Category Archives: cancer

Smiler Girl

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Big, gentle Roxy

Dear Zak,

There were three biscuits as usual on the sink this morning. I unlocked the back door but there was no gentle mouth by my left hand when I let it fall to my side, waiting to take the biscuit from it. Roxy was not there. My Smiler Girl is gone.

We took Roxy to the vet yesterday morning after a particularly energetic visit to the Wag Zone where I took these photos. She’d been diagnosed a month or so back with liver cancer and Marianne had to giver her chemotherapy drugs as well as a very complicated diet in light of her pancreatitis. At first she coped but recently had become very picky and was eating less and less and losing weight. The vet redid the ultrasound scan and the news was not good – the cancer had spread and was aggressive. The decision was made to stop the chemotherapy, bring her home and spoil her with whatever she really liked to eat for the few weeks she was estimated to have left.

Around 10 p.m. last night she became very distressed and was clearly bloated and in a lot of pain. We rushed her back to the vet who diagnosed gastric torsion (which saw the end of Jenni all those years ago) and Marianne made the decision to let her go. She was not even seven years old. Poor girl, she did not have good luck with her health even when she was younger.

I will miss her big, goofy smile with ears curled back that greeted me when I came home. Smiler. Run free soft girl. I stroked her soft muzzle one last time then we laid her to rest next to you my boy.

Run Smiler

Go softly into the night

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My first photo – already I am well posed!

You rubbed my ears.

Yes, I promised I would.

You loved me.

Of course, we still do.

You cried.

I never promised not to.

You gave me a wonderful life. All dogs should have a life like that.

Yes, they should.

Please give another dog the chance for a life like I had.

In time my boy, in time. Now I need the pain to ease which could take some time

How will you remember me?

Oh, lots of ways. Always ready to chase something. Your puppy-soft ears. Your amazing good looks – my beautiful boy.

Bliss is…getting my chest scratched

You loved having your chest scratched.

Yes, I did. You scratched it last night when you slept next to me. Just like old times when there was space for me on the bed.

And you looked at me in that special way by bending your head back to make eye contact.

To show you how much I loved you.

You did that in the mornings when you came onto Tia’s bed and waited for love and attention.

Of course, the best time of the day. Before breakfast.

You did always love your food.

Especially avocados and biltong in the evenings.

We could never get the avocados off you, unlike with Roxy.

With Roxy it’s always just a game, with me it was serious!

And of course you were a chaser.

Yes, I really could run! I loved racing against the car on the farm. 50 km per hour at a burst.

Now you can run all you like. Kharma is buried next to you.

Gentle Kharma, the substitute mother who kept me in my place.

Yes she did. And of course I have this blog, filled with memories. You are everywhere, on your bed when I look into the spare room that’s always got your name on it. Barking when I came home, barking when we were about to go for walks on the farm. A real Mr Barker at times. Regal on top of Rukotsu at Nyanga.

The world at his feet

I am so desperately sorry that it all had to end like this, we really thought you were on the road to another remission.

It was not to be, you did what you thought was best for me and it didn’t work. Now there’s no pain, I can breathe easy and there’s running to be done!

Run well my beautiful Zak, run free. Love you lots.

Love you too!

Chemo again…

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This chemotherapy is no fun at all

Oh, I feel awful!

I know my boy, I can see you do. It’s the chemotherapy again.

The cancer is back, isn’t it?

Yes, I’m afraid it is.

Is that why my hock is painful again?

Yes, actually you have a small fracture in that joint because the cancer has weakened the bone.

Oh no, there go the walks again. I do enjoy getting out to the farm. All those smells.

Yes, I know you do. And the cancer has gone to your lungs again too.

But last time we checked I was all clear, what happened?

I don’t know my boy. That’s the way of cancer. Just when you think you have it beaten…

Do you think this is it, the final run?

I don’t know, my boy, I don’t know. I hope not. We took the decision to try everything possible to get you some more time. We have to try, you are too special not to try even if the side effects are bad.

When will you know if the treatment is working?

In three week’s time you will have to go back to get another set of X-rays. Then we will have to make a decision.

Well three weeks is a long time for us dogs. I can’t wait to feel better and get back to some sort of normality.

By normality do you mean barking at Tia when she gets annoying?

Well yes, that too. And getting back to walking on the farm. And seeing the other dogs out for walks on the way.

Yes, let’s focus on that. You always liked coming to work with me and I suspected it was as much for the sights along the way as anything else. There was not a lot at the nursery to interest you.

Except for when I scored a sandwich off Rory.

That I thought you had stolen.

What me steal food? Never! That’s not my style.

And I had to give you permission to eat the sandwich.

Of course, I am a good dog!

Yes you are my boy, you always have been.

If this is the beginning of the end…

Yes?

You will be there for me, at the end I mean?

Yes, of course I will. I have always promised you that.

And rub my ears.

Of course.

And don’t cry.

No, I don’t promise that.

Until then we must focus on positive things. Walks, smells, barking!

Walks, smells and barking.

You train easily!

It’s good news!

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The morning run

It’s good news – we can’t see any sign of your cancer!

Am I cured?

No, probably not. It’s called “in remission” meaning it’s not active but it’s still around..

So it will be back?

I’m afraid so, we can’t say when.

So the cough was just that, a cough?

Yes, the vet couldn’t see anything bad on the X-ray. Bone cancer often moves to the lungs but nothing. Clear in your back leg too.

But in the meantime I can go running?

Of course, but it won’t be for a while.

Oh, it’s that covid thing again isn’t it.

Yes, but this time it’s for a whole month.

A month. That’s a long time for us dogs.

I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it.

I don’t like that photo, I am coming third. I used to be able to beat Tia and Roxy easily.

Well you have got 3 legs so it’s appropriate.

That’s not a good joke. But I am improving aren’t I.

Yes my boy, you’ve come a long way.

You just can’t keep a good Ridgeback down!

 

That’s not fair!

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I’d rather be running

That’s not fair!

I’m sorry my boy, cancer is brutally unfair.

Why can’t you take me along for the ride then, it’s better than lying here.

Because it’s so difficult to get you into the pickup. I can’t help and Marianne is not strong enough. That’s how you hurt your leg last weekend and look how far it’s put you back. I know how much you like getting out but I needed to take Roxy and Tia for a run to get rid of some energy.

I wanted to come with you to work on Thursday too.

I know, I know. I remember how much you liked coming to the office with me even if you didn’t do much when we got there.

Us Ridgebacks have good eyesight so it was always great to see what was going on from the front seat. And I dig get to chase the odd chicken when you weren’t looking.

Jenni also liked coming along for the ride, she’d often see francolin before I did when we were out on the farm.

I’m not going to run again am I?

No, I don’t think so. I am building a wheelchair to support your back leg. That will allow you to run.

So that’s what that thing is. Not sure I’ll like it.

Please try, you will be able to move much quicker.

Oh, I do miss running! I can still run in my dreams.

So can I.

You haven’t always used walking sticks then?

No, when I was young I could run. I wasn’t as fast as you of course  but I did enjoy it.

Wow, I’d have loved to go running with you!

We can run together in our dreams.

Yes, we can. That will be fun.  I will slow down for you.