Last weekend was a beautiful memorial day that I spent out in Moab with my family. The only downer to the trip was that on Sunday, while I was in Utah, I got a call from my girlfriend that she had taken Doe, my beloved dog, to the vet.
Around two months ago, Doe started acting kinda odd so I took her into the vet for a check up. They found what all pet owners dread: a large cancerous tumor in her spleen that had likely spread to her liver and, even if removed, it would have probably returned in another organ in a few months. So, I took her home, bought her the expensive food, a few large bones, and made sure she was as comfortable as possible.
Since that trip to the vet, she (I hope) had been spoiled pretty good and was living it up. People would comment that she looked lively, but anyone that spent time around her knew she was starting to show her illness. Because of her form of cancer, she was prone to anemia and even short walks around the block would leave her panting harder than she would have on a loop around Green Mountain at this time last year. That meant my favorite running partner had officially retired.
Last Sunday, I talked to the vet and he said that she wasn't doing too well - something else had developed in her stomach and they suggested that we perform an invasive surgery to diagnose the problem....or euthanize her. In what I consider to be a decision in her interest by avoiding a protracted and painful existence, I opted for the latter.
And so, goodbye sweet Doe. You'll be missed.