Dogs Have Near-Cancer Misses Too

New Year’s Eve is a time for celebration and joy, and I’m going to explore the lighter side of cancer: my dog’s lipoma.

Something was growing on Chloe’s side. She had a huge hump on the left side of her body. We were afraid that it was a malignant tumor and that we’d lose her. We had to wait a couple of weeks to get her an appointment at the vet. During this time, we worried. She definitely had a mass that could easily be cancer. Since I’m a bit of a pessimist, I feared she would die.

The day of the appointment came. My husband was concerned enough to take the morning off from work to go with me. We drove Chloe to the vet. She didn’t like riding in the car, so she sat on the floor, shivering. I swear she knew where we were going. The waiting room was packed with sick animals – cats in cages and dogs on leashes. Chloe entered stoically without a bark or a whimper. We got her checked in and then we sat down in vacant chairs. The wait for the doc was a lengthy one. I was nervous and wished they’d take us into a room. Chloe now lay on the floor. Her body looked deformed with the giant hump rising out of her side.

“Chloe,” a lady called.

Finally, I thought.

We were ushered into a room. The fear I felt was like the fear I’d experienced myself when I’d go to see doctors for my tumors. What was going to happen? Would we lose her? Fortunately, Chloe had the sweetest doctor/surgeon. He stuck a needle into the mass and did a quick biopsy. He disappeared for a minute and came back with a glass slide.

“See this?” he said.

“Yes,” we said.

“See how this liquid looks a little like oil?”

“Yes.”

“I believe that what Chloe has is a fatty tumor, a lipoma. I’m about 90% sure of it. That’s a non-malignant mass.”

“Thank God,” I said.

“I can schedule surgery for her this week.”

We agreed that we wanted to have the thing removed sooner than later. We booked the surgery for three days from then. We were told that Chloe needed to not eat anything after 9:00 PM. We agreed to this and said she’d be ready for the surgery on Thursday morning.

Here’s where it gets dicey.

On Thursday, my husband and I and Chloe woke up around 5:00 AM. I let Chloe out but didn’t feed her due to the fact that she was fasting. She looked at me longingly. “Where is my food?” she seemed to imply.

I made myself a cup of coffee and pulled the leftover cheesecake out of the refrigerator. There was almost a whole cake left, and I was going to have a slice for breakfast with my hot coffee. I like to mix sweet stuff with caffeine. That got me going for the morning. And this was going to be a long day. I cut a piece for me and put the rest of cheesecake on the stovetop and left to use the bathroom. When I returned, I didn’t notice that the cheesecake was gone. It wasn’t until I finished my piece and drank my coffee that I got up and wondered where the cheesecake went. Then I saw it. The foil tin was on the floor in the dining room, empty. Chloe has eaten almost a whole cheesecake.

“Oh, crap!” I said. I didn’t know if she could still have surgery. My vet’s office wasn’t open yet, so I called the emergency vet in our area to see what they thought.

The lady who answered the phone got a chuckle out of the whole thing. “Well, that little brat,” she said. “Take her in anyway. They might be able to operate depending on how much she ingested.”

So I took her in.

Of course, they said no, there would be no operation that day.

The little scoundrel! She’d sabotaged her own surgery.

But, all’s well that ends well. We got Chloe a new surgery date and this time, my son and I watched her like hawks. She would not eat a single morsal before her second scheduled surgery day.

The doctor was able to remove the tumor and send it out to be biopsied.

Hallelujah! It was benign. A true lipoma.

Other than a six-inch incision gash on her side and some bruising, she was good to go.

We were not going to lose our dear Chloe any time soon, it seemed.

What a wonderful Christmas present.

Chloe is now healed up and her fur has grown back where they had shaved it.

What will I remember from this time?

If Chloe could talk, she’d say, “Let them eat cake.” Or rather, “Let me eat cake.”

She is a love. Really, she is…

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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