This is not the story I believed we would be telling.

About four months ago, my almost nine year old hound mix Oliver started limping. Innocuously in the morning but by afternoon, his left forelimb muscle had swollen hard. Took him in the vet that afternoon and an ultrasound showed fluid pockets, but the x-ray came back negative. So antibiotics and Rimadyl. After two weeks, he stopped limping but the swelling never actually decreased. The limping resurfaced after a walk with a much speedier little brother.. So back to the vet for another round of X-rays and a Valley Fever test. At that point, the vet threw up his hands so we went for a second opinion at a different vet. They did another sonogram and another set of X-rays. Bones still good, but she said it wasn’t pockets of fluid but rather fluid infiltrating his fibrous tissue. We tried steroids and Gabapentin at that point. From there, his limp started returning in full force. Next came a CT where the read-out was believed mass of some kind deep in the skeletal muscle but they couldn’t actually see it so muscle biopsy. And that’s what led us to this. They did a muscle biopsy last Saturday and the wound refused to heal. Antibiotics didn’t make a difference (tho Gabapentin and anti anxiety meds helped him cope and be able to rest). He started knuckling as well – intermittently initially and then by end of the week, pretty much constantly. We took him into the vet three times in three days to check him out, have his meds and wound reviewed. This morning, I woke to find the biopsy wound was three sizes what it had been and it looked like tissue had been pushed out. Naturally, we took him in again and the vet let us know that there was likely significant nerve damage from whatever was going on as well as extensive tissue decay. She recommended amputation, which obviously landed on us with the force of an atomic bomb initially. Then, as a family, we discussed it, read a few stories here, watched a few videos, talked to the staff there who had three-legged pups and reluctantly, said yes.

They did chest x-rays and verified a lack of metastatic activity. His leg will be sent off to finally get answers on what has been plaguing him (the first return on the muscle biopsy wasn’t helpful), but the doctor feels confident that even if it is cancer, there wasn’t spread and we’ve stopped it and given him his best chance to be with me for a very long time. I believe that.

Hardest decision I’ve ever made. Oliver is my boy – he’s been with me through so much and I wasn’t ready to let him go. Especially if he wasn’t ready and his eyes and the way he curled into my lap told me he wasn’t.

So, they took him in and we waited. And waited. And my mind went a thousand bad places as we waited. Because you fill in gaps and think about that horrible “admin CPR” paper you signed. And then…then the phone rings and the surgery was successful and he’s doing great. I think I took my first breath all day. And then another when they said I could come get him.

I drove over with my most comfortable tee and a towel. When I stepped inside, out he and the nurse came – him inexplicably pulling her on three paws. Wrapped in green and white bandages and wet from the sponge bath they’d given him post surgery. A tad overwhelming to see him so bandaged up but I think must easier than immediately seeing new stitches.

He crawled into my lap, glassy eyed and tongue lolling from ketamine. I asked a thousand questions and got his medicinal regime – Rimadyl, Gabapentin, Tramadol, Trazodone, and an antibiotic (he’d been on all of these pre surgery except Tramadol due to the pain he’d be in).

That night, I took him home and settled him in. After about an hour, he started crying. I reached in and touched him and he started. So that was my role that night – stay close and warm and finally, Oliver dosed off.

Day 0 was over.