Be Frie

If you were a girl in the late 1980’s-early 1990’s, you know what I’m talking about. Those necklaces that we used to split and share with our bestie. One had “Be Frie” and the other had “st nds” and it was heart shaped. When you put it together, your wonder twins powers activated and your giggles became supersonic. Also, you kind of fought to see who got which necklace-nobody wants to be “st nds”. Well, if I had one of those necklaces today, Foster would have the other half on my collar. Even though I’d totally make him be “st nds”.

My best friend isn’t doing so hot today. He’s been limping for a while, and the vet thought she’d ruled out any traumatic injury a few weeks ago. We had him getting cold laser therapy and managing things with pain meds, and thought everything was going OK. I noticed this week that he was limping again and made him an appt to get his leg xrayed so we could see what we were working with. My boy has always hated showing his belly or really laying in any manner that you want him to. If I’m trying to brush him, it’s darn near impossible to get him to roll to the other side or change position. And that personality quirk came out like crazy this time-an hour later and they still couldn’t get him to stay in the positions they needed to get the accurate xrays. He actually fought them so hard that he couldn’t even bear weight on the affected leg, so it was time to let him win. We went home with a sedative and an appt for Saturday to try again.

Surprise, a drugged dog was a happy dog. He was compliant and they got all the shots they neeed. But those shots…were heartbreaking. It showed a broken doggie leg, and a mess of bone tissue around it. The vet couldn’t tell me if that was a result of things trying to heal, or what she was suspecting-osteosarcoma. We’re waiting to hear from their radiologist who will read the xrays and tell us what we’er working with. A broken leg can be reset with pins and my boy will be OK. Osteosarcoma…it’s not great. There’s a chance with amputation of the affected leg, he could be cancer free. But not a great chance.

As we wait to hear our next steps, I periodically cry throughout the day. Foster’s the best decision I ever made. The last few years, he’s been my walking buddy-though it appears either way that those days may be done for us. Every time I get bad news, all I want to do is go home and hug Foster. We’ve spent 13 years together, and I can’t imagine my life without him, even if I know it will happen at some point. I was such a different person when I got him, but my love for him (and all dogs) is one thing that’s remained the same.

He’s in good spirits right now, though heavily medicated. It gives us hope that it’s not cancer. But if it is…I’m going to give this guy the best farewell tour I can. I’m going to borrow a stroller and take him for a walk. I’m going to feed him everything he ever wanted that I wouldn’t give him (except dark chocolate). And when it comes down to it, I’m going to lay next to him when he takes his final breaths and hold his paw. Because as hard as it is on me, it’s the last comfort I can offer to him. And my best friend deserves that.