Ellie came to us on April 1, 2000.

This blog will document Ellie's struggle against hemangiosarcoma. Hopefully I'll learn some things that will help other pet lovers with their struggles, but for the most part, I'm doing this because I need to. After Ellie leaves us, I'll need this record of who she is to us.

Ellie's still limping a little, no matter how we try and how much medication we can give her, this may be the best we can do for her. Eating is taking a bit longer for her now, which makes keeping Alice away something of a challenge. For the most part, I'd say she's happy, or at least comfortable.
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/24/2000

4.16.2000

Just found a really accurate description of what Ellie has. While I'm grateful for the straight answer (my vet was too heartbroken to really go into it when she was first diagnosed and we haven't been back since), it's a little hard to take. Ellie spent the weekend following me around and sitting on my tax forms. Her limp has returned, but it's not as bad as before the Rimadyl.
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/16/2000

4.14.2000

Ellie is getting closer to sleeping through the night. I think she wakes up and freaks out because our house isn't the house she used to live in and it takes her a minute to realize that she's somewhere else.

She won't leave my side for anything, which is both sweet and extremely annoying. But she's feeling better.
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/14/2000

4.12.2000

Saturday, we went to Great America for a day of family fun. All the walking and weird G forces of the roller coasters aggrivated my arthritic toe so walking has become a challenge. The dogs are not sensitive to this and insisted upon going for a walk the minute we got home. Walking in the door is the funniest thing now. They both start barking, giving me a recap of their day -- Alice: "She got into my bed, then she got out" Ellie -- "I went outside and she came out behind me. What's up with that" for a solid 15 minutes. A walk immediately is the only way to stop this so the chances of my toe healing quickly are slim. To their credit, the girls walk well together, so I'm not worried about tripping on them.

We started Ellie on IP6, a rice derivative that's been called the cancer killer. My mom's dog, Buddy, who has a malignant melanoma, has been taking this since August, and as of today, has lived 4.5 months longer than he was supposed to. Buddy's done so well that he has to go on a diet, since he'll be around to be harmed by being so fat. At 37 pounds, he's almost twice Alice's weight, and only an inch taller. Buddy's illness has taught me a lot about cancer in dogs, so I also ordered Ellie a case of Hill's n/d, their cancer-fighting food. The theory is that carbs make the cancer cells grow but fat impedes the progress, so the food is mostly fat (which explains Buddy's blossoming figure).
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/12/2000

Ellie's condition continued to improve throughout the weekend. So much so that she was waking us up at 3 am to remind us that she's still here with a big "woof". Who needs alarm clocks when we've got the beagle clock? Too bad it's set to the wrong time zone. Given her late night wanderings, we decided to cut back to one Rimadyl a day and that seems to have helped. But now she wants to sleep in my bed, which sounds so sweet but really drives me crazy.
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/12/2000

As of Friday, I was growing confident that Ellie was ready to move on. Looking at her scars and seeing how skittish she is ("don't touch me!" is her motto), I knew that life hadn't been very good to her. When I picked her up at the shelter, they gave me the collar she was wearing when she came it. Pink, but faded, with rust around the brads that guarded the holes, she'd obvoiusly had it for some time and it broke my heart. She was found as a stray, then made her way to the shelter thanks to a good samaritan. Given Ellie's hard life before she came to us, I wasn't ready to let her go yet, didn't she deserve at least a few months or weeks of happiness and comfort?

I went to work Friday for only an hour. Near tears, I told my boss that I thought Ellie was dying so he sent me home. I stopped by the vet's, so she could go over the biopsy results. It is hemangiosarcoma, which generally doesn't spread, but does grow into the tendons, making removal all but impossible. She gave me some Rimadyl, which does carry some risk of liver damage, but at this point, Ellie's comfort is our number one goal. I also bought some deli turkey for her, officially marking the change from the long term diet to the hospice diet.

Armed with Rimadyl and turkey, I headed home to see how the girls were doing. Ellie still hadn't moved but as soon as I opened the turkey, she smelled it and was up, begging!! I gave her as much as she wanted along with a Rimadyl. Within 2 hours of taking the drug, she was once again the happy-go-lucky girl I'd met the week before. That's an amazing drug.
posted by Liz, who does not belly dance 4/12/2000

Ellie's first weekend at home went well. First, we went to adoption day in Pleasanton (at this point, we thought we were going to foster and place her), then we headed home to meet Alice. They got along pretty well at first, at least there was no growling or biting. Although, with so many teeth missing, Ellie wouldn't be very effective as a biter! Saturday night, we went out for a barbeque and put Ellie in the crate that we keep just for foster dogs (Alice, being the spoiled little brat that she is, has 5 beds to choose from). We learned quickly that Ellie does NOT like to be crated, so the crate headed back to the garage and Alice is learning to share her bed collection. I knew that the days of her not taking any pills would be short-lived.

Ellie's second day home, Sunday, we went to Hayward to meet some other beagles and their people from the beaglebuddies mailing list. She did really well with all the commotion and a good time was had by all.

Tuesday, April 4, she had a biopsy done, the results wouldn't come back until Friday. Evidently, they hit a blood vessel, so they wrapped her tumor up. The extra support seemed to help her get around a litte better, so we left it on. That was the night we discovered Ellie's little "problem". When she sleeps, she's incontinent. I found this out the hard way -- she was laying next to me when I looked down to see her lying in a puddle. She was so zonked out that she didn't wake up when we moved her to cleaner surroundings. This discovery prompted a bit of a decor change in our living room, now there are towels everywhere!

Wednesday, I took her to the vet for the incontinence, where we discovered that she has an ear infection as well. They kept her there to do a urinalysis and removed the bandage on her leg. Sure enough, she has a urinary tract infection. Thursday, we got drugs for the urinary tract infection as well as the incontinence, and ear goo (as we call it) for the ear infection. As of Thursday, the pill total had reached 2 and she wasn't walking as well without the bandage.

Thursday, Ellie really really slowed down. She became less interested in eating (for a beagle, this is a big problem) and barely got up to go out and pee, let alone go for a walk. Hoping it was just all the excitement catching up with her, we let her sleep and took Alice the crazy energetic fool out for her daily walks. Ellie didn't wake up when we got back and slept through the night.

Friday morning, she hadn't moved. She got up to eat, but only ate the wet part of her breakfast, then curled up in the same spot she'd been laying in since Thursday. Once again, Alice and I walked our pokey mile alone. When we returned, I called the vet to see if there's anything we can do for her. I lost it, starting crying on the phone, scared to death that we were going to lose her after only six days. At this point, we still didn't have the biopsy results back. I wrote Ellie this letter on Friday:

Dear Ellie,

I've been your mom for all of 6 days, but it pains me as if you'd been ours for 6 years to see you in pain. I know that the warm bed and love I give you will mean more to you than these words, I write this to you from my own selfish need to mourn you.

You haven't left this world yet, but it's growing clearer to me every hour that you're getting ready. The vet tells me that your tumor has most likely spread, that they can do their best with surgery but it can never be fully removed. You seem to be telling me that you're ready to cross the Rainbow Bridge and as your mom, I have to respect what you want to do, what you need to do.

I promise to keep you as comfortable as possible, to give you as much love as you'll let me while you're with us but I understand that you're almost ready to go. You don't want to eat, you shake with pain and you want only to sleep. Soon, my darling, we'll let you sleep all the time and you'll be free of pain.

It would be easy to burden myself, wondering why you were brought into my life for such a short time, but I think I know. Everyone deserves to die comfortably and to have someone mourn their passing. That is what I can and will do for you. You've taught me so much already, I'm sure that your lessons for me are only beginning. Thank you for choosing me to learn them.

I will love you always and be grateful for the peace I've been able to give you this last week. I will not let you suffer. Waiting for you when it's time are Daisy, my growing up beagle and a very special guy named Mr. Tahoe. They've been making a place for you and will show you where the treats are. Mr. Tahoe will also introduce you to a special snack called Pupcorn.

Ellie, let me know when you're ready to go. You'll cross the Bridge in a warm, safe place, surrounded by love. You have my word on it.

Love always,

your Mom Liz