Three Months and a Day

Upon finding the tumor, the veterinary cardiologist told me that Bailey most likely had only 4-6 weeks to live. Her oncologist confirmed the prognosis, but added that she had known a couple of dogs that made it to three months. She cautioned me not to hope for this, however, as such longevity was truly the exception.  So I planned for four weeks and prayed for a little more. But this proved to be an error in my judgement, as I forgot something important about my dog. Bailey has always been the exception to the rule.

From being born one of 13 pups—an exceptionally large litter even for a breed known for large litters—to tenderly raising her own small liter of adopted kittens.  From being at the top of every socialization and obedience class to, at age 11 months and against advice, taking her Therapy Dogs International certification—and easily passing. From being an 11-year-old who still played like she was 6, to now dumbfounding other Golden owners who think she is younger than their 9 and 10 year-olds—even at nearly13 years, and even with a fatal diagnosis. And at just being goofy and silly and absurd—Bailey has always been very, very exceptional.

Bailey at 12 years, 11 months

It has now been three months and a day since she was diagnosed with a terminal mass on her heart. I did not hope that Bailey would live this long as I was told by knowledgeable professionals that this would be a very rare exception. I should have trusted my experience with Bailey instead. I should not have been surprised that, again, she would be one of the rare exceptions.

So from here on, as we navigate this uncharted path, I will bank on my Golden girl. I expect that she will see yet another unexpected month, and that she will celebrate with us the birthday that was never supposed to be. And maybe she will see the summer. And perhaps, even though I realize this might sound delusional, perhaps she will make the stretch goal that I had set even before her diagnosis, of living through all of 2013.

Yes, I do realize that sooner or later one of these hopes will fail. But, after trusting the prognoses of the professionals only to see Bailey prove each one wrong, I have decided that the smarter money is with my exceptional dog. After months of “being realistic” and not getting my hopes up, I have decided that, given that it is Bailey we are talking about, it is smarter to be absurdly hopeful and exceptionally unrealistic. So, at 3 months and a day, I am absurdly hopeful about her future. And I am exceptionally unrealistic in thinking that I may continue to be absurdly hopeful at 4 months and a day, and even 5 months and a day. And I hope, in the face of absurdity, that I will be able to continue to be this unrealistic until there simply is not another “and a day”.

Until then… Well done, Bailey. Good girl, Bailey.