know what it is.

Yesterday, went to fasten Jake's seatbelt after agility class and he was in the wrong seat. When Rem was around, they were *always* in the wrong seats, and I'd say "switch seats," and they'd switch. It hit me hard and I sat in the car sobbing before coming home. Today I filled up the gas tank and washed the windows. I do this every week, sometimes more often. Realized that there were no windows inside that needed cleaning, whereas Rem always left a dog-nose Picasso covering his window. Hit me hard again. Why this week?

There is so much to say and I don't know how to say it or who to say it to. It just wells up and -- it's so immense sometimes that it overwhelms mere words. I knew my dogs were important to me, but I just never think they can get in this deep.

Tika Is a Good Girl/Jake Propels Himself/Cancer Lives On/The Next Thurber

Tika was a very good girl in class yesterday. Got all of her contacts. Ran off only once, and I knew I didn't have her attention when I put her at the start line, and I was dumb and should have gotten her long leash for that attempt. But she did come back fairly quickly instead of running off to the far side. Didn't grab my feet at all, but I'm also trying to make sure she gets some kind of reward when I screw up (which, unfortunately, *I* was doing a lot) instead of making her frustrated.

But she still doesn't walk nicely on a leash! Jeez, it's always back to square 1. Maybe I should just tie her in a cart and pull the cart...nah, pulling stuff is bad for my back.

Jake's back seems to have been doing fine all week. I've been tossing squeakies for him on the ground, not too far, but he still propels himself to them at rocket speed and lands on them full force. So I've been trying to toss them directly in front of him so he can just grab them in the air without jumping or scooping.

We don't have agility this weekend, so that's good for resting up.

I keep getting email from people who find Remington's cancer site on the web and write to say thanks for having the information and the story. So many dogs-- so sad. Worst are the ones who've had more than one dog with hemangiosarcoma. Sucks sucks sucks. I don't know what I'd do.

Just read a wonderful compilation of Thurber dog stories, articles, and notes. Wish I could write like that. I've been thinking for years about how to write the story of *my* dogs in a way that would entertain. I can do it, I know I can. --I think I can. --I might be able to. --Next week. --Or later.

Comfort and Ashes

Wednesday morning was one of the nicest I can remember in a very long time. I woke up sort of slowly. Dogs always seem to know when I'm waking up, even if I don't think I've moved or changed my breathing. Jake hasn't always been snuggy in the morning lately--well, he was never really snuggy, but he used to come over & check my ears for damage that might have occurred during the night, and to get scritched. Tika likes to snuggle but I have to get her to come up and lie next to me. She often lies down next to my legs and presents her tummy for rubs, which I can't reach because my arms are up with me where I'm lying down.

That morning, she came up right next to me on my right side, and jake came right up next to me on my left side. I turned on my side towards Jake, and he lay over on his side, back pressed against me, head on my lower arm, while I rubbed him gently and stroked Tika with my other hand. I was so relaxed. I gradually stopped rubbing, and we all just lay there, me with my eyes closed, warm dog bodies relaxed against me. I haven't felt that content or relaxed in a great while. I think I like having only 2 dogs, especially 2 who aren't touchy about how close the other dog is.

Last night I called the emergency clinic to find out why Remington's ashes had never appeared. Turns out they've been there, in a cupboard, waiting for me to pick them up, for quite a while. No one had called. Person on duty had no idea why not. I went right over and picked them up, feeling guilty and dumb at the same time. Guilty because Rem hated staying at the hospital, and especially when I couldn't be there with him. And dumb because there's nothing left of him but ashes and memories and I really seriously doubt that the ashes care one way or another where they are. It's only me who cares.

I still don't know what to do with what's left of him. Ashes are sealed in a nice cedar box, currently with his collar and tags wrapped around it, sitting on my table next to his photos and a nice plant that the Mixed Breed Dog Club sent in his memory. Never asked for my other dogs' ashes. Didn't know what I'd do with them. Still don't. Have thought I might try to distribute them out there in nature somewhere where he would have liked to run and play, but I think he would have liked to be with me even more.

Dang, for first time in a while, I'm crying again.

He was such a good boy.

Brain vs Emotion

Yesterday late afternoon, I was at the computer, Jake was lying beside me, Tika was out back. All of a sudden over in the direction of Rem's old bed a dog stood up and shook off with a jingle of the collar--just like Rem used to do when he thought I had been at the computer too long. I looked up sharply, for a fleeting moment really actually expecting to see Remington before reality caught up with me. In fact it was Tika, who apparently had come in and lain down while I wasn't paying attention.

It's been 4 weeks. It'll be a lot longer until those expectations fade away.

Trying to Ease Off the Reminders

Today I rearranged the dog beds.

I've had 3 in a row along the wall across from my desk--Rem's on the right (a raised PVC bed w/big soft cushion), Jake's on the left (an ancient upholstered chair), and another, smaller, raised PVC bed with a fleece mat in the middle. No one ever used the third one much. There's a heater vent at bed level in the wall between Rem's bed and the middle one. Remington simply loved lying next to the heater vent, so that was perfect for him. The other 2 don't much like it, I don't think.

I've been trying to see whether either of them will use Rem's old bed. Washed the cover so it didn't smell as much like Rem. Both would hop on and off, but not stay. So a week or so ago I moved just the big cushion onto the floor on the opposite side of the aisle. Both of them have now spent time lounging there, but especially Tika.

Today I moved it back onto the raised bed. I also moved all the beds around so that they're no longer in the positions they were in while Remington was alive. I'm hoping that that will make it easier for the others to decide to use the beds more freely. And I'm hoping it will avoid the problem that everytime I notice Rem's empty bed in the same old corner, it stabs me.

We'll see whether the fact that everything is rearranged is actually *more* noticeable.

Missing the Bigdog

I so badly want to hug Remington. I can almost feel the texture of his coat, the pressure of him leaning away from me because he hated being hugged, the patient forbearance as I pull his warm fifty pounds close and give him a good rub. Almost. But I *can't* feel it. Sh*t.

Life Goes On

At Madera two weeks ago, Tika got every one of her contacts all weekend. At the NADAC the next weekend, she was really good on Saturday & then started flying off on Sunday. This weekend, she couldn't get past the 1st contact all weekend without flying off. I started resorting to taking her off the field on Sunday, after redoing all day Saturday. She did OK in weavers--ran past one set and then took an off-course into a tunnel. Jumpers we had a knocked bar one day and a tunnel suck the next. Tunnelers I pulled her into the wrong end of a tunnel on Saturday and she did great on Sunday. So she got 1 Q all weekend out of 12 runs.

Jake was a good boy and got 9 out of 12 Qs--one miss was a fairly easy gamble that was my fault (to make up for it, the next day he got a really tough one that fewer than 1 in 5 dogs got). One flyoff on a dogwalk, which is HIS fault by now. One missed jump in a jumpers course, again mostly my fault. Despite appearances, we didn't seem to be clicking all weekend. He was taking lots of wide slow turns and starting to miss obstacles (or almost miss them). Not sure what was up with that.

Today Tika's walking on a leash was almost back to square one. Deep sigh.

The Final FAQs

I have just updated Remington's Cancer FAQ with the last questions I can answer, things that people asked me before or after or that I asked before or after.

Memories

Memories everywhere. Took Tika in to our regular vet for her shots, and she put her paws up on the receptionist's counter just like Remington always used to do, because he knew there were nice people back there who gave him goodies. And our holiday picture was posted on their photo board, all 3 of my dogs. It's still hard, every time I buckle Jake into his seatbelt and there's an empty seat next to him. Took his NADAC, USDAA, and CPE registration cards out of my wallet so I wouldn't see them every time I enter an agility trial, and that felt like ripping a piece out of my life.

It really does get easier every day not to think about it, because thinking about it hurts. I find that I usually can talk about him--but talking about *losing* him or the fact that he *isn't* here is painful.

I've gotten lots of cards and email from his assorted friends, and that helps. And Tika and Jake have been pretty good dogs the last couple of weeks, which also helps.