RIP, Lambeau

This is a really, really hard post to write. We had to say good-bye to Lambeau, our 11 year-old American Pit Bull Terrier on Tuesday. It was sudden, within about a week. And devastating. I am numb, and hurting, and lost, all at once. He was my dog, more than any of the others. I miss him.

It started around the 18th or 19th. He didn’t want to eat and was just a bit off. When it didn’t clear up in day or so, I called our vet. I took him in, and there was nothing really obvious in the exam or bloodwork. One of his liver values was very slightly elevated, but not a big jump. So, we went home with some strategies to try and get him eating again. He was good for a couple days, but then back to not quite right. We scheduled an ultrasound which was done last Wednesday.

The ultrasound showed a tumor on his spleen, which is not really a good result. It could have been nothing, but chances are, it was cancer of some sort. I left that day with three choices. One, do nothing and let things take their course. The problem there is that if that tumor started to bleed, we’d be looking at a critical emergency. That one was out of consideration right away. Option two was surgery to remove the spleen and tumor. Surgery is risky, especially this kind of major surgery, and he was 11. But that would not only remove the bleed risk, but we’d know what we were looking at. And option three was just to let him go then. Oh, and he also had a UTI (did a urinalysis the day of the ultrasound).

The antibiotics got the UTI under control quickly and he was back to his old self. So, we elected to do the surgery. He wasn’t ready to give up at that point, and I couldn’t give up on him, either. So, he went to the vet’s office on Monday, with surgery scheduled for Tuesday. When I dropped him off, he was his happy, bouncy self, wanting to say hello to everyone and give big kisses.

The vet’s office called Tuesday morning. When they got him in surgery, they found the cancer had spread and tumor had started bleeding. Yeah, we could have had them remove the spleen as planned, and brought him home, but with the way it had metastasized, he wouldn’t have had long and he’d have gone downhill fast. We chose to let him go right then, and not put him through suffering as the cancer got worse. I am sorry I couldn’t be there, but it was the best choice for him, no question there. Better a day too early than a week too late was never more clear to me.

Rest easy now, my Big Old Dog. You taught me far more than I ever taught you in your eleven years with us. You were a good dog. Not in the perfectly trained, impeccably behaved definition of good. But in all the ways that really count, you were a GOOD DOG. I miss you. I will miss you always.