Hello,
By now you've undoubtedly surmised that I have a little Boston Terrier named Ozzy, whom I love to pieces. John and I love him and spoil him in every way.
About a month ago, he miscalculated while attempting to jump on the bed, and he fell off. He didn't miss a beat, he jumped right back up on the bed to give me kisses. I didn't notice anything unusual until 2 weeks later, I saw a large swelling on his hind right leg. I assumed it was a bruise from falling off the bed.
Naturally, me being who I am, I worried about it quite a bit, so John took him to the vet to have them look it over. They agreed that it was a bruise and that it would go away in time. 3 days after that appointment, the vet called, asking to bring Ozzy back in, so they could aspirate some of the mass to make sure it isn't a Mast Cell Tumor, which my Ozzy has had 2 of and had surgery to remove in the last 2 years, this mass is the 3rd. The surgery was hard on him and hard on me too.
Yesterday, I had a terrible anxiety attack about this whole thing, so John and I took a day off work, to take Ozzy to the vet to get it checked out one more time.
My baby has cancer again. The vet we go to is unable to perform the surgery due to the size and complexity. She referred us to a local canine surgeon to see what all would be involved for that to take place.
I can't be selfish and put Ozzy through another difficult and painful surgery, knowing it is very likely another tumor will appear soon. What is breaking my heart, is he is acting normal. He doesn't understand why his Mom and Dad are crying, and petting him and cuddling him more than a few days ago. He gets upset when I cry, so I was trying to cry quietly in the other room, he heard me and came charging in to lick all the tears away. Based on the size of the tumor, and how quickly it grew in size, makes me scared....where else has it spread? I'm terrified that we will come home from work and he will be gone.
We didn't even know it was our last Christmas with our Bubby.
We didn't know that his birthday next Wednesday will be our last with him.
He is turning only 8! Katie, our previous Boston lived to be 13, so we mistakenly assumed Ozzy would likely live around the same.
Reality of us coming home from work, with no gate at the top of the steps, no little face looking at us, happy to see us.
No wiggly little butt, no more puppy of a thousand kisses.
No more snorey little dog keeping me awake, no more kicky doggy feet when he is hogging the bed.
No more hopeful eyes when he wants to go with us to get coffee, so he can go for a ride in the car.
No more groans when we're eating because he really wants a taste.
To quote the Tin Man, from the Wizard of Oz: "Now I know I've got a heart, because its breaking"
