Dogtopia of Alexandria, VA Blog

My tummy hurts

‘Tis healthy to be sick sometimes. – Henry David Thoreau

Week 5 – forced week off.

Since my vet told me that my white cell count was too low I’ve taken take an unscheduled week off from chemo. I’ve been put on antibiotics and it does not agree with me, at least I hope it’s the antibiotics.

This becomes a weird week being a cancer patient. My white cell count is low, which is a normal side effect of the chemo. But it also could be the cancer advancing to my bone marrow, another cause of a low white cell count. All week I’ve felt horrible. Every night I get up a 100 times to change positions, then I plop down on the hardwood floor at home to a loud thud that seems to shake the whole house. Then, five minutes later, I do it again.

My Dad can tell I’m not moving around well. He goes through mind games, “Is it just the antibiotics? Or is the chemo not working and has the cancer progressed.”

I don’t know.

Every movement I make he seems to analyze. I am eating right? Do I eat as fast as I used to? Am I finishing my food? Why did I leave 3 kibbles in the bowl? I’ve never done that before. Why am I trying to stretch out so much? Is it normal, maybe it’s my nearly 10 years of life catching up, is it the antibiotics, is it something I stole from my 2 legged siblings that upset my stomach, a toy I ate that I thought was a pancake…….or is it cancer eating away at me.

Thank goodness I’m a dog, hey, just throw the ball.

Did you ever notice when you blow in a dog’s face he gets mad at you? But when you take him in a car he sticks his head out the window. ~Steve Bluestone

Week 4 of Chemotherapy

My Dad is out of town this week so my Mom gets to take me into the vet for my blood work, I am so thrilled! I have never even been in my Mom’s car. Getting into her SUV was so exciting. I didn’t know whether to stay in the back seat or jump to the third row or the very back or really quickly jump up front with her. I just don’t know what to do with myself. Then, all the sudden, I said, “MOM I SMELL A CHEERIO!!!” I dove into the back seat dug between the seats trying to get it out. I heard her cheering me on “Go Josie Go!”…..or at least that’s what I thought she was doing or maybe she was saying, “No Josie, No.” I’m a dog, how do I know what she is saying?

I got to the vet and I was so happy to show her off. I walked in the door and everybody behind the desk said, “Hi Josie!” and I said, “Say hi to my Mom,” or it may have come out as “ruff, ruff.” There was a shady looking Shepherd in the corner, I said, “hey, don’t look at my Mom that way.” but it came out as, “grrrrr.” My Mom was a little embarrassed about me yelling at the Shepherd I told her, “Hey, I was just protecting you.” I’m not sure she understood me. She still seemed a little embarrassed.

The next day the vet called, Dr. Suarez said that my white cell count was too low and that we were going to take a week off from chemotherapy. She also said that as a precaution that she would start me on antibiotics so that I would not go into septic shock. I guess my ability to fight off infection has gotten so low that any little bug could have made me pretty sick.

I started on the antibiotics and I did not feel good. My stomach was bothering me and I just could not get comfortable. At least I think it’s the antibiotics. It could be the banana peel I ate or some random toy I thought was food sitting in my stomach making me uncomfortable, or worse.

But we won’t think about that.

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

“If you don’t mind throwing tennis balls for eternity, I do have an opening in doggie heaven. – Angel at St. Peter’s Gate, to a man seeking admittance” –   Frank and Ernest comic strip

Week 3 in the books and I’m still feeling great. The steroids are starting to wear off so I’m slowing down just a bit; not that most people would notice, but my Dad can see it.

The chemo drug of the week was Vincristine, the same as week 1.  My stomach was a little upset that night but otherwise I was fine.  My vet said my platelets were a little low so we’ll want to check that for next week to make sure they have built back up. This could be a side effect of the chemotherapy. Nothing to get excited about yet, we’ll see how it looks when I go in next week for my treatment.

Again, the tough part is being radioactive for 48 hours after getting the drug is trying to stay away from my 2 legged siblings. They always seem to have something yummy on their faces and hands for me to lick. My appetite is strong, a little too strong. My Dad thinks that an intestinal blockage is going to get me before the cancer does. Yesterday a banana peel hit the floor and I inhaled it before my Dad could get around the counter. Then at some point later that day somebody left the garbage can open a quarter of an inch and I managed to jam my nose in there and force it open. My Dad found me shoulders deep in the garbage can eating whatever I could reach.

Josie's bloody nose

My tennis ball on the brain attitude hasn’t slowed down either. I was soooo excited to chase the ball I forgot to look where I was going after my Dad threw it. I turned just a little too late and ran straight into a stone wall. I’m kind of a knucklehead when it comes to chasing a tennis ball. It knocked me over, I did a somersault and kept on running. I was running so fast that I couldn’t stop and nearly did another flip picking up the ball in front of my two legged siblings big toy car. I ended up with a little bump on the head and a bloody nose.

Nothing is slowing me down.

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

“When someone asks you something and they say ‘your daddy’ instead of ‘your dad,’ you know you’re a spoiled brat.” – unknown

Throw the ball

Week 2 in the books and I’m feeling GREAT. A little too GREAT. The steroids are really kicking in. I am FULL of energy and HUNGRY!!!!

Throw the ball

This week at the Vet, the chemo of the week was Cyclophosphamide. The tough part about this week is that the treatment was in pill form and I had to take six pills over six days. Which meant I was “radioactive” all week. It also meant that I had to stay away from my two legged siblings. A big pain. Other than being a little gassy the first night no real side effects to mention of. Everybody asks my Dad if I have the same side effects as people when they go through chemotherapy, I don’t. So far I haven’t missed a meal because I was too sick to eat or lost any hair.

Did I mentions the steroids are kicking in full force. Oh boy.

Throw the ball

I’ve always been accused of being a little bit of a brat. Its not my fault, my Daddy bought me a dog daycare. How many of my doggie buddies can say that, not many.

My Banana

This week I’ve been exceptionally bratty. I’ve been demanding my Dad to throw the tennis ball. When he doesn’t throw it fast enough, I tell him. When he doesn’t throw it enough, I tell him. When he tries to go in and I’m not done, I tell him.

Then talk about being hungry, I cannot seem to eat enough food. My Dad has almost doubled my food during the day, I’m still hungry. I’ve always been known as a bit of a counter surfer, especially when Grandma’s come to town. They never figured out how far back you have to put stuff on the counter. I usually wait until my Dad turns his back before I start surfing the counter, not anymore. If I think I can get something, I’m going for it.

I’m a brat.

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

Is he strong? Listen Bud. He’s got radioactive blood. – Spiderman Cartoon Theme Song

Week 1 in the books and I feel great!  The Doctor told me I might have an upset stomach or loose stool for a day or two and that I may need soft bland diet for a few days.  I guess the Doctor didn’t read my chart close enough to see I’ve been in for “dietary Indiscretion”  enough times to get my iron stomach.  I once ate half a garbage can full of chicken wing bones and didn’t blink an eye.

For the first week I’ve been given a dose of Vincristine and I’m on Prednisone. The Prednisone is a steroid, which makes me thirsty, which is making me drink quite a bit,  which is making me pee a lot.  The Vincristine is a chemotherapy drug so my Dad has to take precaution not to expose anyone, especially my two legged siblings, to my slobber for at least 48 hours.  So I can’t lick the peanut butter off their hands after lunch or no cleaning the syrup off their face after pancakes in the morning.  Since I’ve been drinking a lot and peeing a lot there is a chance that my Dad might miss my urgent call to get outside because I’m going so much.  Cleaning up any accidents should be treated like a toxic spill, rubber gloves and get all the paper towels outside after clean up.

My Dad has to stock up on tennis balls.  I refuse to stop my evening tennis ball fetch game.  My Dad has to wear rubber gloves when we play and the toxic tennis ball gets sent to the trash each evening.  I noticed we are running low on tennis balls, he better get out and get more!

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

A dog will teach you unconditional love. If you can have that in your life, things won’t be too bad. – Robert Wagner

For chemotherapy I’m doing the University of Wisconsin-Madison Protocol, UW-19.  It’s a combination of different chemo drugs once a week over 19 weeks.  My Oncologist told me the UW-19 is the most powerful and effective treatment available.  There are other treatments but this gives the biggest bang to get me into remission and put me into remission for the longest time period. Once the cancer comes back, it will come back and come back harder.  We want to use the biggest and toughest tool we have available to get the longest remission up front.

Most of the chemo drugs are pretty nasty.  So they have to be very careful that it gets into my veins, because it can do quite a bit of damage to my leg if the Doctor misses the vein.  They take their time, which means I’ll be spending at least half the day at the vet.  My Dad took me to the vet and checked me in.  A nice vet tech came out to get me and put one of their leashes on me and handed Dad my “clothes.”

“you won’t hold her leash and collar?” asked my Dad.

“no, it’s our policy bla bla bla.”

“COME ON MAN! Are you going to make my Dad walk out of here with an empty leash.” I barked.  ”My Dad gets in and out a hundred leashes a day.  Buy a $2 bin and a dry erase marker, it’s not that hard.”  I’m a dog so all that came out of my mouth was, “ruff.”

My Dad is a stoic guy, never gets too excited or too down.  All through this process he’s been able to keep it together.  Until now.  I watched him walk out the door of the Vet office and lose it.  He wasn’t ready to take home an empty leash.

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

The nose of the bulldog has been slanted backwards so that he can breathe without letting go. -Sir Winston Churchill

In between the calls from Doctors and my trips to the Vet, my Dad got a call from Porterhouse’s mom.  ”It’s time.”

Porterhouse is a bulldog friend of mine…well, more of a family friend.  On his doggy kindergarten report card he got the “does not play well with others” mark.  Porterhouse loves his 2 legged siblings and is a adored by his parents.  With a big under bite and crooked smile he fit in well living a couple blocks from the Marine Barracks.  One of the cool things about being a bulldog is that you always get a great name, Porterhouse, Hercules, Tank, Dozer, or Lassie (love the irony).

Porterhouse had cancer.

Not fair!  Golden’s are loved by everybody, we are smart, easy to train, we were bred to hunt with Kings and Nobility…but, we get cancer.  Bulldogs have bad skin, they are stubborn, they snore, heart disease, kidney disease, they can barely breed without the help of a doctor and I’ve never met a Bulldog that didn’t have bad gas.  It is not fair that they get cancer.

Porterhouse had cancer and it was his time.

Porterhouse’s Mom asked my Dad, “what options do we have?  We love our vet but don’t want the clinical setting.”

It turns out there is a whole industry for this.

My Dad called around to a few places and found that most mobile Vets offer some type of in-home service for end of life decisions outside the clinical setting of a vet office.  They’ll come to your home and help make it as peaceful and non-stressful as possible.  Dr. Deutsch of Compassionate Care Veterinary Services came highly recommended to us by my Dad’s friend Dr. Katy Nelson.  Turns out you can make a living being the Dr Kevorkian of dogs, who knew.  She also recommended Dr. Villar of Home Veterinary Care, who has a mobile practice and does complete veterinarian care, not just end of life.  Also, one of my running buddies, Kody, his mom, Dr Gerth has a mobile Vet service, Critterfixer’s, and lists that as one of her services for clients.

Just down the street from my Dad’s store is Sunset Pet Services.  They offer individual pet cremation services as well as urns.  Also recommended to us was Valley Pet Cemetery and Crematory, in Maryland.  They both offer pickup and cremation services.

This led us to the, Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement.  A website with a number of links to information to help get through the loss of your pet.

A whole industry I hardly knew existed.

For Porterhouse it was time.  His parent’s looked into his eyes and they knew.  On March 19, Porterhouse was held by his mom as he crossed the rainbow bridge, he is sorely missed by his family.

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

Bad news isn’t wine. It doesn’t improve with age. - Colin Powell

My Dad got the call from Dr Suarez.  It was probably cancer.  She wanted to do one more test to confirm before we started chemo but it looks like cancer.  I’m a dog so when somebody speaks all I hear is the Charlie Brown teacher wa wa wa wa treat, wa wa wa wa outside, wa wa wa wa.  That was mostly what my Dad  heard from Dr. Suarez, wa wa wa cancer, wa wa wa chemo wa wa wa wa. She said she would send over information to allow us to process everything but if we wanted to start chemo and have the best chance at the best outcome we should start soon.

What do you do?  My Dad and I have started two businesses, I hang out under his desk all day, I sleep in his bed at night. We run together.  We are together 24/7.

You decide on a direction and fight.

My Dad called his friend Dr. Katy Nelson.  She helped simplify what was going on and told us what she would do if it were her dog.  She suggested we do a consult with a doggy Oncologist.  If nothing else they would be up to date on the latest treatments and ensure we would be on the best course.

We visited Dr. Gustafson at Regional Veterinary Referral Center.  She basically told us the same thing that Dr. Suarez told us and was able to go into more detail.

This is what Dr Gustafson told us:

Josie has lymphoma.  There is no cure.  Left untreated average survival time is 60 days.  The best chance of extending her life is to do chemotherapy.  The goal then is not to cure her but to put her into remission.  It’s not like when people go through chemotherapy, she is not going to lose her hair, side effects are very minimal (loss of appetite, loose stool) and generally only happens in the first 24 hrs after treatment.  If we choose to do nothing we would put her on Prednisone which would minimize the symptoms but not extend her life.  If we choose to do chemo, I suggest the University of Wisconsin Protocol, a 6 month treatment of various chemo drugs, its the biggest weapon against cancer available.  That should put her in remission for 6-8 months.  Then the cancer will come back, and it will come back harder.  At that point we can do a second round of chemo, the expected remission is half the time of the first.  In total, the average survival is 9 to 12 months.  Josie has the T-cell variety, (as opposed to the B-cell), which is more aggressive.  Plan on the lower end of that range.  There are more test we can do to get a more accurate prognosis but in the end the treatment will be the same.  These are averages, some dogs live for years.

I was given an expiration date.  Hopefully I will see my 10th birthday in August, Christmas might be a stretch, I think I’ve drank my last green doggie beer.

Treatment starts on Friday….

Our story about Josie the Golden Retriever and our progress through cancer.

Denial, it ain’t just a river in Egypt.  - Mark Twain.

I’m a brat and when I want to be pet, I demand it.  I’ll stick my nose into your hand, I’ll jam my nose between your legs, I’ll bark at you and generally be jerk until you pet me.  I never take no for an answer.

One particular day I stuck my head in my Dad’s lap and he pet me like he always does.  He found the lump on my throat, and another one on the other side.  He knew it wasn’t good.  Many of my doggie friends get these fatty soft lumps on their sides as they get older, generally those aren’t a problem, (all lumps should be checked out by your vet) I’ve had a couple for years.  This wasn’t one of those.  My Dad just knew, but didn’t want to believe it.  I’m a Golden.  We are smart, funny, great family pets, easy to train, relatively low maintenance, but, we get cancer.
My Dad knew, but didn’t want to believe it.  Denial.

The next day, he pet me, they were still there.  And the next.  And the next.  Denial, he didn’t want to believe it.

My Mom’s family lives on a farm in Southern Virginia.  I love going there because I can run full speed through the fields, jump in the river, and generally do all the fun things dogs have trouble doing in the City.  We were down visiting for the weekend and Saturday morning I woke up and it looked like I had a tennis ball on one side of my mouth.  But it wasn’t a tennis ball, or a lump or a tumor.  It was just a spider bite, nothing that a little Benadryl couldn’t take care of, but that was enough.  Enough to get my Dad out of denial.  Like the barn spider in Charlotte’s web, a spider saved me.

Monday we were in the Vets office.

Our Vet, Dr. Suarez, asked us, ” So what brings Josie in today?”  My Dad replied, “let’s start easiest to hardest.”
Josie needs a vaccine updated – no problem.
Josie was at the farm over the weekend and was bit by a spider – I don’t see anything that might lead to infection but we can do antibiotics if we need to.
The hard one, I founds lumps – those are lymph nodes, not good.  It could be ten different things but it’s probably cancer.  She’s a 9 1/2 year old Golden, that’s what happens to them, they get cancer.

Let’s test, I’ll call you tomorrow….

Written by Josie, the Golden Retriever, translated by Jeff, my Dad and owner of Dogtopia Alexandria.

I have cancer.

If you haven’t met me in person I’m the adorable Golden in the pictures above our front desk with the kids. I am the Vice President of Dog Resources at Dogtopia. I love treats and tennis balls.

Yes it stinks, but that is what happens to us Golden’s. We are lovable and have a number of cool quirks but our one downside is that we get cancer. I’m at that age. I am 9 ½, so looking at my Medicare years in human terms and this is the time of life that this type of thing happens. My parents are sad. My two legged brothers and sisters aren’t old enough to really understand what’s going on. I still just want to chase tennis balls, clean up spilled cheerios and beg for as many treats as I can get from our front desk team.

I’m not alone. The downside of getting attached to us four legged buddle’s of joy is that we only get 1 year to your every 7. I’ve lost some good buddies here, Jax, Tighe, Chance and more to the Big C. My friend Jo who I’ve known since I was a pup isn’t doing very well either.

I am luckier than most. We found it early so I will have a better chance with treatment. I have insurance, and it’s not BoBamaCare (let’s not get sidetracked here), so I’ll be going through chemo therapy. Plus, my Dad is in a position that he can take me to the vet once a couple times week and his boss is not going to look at him funny.

Over the next few days, weeks, months and with a little luck, year I’ll talk about the treatment and progress. I hope to educate those who may through this in the future, help those who might be going through the same thing and comfort those who have been through this.

Ruff,
Josie