Thank you for all your sweet words and messages last week. I'm still not 100% ready to hit publish on this post but I know there are so many devastating things happening in the world, this is so minor compared to them but it completely flipped my world upside down.
October 13th, 2017 should have been just like any other day. It was my work from home day so I had planned on taking my dog in for a follow up appointment to check on his heart murmur and then getting some work done and maybe going out to enjoy a Friday happy hour to kick of the weekend. Unfortunately, things don't always go the way you plan and that's exactly how my day went. As I sit here writing this with the events of that day still fresh in my memory, it's hard to keep the tears from flowing. October 13th was the day my sweet baby boy, my furbaby, my only child got diagnosed with cancer. 

There was no part of me that was prepared for the news I was going to get that day. I knew he was getting older and had recently had several bouts of pancreatitis, both of which were easily treated with medication, and had been diagnosed with a minor heart murmur but cancer wasn't something I was expecting to hear that day. I won't lie, it's been a major fear of mine pretty much since the day I got him. Cancer tends to run in my family. Or at least that's the way it feels. My grandmother was a breast cancer survivor before I even knew what a mastectomy was, my grandfather and my other grandmother both passed from cancer within the past 5 years and I've had several "abnormal cell" scares myself. So there was always a part of me that just knew my dog would one day get cancer because that's the way my life seems to go but I certainly wasn't expecting it that day. He has shown no signs of being sick other than some leftover side effects from his most recent case of pancreatitis but his primary doctor wanted him to see a specialist to check up on his heart murmur so I went into the appointment with high hopes that his heart murmur hadn't gotten any worse or if it had it would be easily treatable. Little did I know, his heart murmur was going to be the least of my worries. The phone call came maybe an hour after I dropped him off and 3 hours before I was scheduled to pick him up so I immediately knew something was wrong. The only thing I can really remember the vet saying was "Novie has a swollen prostate and unfortunately in neutered dogs, that can only mean one thing: he has cancer..." I know there was some other medical terminology thrown about and then she asked if I was ok with them doing further testing but it would add to my bill and before she could even finish I had yelled yes into the phone. My heart shattered into a million pieces that day and somehow it still continues to break. 

As I was writing this, a story popped up on my Twitter feed that made me so angry and upset that I feel I have to address it. I've read the articles of women complaining about women who treat their animals as babies and call it an insult. If I insult you by calling my dog my furbaby, you have bigger problems. I'm not saying I'm delusional and think I gave birth to my dog or that he's biologically mine, but you know what? I've cared for him night and day for the past 11 years, I've fed him, I've played with him, I've held him when he was scared, I've administered medicine to him (sometimes in the most difficult manner), I've gotten him hair cuts, taken him to the doctor, I've made him treats, I've stayed up all night with him while he was sick, I've trained him, hell I've even wiped my dog's butt and cleaned up his puke on my bed at 2 am. If those aren't your typical "parenting" moves then apparently I don't know what parenting is. And that's not even the half of everything I have done for my dog but apparently because I didn't give birth to my dog, I'm not a "mom"? What about mom's that abuse their children, that allow their children to be sexually abused, or not fed. You mean to tell me that woman is a mom more than I am because she biologically had a child? I call bullshit. My dog has brought an endless amount of joy to my life and I have given him the best goddamn life I could. Does it absolutely destroy me that I can't fix this for him, that I can't find some way to make him better? Hell yes it does. The anger and hurt I felt when told his diagnosis parallels that of the Hulk. But I challenge anyone to tell me right now, or ever, that my dog is not my son. My dog is my son in the sense that he is and will always be family to me. And right now my heart hurts in a way that I hope no mother ever has to feel about their child (of the two or four legged variety). My heart hurts in a way that I can't even fathom will get worse but I know this is just the beginning. My heart hurts so bad right now for my baby and if it bothers or offends you that I call him my baby, I envy you for not having bigger things to worry about.
Please try not to judge. This post was written while I was chalk full of emotion; mainly sadness, anger, and denial so I know it might feel all over the place and the end goes on a bit of a rant but seeing that on Twitter could not have come at a worse time for me. This Thursday I meet with a cancer specialist to discuss treatment options for prolonging my furbaby's life as long as I can while giving him the best quality of life I can so excuse my ups and downs over the next few months. I'll do my best to remain positive in this little space of mine but some days will be harder than others. And for those of you who have made it down here, thank you. I know this was probably the longest post I've ever written and I appreciate you sticking it through! Hope you have a wonderful week!


*Linking up with Biana*