Facing the impending loss of a special dog
Story and photos by Nancy Gallimore
The call came in just after 10 a.m. on a Thursday morning. “Good morning, Nancy. How is Brooke doing?” The kind voice on the other end of the line was Dr. Chris Johnson with Tulsa Animal Urgent Care. He was the talented veterinarian who had saved our Dalmatian Brooke’s life just a week earlier.
I replied that Brooke was doing great. At more than 13 years of age, our girl was making an amazing recovery from emergency surgery to remove her spleen and the attached tumor that had ruptured. The event was life threatening in so many ways, and yet Brook was bouncing back like a 2-year-old who had just been through a routine spay.
But I knew this call would not end on that good note. I knew this call meant the biopsy report from the splenic tumor, the culprit in this story, was back, and our conversation was far from over. Good news would be hearing the words benign mass.
We did not get good news. Brooke’s tumor was hemangiosarcoma, a common and aggressive form of cancer that often plagues older dogs. Dr. Johnson delivered the news with gentle honesty. We both knew this was a worst-case scenario diagnosis.
Now it was time for my partner, Jim Thomason, and I to do our homework and make some challenging decisions. Dr. Johnson outlined possible treatment options. Having been through this diagnosis with a previous dog, Jim and I understood Brooke’s prognosis with medical intervention and without.
In option one, we could consult with a veterinary oncology specialist to pursue treatment. This would mean frequent trips to the hospital for Brooke where she would receive several intravenous doses of a very potent chemotherapy drug. And option two would be hospice care. We could opt to keep our girl happy and comfortable for the remainder of her time.
There are so many success stories for cancer treatment in dogs, and we are fortunate to have access to amazing veterinary oncologists in our area. But hemangiosarcoma is not a cancer you can beat. With full treatment, the goal is to extend life five to six months beyond surgery instead of two to three. It was not a battle Brooke could win even with the best of care.
The true question was, could we ask Brooke to tolerate hospital visits she would likely not enjoy? Could we subject her to a drug that, while often well tolerated by canines, could make her feel ill and rob her of her appetite? And could we do all of this without the goal of a cure in sight, but instead the possibility of a few extra months together?
Our answer, with the counsel and support of Dr. Chris Johnson and our family veterinarian, Dr. Lauren Johnson, was no.
The decision whether or not to pursue treatment for a dog with terminal cancer is a very personal one. There is not a right or wrong path in this situation as long as the overall well-being of the individual dog is at the heart of the decision.
Our hearts told us to focus on taking an already privileged dog and spoiling her senselessly for whatever time she had remaining. We did not look back once this decision was agreed upon. We felt peace and sense of purpose.
Brook was feeling good. She was happy. She was, by all appearances, a healthy senior Dalmatian still enjoying the good life. And Jim and I were very ready, willing and able to make sure her remaining time was ridiculously good.
Basically, whatever Princess Brooke wanted, Princess Brooke received. You beg relentlessly for several bites of every meal I’m eating? Fine. How’s the lasagna? You want prime space on the couch next to your human Dad? Secured. I’ll be over here on your other side. You think I should prepare doggy dinners an hour earlier than usual just because you’re feeling a bit hangry? I’m on it. And your bowl will have a special garnish.
We did not spend our remaining time with Brooke mourning the inevitable. Instead, we spent a lot of time laughing at the little monster we were creating. Princess, as she was dubbed, worked the system to new heights. She had a specific sharp bark that meant she wanted something, and one or both of her humans were expected to jump to attention. And we did.
Sometimes she just wanted an extra cookie. Or maybe she wanted to go for a little car ride with no specific destination in mind. Every evening she wanted to go for a meandering sniff walk through our front acreage. Often, she wanted a specific dog bed that was already occupied by another of our family dogs. Oh, the side-eye we received as we usurped one dog to give Princess the cushion she preferred at that moment. Sorry, friends, and thank you for understanding.
Maybe our other dogs were getting the short end of the stick for a bit there. We do have an insane number of comfy dog bed options. And generally, if Brooke requested a cookie, several more were doled out to adjacent eager faces. So no one was being treated horribly unfairly. But yes, Brooke did seem a bit smug about her preferred status.
The final months of Brooke’s life were packed full of what-Brooke-wants-Brooke-gets hilarity. We did not allow ourselves to focus on the inevitable. Instead, we focused on each moment of each day. We embraced our spotted girl literally and figuratively.
I think Jim and I have always realized this is the price of loving a being whose life is more temporary than our own. There will be loss. And if you have the chance to write that final chapter, make it a damn good one. That way, when the time comes to type “the end,” you can find a smile through the tears. And trust me, the tears eventually dry, but the smile remains.
(Love you, Brooke.)
