Monday, April 21, 2008

Noah to the Rainbow Bridge


April 1997 (adopted) - April 21, 2008

Just came home from the vet's office with Noah's empty collar and leash.

The injection worked fast. Too fast. His eyes stayed open as the vet administered the lethal substance, so he didn't even look like he was falling asleep.

The speed at which it worked pretty much sums up this whole canine cancer saga. Just a few weeks ago was the jumpy and energetic Noah rocking the house. Now he is gone.

April is indeed the cruelest month.

I feel numb right now. Perhaps it is my Asian male stoicism in full swing to block out emotions. Perhaps this will hit me like a ton of bricks at the least expected moment. Right now, I don't know what to feel.

Thank you for all your support.

Sunday, April 20, 2008


Noah's tummy has grown by almost two inches just from yesterday. The bloating is caused by an internal hemorrhage from the abdominal area under assault from the malignant tumor.

Although lethargy, not pain is the primary symptom, that he doesn't even want to go for a short walk tells me that he is no longer enjoying his life as a dog.

The line between letting him go, and giving him a fighting chance has not been easy to draw. But with the rapid deterioration of his health, I have come to terms with letting him go. I should not continue to let my love for him come at the expense of the quality of his life.

This will be our last night together, and I will stay with him during the day tomorrow until my friends arrive to join me. Let's hope that nothing catastrophic happens until then.

I have been running through in my head how I am going to load him into the car, take that dreaded drive, unload him, and walk him to the room at the vet where he will spend the last moments of his life. And hold him in my arms while he peacefully goes to sleep.

Don't feel sorry for me. I have been the luckiest dog owner ever. Thank you Noah for 11 wonderful years.

Monday, April 07, 2008

A quick update

My dog Noah has been diagnosed with a cancer called Hemangiosarcoma, about which my research has found mostly ominous words like:

- rapidly growing
- aggressive
- highly invasive
- highly malignant
- readily metastasize
- "Silent Killer"

He underwent surgery to have his tumorous spleen removed a week ago, and he seems to be doing fine, but it is a short reprieve which is expected to last less than three months.

I am seeing an oncologist this week to learn what my options are.

Your thoughts and prayers would be much appreciated.