Laika lived a long, happy life despite much of it being under the shadow of cancer. Around 6 years ago, I was running with Laika and noticed a small lump on her right shoulder, directly under the harness. I didn't really think anything of it at the time, but the next day, it had gotten bigger. I thought it might be an irritation from the harness, because Laika loved to pull, but something about it didn't seem right. Laika didn't seem bothered by the mass, but there was an odd 3rd dimension under the skin that made me immediately take her to the vet.
The doctor we saw was new at the practice, but she was very good with Laika and did a fine-needle aspiration of the lump, which was directly below the surface of the skin. As usual, Laika was a good patient for the vet. The doctor left to examine the sample and was gone a long time. We waited patiently and Laika ate a ton of treats. When the doctor returned, she had an odd look on her face, like she has something to say and didn't know how to say it. I just came out and asked, "This is cancer, right?" The doctor answered by nodding her head, exhaling a sympathetic sigh. I then looked at Laika, sitting happily in the small exam room with us, unknowingly wagging her tail while waiting for another treat. She had no idea about her illness and it made me so sad. I was also shocked, as there was no way my healthy pup had cancer! But, as I learned from my mom's successful battle against cancer a year or so before, the disease can strike even the healthiest of bodies. So, I gathered the courage from what I observed in my mom with her confrontation of the disease and the duty as Laika's guardian to make a plan for the mast cell tumor to be removed later in the week.
I had never taken Laika for a treatment as serious as this. After all, it was cancer and surgery. I was very thorough in helping to prepare Laika. She had to be fasted from the night before and no water in the morning. I was worried I would mess up, but I didn't! Laika was very confused when she wasn't given breakfast and gave me the stink-eye as she sat in front of her empty bowl. I felt like a horrible dad, as she didn't understand why. However, she was happy to go in the car, even though she didn't know what was in store for her. The surgery went well. The tumor was removed successfully with acceptable margins and Laika was discharged the same afternoon. It was apparently not as big a deal as I thought, as it was outpatient surgery and we were home again together by the afternoon.
It was early March, I recall. I was supposed to keep Laika from acting like a dog for over 10 days while the incision healed. Usually, the weather is very bad at that time of year, so it wouldn't have been a big deal. But, that day was unseasonably warm and sunny! Upon lifting Laika out of the car, she wanted to run down the street and sniff everything. It was going to be a long few weeks! It was reassuring, however, that she was feeling good. When we entered the house, I looked through the bag of "party favors" that the vet gave us (a.k.a. medicine and hospital discharge instructions). Laika was able to have water, but still had to wait for food. "How could she stand it?," I wondered.
Laika seemed uncomfortable and was pacing around the house. She didn't want to lay on her bed, so I put a sleeping bag on the floor and laid with her to calm her down. She pressed her body against me, but still seemed upset. Soon, she started whining softly, then whimpering and finally crying! I was alarmed. She was always so stoic and now she must be suffering from pain! I immediately felt guilty for putting her through this trauma. I also thought that maybe I forgot her painkiller or some other important piece of post-surgery treatment. How could I do this to her? Looking at the paper again, I realized that she was allowed food if she was no longer groggy. I quickly put half a meal in her bowl. At the sound of the food container being opened, Laika's eyes got brighter and she immediately sprang-up, started licking her lips and "ran" toward me. She ate as if she had never seen food before. She licked the bowl for a good 5 minutes after inhaling the partial meal. Then, as if she hadn't just had surgery, she casually walked to her bed and happily laid-down.
As it turns out (and would repeat time and time again), Laika's most traumatic experience was that of an empty stomach! While watching her eat with such gusto and joy, even in such a hard time, I laughed out loud and couldn't contain my smile. Laika proved that she could fight cancer and stay strong through surgery, but she couldn't do it on an empty stomach! Her crying that I thought was because of the procedure was actually just pangs of hunger. I was relieved and very amused. Never again did I wait as long to give her food after she had been fasted. I couldn't bear to see such a hungry lady after surgery!
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