So, it's official. I've got cancer. Bone cancer, to be precise. Life sucks. The Mistress is beside herself. She can't stop crying! Enough already, I say. Life's for living AND snacking, not for moping about full of pity, doom and gloom. But the Mistress being the Mistress, she's taken action. First she got the low down on the diagnosis and prognosis. I've got months, at most. "Prepare yourself for early next year," the vet told the Mistress. The options? Amputation with chemo' thrown in for good measure. But if they "whip off the leg", as the vet described, they'd have to go right up into the hip, as that is where the cancer is. For most dogs, the problem is at the knee. This doesn't cure me. It could buy me a few months at most. But think about it. I mean really think about it. Losing a leg is serious surgery. And the recovery... I mean, it's not as if I am a whipper-snapper now. Sooo....right now, I'm keeping the leg and the Mistress has got onto the homeopathic vet. She thinks he is God in veterinary form. He's suggested a cocktail of homeopathic remedies, which should arrive any day soon and then off we go! Tablets-a-go-go. In the meantime, I've been milking the sympathy vote and the Mistress is being very generous with the snacks. It won't last, mark my words. Woof Woof
PS I really can't get the hang of this new Typepad edit nonsense!!