are things complicated yet?

Moving on, moving forward

There are so few physical reminders left.

I have his tags, that used to hang on a leather Texas A&M collar on his neck. Sometimes, I jingle them in my hand and it sounds like his sprinting and meandering and settling. It sounds like he is here. They sit in a windowsill in the kitchen where I can see them, but Claire can't. I like to look at them. They make me smile.

There are nose prints on the back window of my car, on the passenger side, where he used to ride. Stressy and uncomfortable with the entire concept of riding in an automobile, Jake was constantly in motion back there, constantly looking out the window and smushing his wet nose on it. I see the marks every so often, when I really pay attention to what's back there when I'm buckling Claire in. I'm not sure when we'll get around to washing them off. I kind of don't want to, even though it's kind of yucky. Smeary dog nose prints on the window and all.

His bowls and medications are still on a shelf above the washing machine, where I put them that day, tucked out of view behind a cabinet door.

We gave his bed to Goodwill. Chris threw away his collar (admittedly, it was kind of grody). The remainder of the big bag of dog food is long gone. I know that he would have loved this change in weather to something colder. 

The other day we were coming home from a friend's house, a friend that has dogs. After months of not mentioning him at all, and not really noticing that he was gone in the first place, Claire said,

"Mommy, I want Jake. I want our doggie."

I was really surprised that she brought him up. I had to tell her, once again, but in more specific terms this time, that he's not here any more.

"Where he go, Mommy?"

"Well, Jake died. He's in heaven now."

"With his friends?"

"Yes, with his friends."

"He can bark there? And not get in trouble?"

"Yes, he can bark and run all he wants."

I have so far resisted reading Dog Heaven to her, that sweet Natalie sent us. In fact, the book is hidden in my desk drawer where Claire can't ask any questions about it and I don't have to look at it and be reminded. But, maybe we are ready to read it now, four months later.

Maybe. We'll see.

Sometimes I think I want another dog. Like, now, not in a couple of years or months but NOW. Maybe not a puppy, but probably an older, rescued dog. Someone fluffy and happy and ready to play or sit or just be with us after the kids go to bed. Someone to take on walks with us. Someone to throw things for in the yard. It doesn't make much sense on paper since we travel so much and a dog can't go in the airplane (hell, we have trouble fitting a STROLLER in the airplane) and we're pretty busy just keeping up with the two children and ourselves. I keep trying to shake the idea, to talk myself out of it. After all, long before Jake actually died we talked about how we would want to not have another pet for several years. It makes sense for us to wait.

But, man. I miss him.

It was bad, but then it got worse.

Life without Jake is weird. I keep thinking he's been the victim of a series of hapless, unfortunate mistakes that need to be remedied immediately.

The dog's food and water bowls are not in the utlity room. Who took those out of here?! Jake is probably really hungry and thirsty!

His door is closed, which I discover after we've been home for hours. Who closed Jake's door? OMG, he can't go outside!

I haven't seen Jake in a while. Where's the dog? Is he hiding out somewhere? Did he go upstairs and can't come down?

Of course, all of these end with me thinking, "Ohhhhhh. Riiiiight." Every day stings a little. Tomorrow will be better than today. But, yeah. We miss him.

***

As painful as that was, what happened next was worse. It was far, far worse.

On Monday we said goodbye to Jake. On Tuesday, a friend's 15-year-old son was struck by a pickup truck while he was crossing the street. His injuries left him brain dead, but on life support. On Wednesday, his family made an incredibly difficult, awful, heart-wrenching decision. His organs were donated. Five lives were saved.

But, Jackson was gone.

It was terrible. Beyond awful. I have known this family for most of Jackson's life and I have watched him grow up through the stories I've heard from his mother. Jackson did this and Jackson said that. The girls at school liked his Beiber haircut and I do too. Beiber suits him. Here's a story from last September that I found in my inbox:

Jackson is now a freshman in high school.  His mother overheard this pick up line he tried to use at Dairy Queen.

 

"Did you pass gas? Because you just blew me away."

 

The line was not successful.

Funny, right?  He was loved and bright and he had such a wonderful, happy future in front of him. It is so unfair. Beyond comprehensible. It's wrong and there's not a way to right it and I just want to scream at God and really chew him out for this. But, that's not really how He works. He doesn't take appeals on topics like this. 

My mother told me that after a funeral or memorial service she usually feels better. She may not feel good, exactly, but she usually feels somewhat better or a sense of closure or peace. She did not feel that way this time. It's too tragic, too awful. He was so young. 

It just sucks.

***

After all of that, I'm kind of in a hug-my-kids-a-little-tighter mood these days. I am forgiving of a lot more bad behavior. I'm a little more indulgent. It was a week that made me give thanks for the good things we have and the blessings that surround us.

So, yeah. That's it for now. Next week will be better.

Jake

Last Friday, I told Chris he needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home and buy some more food for Jake. When he got to the store, Chris stood in the aisle for what seemed like a long time, pondering a simple question that he had never had to consider before.

"Big bag or little bag?"

He got the big bag. He has always been optimistic.

***

On Saturday Jake started to deteriorate rather quickly. His leg started to swell up again, indicating the tumor was again blocking return blood flow and pooling in his leg. His belly began to turn crimson, indicating blood there as well. As the day went by, the color turned a light purple and then, by Sunday, a dark purple. Sunday evening it was almost black.

He was eating a lot of grass, which we took to mean that the steroids had finally given him an ulcer, as his vet said they might with extended dosage. He had an accident in the house, which I have never, ever seen him do. He hobbled and refused to put weight on the leg. We doubled his pain medication. He still hobbled.

I watched him try to sit down for 25 minutes while I nursed Charlotte on Saturday afternoon. He leaned this way and that, tentatively lowered himself and then decided that it hurt too much and he'd just stand. He did this about ten times, never getting himself all the way down to the floor

He smiled and was happy to see us and he ate our dinner scraps on Sunday, but he was absolutely high and totally out of it. He was hurting.

***

By Sunday evening it was clear that he needed to go back to the vet for a final visit. It was time to say goodbye. Chris barely slept that night, in part due to Charlotte but mostly he was thinking about the next day. He got up in the middle of the night to research it. I let Jake out at 3 am and silently wondered if this was going to be his last time to explore our back yard. I tried not to cry. I gave him some extra pats when he came back inside.

Our hearts were so heavy when we woke up this morning. I could barely look at Jake, much less say a proper goodbye.

***

The appointment was for 830. I herded Claire upstairs and Chris put Jake in the car and left. We told Claire that Daddy was going to go get donuts for breakfast. Not ten minutes later Claire had noticed that Jake was nowhere to be found.

"Mommy, where's Jake?"

It's the first of many recitations, I'm sure.

Chris came home with the donuts, but without Jake. I had secretly been hoping that the vet would say something like, "Oh! I can fix this after all! No need!" and Chris would come home with him. But, he didn't. He came home and said that the people at the vet's office were very, very nice. He didn't say much else.

***

We left the house after lunch today and I had a brief series of thoughts that had me in tears as we prepared to leave.

Gathering up final bags to load into the car: "I need to go let Jake out before we leave...oh, wait."

Closing and locking the garage door: "Make sure to leave the utility room light on so Jake can see his food and water bowls...ohhh. I don't need to do that. I can turn the light off."

I whispered to Chris that I just remembered we don't need to let Jake out. I was starting to cry. He said it would probably be a long time before the reminders went away, and that's okay.

***

In the car, Claire falls asleep. I tell Chris that I want to know what happened, what the vet said, now that small ears aren't listening. The tumor was visibly and palpably in his abdomen. Blood was collecting and pooling there as well. He guessed that there were only a few days before the tissue in Jake's leg started to deteriorate and became "unviable." He was very sorry that there wasn't really anything to be done. He was in pain, it was only going to get worse, and, if we were ready, it was time.

They let Chris have a few moments alone with Jake before coming back into the room. It was quick. And then he was gone.

***

At home tonight, there is a storm. There is thunder and lightning and while the storm is still far away I know that Jake would be able to hear it with his super dog hearing and he would be nervous. He would be panting. He would be at my bedside, seeking comfort from simply being close to us.

But, he's not here tonight. I miss him.

***

Claire is asleep. I need to go pick up Jake's food and water bowls, empty them and put them in the dishwasher while she can't see me and ask too many questions. I need to take his bed and stash it somewhere. I need to figure out what to tell her when she asks me about him tomorrow. And then I need to figure out what to tell her the next day and the day after that.

***

As it turns out, the surgery to remove the tumor bought us about two months before it grew back and the steroids bought us about 20 days instead of a handful. One of them is shorter than we thought, the other longer. I still find myself surprised by what happened today. I really can't believe it. It's over and he's gone and he's not ever going to greet me when I come home.

This is shitty. This is the shittiest, most grown-up, crappy thing I have ever had to do.

***

Oh, Jake. We loved you, buddy. You were the best dog and you gave us so much joy. You made our lives richer.

Thank you for loving us, too. There will never be another puppy quite like you were. We miss you already.

xoxo

This and that

The Magnolia Tree

A long time ago, some moron planted a magnolia tree a mere four feet from the edge of the patio in my back yard.  The tree isn't too much of a nuisance at this point, but the roots are spindly and at the surface and it's only a matter of time before they start messing up the concrete. Right now, because it is a stupid magnolia tree that has its seasons backwards, there are tons of brown leaves in the yard the size of my face. SO attractive.

What is it about some people that makes them unable to understand how trees work? You know, that the wee sapling you plant today will be a HUGE GINORMOUS TREE in two decades? So you'd better plant it somewhere that it has room to grow? Use your imagination, picture the tree bigger and make sure it's still a good spot? Did these people skip the part of second grade where everyone else learned about photosynthesis and how, through a long series of events, it ultimately results in a tree getting taller and wider? Exponentially so? I think they did.

My parents have a dude next door to them that is Habitual Tree Planter. He picks crappy trees that are not native and he plants them all over the damn yard. His yard is big enough for maybe two trees. I think there are four plus a handful of odd ones in the back. There's even one on the property line. As a wee sapling it was kind of an adorable example of topiary but now it's a legit-for-real TREE and its all over their yard and...annoying. These Habitual Tree Planters need to be rounded up and sent to Arborist School.

Long way to say that I am not a fan of our magnolia tree and every time I look at it I wonder what on earth someone was thinking when they planted this sucker. Then I think about how much it will cost me one day to have it removed and I start to haaaaate that moron who planted it in the first place. I should invoice him.

Dear Former Owner Of My House,

Here's a bill for $1,000, mostly because you are an idiot and can't select or plant a tree for toots.

Kindly,

The New Owner, who is ripping out the tree to may way for a swimming pool, just as soon as an enormous sum of cash lands in her lap.

The Curtain Mistake

In a fit of "curtains! I will make some!" I cut the fabric hanging in the breakfast room (on the left) from the bolt, thereby creating two 6' lengths. I have 9' leftover, still on the bolt. I was thinking I would use the extra fabric (left over from the living room curtains on the right) rather than buy new fabric. I was being thrifty! How wise of me!

But, now I think it's too much green and I am so pissed that I cut that stupid fabric before I realllllly thought about it some more. Now I have two 6' lengths and I'm not sure what to do with them. I should not have cut it, much less cut TWO. In my defense, I have owned this bolt of fabric since last summer so I truly did think that I was finished dithering over it.

(BTW, that fabric is thumbtacked up so I can decide. Should I decide to make them into curtains, I will line them with blackout liner and hang them on a rod like a proper adult.)

These are the swatches of fabric under consideration. I like the way the aqua looks on the wall in the kitchen and breakfast room, and I think the color is complimentary to the green since they will be in the same visual space. It also matches my KitchenAid, which is stupid to match curtains to an appliance, I know, but I really like the color of that sucker.

I am strongly leaning towards the bottom one, but I don't know if it's even in stock any more since it's a Summer 2010 pattern. I am not exactly asking for advice or opinions since I'm pretty well sold on the aqua, at least as a general direction, but I do want you to learn from me: those measure twice, cut once people are NOT kidding. (A step should be added at the front, "Decide what you want to do. No, really, make sure you've actually decided before you cut anything.")

Jake

Jake seems to have good days and bad days. The good days are normal and the bad days are where he has trouble sitting down. The steroids and painkillers seem to have made him nearly good as new. Honestly, I did not think he would be here this week. Not for a second. I thought he was going to go downhill again, fast, and it would be over imminently.

But then he rallied. (And honestly he might have just been enjoying the attention of the entire internet.) (Well, the attention of MY entire internet, which is a rather small slice, I know.) And his leg wasn't as swollen and he was walking and running and we were thinking, "Um, okay? We have our dog back?"

So, I don't know. For now he's fine. I keep thinking about what every one of you said about how we'd know, deep down in our guts when it was time to let him go, and I just look at him and I know that it's not the time. I know.

Natalie sent me the most lovely book, "Dog Heaven," by Cynthia Rylant. I swear to you I cried like a child when I read it the first time. (I actually haven't made it through the whole book even now without crying.) The book talks about what happens in Dog Heaven:

God knows that dogs love children more than anything else in the world, so He fills Dog Heaven with plenty of them. There are children on bikes and children on sleds. There are children throwing red rubber balls and children pulling kites through the clouds. The dogs are there, and the children love them dearly.

I mean, just YES, right? Lovely, lovely book. I am not sure that I'll be able to read it to Claire without upsetting her (the tears flow with this one for me), but it was just so thoughtful of Natalie to send it. (Internet friends! They are amazing!)

 Snickerdoodles

I think I have eaten, oh, about 15 of these today? Maybe?

Look, all I'm saying is if you would like to not eat a lot of cookies today, then definitely navigate away from the link to some other non-cookie recipe site because if you make these cookies they will end up all in your belly. Your pants might not fit afterward, but I can't be sure because my pants haven't fit in a long time anyway so, um, I'll have another cookie now please.

Library Books

Is there anything more annoying than the child who deliberately rips up library books? Claire loves the library, takes so much joy out of the whole thing, reads her books and loves them dearly, but then when she gets mad about having to go to bed? She rips them! Rips entire pages out and rips them in half and then when I discover said vandalism of city-owned property and tell her that it's not good she says,

"It's okay, it's just a little tear. We fix it."

I'm having enormous difficulty getting across the idea of PERMANENT DAMAGE to her. And really, anything permanent is a tough sell. Sharpies, toys irreparably breaking, killing bugs, etc. She has no concept of the idea of forever, which I am sure is normal but it would be very helpful if she understood it even on a simple level.

But, back to the stupid books. She's done this before and I...returned the books quietly in the book drop and didn't mention the missing pages. (Yes! There was more than one! I'm a terrible person! In my defense, those books were due about seven days after Charlotte was born and simply returning them seemed like the easiest thing to do.) Now I feel like I should mention it. Partly because we did damage the book and this is the proper thing to do and partly because I think if the librarian makes a face and says something stern and she sees me paying for the book it might have more impact. I have used phrases like "If you do X that lady over there will make us leave because it's HER library" and that seemed to work and give me the behavior I wanted right that instant.

In the meantime, we are on a strict diet of only board books from the library.

I don't know what to call this except maybe, "Tell me something happy because I don't have anything to say in that category."

Oh my gosh. Just...wow. You are the nicest, kindest, most empathetic people and I am so glad that you read my piddly website because your nice words carried me this week. CARRIED ME. I cannot even count how many times I teared up just looking at Jake this week and knowing that today might be his last day and I might have to decide to euthanize him soon so, here you go Jake! Eat all these Milk Bones!

I felt so dumb really, for clogging up Twitter with "My dog!" and "What do I tell Claire?" and "HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING?" Talk about a buzzkill lasting several days. Every time I clogged up Twitter with my sad story, someone said something kind and I felt a little less stupid for being so worked up about just a dog. But really, he's only just a dog the same way you're just a person. Life is precious in all forms and sizes. (Until this week I'm not sure I knew how strongly I felt about a statement like that, but it turns out that I do.)

A personality you've spent 14 years with is not a just anything. He's a beloved member of this family. (That sounds trite, I know, but things get to be trite because of their universal truth, so there you go. TRITE.)

On that note, I am not sure what in the hell is going on with Jake. STILL. He is on steroids, a painkiller and an antibiotic. That must be a serious cocktail, because it seems to be working. The past 36 hours have been nothing short of miraculous. The dog that would not get up on his own? He walks freely around the house begging for scraps of food. He goes outside to pee. He can't use his doggy door because his back leg is still tender (I mean, I think?) and we have to actually open the door but guys, THE DOG IS WALKING AGAIN. (I can't believe it.)

Then we were like, "Um, okaaay? Do we...wait and see? Or was this just supposed to give us time to say goodbye? What are we supposed to do here? He can't take steroids forever."

My vet friend Julie called and she clued me in on the fact that steroids are amazing. Actually though, the way she said it was more like, "Steroids are AMAZING." Like, superhero-power amazing. In her opinion it made sense that he was walking around - he feels better because that's what they're supposed to do. They are a short term solution though; we only have a ten-day supply and we're halfway through it and I'm pretty sure he can't take steroids for weeks and weeks. I suppose the rationale is try to give Jake's body enough time to heal and rest and perhaps he'll figure out a way to beat the tumor and the blood flow problems.

But...I think everyone's expectation is that this will absolutely not happen, given what we know about his condition.

Last night, Chris and I talked quietly in the dark about "taking him back to the vet" on Friday morning. For, you know, the procedure. We were going to see how he is today and then make a decision on tonight about Friday morning. Delay the Big Decision as long as we could and not make any assumptions because we are both in a little bit of denial. Then this morning? He's walking! And eating! And...he seems to be mostly okay but still a bit gimpy so that means we should...not take him in on Friday? We think not. We think we'll wait the weekend and see how he is on Monday.

This whole Today? Tomorrow? When? line of thinking makes me sick because I feel like some kind of weird God-like figure in the matter. I am very, very, very uncomfortable making a decision to end his life if he's not in over-the-top obvious pain, but at the same time I don't want him to be in over-the-top, obvious pain. Every day is precious, you know? You've all told me that we'll know when the time is right and I suppose that means now is not the time, but I am doubting my ability to recognize it when it comes.

That's the catch-up, even though I feel like there's no news of any substance in here. Jake walks, eats, pees, bothers Claire, all with a limp and all under the influence of heavy medication and we think he has less than a week in him, which is more than I thought he had two days ago.

It feels like a really ugly waiting game that isn't fair to anyone and doesn't have a right answer.

The long goodbye

The facts are these:

1. After his surgery in March, to remove a large-ish cancerous mass from his back leg, the vet thought that we had bought Jake a good bit of time. He guessed it might be six months before the tumor grew back and in the meantime he'd have good quality of life.

2. About two weeks ago, we noticed the mass growing back. It seemed rather big for something that had been mostly removed a mere two months ago.

3. This weekend, Jake had a very difficult time sitting, walking and getting all the way down to the floor. By Monday, he could not or would not walk. He was not putting any weight on his leg and his leg was very, very swollen, particularly around one joint.

4. Tuesday, Chris took him to the vet. He had a 104 fever (normal is 100 - 102). The tumor had come back, quickly. The vet looked at him and said,

"Oh, man. I'm not sure I can fix him this time. I'm really sorry." Heart breaks into a frillion bits and pieces.

5. He also said that he'd never seen a sarcoma grow back that quickly. (And maybe there's some comfort in the idea that what is happening to your beloved pet is unusual and not normal, but when you draw the short stick it sucks because that's the reality you've just been handed. It's yours now, rare or not, and it's just as crappy as something common.)

6. The tumor was blocking the return blood flow in his leg and it was pooling and collecting. There was also another swollen mass that he thought was more blood collecting in his abdomen. He gave him a steroid shot and some pain killers and sent Chris home. They had The Talk about what to do if this did not make him "markedly better" in 24 hours.

7. He came home and told me and I cried.

It's just so hard, losing a pet that's been in your life this long. He's not even MY dog, he belongs to Chris. Chris got Jake when he was still in college and this dog has been with him through a lot. For me, Jake has always been a part of this awesome package deal of Chris + Jake that I lucked into. He's an amazing animal.

I am not sure what the next few days hold for Jake, but I'd be lying if I told you I thought he'd be with us next week. I think he's in pain and that his leg hurts. He can't or won't go outside to pee without a significant amount of encouragement. (But, he will go.) So not being able to walk is pretty bad for a dog, I know. I KNOW.

But, I am not sure that his whole body is in pain. You know, end-of-life pain. I have a hard time thinking that we'll have to, you know, put him to sleep or put him down or, my God, euthanize him (I hate that word and maybe it's because I hate the concept even more). Who am I to say that Jake has had enough? Who am I to deprive him of one more day of Milk Bones and loving pats, even if he's just laying on the floor all day? I wish he could tell me. What if he's in pain but not PAIN-PAIN? What if we made that decision too soon? What if we didn't make it soon enough and he suffered a great deal unnecessarily?

I can't decide if a long goodbye is better than a short goodbye. If knowing what's ahead is better than a surprise. They both probably suck and those are the kinds of things you tell yourself to temper the blow. It was better this way.

And then there is Claire. We told her that Jake was sick and had to go see the doggie doctor. Her face got sad and she asked if Jake needed his temperature taken. She said that sometimes she goes to see the Doctor and she gets medicine and she feels better. Jake get some medicine? Yes, honey. Jake will get some medicine.

We stopped short of telling her it would make him better.

Sometimes, being an adult kind of sucks

I was going to write about an annoying thing that happened at daycare last week but then this happened today:

Yep, that's a Cone of Shame.

Jake is a golden retriever/chow mix. His fur is really fluffy when we don't keep him clipped. Many, many inches of voluminous, thick fur. I usually let it get pretty long and crazy before I finally take him to the groomer because DAMN, do you know how much that costs? More than I pay for a haircut, that's for sure.

He got his hair cut on Saturday and when he came home Chris announced that the dog had a tumor and all I could think about is that scene in Kindergarten Cop where Arnold Schwartzenegger is all, "It's not a tumah!" They hadn't even walked all the way into the house and I was rolling my eyes at whatever new knobby-tiny thing Jake has that Chris had declared a TUMOR, of all the crazy things. Dude, IT'S NOT A TUMAH.

And then I saw the freshly clipped dog and HOLY SHIT there was a tumor-y mass type thing, right there on his hind leg and my God it is the size of a plum. Maybe a peach. At least the size of my fist. It is significant. I thought, "The dog has a tumor."

We felt very badly at first.  We seemed to be terrible dog parents: our dog has a tumor-y mass type thing (TMTT) that is huge on his leg and we...didn't ever notice it? GAH! That's awful. And yet, I am not in the habit of petting Jake on his back leg, towards the upper inside of it and his fur DID cover it up. He's been eating and drinking normally, running and jumping and playing. He lays on that leg and runs up and down the stairs. He hasn't been MESSING with it. Plus, he was just at the vet last December AND he had a haircut then too and that TMTT? Was not there, at all, four months ago. In fact, his bloodwork was pronounced perfect and everyone at the vet's office thought he was half his age. (Jake is 14!)

Maybe he got bit? By a...snake or something? Perhaps? We don't know much, but we do know that a trip to the vet is in order. We secure the first available appointment which ended up being Wednesday. If it wasn't bothering him before, we can wait until then to get it checked out.

Sometime while we were at work today, Jake licked all of the remaining fur off the TMTT and it started to bleed.  Chris came home to two bloodstains in the middle of the living room carpet (always the MIDDLE of the carpet) and a dog that looked miserable. He was able to get squeezed in at the vet this afternoon, between apppintments.  Claire and I get home and I have to talk to Claire about Jake's boo-boo and how he will go to the doctor today to get it fixed and it might hurt but it's okay.  She pets him on the head and says, a million times, "It's okay Jake. You go to doctor and she fix your boo-boo. Boo-boo be okay."

Even after that pep talk, Claire bursts into tears when they leave. She whimpers, "I want Jake be okay!" I try not to get worked up about what news he might come home with. I just hope he comes home with the dog.

While Claire and I play outside with the water table, Chris learns that yep, that's a weird TMTT and it should be surgically removed and, hard to say for sure, but in the vet's experience and based on its location, size and speed of growth, TMTT is probably actually a legit tumor and probably cancer of some sort.  He might be able to tell more once he removes it and we can send it to a pathology lab to find out for sure what it is.  But, he warns us that it may not be worthwhile depending on what we would DO with the information the pathology lab gives us.

If it's cancer are we going to pursue chemo and radiation? Probably not. If it's not cancer and it's benign? We just spent $150 - $200 to find out nothing and do nothing. Huh. Probably don't bother sending a sample to the path lab then, doc.

It will cost $700 - $900 by the time this week is over to take care of Jake and the (probably) cancerous mass on his leg that is bleeding. After that, it's anyone's guess as to how much longer he'll be a part of the family. He doesn't appear to be in pain, which is the most important thing to me, and I'm hoping that simply removing the mass will make him more comfortable from a licking/bleeding standpoint. At the very least, we can't allow the tumor to stay put and get bigger and, in the meantime, let him keep licking it and bleeding all over the carpet.

I'm not sure that Jake is dying or really, what the exact deal with Jake is right now. It seems pretty clear that he may not be around as long as I was thinking he would be. The signs are all there: he's an elderly animal that can't see as well, can't hear as well, can't walk as far and is a lot less energetic than he was seven years ago when I first met him. He's our buddy, but he's our elderly buddy.

I don't WANT to say goodbye to him (obviously!) but for the past few years Chris and I have been asking ourselves just how much longer he's got. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel about this. On the one hand, he's an older dog and this is expected. On the other hand, HE'S MY DOG.

I suppose if you keep asking the universe a question, the answer will eventually present itself. Too bad it's kind of a shitty answer today.

Even with a crusty nose, he's still a happy animal

We are having some Jake drama.

Sometime last week Jake started to get this very strange red spot on his snout, just above his nose.  At first it looked like he was a bit sunburned or had pawed at it too much in a moment of enthusiasm.

He had also been licking his paws and rubbing his face a lot in addition to some watery, puffy eyes.  His nose looked like it was running and it was a little crusty - like your nose would be if you had a cold and used cheap Kleenex to blow it too much. We surmised that he was suffering from allergies but took him to the vet anyway.

Jake didn't ever seem to be all that bothered by his change in appearance - he was still peppy and happy to see us.  He was a bit more laid back at night but honestly, for Jake that's not very unusual.  He's pretty cool.

The vet thought it was a seasonal allergy and gave us some drops for his eyes and told us to call if he didn't get better in a few days.

And oh, did he NOT get better.

Over three days his nose and the spot on his snout went from being a little puffy to really puffy.  Then it got all crusty and scabby.  And it got puffier.  And he kept pawing at it.  The next day the scabs broke open and his nose and snout were a crusty, oozing pussy mess.  It looked so painful.

We called the vet.

Today when Chris got home to take him in, Jake had managed to rub off ALL of the crusty stuff leaving a bright red and raw patch on his snout. 

Usually his nose ends where the red begins.  ALLLL of the red stuff is new.  When Chris emailed me a photo of him I was shocked that he looked this way.

The vet now thinks that he's suffering from a spider or insect bite of some kind.  He hopes.

("Hopes!?" This is not making me feel better!!)

He prescribed a steroid shot and some antibiotics and a really lovely cream to put on his nose that Jake promptly licks off every time we apply it.

If he's not better in 2-3 days we're supposed to go back.  If it's not gone by then he'll biopsy the red puffiness and see if it's something that falls in the Really Bad Shit category. (He mentioned lupus, a tumor and other stuff I don't want happening to my sweet Jake.)

I hope he starts to looking better soon. 

I really hope this is the first and only time he does this

 As everyone should know by now, Jake is a really good dog.

He doesn't scratch the furniture, bark unnecessarily, jump on people, bite or dig in the yard.  He's the very definition of "mellow."  He just likes to hang out and go for a walk and have a milk bone every now and then. 

However, Jake does have a few behavior quirks - and one of them is that he will occasionally find something in the kitchen trash that catches his fancy.  He will duck into the pantry, grab the coveted item and then head urgently outside to chew/lick/devour it before we notice and take it away from him.  (We're so mean.)

I've caught him rapturously licking butter wrappers and chewing paper towels that were used to drain bacon.  Sometimes, Chris will look out the window and be like, "Dammit!  Why does our dumb neighbor's trash always blow into our yard!?"  Upon further investigation it's usually something Jake has pulled from the trash and licked until the printing nearly came off.

As such, Jake is not allowed in the pantry and we keep the door firmly closed.

Thus, you can imagine my lack of surprise on Wednesday when I saw Jake hurry past me towards his door with what looked like trash in his mouth.  The odd bit was that he wasn't coming from the kitchen - he was coming from the baby's room.

I called out his name and he reluctantly stopped in his tracks.  (Caught!)  He turned to face me and I saw it:  a diaper.

DID YOU HEAR ME?  A DIAPER!!!

He must have found it in her room on the floor.  Since we haven't organized the closet yet, stuff is just piled up in there.  I bet he thought it smelled interesting and thought he'd take it outside to investigate further.

After Chris and I finished laughing hysterically (really, you should have seen him looking up at us with a diaper in his mouth like, "What?  What's the big deal?")  we considered that this is NOT behavior we want to encourage and that our laughter and smiles may have made him feel like, "Hey, this is an ok thing to play with!"

I think that once the diapers have been ah, utilized, they won't smell so interesting to him and he won't be tempted to take them outside though.

I mean, one has to hope.  Right?

I think my parents just stole my dog

I don't know about you, but my weekend rocked.

After a rowdy day at the lake, a 4-day smorgasbord of delicious food, an afternoon of shopping with my mother at baby stores, a few rounds of Wii, a movie with the family, a minor league baseball game, 2 nights of backyard fireworks and several hours on the back porch laughing until I cried I am worn out.

July 4th 2008 truly set a new benchmark for Family Fun.  Curiously though, somewhere in the middle of all of that excitement and laughter, my mother convinced us to leave Jake at their house.  In Austin.  All week.

They're going to see us again on Saturday and return him at that time (I hope) but right now I can't figure out how she talked us into this.  I don't even remember agreeing to it actually.  All I know is that when we left their house this morning, my parents looked like they had just won some kind of prize.

He'll be well taken care of.  My mother has a plastic bag in the fridge labeled "JAKE" that contains delectable scraps of meat that she has meticulously saved just for him.  He'll likely get daily walks and she'll open the front window just for him so he can bark at the neighborhood children and UPS man.

Dad will take him outside to chase the deer at dusk and then shower him with milk bones afterwards in a game they've created called "Go Find It" which consists of hiding pieces of milk bone around the house for him to hunt while we watch him frantically run around the living room for the treats.  (It's actually pretty funny.)

Actually, after a week of all that pampering and attention I hope he wants to come back home.

Wait.  That's part of their plan isn't it?  Dammit.