It’s only 7:10 on a Friday evening and I’m ready for bed. I’m envious that Catie and Riley are having one of their dozen daily naps, Catie on the pillow by the front window; Riley about a foot from my chair.
The two of them have had a good week; daily trips to the dog park; had their meals and their treats and lots of loving. Catie’s been playing the piano more frequently: being a tripawd has enhanced her musical inclinations. If she was more predictable about her keyboard whims, I’d try to catch her on film. But she doesn’t particularly like it if I pursue her too persistently with the camera – she eventually gets annoyed and tries to eat it.
It was vet oncologist visit on Thursday. Catie will have her first chemo treatment on Monday. The decision to proceed wasn’t difficult: without chemo, median survival rate – 3 to 6 months; with chemo, median survival rate – 12 months.
A no-brainer decision, really.
The vet said Catie may be sick for a day or two afterwards. She’ll have one treatment every three weeks until she’s had six. Catie has gone through so much the last couple months; so much pain and discomfort, and recovery from major surgery. I’m feeling a bit guilty and sad about the fact that just when life seems normal and she’s feeling good, we’re taking her for a treatment that will make her feel lousy next week.
The vet said goldies have strong constitutions and we all have our fingers and paws crossed that she won’t be very ill.