Dogs, Death and Dying

We lost a family member last week.
He was only 8 years young - really young when one considers the expected lifespan of Miniature Schnauzer is 14-16 years.
For most of those years he was the epitome of health.
He had an appetite that would put a Great Dane to shame and he had the strength of 8 Huskies pulling a sled when he was walked on his leash.
He was solid muscle and athletic as hell, able to "leap tall buildings with a single bound!"
Just prior to my return from Florida in April, our groomer notified us that she found a very large tumor at the top of his leg, near the front right armpit, one she said was not there when she last groomed him in January or February.
Not prone to panic, I immediately scheduled an appointment with our veterinarian who examined Baxter, took a biopsy and sent us on our way saying he would call as soon as the lab work came back. When it finally did, almost a week later, they still could not define the exact type but did confirm that it was indeed cancer. I needed to come in and talk about the options.
I quickly scheduled a consult and though I went in dreading the thought of amputation, I left wishing it were an option!
The tumor had nearly doubled in size in 8 days and due to the location and need for large margins for surgical removal, surgery was not an option. The only thing worse than the terrible diagnosis was the location of this monster tumor. And we discovered new tumors in various other locations.
We were then referred to the oncology department at the amazing CSU Veterinary Hospital in Ft. Collins, CO, where further tests determined the cancer to be Grade 3, Stage 4 Mast Cell Tumors.

Prognosis: Shitty!
But I felt Baxter deserved a shot and a promising new cancer drug called Palladia was an option worth trying.
It's given orally 3x weekly, with steroids given on alternate days along with an antacid and an antihistamine, both available over the counter. Regular visits to CSU continued as they did blood work and monitored the tumors. He tolerated all his medications very well and appeared to have no side effects.
Within three weeks time, we measured substantial shrinkage of the primary tumor as well as others that were subsequently discovered during the initial week or so of tests and lab work.
We were hopeful and Baxter seemed to be thriving.
But while some of the initial tumors had indeed gotten smaller, new ones appeared and that was not a good sign.
By late August, a large tumor appeared near the initial site and it obviously annoyed Baxter, who began licking at it. In no time, it ulcerated and began bleeding, prompting an immediate return to CSU. I'll spare you the details.
The look on the doctor's face said it all.
The Palladia was not working and his cancer continued to spread. They felt it was only a matter of weeks.
So I forced a smile through the tears, thanked the doctors and staff for all they tried to do, put on my big girl pants and once again made the hour long drive back to Boulder, knowing it would be Baxter's last visit to CSU.
Short of futile, expensive and stupid heroic measures there was nothing more they could do and I knew it. I had promised Baxter I wouldn't put him through anything I felt he couldn't handle so we went home to make his final weeks as comfortable as possible and they were.
We continued with the steroids, antacid, antihistamine and a new medication to settle his stomach.
Treating the symptoms and side effects was the best we could do at this point.
The week of the wildfire he had one slightly bad day where he threw up and seemed more tired than usual on his walk but I blamed the heat and smoke in the air as much as anything. By the next day he seemed to have rebounded.
And then one morning he walked away from his food bowl without eating.
Baxter loved food and never needed any encouragement when it came to eating but on his last night, he walked away again and though he ate a little out of my hand, it was clear he was doing it mostly to please me.
He started vomiting late that night and continued every hour or so until morning, when it became clear he could not even keep down water.
I knew Baxter would let me know when it was time and he did. I'll never forget that look in his eyes.

I called our Vet and made the appointment for 5pm.
We spent what little time remained making Baxter as comfortable as possible, removing the bandage and the annoying cone shaped collar that he was forced to wear in his final weeks.
As he lay in the cool grass under the willow in the back yard, we gently brushed him for what seemed like hours and told him repeatedly how much he was loved. He was peaceful and ready.
With the assistance of our vet and his amazingly compassionate technician, we became Baxter's personal Hospice team and provided him with a peaceful and painless exit from this life.
As we said our final goodbyes and kissed him one last time through our tears, I thought back on all the other dogs that became family members who in the end, needed us to be there for them and to accept responsibility for making the final decision. They filled our lives with joy and unconditional love and it's our responsibility to take care of them in the end. It's the way we pay them back for all they have given us.
Goodbye Baxter.
You were a great dog.
We loved you.
And you will be missed forever.
xo

Wildfire Week

It's been an intense week in and around Boulder, Colorado.
As anyone with a television now knows, fire crews are in what is hopefully the final stage of controlling the massive wildfire that erupted on the Labor Day holiday.
Over 6000 acres have burned and at last count 169 homes have been destroyed, including several belonging to friends and acquaintances. Thousands of families have been evacuated. Hundreds of firefighters continue to put out hot spots while trying to gain full containment.
Some dear friends who live just a mile or so up the mountain were evacuated and thankfully came to stay with me (Jim left the day the fire broke out for a business trip to the UK).

We spent the week watching and waiting together.
The images have been sobering, to say the least.
Thirty years ago when I lived in Pine Brook Hills, I was a member of the volunteer fire department and helped fight yet another fire that broke out one warm, dry Sunday in October. It's nothing to mess with, believe me. Only one home was destroyed that afternoon but dozens were saved by what was primarily an all volunteer fire department. And although the county's contract with the slurry bomber had expired the end of September, one happened to be at Jeffco (now Rocky Mountain Regional Airport) refueling following a fire in Wyoming. It made all the difference.
The Fourmile fire was also fought from the air. Eight air tankers and at least three helicopters were engaged. It's the only way to gain control of a fire in rugged mountain terrain...especially when so many homes are involved. The crews on the ground and the pilots in the air have been amazing.
While the majority of homeowners and residents of the burned and evacuated areas have shown gratitude to the firefighters and local authorities, there are always a few selfish assholes who never fail to amaze me.
Thirty years ago, a neighbor returned to her home after what amounted to maybe an 8 hour evacuation and whined about the power having been turned off and food in her freezer melting. I was somewhat incredulous and snarled, "You should be grateful your food wasn't cooked!"
She turned and walked away. I still see her driving around town and remember.
This week, I've watched (on tv) countless evacuees complain about the "inconvenience" of the evacuation and the lack of information coming from the authorities.
This still pisses me off.
One, because those evacuated were ordered to do so not only for their own safety, but also that of the firefighters trying to save their homes.
And two, because we had better information about this fire and its status than ever before.
We LIVE in the age of instant communication.
We have cell phones, lap tops, Twitters, Tweets and Texts!
Never before has so much information been available in a crisis.
But as anyone who lives in the burn areas of the mountains certainly knows, cell phone service as well as emergency radio service for the first responders and fire crews, is not only poor, it's often non-existent.
This situation alone can compromise the safety of the firefighters - many of whom either lost their homes or left their homes in other states to come and fight this fire.

And let it not go unsaid that I've heard several complaints from people not immediately threatened by the fire, about the smoke, ash, traffic and noise from the slurry bombers and helicopters rumbling over their heads.
It's just that I prefer to think about those who no longer have a home from which they can listen to the rumble from the helos, or wipe away the fallen ash.
Shame on anyone complaining about their inconvenience when so many have lost so much.
And who can forget where they were 9 years ago on September 11, 2001?
Over 300 firefighters lost their lives when the World Trade Center collapsed.
One, Bob Minara, was married to an old high school classmate of mine, Paula.
Today, I'm remembering them.
And every day, I wonder what we would do without these brave souls.

Just Getting Started So Please Bear With Me

Perhaps I'll have something pertinent to say.
Perhaps I'll just ramble.
Perhaps I'll just use this to vent.
Perhaps I'll use it as a forum for my take on current events.
Perhaps someone might even be interested in my musings!
Perhaps not.
I don't really know yet.
But this blog will become the place where I put down my thoughts whenever I feel the urge.
I will express my opinion and it matters not that anyone agrees with me.
I will tell it like it is, or at the very least what it looks like from my perspective.
I hope I'll throw things out there that people will find interesting or relate to,
but the beauty of it is I'll be able to do so Without Interruption!


*And a big shout out to my daughter Collin who not only helped me set up this blog, she did so without laughing out loud when I presented the idea.