I’m not saying I’m psychic or anything…

But wow.  Sometimes a persons intuition is scary.  I’m going to go off track real quick, and tell a story about one of my other dogs, Kingston.

A little over a year ago, I was told that my older mastiff had lymphoma.  I had chest X-rays, an ultrasound, and had the lymph nodes aspirated.  I was told by both vets at the practice plus the internal medicine specialist who did the ultrasounds, that it was lymphoma.  I did not have the aspirate sent out to Colorado, because the only purpose in doing that was to do chemo, and we decided not to do chemo for him (due to how poorly he was doing, and not wanting to wait to treat his horrible symptoms), so I never had that 100% diagnosis, but they all agreed, lymphoma was it.  He had about 3 weeks to live.

I didn’t believe them.  I can’t explain why, but I didn’t.  People thought I was in denial.  Serious denial.

He was put on Prednisone to help take down swelling in his rear legs that was so bad that he could not bend them at all.  Most dogs gain weight on Prednisone.  Not Kingston, he lost a lot of weight, somewhere around 40lbs.  He LOOKED like a cancer patient.  But still I didn’t feel right.  Even though I looked up the proper Prednisone dose for a dog of his size, and knew it was in the range of normal, I felt like I was poisoning him every time I gave it to him.  I weaned him down, and then down again, and even at half the dose of Prednisone that he was initially prescribed, he was still getting weaker and weaker.   My vet said that half of the dose of Prednisone could not possibly be effective, let alone be causing him so much trouble.

 

Skinny Kingston

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One Friday, when he couldn’t stand up to poop any more, I made the appointment for a vet to come out and let him go to sleep that coming Monday.  After I did that, I dropped him way down on the Prednisone, until he was only getting 1/8th of what was prescribed.  And he started getting stronger.  In one day, I saw an improvement.  By Monday morning, I knew it wasn’t his time.  I canceled the appointment.

Kingston went on to gain his weight and strength back.  He still has flare ups of swelling in his legs, and has been through tons of testing with no answers… but he is alive.  Happy and alive and as healthy as I could hope.

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I am telling this story, because I had no such feelings of disbelief when it came to Ti.  In fact, I did not believe for a second that he had arthritis like my vet said.  I felt so strongly that something else, something worse, was wrong, that I made an appointment at a new vet the very next day.   I walked in knowing that  my dog had cancer.  When the vet called it an MCL tear, I was not relieved.  I knew it wasn’t.  When I saw the X-ray, I didn’t even look at his ligaments… All I could see was the dark shadowy place on his bone.  Sometimes I hate being right.

 

The biggest takeaway I get from this whole thing is to listen to your gut!  If something doesn’t feel right, please, trust your intuition.  Vets are very important to our beloved pets health, but they do not know everything, and they don’t know your animals like you do.

Meet Ti – his heart is as big as his head.

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This is Ti.

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Ti’s real name is Tiberius, but he doesn’t know that.  I don’t often tell people his real name, because they usually ask if he was named after Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, and I am a terrible liar.  They never seem to buy the Roman Emperor thing.  Anyway.

This is what Ti looks like now, more or less.  Maybe a bit more grey in the muzzle.  Sugar Lips.

He is 4.5 years old,  he’s an American Mastiff, no, I don’t have a saddle for him, yup, he eats a lot, no, he won’t eat your dog, nope, not your small children either, sorry I can’t help you out there.

Ti has cancer.

But that isn’t what this post is about.  This post is about Ti the dog.  Not Ti the Dog with Cancer,  or Ti the Dog who is in an Incredible Amount of Pain.  This post isn’t even about Ti the Dog Whose Person is Terrified About Having His Leg Removed but Is Even More Terrified to Lose Him.  This is just about Ti the dog.

Ti came home to me as a big fat meatball with a smushy crinkled face.

This is what he looked like the day I met him, when he was 4 weeks old.  This also marks the last time I was able to lift him.  Ok, not really.  That was a couple of months later.

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When Ti got home, he met his “big” Brother, Kingston.  Now we just say Kingston is his “older” brother.

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He also met his sisters, Ava and Zofia.

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And eventually gained another brother, Milo, the foster failure

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Ti grew, and he grew.  When he was all done, he was the biggest being in our house at 220lbs.  Roughly half of that is his head.  I’m only sorta exaggerating.

Like most dogs, Ti enjoys the finer things in life.  Digging in the trash can, peeing on things, waking us up at 3 am to poop, and his all time favorite, laying in the middle of the floor in the dark so you trip over him, and flail around like a drunken ballerina trying not to kill yourself or land on him.  You know, fancy stuff.  He’s thoughtful too, saving me from having to open the bag of dog food by opening it all by himself.   Moving the couch while we are sitting on it, so we don’t have to bother ourselves moving it for him.  Helping people stay in shape by drooling  in their bowl of m&ms.  That’s just the kind of guy he is.

Ti is also the kind of guy that doesn’t ask for a whole lot.  He likes his crappy bed, and eschews the nicer ones.  He doesn’t care much for toys, won’t beg for your food.  He loves his cuddles, but won’t pester you for more when you need to do something else.  He is friendly but not overbearing, protective but stable, slow to anger and easy to please.   The only thing that gets him howling is when someone has the audacity to leave him outside for periods exceeding 3 minutes.

Ti is the kind of dog that makes you want to do anything you can to save him.  And that is what we are going to do.