Ray's Page

Hi everyone. Hope this finds all of you well. I sometimes wonder whether it’s even proper for me to write here anymore, as I am not officially a tripawd mommy any longer.

Ray is still with me, though, and that is something I can’t ignore. Had a good cry about him tonight, the first one in awhile. I think it’s because we are in that adoption process again and it all takes me back to that wonderful moment when Ray and I first set eyes on each other.

First things first: Monty, our 2 year old Golden adopted in September, has been a lively and welcome addition to the family. Emphasis on lively! With a major guilt cloud lurking overhead, I keep thinking how great it is to have a healthy, strong dog in the house. Monty is playful, happy and very joyful. It is our nightly challenge to wear him out enough before bedtime, and that’s a great thing.

Our love of having multiple dogs, coupled with our feeling that Monty would benefit from a slightly older sibling, has resulted in us looking to adopt a second dog. I have sort of latched onto the prospect of a male chocolate lab. Call me focused, or something.

At any rate, going through the entire rescue adoption thing has reminded me how easy it was with Ray. I instantly liked his smile in the online photo. We went to the meet-n-greet event, and I took to him immediately. I remember the foster couple looking at each other and smiling and nodding in agreement that we would be a good fit for Ray. It was that simple.

The chocolate lab we’ve been matched with is experiencing compound health problems. He was plucked from the shelter by the rescue group and has so far been nursed through heartworm treatment and a bad respiratory condition. We received a call tonight that he’s now struggling with tummy issues. The foster sounds upbeat but sometimes you start to wonder. And think back.

Adopting a dog is not usually easy, I know. Ray set the bar so highly for me, though. And sometimes I curse that perfect, wonderful, lovable dog so much for it. It’s doubtful that I will ever love a dog as much as I loved him, but maybe that’s not the point here. The older I get, the more I realize that in most situations, it’s not about me. Ray wasn’t the first bundle of unhealthy dog we’d had and he probably won’t be the last. But darn it, I miss him.

Hi everyone,

Am feeling a bit melancholy this holiday season and have been thinking about and missing Ray a lot. Have been thinking of all of our friends and supporters here too and hope this finds you well.

It’s been about three months since Ray left us. We have since adopted a young Golden surrendered by a family who couldn’t care for him, so the house is active with new life and the fun of having a “toddler” – one who didn’t have much of a chance to express himself and socialize, as he was apparently shoved into a crate most of the time. It’s been…interesting!

While I love our new addition (dubbed “Monty” for Monty Python) – he is definitely not Ray. And that’s no one’s fault. And while it’s been a welcome transition for my husband, who Monty adores, it’s a bit more difficult for me. Ray was my baby. He was perfect. I think I can still feel his presence in my office while I’m working. And when I think maybe it’s Monty I’m sensing, I look down to find no one is there.

Of course, we are creating new habits and new routines. But I can’t help longing for the nightly steps Ray and I had. He would, without fail, come to bed when I did. He would sit by my side of the bed and allow me to hug and smooch on him for as long as I liked/needed, and then I would gesture for him to lay down. Just before I would switch off the light at my bedside, Ray would glance back over his shoulder at me as if to say “Goodnight, Mommy.” I would stroke him one last time and turn off the light. It was reassuring to both of us, I think. I miss it so much.

Not sure what I’m trying to say here except that I guess I welcome the fresh start of a new year. Losing a beloved pet is never easy and I’m glad we have the opportunity to help another sweet creature through life with love and support. I just really wish circumstances had been different, and Ray had been here to show Monty the ropes too. But we don’t always get that choice, so we make the best of the options we have.

Well, it’s been a week since we lost Ray. Definitely one of the toughest weeks of my life. Every time I thought I was done crying, I wasn’t. Still not quite there, but every day is a bit better.

We got some news yesterday that I’m still sort of wrapping my head around. The oncologist called with the lab results. Ray’s tumors were apparently sarcomas – very nasty and very aggressive. Totally the opposite of what we thought, what the CT scan showed and even what the cytology test indicated.

I am not a religious person, but my knee-jerk reaction was to say that science failed us and something bigger stepped in here. There was no hope for Ray, as it turns out. He had very little time left, and as of last week, none of us knew it. Had I gotten this news outright, that he only had a couple of months to live and they would quickly progress into awful and painful months, the decision of when to let him go would have been been infinitely more difficult. Of course I would never want my dog to suffer. I know dogs often let their owners know when “it’s time” but still… It’s just hard to fathom that even a week ago, he seemed pretty much fine, hopping around happily, eating heartily, smiling that Golden smile. A little congested, occasional coughing, but that was it.

When we thought surgery could save him, we seized that opportunity, but Ray’s body took it from there. As the doctor said, you can’t know what you’re dealing with until you open them up, and at that point, it was beyond bad. The large tumor had stuck to several blood vessels and even to the outer sheath of his heart. Every attempt to carefully cut it away caused bleeding and more complications. When they said he was in danger of bleeding to death, I told them to stop and let him go in the most peaceful way possible. The choice was not easy, but it was right.

And now, I know that really was the right thing to do. I didn’t ever really question it, but now it seems even right-er, if that makes sense. Ray left us while he was under anesthesia, so he had no fear and no pain. Pain and fear would surely have arrived at some point in the near future if we had known the severity of his cancer and had not attempted the surgery.

One memory from last week sort of haunts me, but knowing my darling Ray, it shouldn’t surprise me. He was never the type of dog to nuzzle and cuddle me if I was crying – he would just wag his tail and smile, oblivious to sadness.

As we sat in waiting room last Tuesday preparing to give him over for the surgery, I wept openly and held him, not caring that everyone was staring at us, perhaps sensing deep down that things may not go well. “Please don’t leave me,” I sobbed into his floppy, soft ear. And Ray, being the ever-goofball, just looked at me and smiled like I was being ridiculous. That is how I will remember him. That is who he was.

Wanted to let everyone know that Ray went over the Rainbow Bridge yesterday around 1:30. The surgery to remove his lung tumors was pretty much of a disaster – many complications and unforeseen problems. Forgive me if I don’t elaborate right now. I am devastated and heartbroken. Thank you all for supporting us through our past difficulties – it helped me a lot.

First, thank you for all of your positive thoughts for us as we approach yet another hurdle. I didn’t want to share until I knew more, and today we do.

The news is cautiously good, a little bad and somewhat ugly. First, the bad: Ray has two tumors in his right lung, one quite large (baseball-sized) and one quite small. The large one is in the middle right lobe, the small one in the bottom right lobe.

The good: through CT scan and fine needle aspiration, the big one has been determined to be a primary tumor and the cytology indicates they are Bronchoalveolar carcinomas. In other words, they are NOT metastatic tumors that have originated from somewhere else and we are pretty sure they are the least serious type of primary lung tumor that he could potentially have. The nerve sheath tumor that resulted in his foreleg amputation a little over a year ago is totally unrelated.

The ugly: Surgical removal of both affected lobes is the advised treatment, and that’s what we’re going with. According to the oncologist, Ray will still have 75% of his lung capacity post-lobectomy. This surprised me, frankly, but apparently the middle right lobe is kind of an extra that isn’t used much, as the dr explained it. Unfortunately, the main tumor is large. The docs aren’t sure if the second little tumor is an indication of spread or is an “incidental” tumor.

The prognosis is up in the air. On the plus side, Ray has hardly any symptoms at this point. He sounds congested in the chest sometimes and maybe coughs once a day, if that, and has never coughed up blood. He still has a great appetite and is alert and active (although we are being careful to keep him as quiet as possible.) Also, the tumor is on the periphery of the lungs and his lymph nodes appear to be unaffected. All of these factors will work in his favor. We are being told that if all goes well, the surgery should buy him at least a year. It could possibly even cure him, but we won’t know until the tumors are tested in the lab after surgery. Of course, if he makes it through all of this, we’ll be doing follow-up x-rays every 4-6 months for the rest of his sweet life.

So that’s where we’re at. Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday. Please send pawsitive thoughts – we’re going to need a truckload.

We have received terrible news today about Ray. He apparently has a very large mass in one of his lungs. We had seen the vet earlier this year about some mild chest congestion, but he didn’t hear anything in the lungs at that time. Things had gotten a bit worse lately – occasionally coughing and increased raspiness in the throat – so we had x-rays done while he was under anesthesia for a teeth cleaning today.

This is very bad. Please keep us in your thoughts.

Hard to believe, but it has been one year since Ray relinquished his right front leg to a nerve sheath tumor.

I have said it many times, but we feel so fortunate that Ray was cured of his illness because of the amputation. When the option of removing the leg was initially presented to us as the best answer, we immediately balked, believing there had to be a better, alternative solution. Well, there wasn’t. Life isn’t always tidy, and now we know it was the only option for him. And he has done so remarkably well. The happy spirit of a Golden cannot be denied!

Over this past year, I have read many – too many – stories of other beloved dogs who could not beat their sickness, even after surgery, chemo, etc. If any creature deserves to live forever without pain or sickness, it is a dog. Sadly, the actuality is that their time with us is painfully short. They are like shooting stars, burning so brilliantly while they’re here, then fading far too quickly. Everyone who is a caring pet parent feels the light and love of a beloved dog long after their earthly light has diminished, however. The memories are all we have, and they are all as unique as each dog that has nuzzled its way into our heart.

I dread the day Ray leaves us. Yesterday morning, he refused to eat his breakfast, and I was terrified. (Ray eating is scary in itself. Ray not eating is something to be terrified of, believe me.) I eventually got him to eat a bit of chicken and rice, which he threw up an hour later while looking terribly ashamed, bless his heart. Diarrhea and lethargy ensued. A visit to the vet resulted in a bowel-slowing injection plus antibiotics and probiotics. Today he is his normal, ravenous, drooly, snuffling, three-legged self. Blood test results are pending, but I couldn’t be happier.

 

Ray has been experiencing idiopathic vestibular episodes again, similar to what he went through prior to his amputation surgery last August. I’m not greatly concerned, but we are certainly watching for increased frequency and/or other changes.

On April 19, he had a terrible episode while in my office. Was laying near my chair and looked like he wanted to get up but couldn’t for some reason. A look of confusion passed over his face and he stared at his legs like “why aren’t you working?” His head started going back and forth slowly, and then his whole body started flopping and rolling. All the while, his eyes darted back and forth, side to side. I tried to move him to the middle of the room to avoid hurting himself but it was a challenge. I screamed for my husband who ran in and literally threw himself on top of Ray to minimize the rolling. After what seemed like an eternity but was just a couple of minutes, he stopped rolling and was wobbly but pretty much ok. All other symptoms stopped. We rushed him up to the vet. All tests (blood, urine, etc.) came back normal.

Then last night, we were all watching TV in the living room and I noticed that look of confusion pass over Ray’s face again. Then the back-and-forth head sway started. I alerted my husband immediately and we surrounded Ray, holding him. I called his name cheerfully over and over (“It’s ok Ray! Mommy and Daddy are here!”) trying to get him to focus. This really seemed to help as he kept turning and looking at me as I spoke. He had the darting eyes and was trembling quite a bit but didn’t roll or flop. Again, it passed quickly and he was completely fine within a few minutes. Panting heavily but no residual symptoms.

So, I’ve had these experiences (what vets call “geriatric vestibular syndrome episodes”) before with my older dogs, but not quite like this. I’ve also seen seizures in dogs, and this isn’t like that either. Usually, in both cases, dogs have lingering effects. Ray does not. Vestibular episodes don’t usually reoccur, but Ray’s have, although minor. I’m not sure if we should try to have an MRI performed on him or not. Seems excessive at this point, especially since the vet didn’t find anything in April. I just wish I knew what was causing this. I’m going to clean his ears and hope it’s something as simple as that, since ears can affect balance.

I would welcome any thoughts or advice!

When we were considering Ray for adoption back in August 2009, his foster mommy told us that in her experience, the Goldens with the best personalities would often let their tongues loll out the side of their mouth. I tend to agree!

Hoping this finds everyone well.

Wuff and hugs,

Ray and Mommy

Hi everyone! Just wanted to share this smiling photo of Ray. We’re both glad Spring is finally here! Hope all of you are doing well. Wuff and hugs, Ray and Mommy