On Tuesday, I noticed that Walter the friendly beagle had been chewing on his back leg, resulting in some blood. Ewww. He had a weird old-man-dog bump on the back of his leg that we were going to have the vet look at the next time we took him in. Well, apparently Walter wanted us to take him to the vet sooner, rather than later, despite the fact that his legs no longer are able to take him in a forward motion once we go beyond the waiting room at at the vets office. He doesn't like it there, but if I had my temperature taken the way he gets his taken, I wouldn't go to the doctor ever. We didn't want his leg to get infected, so I called the vet to make an appointment for the next day. As soon as I got off the phone I started crying, and having irrational thoughts, that surely the bump was more than just an old man bump. When James got home from work I explained my tears to him, and he told me not to worry about it. We spent the evening at a YoungLife banquet, and I was no longer worrying about the beags. By the time we got home, I was convinced that Walter was going to need to have his leg amputated. I'm a completely rational person, most days.
On Wednesday I load Walter and Zack into the car, and we head to the vet. What could be more fun? Not much! We get there, and somehow I successfully get both the dog and a 1.5 year old into the waiting room, and then into the exam room. While the tech is trying to take Walter's temperature, I'm wrestling with him to keep him on the table, and watching Zack, who is attempting to open the door and leave the exam room. The vet comes in and looks at Walt's leg. He says it's a tumor, and needs to be removed, and that it's most likely cancer. My irrational Tuesday suddenly wasn't so irrational after all. I decided to leave Walter there so he can have the surgery that day. When I get to the car I call James and immediately start crying, and telling him that our dog is having surgery etc. I compose myself well enough to go through the Starbucks drive thru, and get a Pumpkin Spice Latte. Desperate times call for PSLs. When Zack and I get home I shed a few more tears, and tell Zack that his mama is just sad cause she loves the beagle. I put Zack down for his nap, and hear him in his crib saying "waaa taaa daaaaaaaag." He loves the beags too. Then I head into the office to check my email, and I'm greeted by a puddle of dog pee. A nice little gift from Walter, to remind me of his rotten side.
I picked Walt up from the vet late that afternoon (without Zack with me, MUCH easier!). He was a tired beagle, and pretty embarrassed because he has a shaved back leg. Boy beagles don't shave their legs. He was even more embarrassed when we got him an inflatable collar to make it so he can't take his stitches out. 12 days in that thing will surely humble the beagle. All day Thursday I spend watching Walt run into the walls with his inner tube. He has no concept of space. It was a long day, of Walt wanting to be inside, Zack wanting to be outside, and me wanting a day off. Friday I figure out how to manage the beagle and boy a little more effectively. Friday we also were told that our washing machine (that sounds like a 3 legged horse trying to gallop, not a good sound), is dead, and not worth fixing. A new washing machine and beagle surgery makes for an expensive week. Though, I would gladly buy a new washing machine, and dryer if it meant we didn't need to do surgery on the beags.
Today the vet called to let us know that the tumor was indeed cancer. He's optimistic, though. He got the whole tumor, with big margins. And, the tumor is grade 2, which means it most likely hasn't spread. Now, we just watch to see if it comes back. Of course, after I hear from the vet I once again start crying. Who knew I would shed so many tears over this beagle, who most days smells bad (ok, he smells bad every day), leaves white dog hair everywhere he goes, and howls too much?
I've been telling James how I feel so silly, crying over all of this. But, he reassures me that it's a good thing. And I agree, it is a good thing to have feelings, and to express them. And Walter has been a part of our life for the past 5+ years! Maybe he will be with us for a few more years, stinking up our house, and littering it with his white hairs. Or maybe he won't be here. Either way, it will be ok. We will grieve when we need to grieve. For now, we will continue to be thankful for our beagle, and all of the other good things we have in life.
We will also do our best to build up the self esteem of Walter, as this is what he looks like.
Poor dog. He's got a shaved back leg, complete with razor burn on his sensitive skin. Then we make him walk around with that thing around his neck? Wow. And, to top it off, when he's wearing that he snores SO loudly! Last night he was so loud, and wouldn't move, so I ended up sleeping on the couch. I'm surprised he doesn't wake himself up. At least he's got a pillow with him wherever he goes!
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