Snostorm

Don't know what my problem is, but I've really been missing my baby quite a lot lately. I think about her everyday, of course, but for some reason, the last couple of days have been a little harder.

I dreamed about her last night, that somebody found her somewhere and brought her back to us. Her leg, the one we had to amputate because of the cancer, had somehow grown back, though not completely. Her fur had that weird ripply coarseness that it did after it was shaved off her for her surgery. I woke up this morning still vividly remembering the feel of it under my fingers, like I'd just touched her.

It'll be four months tomorrow. God, this still sucks. I also just recently realized that I lost a lot of my pictures of her because I had them on this computer and not anywhere else. I do have prints of them--thank goodness--but that's it.

I just still miss her. I thought it was getting easier, but not so much. : (

Snostorm

Emerald Snostorm

July 27, 1996 - June 4, 2007

I've been avoiding blogging for awhile, as you probably noticed, because I haven't really been sure how to deal with this. I know I don't need to write about it, but it will feel Not Right if I don't.

Snostorm, my baby, died on June 4. To be fair, we ended her life, and God, that was the worst thing I've ever had to do. To make that decision for another living being. But after an incident on Memorial Day weekend when she couldn't stop crying in pain, things didn't get better, only worse. She was on constant pain meds again, after being off them for almost two months after her surgery. Then, toward the end of that week, she couldn't walk properly--dragging her right rear leg--and some of her basic bodily functions started to fail. We suspect that either the cancer spread to her spine or internal organs, or she might have even had a minor stroke.

I stayed with her to the end. That was something I wasn't sure I could do. But after they administered the sedative, I tried to get up and she opened her eyes and looked at me. So, I stayed. As difficult as that was, I'm glad I did. I didn't want her to be alone or afraid in a room of strangers. Life had already been hard on her. She didn't need that at the end.

I loved her. She was my baby. And I miss her so much every day. She used to wait for me to come home. She'd get up in the morning and come and lay in my writing room, even after her surgery when she had to hop there. Her fur was the softest I've ever felt on a dog, and she always smelled sort of sticky sweet, like day old syrup or something.

I taught her to sit and shake. Greg carried her down the stairs when, on her first day with us, she was brave enough to go up but not back down. When we first met her, she rolled over on her back in her crate at the kennel, begging for a tummy rub. She was the only dog there who didn't bark when we came in, which was important as we were living in a tiny condo at the time.

She lived with us for eight years, joining our family only a few months after we were married. We were so hoping she would make it to her eleventh birthday next month.

There are so many things I want to say, little moments I want to remember, but I don't feel up to writing it all down just yet. Hurts a little too much right now, the wound is still too raw.

It sounds weird and completely superficial, but one thing I'm really glad of is that Bitter Pill will be making it to print, as Rennie's greyhound, Fritzy, is based on her. In that little way, Snostorm will live forever, you know? I'm just sad that she can't be here to come with me to the book release party next spring. She would have loved all the attention.

Quick update

I know, I've been very lax in updating. Just a little too much going on! Snowy had a biopsy to confirm that she has osteosarcoma. Then, on Tuesday of this last week, she had amputation surgery on her front right leg. It was a difficult decision for us because it is such a big surgery and we have no way of knowing how long she'll be with us. But the pain in her leg was getting to be so much that we knew it was really inhibiting her quality of life. So it was either this or the ultimate decision. We felt the surgery was the right choice. It is what was recommended by all three of the vets we saw as a reasonable course of action.

So she's at home with us now, recovering. Some days are better than others. Yesterday, she came to my writing room and poked her head in, just like she always did. So, I brought her bed in and she slept comfortably in there. And when I went out yesterday to run errands, she hopped to the door to watch me leave, just as she did before. She's still not eating very well, so I'm worried about that. She seems hungry, but she won't eat unless I add water to her food and hold the dish for her. But it's only been a few days and she's standing up to drink water and go to the bathroom. So, we're hoping that the worst is behind us in terms of recovery from the surgery. : )

The bad news

Sorry, I've been away for awhile. We're going through some difficult stuff here that's hard for me to talk about. One of my furry babies, Snostorm, the first dog I've ever had, was diagnosed last week with osteosarcoma--that's bone cancer.

We're going in for a second opinion tomorrow just to be sure, but we're fairly certain that the diagnosis is correct.

The cancer has not spread yet as far as we can tell, which is good. But x-rays can only detect cancer after it has accumulated enough cells in one place. So, it may have spread but is just not big enough to be detectable yet. Unfortunately, our only possible treatment option (that we know of at this time) is to pursue an amputation. And even that may not extend her life and it's a very painful procedure.

So we're kind of stuck with this very ugly decision. If we decide on pain management only, she probably has about three months. If we pursue the amputation, it's at least two or three weeks of recovery time and then...who knows? I would just hate for half of her remaining time to be spent in such misery, if it won't extend her life.

The good news is that right now she's still her happy, goofy self. She's limping, to be sure, but she is still playing and begging for treats and butting her head into my leg when I type at the computer. She's my good girl : ) I love her so much and it's going to hurt just that much when she's gone, whether it's three months from now or years.

This sounds selfish, I know, but please keep us in your prayers--we know she is a dog, but she's our dog, and more than that, we have to make this big decision about her life and when it should end and that's a responsibility I was really hoping to avoid--foolish as that sounds. We just want to make the right decision by her.

Anyway, I will provide updates as I'm able and please don't think I'm a horrible person if I'm on here writing about other stuff. This is tough for me to write about and I can barely talk about it. Sometimes talking and writing about other things is the only way I'm keeping it together.