Nine Lives

The vet called this morning with the results of Freckles' liver test.  She said the exact words I was hoping not to hear: it's her liver.  As I was driving, I couldn't write down all the things the vet was saying, but I knew that this was not a very good thing.  (I think I'll call her "Dr. Dogg" from now on, as I am tired of calling her the vet.)  Anyways, Dr. Dogg indicated that there are three diseases that come to mind when she sees such results.  I don't remember the three but one was cancer (of which I am sure Freckles does not have), one was some kind of cirrhosis and the other was something something hepatitis.  None of it sounded very promising.  Dr. Dogg said she was going to contact a specialist and talk to her about the results and then get back to me. 

I was crushed.  The roller coaster ride was on a down turn again--what a ride this continued to be. Last night's guarded excitement was quickly tempered by the words "it's her liver."  End of story, literally.  Sigh.  I decided right there that Friday would be her "day."  I finished my drive to work, feeling saddened and resigned.  I was too crushed to cry.

While sitting in MJagger's office, I read my dog health book, hoping to find answers.  I learned a lot about livers. You don't want to mess around with livers. This liver thing looked mighty grim.  Grim, grim, grim. I told MJagger my plan for Friday.  There was nothing more to do.  Freckles' nine lives were up--the roller coaster had to come to a stop some time or another--I owed it to her to ensure she didn't suffer.  While we were talking about Freckles (and MJagger was trying to force-feed me potato oles), I had a brainstorm: Freckles started her life at this very agency; she would go out at this very agency.  I announced I was bringing Freckles to work tomorrow.  A swan song!  The thought made me teary and happy at the same time.  Yes, I would bring her to work one last time.

Then, Dr. Dogg called.  She told about her discussion with the specialist.  Dr. Dogg spoke about how the specialist--whom I shall call Dr. Dogg's Dog--said that the results seemed more like "abnormal normal" than abnormal.  She told Dr. Dogg to "keep looking--there is something else here.  This is not pure liver disease."

Are you kidding me? YOU JUST TOLD ME IT WAS HER LIVER A FEW SHORT HOURS AGO! IVE PLANNED HER SWAN SONG!  I've been pooping all day! I'm a wreck! NOW YOU TELL ME IT'S NOT A PURE LIVER ISSUE? ARE.YOU.FRIGGIN.KIDDING.ME?!!!! I can't take this! Happy, sad, happy, sad, happy, sad! Is it or isn't it her liver? Damn roller coaster is pulling out of the station again.  AGAIN!

Life number ten, coming right up.  

Dr. Dogg said there might be a problem with the small intestines, the pancreas, the liver, all of the above, some of the above, none of the above.  She indicated that an ultrasound would answer a lot of questions. 

An ultrasound?  Seriously? An ultrasound?  I'm now going to get my dog an ultrasound?

Dr. Dogg then said something that I found quite hilarious and ironic: "I'm thinking she might have Addison's Disease." For those of you who know me in real life, you immediately understand why this is hilarious and ironic.  Who the hell has a dog with a disease named after them?

Suffice it to say, Freckles may not have to worry about Friday. I have no idea what the hell is going on. I have no idea if she'll get an ultra sound.  I am not sure if she's sick or if she's terminal or if she's just fine. I have no idea why she hasn't pooped today.  I have no idea about much at all.  What I do know is going to go to work with me tomorrow and we are going to have a great time.  We are going to put all this behind us and enjoy life number ten. The Warrior Princess is gonna rock the office, just like in the old days.

Life number ten.  This is one complicated dog.  This is one complicated ride.

Just so we're clear: if the warrior princess needs an ultrasound, she is SO not going to be getting any birthday or Christmas presents this year.