Daisy

Dad, thank you for saving the oh so cool, Daisy. You gave her the opportunity for a long and wonderful life. Your quick thinking and skill allowed us all many more happy memories with Mama Dog. :)

http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=emEPAAAAIBAJ&sjid=2oYDAAAAIBAJ&pg=4072,3723871&hl=en

Pour l'amour des chiens

Plus je connais les hommes, plus j'aime les chiens.

The Rainbow Bridge

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Madeline

Last year, we determined that our golden retriever, Madeline, had Glaucoma.  Our family veterinarian, Dr. K, suggested this diagnosis as a possibility but encouraged us to seek the opinion of a veterinary opthalmologist.  The specialist, Dr. O., confirmed our fears regarding Madeline's eye and a medication regimen ensued.  The medications appeared to control the pressure in her right eye for a while but eventually the eye was lost due to an uncontrolled pressure spike.  I began to refer to Madeline as "One Eyed Jack" and we worked to keep her remaining eye healthy.  We have now determined that her former "good eye" has now received the infamous Glaucoma diagnosis accompanied by an increase in medications to prevent pain and blindness.  We emerged into a fairly stable medication routine with our one eyed canine and resumed with life's busy schedule.

Last Monday, I awakened very early.  Well, 6:15 AM is really not all that early when one has children, I have learned.  I stubbled out of bed and found Madeline sitting in the living room, the right side of her eye area covered in blood.  It appeared as if she had been very bothered (Yes, I am the master of the obvious) in the area where her right eye once was.  She seemed restless and uncomfortable, which was apparent given she had been scratching her face with such voracity throughout the night.  Dr. K. was not in the clinic, so Madeline met with one of the other doctors at his practice.  He suggested that her prosthetic eye (a ball placed in the socket of her skull) had migrated thus, the discomfort and her aforementioned scratching routine. He placed a call to Dr. O. for further consultation.  Perhaps, the prothesis can simply be removed and all will be well, with regard to Madeline's health, we hoped.  We scheduled an appointment with Dr. O for later in the morning.  Madeline seemed a bit less bothered by it all and I felt a bit more relieved.  

I had a special event at Eamon's school and so Bernard took Madeline to meet with Dr. O.  He had his own hypotheses as to the reason for Madeline's discomfort and pain but his hypotheses did not include the prothesis as the culprit with regard to Madeline's discomfort.  We decided to allow a biopsy to establish if there was indeed an infection or something more serious.  We were hoping for infection and antibiotic treatment.  On the way home from school, I received a call from Dr. O while he was in the operating room with Madeline.  He discovered that the prosthetic had not migrated and there was no infection.  However, there was something I did not necessarily anticipate when I discovered my bleeding dog this morning: Cancer.  Madeline has a new diagnosis to add to her chart, Neural Sheath Tumor, a type of sarcoma.  Dr. O removed the tumor and reported that this type of tumor tends to be slow growing and localized.  Dr. K. called the next day to reiterate this diagnosis which, in his experience, tends to reoccur locally but generally does not metastaticize.  The etiology is unknown, as with most cancer diagnoses.

Madeline seems to be handling all of this in stride.  She returned home from surgery on Monday afternoon scrounging for treats and looking for crumbs of food that may have fallen under the dining room table.  She has received an increased amount of hugs and ear rubs this past week.  We wonder how long we can prevent the Glaucoma from causing irreparable damage to her remaining eye.  We wonder if "The Cancer" will reoccur and when. 

This experience has been another reminder of the fragility of life.   Life changes without a moment's notice. I sometimes struggle with living in the moment.  I worry about the issues with which I have little or no control.  I concern myself with the "what ifs" of the future.  I worry.  I perseverate.  This "Manic Monday" has clued me, yet again, to the importance of true appreciation for the blessings of the present.  One of my life's many blessings is a dog named Madeline.

Malachy

Madeline

The Puppy

One day my Mom decided that she wanted another dog.  She came across an ad in the classifieds indicating that an eight week-old litter of Golden Retriever puppies was for sale.  My Mom called the number listed and discovered that there was only one puppy left, the runt of the litter.  Mom drove out to Blair, Wisconsin, located the farm on which the puppy spent his first weeks, and proceeded to meet this very energetic, happy, and adorable puppy that would become her friend.

My brother and I were a bit surprised that my Mom had decided to bring home this very, very lively (I am putting this mildly) canine.  First of all, we had never had a "boy" dog.  And more importantly, this little puppy would require much attention and training. He would need walks and intense ball throwing sessions.  He was going to grow to be a 90 pound dog! (He actually grew to be a big, strapping 100 plus pound lad).  "What was she thinking?" we wondered.

Mom enrolled our new family member in puppy kindergarten and did her best to play with him as much as she could.  She bought him toys of all kinds and provided him special treats.  Her health was poor and so often, she did not have the energy to play with him as she so desperately wanted.  She did her best to provide for the puppy, despite her physical constraints.

The puppy would prove to be a challenge at times, chewing her treasured Philosophy books, the living room sofa, assorted plants, my new shoes, various squeak toys, and just about everything upon which he laid eyes.  He was a puppy, so by definition, very excitable, destructive and at times, seemingly, hyperactive. My brother and I wondered again, "How would Mom raise this puppy?  What was she thinking?"

As time went on, the puppy settled down a bit (not for a long, long while, though) and became a wonderful companion to my Mom.  He snuggled and cuddled with her as she rested on the sofa. He provided company to her on those days when she felt so sick and so weak, struggling just to walk from her bed to the kitchen.  The puppy's constant antics made her laugh.  He caused her to smile.  She adored him.  We all did.  

On the morning my Mom died, the puppy lied next to her.  She did not pass into this next life alone for she was with this special puppy who was always by her side.  My brother and I have expressed much gratitude for this.

I realized this morning that today is this very special dog's birthday.  

Happy Birthday, Macintosh!  Thank you for being such a wonderful "puppy!"  

(We miss you)