Tough Stuff

Simon is in Vegas for a work conference so Merwin and I journeyed west to my parents' house yesterday. We made this plan a long time ago but after the last couple weeks, it seemed even more important for Merwin to be in Clay again.

Two weeks ago, he stopped eating. Red alert with this dog who I once caught licking the smushed, half rotten remnants of a crab from a dock on Martha's Vineyard. He used to take an average of 3 seconds to scarf every meal. We were worried so took him to the vet. I guess I should've expected that something could be seriously wrong but I certainly hadn't steeled myself for a diagnosis of cancer, lymphoma to be exact. The vet looked at us and said "6 weeks."

Needless to say, this news has been debilitating. I knew I loved this dog and was obsessed with him (understatement), but the pain, anticipatory grief, and gut-wrenching sadness made it even more clear just how much he is such an intrinsic part of our lives. Especially over the last few months when, after having left my Boston job, he and I spent so much time together. That time seems even more valuable now.

Our regular vet referred us to an absolutely amazing oncologist right in Portsmouth, and we spent 2 hours with him on Friday learning about the disease and possible options. Simon and I walked in committed to not putting Merwin through treatments and walked out almost certain chemo was the best option. There's myriad reasons why this is so but none of them is "we want him with us longer." The oncologist was clear that his work is never about extending a dog's life, rather it is about giving the dog the best quality of life possible. Obviously we want Merwin here in perpetuity but more importantly, we want him to be able to dog the way he should be able to dog. I've struggled with the ethical and moral aspects of this decision, but I won't justify it. It's impossible to know what is right and how one should respond. Every dog owner will face decisions like this differently and that needs to be respected. 

Anyway, I felt much better after having information, so Simon flew to Nevada and I loaded the hound into the car for the long drive. This morning dawned bright, sunny, and chilly but we wandered outside and romped along the snowmobile paths the neighbor had blazed across the snow. That little butt nugget of a tail wagged frantically as he ran full speed all around the yard and trails. He didn't seem to be in pain. He seemed like a dog, thrilled to be free to dash and sniff and explore. He was happy. That made me happy.