A Lost Week

My week started in a bit of a flap and is only settling down this morning – the week feels like one long day. It started on Sunday night when I noticed Chester had something sticky on the end of his tail and tried to wash it off. Ches isn’t a whiner, he never complains, so when he yelped and started to shake when at my touch I knew something was wrong.

You may recall the story about Chester and his tail – the tale about a lump and a cone and two months of constant supervision. That adventure still feels like yesterday – I am reminded of it daily, three times a day, when I walk him to the park and get a bird’s eye view of the bald spot the surgery left behind. His tail was a success story – until Sunday night.

Chester and his vet (and the entire staff at the animal hospital) are on a first name basis. Unlike any other dog of mine Chester loves a visit to the clinic – sometimes I bring him in to say hello when I’m picking up his prescriptions – he knows where the cookies live and who is the softest touch. He’s Norm from Cheers when he walks in the door. We can generally score an appointment within a few hours if we call in a flap – which I did first thing Monday morning.

I’d drugged him with the equivalent of dog aspirin on Sunday night and again Monday morning but he was still in obvious distress. Because of their close rapport the vet knew immediately something had gone sideways as soon as Chester began to cry when he tried to examine his tail. We were sent home with heavy duty painkillers and an appointment for first thing Tuesday for X-rays and a closer look while he was under sedation. The vet explained what he might find and what he hoped he wouldn’t. We were sent home to worry and wait.

Tuesday was three days long. Thankfully the X-rays revealed the insides of a healthy dog – the cancer they’d removed from his tail seven months ago didn’t appear to have spread to his lungs or other organs. He had a bit of arthritis brewing in his hips, the plate and screws in his knee were still in good shape but his tail had a definite kink. The scar tissue we had been so thrilled see growing over his open wound was still growing and now pushing between two vertebrae.

Chester had his tail amputated yesterday.

He is currently sleeping at my feet and despite the new clown collar and the bandage around the stump of his tail he is more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. I’m breathing a sigh of relief – even if Chester didn’t get to keep his tail I still got to keep my dog.