Creatures of the wild: We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.

- attributed to Henry Beston

3 weeks ago after discovering that his tumor was back, Lanty had his new “rescue” chemo treatment (CCNU).

2 weeks ago Lanty was back to being spunky and feisty.  We took the radical position that it was time to finally bring a dog into the family. We have known one for some time who is very gentle (almost TOO gentle, submissive actually) and arranged for a home visit to meet Lanty. The two touched noses and generally got along with each other.  We had hopes for, at best, a new friend for Lanty and, at worst, someone to help us cope with his eventual loss.

1 week ago I was in Houston, and Meg was taking care of Lant at home. Lanty was still feisty and seemed chipper.

5 days ago the dog came home. Lanty retired to the upstairs to wait for the declasse’ dog antics downstairs to calm down.

3 days ago we noticed that Lanty’s food intake was down, and that he was acting very tired.  We wondered if it was due to the new doggy presence in the house… or something else.

Yesterday we decided that Lanty needed a visit to the vet.  Even though our regular vet the excellent Dr. Feltes was not going to be in, we wanted to know what was up.  This week is the week he would have had his 4-week followup visit to see how the CCNU was working; we felt an early exam was prudent.

Today we got the news:  an ultrasound shows that Lanty’s tumor is 3x bigger than it was 3 weeks ago.  His bloodwork shows severe anemia: his blood can’t carry all the oxygen he needs (this is why he’s so tired and not hungry.)

But the biggest blow is that all this means his cancer is now resistant to the “rescue” (CCNU) chemo; there are no options left that carry any strong probability of success.

Tomorrow we will meet with Dr. Feltes to discuss the few options we DO have w/ regular vet. She is something of a miracle-worker, but right now we must face the fact that we have moved into the palliative phase.

We discussed several possibilities with the doc today:
  • Lanty’s anemia overwhelms him tonight, and he goes to sleep and… just doesn’t wake up.
  • Lanty lasts through the night and comes in for his visit with Dr. Feltes tomorrow. We discuss treatment options and decide there’s no point in any further treatment. We either wait for the cancer to take its course or, if the final stages are anything more difficult for Lanty than just “going to sleep,” we start thinking about a schedule for euthanasia.  At home, if at all possible.
  • We discuss treatment options (possibly “L-SPAR,” possibly Doxyrubicin) and decide it’s worth a try.  Either the treatment does no good, or its effects on Lanty are worse than the cancer.
  • We try a treatment option, and it slows the growth of the tumor enough to give Lanty another week or two.
  • Another full remission isn’t even worth considering.

He’s home tonight, resting in his favorite closet, with antibiotics to fight some of the cancerous infection symptoms and painkillers to make him more comfortable.  We’ll be giving him his Enteral Care tube feedings again for the first time since he came home from exploratory surgery in September.

He’s been my only little boy for almost exactly 10 years. He’s seen me through 4 homes, 3 jobs, a marriage, and my father’s funeral. I know I will somehow survive this, and even thrive and live again.  Meg and I keep talking about how we need a change, a move, a community and circle of friends to be present with.  And we will, some day… but right now it feels like losing a part of myself. I’d sooner give up an arm.

For those who are able to care and love deeply, pets give so much, for years, in installment payments to us. I guess we cannot begrudge them the price they eventually ask, even if it comes due as a lump-sum.

Thank you all, for your support and love.

"What? I *am* still here, you know..."

"What? I *am* still here, you know..."

Ultrasound shows tumor is 3x bigger than 3 weeks ago; bloodwork shows severe anemia: his blood can’t carry all the oxygen he needs (this is why he’s so tired and not hungry.)
Biggest blow is that all this means his cancer is now resistant to the “rescue” (CCNU) chemo; there are no options left that carry any strong probability of success. He’s home tonight, resting in his favorite closet, with antibiotics and painkillers to make him more comfortable.
Tomorrow: discuss the few options we DO have w/ regular vet. She is something of a miracle-worker, but right now we must face the fact that we have moved into the palliative phase.
He’s been my only little boy for almost exactly 10 years. He’s seen me through 4 homes, 3 jobs, a marriage, and my father’s funeral. I know I will survive this, but it feels like losing a part of myself.
For those who are able to care, pets give so much, for years, in installment payments to us. I guess we cannot begrudge them the price they ask, even if it comes due as a lump-sum.