Cat poo jackpot crap week.

Not my usual theme today. I am brokenhearted to find out that Kate, the little puglet, has the big C. Yup, Cancer on her privates. A mast cell tumour, to be exact. It sucks and I'm processing. We're faced with a few options. Or Noptions as I've been calling them.
Kate came to us 3 1/2 years ago from Ruff Riders Rescue in L.A. She had been bred alot by A-holes and dumped at the county shelter, had an impressive case of hip dysplasia (read: I'm not sure how her legs stay on), didn't know how to play, fought for her food and would occasionally fall over in a seizure. We got her spayed, taught her how to play, put her on glucosamine and Primal dog food and while she still eats super fast, she's learned that there will always be enough food. Given her smushy face, the epilepsy and the location of the tumour, surgery prognosis is not good. The tumour could always grow back, the surgery, if they don't get it all, could aggravate the histamines insides the tumour and they could release more of their angry mob into her body. Dammit. So we watch and we wait.
Xrays yesterday showed a mass on her liver which could not be identified. Our next step is an ultra sound to gauge how much time she's got. Right now she's a funny, happy little girl who loves rubbing her face in tall grass, snoring, her gorilla squeaky, her brother Slartibartfast and snurfling around the backyard looking for the cat poo jackpot. Ok.
She gets what she wants until something happens. Then we regroup.