Dogless

I'm not certain that I am ready to do this just yet.  As I began writing this, the tears started.....again. 

In 1997 I was down to one dog, Cassidy.  In the fall, with the help from a friend, I managed to catch a neighborhood dog who had been roaming our street for over a month.  He was extremely timid, but would kiss my face and let me pet him, with one hand only.  I named him Caleb.  Shortly after catching Caleb, I had to euthanize Cassidy due to a large cancerous tumor. 

Because Caleb was so timid, I thought another dog would help him become less shy.  When I took Caleb to my vet and mentioned this idea to him, he told me they had a 5 month old puppy that needed a home.  The puppy had been brought to him by a woman who was moving out of town.  As this woman was leaving her bank, after closing her account, she noticed a car ahead of her slow down and throw a puppy out of the car.  Fortunately she stopped and picked up the pup.  She was near the vet's office and took the puppy there, not knowing what else to do with her.  My vet, Dr. Ken Sundberg, agreed to help find her a home.  He spayed and vaccinated her, and Celie became part of my family in early 1998.  Within a few months I rescued two more dogs from the street - Cuinn and Cordelia. 

Life with the four of them had its ups and downs but, for the most part, the ups far outweighed the downs.  Now, all of them are gone.  Celie was a lab/chow mix.  She was 15 years old.  In the past year she developed fatty tumors on her stomach and behind her right front leg.  She also suffered from degenrative disc disease, and had a couple of episodes where she had trouble walking.  With some medication she pulled through those occurrences.  She was, however, slowing down.  Her sight wasn't as good as it once was and neither was her hearing.  Although she had always tended to ignore me when I called her.  Lately she even did it occasionally when it was dinner time. 

Friday morning (Feb 9th) I knew something was wrong.  I have to admit that after losing Cordelia last year, I knew Celie's time with me was coming to an end as well.  Celie woke me up before 5AM to go outside.  I let her out and she stayed out longer than usual.  Then around 7AM, she asked to go out again.  When I called her to come in she was lying in the yard, not by the back door as she usually did.  She looked at me from the yard but wouldn't get up.  She had never just laid down in the yard and I began to worry.  I walked out to her, about 40 feet from the door, and I coaxed her to get up.  I started walking back to the door and she followed for about 2 steps and then stopped.  I came back to her and had to walk along side her to get her all the way into the house.  As soon as she came in, she laid down on the floor, breathing heavily as though she had over exerted herself.  My internal alarm bells were ringing loudly. 

I was on a deadline at work and had to get everything completed for a couple of mailings, so I couldn't miss work.  I continued to get ready to leave.  When I was about to leave, Celie had moved to the living room rug.  I found two piles of diarrhea.  Obviously she was sick.  I put her back outside, cleaned up the messes and called the vet.  Although their schedule was full, I was told I could bring her in at 5:30.  It was obvious that her back legs were giving her trouble when I brought her back inside.  When I left Celie was lying on her side in the kitchen.  Needless to say, throughout the day I continued to worry about her and wonder what I would be coming home to.

I had noticed a month or so ago that Celie seemed to have put on weight and was concerned, so I had taken her to the vet at that time.  Her weight had not changed significantly.  The vet didn't think the fatty tumors had gotten larger since her last visit, and pronounced her fine. 

I left work about an hour early.  Celie was in the living room when I arrived.  She had two more "accidents" in the kitchen during the day.  I let her outside again.  When she came back in, I offered her a treat, as I had always done.  She wasn't interested, which was unusual.  I sometimes thought she only went outside so she could get a treat when she came back in.  Not this time.

Before leaving for the vet, we walked over to Barbara's house.  Celie, as always, was happy to see her and busily wagged her tail.  Of my four dogs, Celie had always been Barb's favorite.  Barb had gone with me when I had taken both Celie and Cordelia to training classes.  She worked with Celie and I worked with Cordelia (definitely the smarter of the two).  Then off we went to the vet.  Dr. Porter checked her out and although he was concerned about the tightness in her abdomen, prescribed medication for her diarrhea and a probiotic.  She wasn't to be fed on Friday night.  That wasn't a problem because she simply wasn't interested in eating.  In fact, the most telling sign is that she had no interest in cleaning up any remains in the cat food dishes.  She had always raced to get to them as quickly as possible. 

I have to say that I had figured Dr. Porter would tell me that Celie had stomach cancer when I took her in.  With the prescriptions, I found a ray of hope.  She just wasn't feeling well and we'd get through this.  It wasn't her "time" yet.  Deep sigh of relief.  He did ask, at the time, whether or not she had been vomiting, which she hadn't.  However, after giving her the medication for the diarrhea, she threw up within about 30 minutes.  I chose not to give her the probiotic.

There were no accidents overnight.  She went outside and came in, but still only sniffed at the treat.  I gave her the medicine and within 10 minutes, she threw up again.  I called the vet to clear up confusion about administering the meds and to let Dr. Porter know that she was now vomiting and not interested in food.  I got a call back in a few minutes and was told that Dr. Porter wanted to do blood work and x-rays so I should bring her in then.  They would work us in between other appointments. 

When the young vet tech came to take her into the back for the diagnostics, she balked and didn't want to go.  I walked along with them and she went more easily.  I went outside to smoke a cigarette and thought that the x-ray should be done first.  If it showed what I suspected, blood work would be a waste of time and money.  When I returned inside, another vet assistant told me they were doing the x-rays and depending upon the results may not need to send out the blood to the lab. 

Needless to say, the x-rays confirmed my worst fear.  Dr. Porter apparently had come to the same conclusion between her Friday visit and the next morning.  Celie had an enormous mass in her spleen, to the point that it could burst at any time and cause internal hemorrhaging. He recommended putting her down, then and there.  My problem was that I had been ready to hear this news Friday evening and when I didn't I had become optimistic that this was simply an episode we could treat.  I wasn't ready to give up and give in.  Dr. Porter was amazingly patient with me as we talked through this.  In the end I didn't want to witness her suffering with little I could do to ease her pain.  Worse yet, I would have to manage to get her into the car and take her to another vet at the Emergency Clinic to have her euthanized.  I have had to do that with other animals and, although, the staff at the Emergency Clinic had been kind and understanding it wasn't my preferred option. 

I made the decision to put her down.  The three of us, Celie, myself and Dr. Porter sat on the floor of the examining room while he injected the anesthetic and then the Fatal Plus that would end her life - forever.  She went peacefully as I held her.  I made arrangements with Terry, the truly kind owner of Pine Castle Pet Crematory, to bring her to him for cremation.  I know it was the right decision to make, but it never gets easier no matter how many times I've gone through this. 

Regardless of the sorrow that accompanies the loss of a loved and cherished dog or cat, I do not regret having taken them into my life and heart.  The joy is so much greater and longer lasting than the pain of loss.  Although I miss each and every one of those who are gone, I am glad they were a part of my life, of who I am.  I cannot understand people who say they loved their dog or cat and cannot get another after losing that dog or cat.  The lives who are extinguished for no other reason than they don't have a home weighs heavily upon me, each and every day.  These dogs, cats, puppies and kittens deserve a chance to love and be loved.  They deserve to experience joy, good food, attention, hugs, play time and everything else they need to lead full lives.  Who better to provide these things than the very people who have had cherished companion animals?  What better way to affirm the lives lost than to extend those same experiences to those who are unwanted?  For me, it's a way to pay tribute to those who have come before.  Share your love with another - both you and the animal you save will reap the benefits for however long each of you have left. 

It has been about 36 years since there hasn't been at least one dog in my life.  Although I have more than my share of cats, I know that sometime in the near future there will be another dog.  During those 36 years, I haven't had to go looking for a dog - one or more have always seemed to find me. 

Below is an old photo of Celie and Cordelia - The Girls:

DECEMBER, 2009 – JANUARY 9, 2013

       The last couple of years have been a bit difficult for me.

1. DECEMBER, 2009 – Caleb has tumor removed from his intestine
2. JANUARY 1, 2010      – went into hospital due to a cat bite on my foot
3. FEBRUARY 25, 2010 – Clark euthanized (11 years old)
4. MARCH 19, 2010 – Charlotte euthanized (9 years old)
5. JULY 30, 2010 – Cammie euthanized (15 years old)
6. AUGUST – SEPTEMBER, 2010 – me back in hospital for 5 surgeries, including a skin graft
7. DECEMBER 10, 2010 – Chase found dead (7 years old)
8. FEBRUARY 12, 2011 – Chaz euthanized (12 years old)
9. MARCH 11, 2011 – Colin euthanized (rescued from the street 1998 – adult cat)
10. APRIL 22, 2011  - Caleb euthanized (15 years old DOG)
11. MAY 21, 2011 – Cagney rescued from the street
12. JUNE 14, 2011 – Charlie euthanized (12 years old)
13. JUNE 24, 2011 – Cissy euthanized (16 years old)
14. NOVEMBER 11, 2011 – Claudia euthanized (rescued from Animal Services 2005 – older cat)
15. NOVEMBER 28, 2011 – Campbell has all teeth removed
16. DECEMBER 12, 2011 – Colt euthanized (8 years old)
17. JANUARY 12, 2012 – Courtney euthanized (13 years old)
18. FEBRUARY 16, 2012 – Cordelia euthanized (14 years old DOG)
19. FEBRUARY, 2012 – Cashew (kitten) + Contessa (about 1 year old) rescued from street
20. JUNE 29, 2012 - Chandler euthanized (13 years old)
21. AUGUST 2, 2012 – Crockett had all his teeth removed
22. JANUARY 9, 2013 – Cassandra having surgery to remove all of her teeth

Prior to having to put so many of these cats and dogs to sleep, there were extensive veterinary bills for treatment in an effort to save or, at least, prolong their lives.  It's not just about "pocketbook" issues but also the emotional distress that goes along with dealing with watching so many cherished loved ones die.  

While I know that most, if not all, of these animals would have died long before had I not brought them into my home, my life and my heart, it stills takes a toll.  My own health struggles helped erode my coping skills as well.  These were choices which I made and, therefore, are mine alone to bear.  

My apologies to friends if I've been more short tempered or less communicative in the past couple of years.  It's not always easy to exude sunshine and roses through personal trials and tribulations.  

Another Death in the Family

The last 2 years have taken a toll on me and my furry family.  I began 2010 in the hospital due to a cat bite on my foot.  The day after Christmas 2009 I stepped on Claudia in the dark.  She retaliated – naturally – by biting me.  Due to my diabetes, my doctor was concerned that it could develop into something serious, so on New Year’s Day as the redness spread, I checked myself into the hospital.  After lots of antibiotics, I went home in about a week. 

On February 25^th, the day after my 60^th birthday, I put Clark to sleep.  Less than a month later, on March 19^th, I put Charlotte to sleep.  A few months later, on July 30^th, I put Cammie to sleep.  I was concerned about Charlie as the year was winding down.  He was eating plenty but was losing weight.  The vet couldn’t find anything in his blood work to determine what ailed him.  Then on December 10^th, when I went into the cat room to clean litter boxes and feed, I found Chase’s body. 

In between Cammie’s and Chase’s deaths, I spent 23 days in the hospital for what began as an infected cyst in my right breast.  I developed necrotizing fasciitis (flesh eating bacteria) and had 4 surgeries to stop the infection from spreading.  I ended up losing half my right breast and all but a small area of the skin.  Once released, I returned to the hospital daily for treatments in the hyperbaric oxygen chamber.  That lasted into early 2011.  I had a skin graft, which removed a large area of skin from my right thigh.  Most of the graft took, leaving a small area with exposed tissue.  I had 13 derma grafts to encourage skin growth.  The area finally closed up and I was released by the doctor in May or June – memory fails me now.  My health had taken a back seat to my efforts to keep many cats alive.

Chaz was the first to go on February 12^th, 2011.  About a month later, Colin unexpectedly took a turn for the worse and was euthanized on March 18^th.  About 2 weeks later, Caleb, one of my three dogs, had a stroke and he was euthanized on April 2^nd. 

Charlie & I struggled so hard to find out what was wrong with him and to get him better.  That fight ended on June 14^th.  Less than 2 weeks later, Cissy succumbed to kidney failure and was euthanized on June 24^th.  In the midst of the treating Charlie and Cissy, Claudia was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and went blind.  She was doing well on her meds, but developed stones in her bladder and blood in her urine.  Treatment failed to help her and she was in no shape for surgery.  She was put to sleep on November 14^th.  Colt went to the vet in September due to a sore area in his mouth.  It was an eosiniphilic granuloma, and a shot of depoprovera cleared it up.  I was concerned about the fact that I could hear him breathing.  It wasn’t loud, but I knew it wasn’t normal.  The vet examined him and couldn’t hear anything.  He was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism as well.  He took his pills well, but by late November he had stopped eating canned food.  I tried baked chicken and baby food, but I couldn’t get him to eat it.  I couldn’t find him Sunday night or Monday morning to give him his pills.  I was determined to find him Monday night, and I did.  I found him because I heard his loud breathing sounds.  I took him to the Veterinary Emergency Clinic, where he was x-rayed.  The x-rays showed problem areas in one of his lungs.  The following morning I took him to my regular vet and from there to Affiliated Veterinary Specialists.  I left him there and they had to take more x-rays.  Dr. Goodman was as concerned about his heart as his lungs.  However, when I returned she told me that both she and the radiologist concurred – Colt had lung cancer.  There weren’t tumors but bleeding within the lungs.  There was nothing that could be done for him, except to prolong his suffering by keeping him in an oxygen cage.  I chose to do what was best for him, although I wasn’t ready to let him go.  I took him back to The Cat Hospital and Dr. Gray put him to sleep.  That was on Tuesday, December 20^th.  Colt was only 8 years old.  Chase, who I lost just before Christmas in 2010, was his sister.  Their mom, Bob, and their sister Chaka and brother Crockett are still with me. 

In between dealing with the illnesses and deaths of Claudia and Colt, Campbell had to have all his teeth removed and Courtney (Chaz & Charlie’s sister) spent 10 days at The Cat Hospital for an eye infection and respiratory problem.  Her respiratory problems have yet to be solved, but a tumor in her nasal passage has been ruled out.  Cordelia, my 13 year old pit bull mix, was diagnosed with lymphoma at the end of November.  She has responded to the prednisone, but the vet has given her 6 months at best. 

This year has been a very expensive one:  my vet bills have amounted to around $10,000.  I not only need to win the lottery but to get a magic wand to insure good health for the rest of my cats and dogs.  Cowboy, Crystal and Cho-sun are 5 years old and Cagney is just under a year old.  Everyone else is 8 years old or older.  So, 2012 is just around the corner.  I can only hope that it will be a much, much better and healthier year for all of us.  

Grief is, in my opinion, the most personal of human emotions.  It really isn't something that can be shared with others because the weight of the loss is ours, alone, to carry and learn to cope with.  And, it's complicated.  Memories of all the losses rear their ugly heads and add to the sadness.  No doubt reading this will stir memories in each of you for all those whom you have lost.  Death is a part of life and is something each of us will have to learn to deal with in our own ways.  While I truly hate making the decision to end the life of my dear cats and dogs, I am grateful that I have the option to end their suffering and not have to watch, helplessly, as they endure a prolonged and fatal illness.  Ultimately, it makes me grieve more for the millions of wonderful and healthy animals who are killed daily in so-called shelters around the world.  I continue to hold out hope that the needless killing will stop one day soon and only those who are suffering and have no chance to recover are those who are given respite through euthanasia. 

A year later

I've been home from the major hospital stay for nearly a year.  The follow-up, post hospital, has been a very bumpy ride.  Chase, Chaz, Colin, Charlie, Cissy & Caleb - gone, but not forgotten.  My half sized right breast finally completely healed, after a very painful skin graft & 13 derma grafts.  Of course, the aftermath is a scarred, nasty looking thing - but I'm the only one that has to look at it, so it really doesn't matter. 

The worst part is that the extended change of routine has left me unable & unwilling to get back on the treadmill of life.  I'm still in first gear, with little to no motivation to even attempt second gear.  I'm feeling my age.  I've come face to face with my own mortality.  Things just look different from this new perspective.  And, I'm flatout tired all of the time.  Fewer things carry much importance.  It's a struggle to get going in the morning.  I don't look forward to a heck of a lot.  I've restricted my life even more and prefer to stay home than go anywhere or do anything.  I'm not sad, just tired and not motivated.  Que sera, sera.  I guess Doris Day was right. 

Claudia's hyperthyroidism seems to be under control.  That's good, but she has blood in her urine and antibiotics haven't helped.  Colt has been losing weight, so he went to the vet this week.  He has hyperthyroidism as well, just not as bad as Claudia's was to begin with.  He also has an eosinophilic granuloma on the inside of his upper left lip.  Steroid shot & thyroid medicine for him. 

Oh, and I tore up my dishwasher months ago.  My washer & dryer work when they feel like it & I need 4 new tires for the CRV.  And, it would be a big help if I could just win the lottery.  If anyone reading this is psychic, please send me the winning lottery numbers.  I'm more than willing to share the jackpot with you. 

With any luck, I'll get back on track and work through this living in slow motion condition.  I wonder if this is what PTSD feels like.  After all, for nearly 2 years I've dealt with an unbelievable amount of personal tragedy.  In addition to 2 hospitalizations in a single year, the loss of 8 cats and 1 dog since February, 2010 has been devastating.  The brightest spot in all of this:  Cagney (the Hell on Wheels kitten).  Rarely does a day go by that she doesn't make me smile and/or laugh.  This kitten, who surely would have died had I not managed to get her trapped when I did, has a personality the size of the state of Alaska.  She's fearless, funny, acrobatic and delightful.  Life is new to her and she reminds me that life can be interesting and fun.  For the time being I'll remain an observer, witnessing it through her eyes. 

My World - It Sucks

Wow, I hadn’t realized that I haven’t blogged since the end of January.  Life has been getting me down even more than usual lately.  The visits to the hospital for wound care slowed down to once a week.  I had about 11 derma grafts, to stimulate skin growth on the wound.  Then, surprise!  I got another infection and was back on antibiotics and the derma grafts stopped.  Once the antibiotics were done, we’ve been in slow motion, allowing the skin to grow at its own pace.  This fun stuff has been going on since August……………nearly 8 months.  At least now, I can get into the shower instead of giving myself sponge baths at the sink.  Showers are a wonderful thing!

On the critter front, life hasn’t been any kinder.  I found Chase dead about a week before Christmas.  I haven’t blogged about it because it simply hurt too much to think about it.  Several years ago I nearly lost her due to plasma cell stomatitis.  After vet bills of nearly $2000, which put me deeply into credit card debt, she pulled through.  She remained terribly thin, but a real pistol.  She had been a feisty girl since she was a tiny kitten.  She got her name because she would make me Chase her every night when I tried to corral her and keep her in the bedroom.  I started loving on her for an extended period of time once I caught her in hopes of conditioning her to come more willingly to me.  Ever since that time she would so love to be held and petted.  I told people she was the cream cheese and I was the bagel – she would smear her entire body over my arms and chest, ecstatic with the petting/rubbing/loving.  She also liked to eat with her paws, scooping food from the bowls and plates and eating what she had “caught” off her paw.  Sloppy, messy eater but darling, none the less.

When I returned home from the hospital last September, both Chaz and Charlie (littermates) were sickly.  Charlie is still hanging in, with numerous ups and downs in his weight.  The vet can’t tell me exactly what’s wrong with him.  We go through periods where I have to give him sub-cu fluids frequently and he’ll only eat baby food.  Chaz developed an inoperable tumor in his left ear.  It had a major growth spurt in February and I finally euthanized him.  He was such a mellow, sweet and unassuming cat.  He was just a well mannered gentleman cat.  Then Colin and Claudia both got sick around the same time.  Colin succumbed to kidney disease and I euthanized him in March.  Claudia has hyperthyroidism and is on daily medication.  My friend Barb treks across the street twice a day to hold her so that I can pill her.  She managed to bite me last Monday and I ended up at my doctor’s office and on antibiotics.  Thumb is healing nicely.

 Sorry, no picture of Charlie or Claudia.  This was Colin in much better days, several years ago.

Last Friday, Barb called to say that Caleb, my eldest dog, wasn’t able to stand.  Although he’s had bouts of spinal problems for the past several years, this was something different.  She feared that he had a stroke.  I came home from work and we took him to the vet.  Even with injections of steroids, muscle relaxants and pain meds, he remained throughout the night in bad shape.  Around 4:30 Saturday morning he tried to stand unsuccessfully and was obviously in pain.  I gave him a pain shot, which didn’t help much.  Barb went with me to the vet when the office opened on Saturday.  The vet felt that he had most likely had a stroke and I chose to euthanize him since it was highly unlikely that he would recover from this.  I had written about him earlier this year and his recovery from his previous spinal problem.  I think he was about 15 or 16 years old, which is remarkable based on his early life and his size.  It’s unusual for medium sized dogs (shepherd mix) to live quite that long.  He was a sweet old boy and is sorely missed.  

With all of this going on, I haven’t been able to muster my regular outrage over the political climate.  Suffice it to say that what is going on in our nation’s capital, Wisconsin, my dear Florida, my birth state of Ohio, Japan and the Middle East qualifies as CRAZY.  The only bright spot on the political front?  JON STEWART!  He never fails to make me laugh at the lunacy.  If you don’t get Comedy Central, check out the videos on their website.  His recent imitation of Glenn Beck had me in stitches.  At least I’m still able to laugh…………………………………occasionally.

Caleb

This is my old man – Caleb. He became a part of my household in October, 1997. I figure he was born in either 1995 or 1996, which makes him between 15 & 16. Pretty darn old for a german shepherd mix.

He started his life with someone else, someone I never met even though he lived on the other side of my street and a few houses west of me. He was living in a house that had recently been purchased when the used car lot on the corner of my street expanded and bought the adjacent property with 2 houses on it. He worked at the car lot and the owner let him live there with his dog. When his boss found out that he was doing drugs, he fired him and kicked him out of the house. He left the dog behind to fend for himself. He did tell someone in the neighborhood that he would be back to get the dog. He never came.

Before the car lot owner bought the property, and before the last tenant in the front house moved in, the people before him moved out and left their cat and her kittens and their 3 legged dog and her puppies. The dog lost her leg after getting hit by a car. The house was (it’s demolished now) about 5 car lengths off a very busy major road in Orlando. The momma dog was very protective of her pups and all went to animal control. No doubt all were killed there. I took in the momma cat and her 2 remaining kittens – Climber, Chloe and Cleo. All 3 of those girls have passed on.

So, back to Caleb’s story. I started feeding him when he was abandoned. He had no collar, so I couldn’t put a leash on him. He would let me pet him with one hand, but not two. I wasn’t able to slip a collar over his head. If I brought both hands toward his head, he would run off. Every time I put his food bowl down, however, he would lick my face. He was obviously frightened, but friendly. After about 2 weeks, I was despairing that I would never catch him and he would get killed by a car either on the major highway or our street. He took to sleeping under one of those hot dog carts further down our block. Then a friend who did dog rescue came to help. She brought a couple of burgers and a slip noose. She held up the slip noose and held the burger on the other side. Caleb put his head through to get the burger and Voila he was finally caught.

My initial plan was to get him checked out with the vet and then turn him over to one of the area rescue groups to find him a home. Unfortunately, Caleb turned out to be very frightened. It was obvious that he had been beaten, smacked and probably kicked by his worthless previous owner. If I laughed too loud at something on TV, he would cower. If I raised my hands for anything, he would shake and cower. He wouldn’t let anyone walk behind him or touch anywhere near his tail or back legs. He just wouldn’t have been able to find a home because of how timid he was. The sad thing is the abuse I suspected isn’t the only thing that happened to him before I took him in.

About 5 years ago, his back legs went lame. He couldn’t stand up and his hind legs would get twisted when I tried lifting him to his feet. I took him to my vet, who took an x-ray. I took a look at it before the vet came in and was puzzled. There were spots all over the x-ray. I thought there was something wrong with the film. I was wrong. When I asked the vet about it, he told me that those spots were buckshot. Someone had shot Caleb with a shotgun and his body was peppered with the buckshot. The x-ray also showed that Caleb has degenerative disc disease. He was put on aspirin and prednisone. The vet wasn’t hopeful it would work, but within less than a week, Caleb was running through my backyard and acting like a puppy. He was obviously glad to be feeling so much better. He has had a couple of recurrences since that time, most recently this past weekend. Back on the pills, a muscle relaxant along with the prednisone, and getting his nails trimmed and he’s back to being his old self. At his age, he is nearly blind and totally deaf. He can’t hear the other dogs bark, thunder or firecrackers. At least the deafness is a blessing in disguise for him. He would always shiver in fear when we had a bad storm or someone nearby was shooting off firecrackers.

I thought I was going to lose him for sure in December, 2009. He had a tumor in his lower intestine and needed to have surgery. With his back problems, the location of the tumor and his age, I doubted he would pull through. He spent the night at the surgical specialists, following the surgery. I picked him up the next day, and you would think he was coming home from a spa visit. He not only pulled through, but did it like it was no big deal. The ability of animals to, so often, bounce back from surgery never fails to amaze me.

I don’t know how much longer Caleb will be with me, but he certainly has a strong spirit and desire to live. He’s come through so much and is such a sweet guy. Us humans could learn something from him.