I’ve been having mixed emotions about my husband verbally acknowledging that our previous way of dealing with our pup’s reoccurring tumors—surgery—wasn’t an option anymore. He didn’t elaborate, but I think I know what he meant. “I didn’t know you’d gotten to that point,” I said, to which he nodded. Nothing more was said. Biscuit is the sweetest dog we’ve ever had, and I love her. But surgery is harder on her the older she gets and the tumor is only getting bigger.
I have been praying that my husband accept reality—that a third operation in the same place on a 15-year-old dog would probably not be wise for a number of reasons (her ability to handle the anesthesia, how her body would recover, the almost certainty that the tumors would return.) While I’m extremely grateful that the cost wouldn’t even be an issue, I know that money doesn’t buy happiness—or immortality.
We’re scheduled to leave Rockport in a week and be home in just a few days. Knowing what’s ahead for Biscuit is not going to make the next few weeks easy, but we will savor the time that we have left. As it is, we already spoil the heck out of her, so our efforts will probably multiply. I’m grateful we have some time to make plans. I’m sure we’ll talk with our vet about what’s best for Biscuit.
I must remember that my plans are fluid, at best. The future is in the One who created all things. We’re just walking one another home, one day at a time.
How blessed is the man who has made the Lord his trust,
And has not turned to the proud, nor to those who lapse into falsehood. ~Psalm 40:4
