Life Before Dogs

It's funny, but I've almost forgotten what it's like not to live with dogs. I've been reminded by reading a wonderful, funny blog by a lady in the pre-greyhound stages (catch it here http://cowprintdoggie.wordpress.com/ ).

There's a long list of things I didn't know about or understand before dogs, such as the importance of a good doormat. Other things include (with explanations for the caninely-deprived):

Pig's Ears (yes, real ones, off real pigs, sometimes with an ink tattoo still visible)
Kongs (rubber chewing things stuffed with food - a form of dog entertainment)
Tick tweezers (owning a pair miraculously stops your dog getting ticks - how does that work?)
What Frontline is (flea treatment)
Ditto Panacur and Drontal (worms)
The concept of a poo-torch (unless they go directly under a lamp-post, you will need help finding the pile)
Poo-bags - why biodegradable nappy bags are no good if it's raining (they dissolve before you get home)
Teeth-chattering (your greyhound doesn't have flu, he's just pleased to see you)
Bed ownership (it's not yours anymore, that's for sure)

I'm sure other things will occur to me. Since I've had a dog, complete strangers have stopped me in the street to let me know the butcher's got rabbits in, and the dogs would love one, or that's there's broken glass just past the bus-stop, best take a detour. You become a different person - and it's not just the fine coating of dog-hair on your clothes.

A New Day, A New Doormat

I know, I know, hold the front page. It's a little bit tragic when the most exciting event in your life is a new doormat. However, the mud months are beginning, and once you first hear the patter of tiny (dog) feet, you begin to appreciate things that are machine washable. Before I had dogs, I never gave doormats a second thought.

The dogs have just pointed out that they themselves must not get wet, under any circumstances. Today's venture out into the drizzle was a one-off.

Herbie's sub-mandibular nodes are beginning to swell a little. I'm not sure if this is normal, but it's 10 days before we see the new vet in Knaresborough. He's doing OK, and is now sleeping with Honky the Pheasant curled up under his chin. (Honky no longer honks, since Holly punctured the squeaker. This means that he is safe for Herbie to sleep on.)

Yay, it's working!

After the first dose of doxirubicin, and all the up-chucking, Herbie's submandibular nodes are shrinking. It suddenly all seems worth while.

A Little Better

Yesterday, we were all so tired that Holly, Herbie and I spent the afternoon each with 0ur heads under our respective blankies. Today, Herbie's feeling a little better, and had some chicken for breakfast.

At lunch, I was going to give him some egg, but he barged Holly out of the way for a Markie (crack cocaine for dogs, and he hasn't been allowed them for months) and then again for some steak. (My father came over to walk Holly and had brought some left-over steak.) It's been a couple of hours now, and the steak seems to be staying down - fingers crossed!

I'm in a better mood today, but not impressed with the concept of anti-vomiting pills after a dog has started chucking up. The Cerenia tablets came straight up again, and I know now to insist on an injection. I'm learning lots, but mostly at poor Herbie's expense.

Chemo Week 9

Or, wall-to-wall dog sick. "He may experience some nausea or vomiting." Yup. Oh boy.

We went to Cambridge on Tuesday, and they agreed that the COP protocol had stopped working, and it was time to try doxorubicin at three-weekly intervals. He had the first dose there, and an anti-emetic injection. Good job it lasted long enough to get us home, because my sister, God bless her, drove us there in her car. It was a long day, four hours each way, plus stops, and a five hour wait while they did tests.

Now Herbie's home, and not feeling too good. I've been to get some anti-emetics from the vet that say "May cause vomiting if given on an empty stomach". Great, really useful for a dog that's thrown up and now won't eat anything. He's also only had three-quarters of one pill so far, because he keeps gacking it up, no matter how much I stroke his throat to make him swallow. Greyhounds aren't built like other dogs, and pilling them isn't easy.

I'm about to go to bed and pull the covers over my head. Leaving the front door open so that Herbie can vomit outside for a change.

Not My Favourite Dog

A certain young lady trod in something nasty on her trip to the woods on Friday. Unfortunately I only realised half way home, and so the inside of the car was covered in poo-prints. Both dog beds needed an urgent wash.

Today, we reach the car and she has a brown streak across the middle of her head. And her muzzle has brown smudges. Luckily I keep baby wipes and kitchen roll in the car, but even so... I could cheerfully swap her for something less poo-encrusted.

A trip to the Experts

I've arranged to go see Cambridge Vet School next Tuesday with Herbie. The chemo is no longer holding him stable, so it's time to go see if there's anything else left in the medicine cupboard.

Chemo Week 8

Herbie was weighed again, and caused me vast embarrassment, he's 36 kilos now, and a bit of a porky pup. Maybe it's time to lay off the tripe. The steroids make him more interested in food, but I think it's time I started monitoring portion sizes.

However. The nodes at the right side of his neck, where this whole saga started, are enlarged again. The chemo may be losing its effectiveness. Given that first-line chemo hasn't knocked him into remission during the first seven weeks, what are the chances of anything else working?

My vet is going to contact the oncologist at Cambridge to discuss where we go from here. And I've taken Herbie out to rustle his way through the autumn leaves, in the warm sunshine.

Holly - Just Because

She isn't getting enough attention at the moment.

Magnetic Fields Cause Lymphoma?

I've just been reading the October issue of Bark magazine which mentions some research done in 1995. Apparently dogs living in homes with high magnetic fields are seven times more likely to develop lymphoma.

Suddenly I remember that at our last house (we moved in January), Herbie's upstairs bed was next to a powerpoint and a phone socket - and (his choice) next to the radiator. Although he spends most of this time on my bed, did he spend too long near a power socket? And what about this house? It might be shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted, but I have Holly to think about too...

Then I found out how much the cheapest EMF meter costs... plus I can't afford to move just now. Wonder if I should cover all my walls with aluminium foil?

A Semi-Birthday

Yesterday was Herbie's 7 1/2th birthday. It might not seem like a big deal, but it is. He first developed swollen lymph nodes around his birthday, six months ago, but went untreated (or rather, treated for the wrong thing) for four months, so his survival to date is a little miracle in itself. There were moments in August when I didn't think we'd see his half-birthday.

It seems too much like tempting fate to mention future landmark dates, so I won't. Every day is a bonus, but I'm glad he made it to 7 1/2.

Chemotherapy Week 7

He's back home after his seventh lot of chemo, and is exhausted. Before he goes into the vet's consulting room, he is shivering, teeth rattling, deep shudders running across his ribs. He does NOT like this process.

But now he is safe for another week, and his blood test shows that his white cell count is fine, apart from the eosinophils. These have been on the low side; there are various infections known to cause raised levels, but I have not been able to find out what low levels mean. His neutrophils have been slowly rising, to 3.4, which is on the low side of normal for ordinary dogs, but just fine for a greyhound. Greyhounds have a different blood composition to other breeds, and the test results judge "normal" by other dogs. Everything has to be re-interpreted in the light of greyhound blood values.

I no longer have to collect pee samples, now he's off the cyclophosphamide, so that will make Tuesdays easier. He still has lumpy lymph nodes, though....

Damp and misty morning

Will the dogs go out, will they heck. Herbie has made it perfectly clear where he intends to be spending the morning.

Greyhounds suffer from a little-known condition called "meltophobia", a morbid fear of dissolving in the rain.

No cure has yet been discovered.

Another day, another drug

The vet rang this afternoon. Since Herbie is developing cystitis with the cyclophosphamide (Endoxana), she's been consulting with the awfully nice people at Cambridge Vet School. Herbie's oncologist has suggested we substitute it for chlorambucil (trade name Leukeran). Again, every other day, and it's cytotoxic, so you have to wear rubber gloves to handle it. I now have a special pair of pink rubber gloves in the kitchen (Pink for Pills) just for dog medicine. Plus, this one needs to go in the fridge.

Chlorambucil has a whole different range of side-effects. Let's see how we go. Herbie doesn't know about this one yet.

Boiled-up Liver

... and other culinary delights. One of the hardest things I've found is taking the time to provide a good anti-cancer diet. I've taken a look at a number of places, including Canines in Crisis, Laurie Kaplan's book and Ginger's diet (for hemangiosarcoma), and added some supplements as recommended by Shawn Messonnier.

So far, I've steered clear of the so-called "miracle cures", because they seem more like faith healing, and I'm not sure my faith is sufficient. Maybe later.

At the moment, Herbie is getting a packet of frozen raw tripe or other meat (available from pet shops with a freezer, as 400g bricks) defrosted for breakfast, with a fish oil capsule, and in the evening some boiled meat (chicken, liver, lamb, turkey) with boiled broccoli and/or cauliflower or green beans and a little brown rice, with some arginine and glutamine (available from the body-building section of health food shops).

Tonight we're boiling up lamb's liver. He's been putting on weight, after losing four kilos in the early stages, when he wasn't being treated. I'm not sure if it's the diet or the treatment that's putting the weight back on him, but he is almost tubby now, and for once I don't mind.

Chemo for Lymphoma Week 6

I've just retrieved Herbie from the vets. As usual, he is starving, anxious to be home, and exhausted. His urine sample is clear this week, but the vet has consulted with his oncologist at Cambridge Vet School - no cyclophosphamide for another week, to be sure his bladder is healed.

It's weird, it's almost like you've failed an exam. Failed one of the chemo drugs. I shouldn't take it personally, different dogs react differently, and that's why I've been chasing round the garden with a plastic bowl every Tuesday morning, to get the sample for testing. (Such fun this morning, in the rain. Somewhat of a diluted sample.)

He is now crashed out in the blue and white dog-bed that he's too big for. His lymph nodes are slightly smaller this week. Little, tiny incremental improvements.

My Happiness Depends on Poop

Dog no poop, me no happy. A worrying morning, hoping something would appear. Plenty has gone in the top end over the last 24 hours, so where is it all? At lunchtime, success! A little step for a dog, a giant step towards human calmness.

Now that I'm feeding Herbie on a home-cooked diet, there's a lot less residue (so to speak), but even so, he used to go twice a day before chemo. Now he's on chemo, he'll only go in the mornings. It's not listed as a known side-effect of steroids, but the vet assured me that slowed "transit times" were a known feature of steroids. (There was me thinking maybe the chemo was killing off too many gut lining cells... or something. Should have paid attention in biology class.)

The trouble with all these drugs is that you never know what's an unusual side-effect, and what's normal, and when to start worrying. The net result is, you worry all the time. Maybe I should set an alarm clock, and allow myself half an hour's worrying a day, then forget about it until tomorrow.

For more on steroid side effects, see http://www.veterinarypartner.com/Content.plx?P=A&S=0&C=0&A=1622

Lymphoma - The Story So Far

Herbie has been a particularly unlucky dog, as far as getting a diagnosis. I took him to the vets at the beginning of April to arrange for a dental, as his teeth were looking quite manky - not unusual for a greyhound. He'd cracked a tooth last year, and my then vets had said it's best to leave it unless it's causing trouble. New vets said Hmm, time to come out, and he'll need antibiotics first. While he was on a week's course of antibiotics, prior to the dental, the lymph node on the right side of his jaw swelled up, golf-ball hard.

The vets said Not good, he'll need a biopsy under general anaesthetic, so he was booked in for a week after the dental. Then 10 days' hellish wait, and the verdict: not lymphoma. The entire node was removed, so it seemed a clear diagnosis. He healed well, but the nodes on the other side came up, then the popliteal nodes (at the back of his knee). Further tests, for bacterial infection, viral infection, you name it. Anti-histamines, in case of allergy. Then prednisolone, in case of aut0-immune disease.

The steroids had an immediate effect, but made him very sick. Rapid muscle wasting, to the point where he could barely stand, climb stairs, and walks were out of the question. Panic attacks, panting with rapid heart beat, for hours at a time. I was afraid the treatment would kill him. He lost two kilos in 10 days. After a week, the dose was scaled d0wn rapidly - but his nodes went right down.

Then a frustrating two months(!) while I asked for a second opinion, phoning the vets a couple of times a week, and little or no action. They wanted to start him on cyclosporin, for auto-immune disease, and I wanted that second opinion first. Finally, a referral to Cambridge vet school, and a nightmare six-hour drive (should only have taken four). I had to leave him there, but by the time I came home again, they already had a diagnosis. Lymphoma, and well advanced. Lungs clear, but spleen swollen. Could they start treatment immediately?

Absolutely. A month later, Herbie is still alive, his nodes are reducing, but he's a long way from being in remission.

Lymphoma Treatment Week 5

It's been a long time since I posted, and in many ways I have a superstitious dread about posting details of Herbie's illness. But I want to keep a record of how he's doing - at the moment, his vet bills are the only record I have.

He was finally diagnosed with lymphoma on 4th September (long story, I'll post later) and had his fifth chemotherapy treatment (intravenous vincristine, part of the COP protocol) on Tuesday 8th October. His urine test showed microscopic traces of blood, so the vet asked us to lay off the cyclophosphamide for a week, and see how he's doing next time.

One of the risky side-effects of this drug is hemorrhagic cystitis, so I'm glad they caught the signs early. See Graham and Prince's blog for how uncomfortable this can be: http://grahamandprince.blogspot.com/2007/07/wells-run-dry.html

Another day, another greyhound

And then there were two. Herbie has been joined by Holly, a little black and white bitch, who looks oddly like a border collie that’s re-growing its fur. She’s a badger, i.e. has a black face with a white blaze, with a sweet nature, but unfortunately she’s also very fit.

The rest of this household are middle-aged and verging on the ploddy, but now we have a young fireball in our midst. Herbie has started wanting 100m head start before I let Holly off the lead, and even then she outruns him. Plus she jumps, spins, barks, plays racing games on the stairs, and is generally just – a young dog. I feel old. She will be too, soon enough, and I should just enjoy her youth while she has it.

Now, more than ever, I want to be At Home With Herbie. And Holly. Half my co-workers have left, so Boss from Hades can’t be shared round as much. Guess who gets most of the flak/ insane power-plays/ lies/ blame/ tantrums? Yup, me. And to add to the stress, my house is partially sold, i.e. someone’s put in an offer and is now doing very little. Can’t pack in job until house is sold.

Trapped like a trap in a trap. But like a greyhound, as soon as the trap door is opened, I’m going to be off at speed. Exploding from the traps. If the house isn’t sold soon, I’m going to self-destruct, and quit the job, refuse to sell house, and take in ironing, or anything to pay the mortgage. Unfortunately selling your body on the streets only works when you’ve got streets. Here in the country…. I’ll think of something.