My baby is home

It's almost been a month since we made the decision to end Brian's life, the most painful day of my life. Some folks I know, even those who have had the crappiest of lives, have said that helping a beloved canine cross the bridge hurt them more than losing an elderly relative. Call me/us crazy... but I agree.

We were moving along with the whole grieving process, at a normal pace, I guess. Tufts did the necropsy and saved us a trip by mailing the ashes. Needless to say, coming home to Brian "waiting" for me as I got home from work hit me like a ton of bricks. I would've preferred to see him hopping up on the radiator to get a better view of us pulling into the driveway, barking excitedly like he usually did, but oh well. Mark had carried Brian's suddenly frail 78-pound body out of the house, in his arms like a baby (a nasty vision I won't ever be able to get out of my head) that fateful Monday on the 16th of February, for what we thought was a little bump in the road, nothing a little IV drip at the ER couldn't cure. Little did I know that he would come home in a tiny FedEx box three weeks later.

I have mixed emotions about the necropsy report as well. We wanted ANSWERS, and boy, did we get them. Turns out he had multiple myeloma, which accounts for less than 1% of malignant canine tumors. Towards the end, it metastasized to a point where he had lesions everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Sure, he was sleepy and ate little, but we had no idea it was this bad. The number of organs that weren't affected, I could count with five or so fingers. If only these stoic pups could talk.

I am refraining from wallowing in "what if's"... What if we did a simple blood/urine test to check for certain proteins? Would've nailed it down. What if we diagnosed it earlier, could he have enjoyed a year-long remission? This type of cancer is known to respond to prednisone/melphalan chemo agents, I was told. After all, we wasted a total of 3 months going in the wrong direction, depriving Brian of the potentially helpful chemo agents while the cancer ravaged along. What if I sought a second opinion sooner and broke loose from the pessimistic, overly practical surgeon-vet, could I have given him a better chance at a remission via the chemo route? Actually, it was the fourth opinion that I ended up being most comfortable with... And, did pesticides, or his Mitaban dips (as a 6-month old puppy being treated for mange) cause this, were they nasty carcinogens? After all, it took us decades to realize that asbestos, cigarette smoking, lead paint, etc were cancer-causing, right. You never know. So, yeah, I just did wallow in what if's, I can go on and on. Just needed to get it out of my system. :|

In retrospect, the symptoms from Christmas last year do suggest that his cancer was already in full force. The casual yet peculiar observation that the regular vet made about Brian's pupils being of different sizes, perhaps was a hint of the brain tumor silently a-growing. I'd certainly like to believe that we did all we could.

"He's no longer in pain" blah blah yadiyada. I know that. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell. I admit, I'm selfish and I want many more years with him! He really was a happy, loving and funny companion who fought hard against this disease. He never failed to let us know that he loved us and loved being with us, tumbling down the stairs (always gave me a heart attack) or rolling on his back or jumping up on the bed just to say hi. His happiness shone through the broken body for as long as it could. Murderers and rapists deserve this, not Brian.

We really miss him.