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.

April Come She Will

After learning about Bailey's illness and prognosis, I hoped but had no expectation that she would be alive to see March. Her vets did not think it at all likely that she would make it to April, and I dared not  dream that. But I did hold on to one hope--a hope about which I wrote a few weeks ago:

I still hope that the next time I return to the dog beach on TR Island she will be racing ahead of me. I hope that the next time I look over the Potomac from there I will see her swimming toward Georgetown before turning back to the island. But, this week she was clearly incapable of the walking required to get to the beach.

This April 1st Bailey made all of the vets and me her fools--a role I was ecstatic to take on.

The river was very choppy and the tide so high as to completely cover the beach.  Bailey wisely stayed nearby, chewing on sticks and swimming close to shore.

No, Bailey did not do much racing ahead of me, and she did not swim half-way to Georgetown.  In truth, she was able to swim for only a short time, getting back to the car was difficult, and I fear that the exertion may have taken days off of her life. But, it was all worth it--more than worth it. Today Bailey greeted the month that she was never supposed to see by returning to her favorite place and, for a few moments, experiencing pure joy. I do not have the words to fully express my gratitude for this final last wish--a feeling that I am certain will last much, much longer than a few moments. Today, Bailey was as happy as any dog, or any person, could possibly be.

Good girl, Bailey. Well done, Bailey. 

Shhhh...

It has been some time—a long time—since I last wrote about Bailey’s and my journey. Lately, my creative energies and time have shifted back to songwriting and photography. This is true, but only partially so. As much as a conscious refocusing, this shift has been a flight away from writing and talking and even thinking about the path we have been on or where it might go. I am afraid to talk or write about it. Afraid of jinxing the incredible run of good fortune that we have had. Afraid of getting my hopes up. Afraid of being crushed when the streak ends. So I have avoided talking about it and I have avoided writing about it. Out of site, out of mind.

Instead I have written songs about love and life, and I have taken pictures of blossoms and children and kites. And I have developed backaches and headaches and stomach aches. It does not take a Ph.D. in psychology to draw some conclusions here but, having one of those, it is even harder for me to deny the obvious. It is never out of site, and never out of mind. Not really.

I hoped, but never expected that Bailey might see the beginning of March. No one providing care to her thought that she would possibly see the end of it. But here we are on March 31st and Bailey is laying beside me still breathing, even if heavier and more congested than in February. Still, she is alive, comfortable and very happy.

Yes, there was a stretch of exceptionally low energy and a few days that were not at all comfortable or happy. Yes her arrhythmia has gotten worse and she has more (still intermittent) periods of labored breathing. And, yes, we have had to adjust to a new normal where days are not judged as good or bad, but more as comfortable versus “please feel better.” Yet, within this new normal, Bailey is still happy most of the time, and still gets ridiculously excited by small things like the call for dinner, the sight of a neighbor or a knock on the door. And a visit with a friend not seen for a while, especially one with treats, is met with too much exuberance as the excitement now leads to gasping for breath. Yes, the old girl is still bouncing, just not as high and with a little more loss of air upon each landing.

So, now I write again. I will still remain silent about the future and I will still try not to entertain hopes for anything more than the rest of each today. But, I will not suppress my sadness that the path has trended downward and the ball is being deflated. And I will express my joy, gratitude and affirmation that Bailey continues to live fully and joyfully as much and as often as she can, and that she continues to bounce with excitement despite the immediate and potential costs.  

We have reached the end of March and Bailey is laying here beside me, resting comfortably, still breathing—even if a little heavier and more congested then in February. She is still happy and excited by life, and for that I am happy.  

plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose - trois

Thirteen Years in Three Photos

Act 1 (11 weeks)

Act 2 (5 years)

Act 3 (12 years - 9 months)

Is It Time?

Today was the first time that I had to consider, “Is it time?” Oh, the thought has popped into my mind previously, but only in a second of panic that was quickly replaced by Bailey doing something silly or energetic or just normal.  Indeed, I had begun to think that I would never need to ask this question as Bailey’s continued energy and lack of many symptoms supported the notion that she would at some point just collapse and bleed out.  But things are different now.  Today the question of whether it is time arose to conscious thought and did not immediately recede.  The answer was clearly no, it is not time, but today, for the first time, I had to consider the question.

Things began to change a little more than a week ago—the weekend before last. Since then, Bailey’s energy level has decreased almost daily. The decline has been very gradual—almost imperceptible from one day to the next.  But, everyday respiration has become just a little more labored and motility a little more difficult. Everyday she responds a little bit slower and sleeps a little bit longer. Yes, she still gets ridiculously excited when people come to visit, but the excitement fades more quickly.  Yes, she still bounds with exuberance to greet other dogs at the park, and even plays with a puppy on occasion.  But her exuberance soon gives way to gasping, and the amount of time needed to recover has been increasing. She is still bouncing, just not as high and not for as long.

I wanted to take Bailey to the Potomac River where she can really swim. I wanted to take her to the unofficial dog beach on Theodore Roosevelt Island one more time while still alive—one of her very favorite places and the place where I have decided to return her after she dies. I awoke yesterday excited about bringing her to this treasured place, but soon knew that she would not be up to it. This morning she awoke much more energetic, so I was again hopeful. But her energy and my hope were gone after walking only up the block and back. The temperatures will dip again for several days and Bailey may or may not be alive or able to swim when warm weather returns. I still hope that the next time I return to the dog beach on TR Island she will be racing ahead of me. I hope that the next time I look over the Potomac from there I will see her swimming toward Georgetown before turning back to the island. But, this week she was clearly incapable of the walking required to get to the beach. For the first time, she was unable to enjoy an activity and a place she loves.

Today I had to ask myself whether it was time and, while the answer ultimately was no, for the first time I had to consider the question.

plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose - deux

Thirteen Years in Three Photos

11 months -- with Fred

4 years-5 months -- with Mabel and Milo

12 years-9months -- with Mabel
(only one kitty fits comfortably now)

Goldens' Rule

True to her breed, Bailey naturally subscribes to the Golden Rule. She further believes that it is within her realm of expertise to elaborate and expand upon the rule, and that it is her obligation to share with the Blogoshpere what she has learned during her many years.  She therefore offers the following Golden Rules for living a long, happy and treat-filled life.

1. Love everyone without question or hesitation. Continue to love them even if (especially if) they do not accept your love or they fail to return it. Just keep licking, jumping on, and otherwise loving them.
2. Approach every new situation with joy, exuberance and abandon. Many, perhaps most situations will not warrant such exuberance, but the rewards gained by being open to joy will be worth it.
3. Be ridiculously excited by everything, no matter how simple or mundane it may seem. The excitement you bring will make it exciting. 
4. Get as many pets and hugs as you can, and seek them whenever possible. It is fine to coax a pet by nudging your head into a person’s hand or leaning against their legs. If the person should become distracted and stop petting you, it is only polite to help refocus them by gently placing a paw on their hand or lap while looking with wide, longing eyes.
5. Be loyal to those that are loyal to you (even if someone else has tastier treats).
6. Defend yourself vigorously when threatened, while never compromising rule #1.
7. Sniff others, as you would have them sniff you. Inhale them deeply knowing that the path to their soul is through their anal glands.
8. Farting is the ideal way to express joy. Fart when you are excited; fart when you are happy; fart in the middle of a really good dream; fart to greet a beautiful new day.
9. Seek out all things humans hold to be gross and disgusting. The grosser they find it, the better it is likely to be.
10. Make someone happy whenever you can. Knowing that your person is happiest when you are happy, be sure to show them the gross thing you are so thoroughly enjoying.  Flaunt it, spread it, smear it, roll in it and, by all means, don’t be greedy—push it into their hands or leave some in their bed. 

Finally, having been raised by me, Bailey wishes to remind you of the Lennon-McCartney axiom, to which she also subscribes:

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.