My Dog Has at Least Nine Lives
Or she is Animatronic. I haven't quite figured it out, yet.

So, this situation seems to have calmed down a bit for now. My dog, the Wonder Robo-Dog, has returned from the edge of death. She apparently just needed to add a little drama to our lives for some extra attention.

I hopped on a plane and flew out to see my parents and my poor, sickly, cancer-ridden dog over the weekend. The vet had suggested my parents get me out there right away because he feared our dog would not make it through the weekend. We all thought she was a goner after her dramatic turn for the worst last week. She'd stopped eating completely. She'd lost a lot of weight, and among many other highly disgusting ailments that occur to old dogs when their body stops functioning properly, Duchess by all appearances seemed to be on her way to doggie heaven, post haste.

I was upset all week, just absolutely heartbroken that our little family dog had decided to call it quits, without me there. I was worried I wouldn't make it out there in time to say goodbye. The daily reports from my mom told me that she was hanging on and doing a bit better, but we feared we would have to put her down before the weekend was over. I'd even planned to take Monday off from work, just to do whatever we would need to do for Duchess. We just didn't want to prolong her suffering.

I arrived on Friday night, not quite sure what I expected to see when I walked in the door. But, to my surprise, there was my dog, wagging her stumpy little tale and walking over to greet me. Um, last I heard she was an invalid, unable to even get up. She was so thin, and having a hard time with her legs. But, that was actually normal for her. In fact, the only outward appearance of her sudden attack of debilitating cancer was a bright orange bandage on her front leg, there to cover the catheter the vet put in for her I.V.

She seemed fine. A little weak, but fine. I was relieved and very excited to see this, although suddenly feeling a little guilty that my dad had paid to fly me out on short notice. Oops.

The next morning my mom and I took her to the vet for a prognosis report. I held her in the car, and she watched out the window, as the always does. She walked into the building on her leash, like she owned the place. Well, she'd been there enough over the past week, she pretty much does own the place.

The vet and nurses couldn't believe what they saw. Duchess was actually running around the exam room. Well, running as well as an old lady dog with bad legs can run. They removed the catheter from her leg and sent her home with another supply of medicine, since she was apparently going to stick around for awhile to take it. The vet was so sure she wasn't going to be here for much longer, he'd only supplied enough medicine for just a few days.

We took her home and then, well, went shopping. We figured we'd be sitting with the dog all weekend until it was time to take her in to the vet for the last time. But since she seemed to be doing fine, well, there was shopping to do.

Duchess got even better as the weekend went on. We fed her lots of fun stuff, and she was soon following us around demanding more food. She's now eating like a pig that has fasted for a month. This is a good sign. She still has an enormous tumor, and most of her internal organs are out of whack. She technically shouldn't even be able to walk, since two of the discs in her back have long since worn away and her spine has an odd curve to it.

But she apparently doesn't know this, and has decided to stay with us for awhile, in general good health.

We're not even sure what's keeping her running anymore. But we are thankful that she is.

C.T.