Wednesday, June 25, 2014

A Letter to Hurley

My Dearest Boy,

You left us 5 weeks ago.  My heart is broken. In difficult times, you have always been there for me, and now I need you more than ever. I know you are here with us, but I want to see you, smell you, hug you. The house is void, quiet…it is not the same. WE are not the same. You have been such a significant part of this family and the emptiness you have left is excruciating.

You have given me more in your 6 short years than I could ever have imagined. You have changed my life in ways that I could never truly explain, although I find myself trying; in a million lifetimes I could never repay you for the love you have given to me, to our family. You have taught me how to be a Mama and to love unconditionally; you have taught me patience; you have taught me GRATITUDE; you have taught me to enjoy the simplest moments for what they are.  STOP…and instead of smelling the roses, I would smell you! ;) I am eternally grateful for you, my big man.

The house is not the same – it no longer feels like HOME. There is no THUMP of you jumping off the bed when I come in; or the thunderous noise of paws barreling down the stairs, no aggressive bum wiggle for a welcome. The spot under the coffee table is empty. Your food and water bowls remain untouched…they are exactly how you left them. There is no ‘warning bark’ when Daddy gets home or when someone rings the doorbell. The pizza guy came…and it was AWFUL.  No one barked or sneezed at him. You aren’t here for me to spend time with while the kids are napping. Your chair is still as is in Gracie’s room, with your sheet - which I will not wash for fear of losing your smell.  YOUR SMELL…I find myself desperately looking for things with your smell.  We can still smell you in your corner of the closet. When I get up in the morning I still pull up the covers and arrange your comforter on the bed for you. I am instinctively picking up shoes out of habit…thinking you are going to chew them to pieces. Night is the worst. You aren’t here for one of us to bring you down from your slumber in Grace’s room before bed, let you out, lock the door behind you, and give you a bedtime treat. We HATE not being able to say to each other, "send Hurl down when you go upstairs?" Your chair is empty…I hate that you are not there for me to say goodnight to, then tell you to “come sleep with Mommy when you’re ready.” Then I would hear you ever so gently hop up on the bed, curl up in between Daddy and I, or directly on our legs, and let out a big sigh. There is no bulldog snore when I wake up at night…there is no sound of you whimpering in your dreams.

I have not been able to move your things. It is hard to look at your pictures right now. Bentley asks for you. He talks about your 'wings' since you are our angel now; he says he loves you; he says he wants you to fall down from the sky.  I tell him you are with us, watching over us as our guardian angel; you are in the moon and the stars at night, you are up in the sky…but then sometimes he still talks about going to pick you up at the doctor. Grace will grab my necklace with your photo and give it kisses.  I brought back out your big igloo bed and your toys that had been put away for the open house…and moved your downstairs bed on to the floor next to my side of the bed along with your jacket, stuffed guys, and some collars. The sound of your green whale collar with all of your tags…when it jingles…is torture. It’s not actually YOU making the noise. Your bells are still by the back door.

Your routine has always been such a part of my day, especially since your diagnosis – meds, appointments…and the lack of caring for you and spending time with you has left a gaping hole. It’s an emptiness no one can fill.

Our cancer journey together has provided opportunities and opened doors for me that I could have never imagined…opportunities to help others and pay forward the love you have given me. Your story has helped other doggie parents who are going through the same journey with their fur babies.  I promise to find ways to honor you, carry on your legacy, and pay forward the love you have shared not only with us, but with all you have met.

I miss you.

WITH ALL MY LOVE, FOREVER,
Mommy
“Hurley’s Mama”

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Our Beloved Boy, A Testament to Hurley

HURLEY.  UNCLE HURLEY.  MY BELOVED HURLEY.  HURL.  HURLS. HURLS BIGURLS. WEE WEE. WEE-MAN. My FIRST BORN, MY BOOGER FACE, MY BUBBY, MY BIG MAN…

I had no idea when we decided to get a dog back in 2008 how life changing it would actually be.  I loved him from the moment I saw him, probably even before that.  I remember before he came home we were lying in bed and all of the sudden Chris blurted out "Hurley" through the dark…and that is instantly who he became.  We couldn't wait to hear the constant pitter-patter of puppy feet on our wood floors and like nerdy first parents, we would imitate the sound.  (I will probably get in trouble for making that public knowledge!) And when we finally picked him up…boy, did he DELIVER on everything we could have expected and then some…

We put him down when we came in the house and he went right to the corner of the dining room, squatted, and moved in a circle while he pooped soft-serve style all over the floor.  The first time he farted…he jumped because he scared himself.  We knew it was MEANT TO BE. 

*He was defiant…as most bulldogs are…and was never afraid to show us who was really in charge by peeing or taking a crap ON OUR BED.  Yup, that's right…ON THE BED. And he earned the nickname "Wee Wee" and "Wee-Man" for his peeing inside. 

*He was hilariously faster and more agile than any bulldog should be.  And he has some serious ups. But at the same time had the most graceful jump up onto our bed and landed ever so softly every time.

*His snaggle tooth and smile…a smile like no other.

*His two little circles of fur on his butt and one on the center of his chest, his polka dotted neck, the one brown spot on his head, his soft ears, the little white tip on his left ear, his half black/half white nail…just BEAUTIFUL.

*His boogery, runny nose…for which I nicknamed him "Boogy Face."

*His drool "shoestrings" – which always grow when he saw you eating something he wanted you to share…towards the end the prednisone made him so ravenous he would drool at things he hadn’t in the past – buffalo wings w/ranch dressing?! I left a small container of ranch dressing on the coffee table awhile back and as soon as I turned my back he knocked it onto the floor and licked it clean.

*HIS SMELL, OHHHH HIS SMELL…if I could bottle it I would…and if that makes me weird, well, I’m OK with it!  The hubby and I have come home countless times and walked upstairs to the smell of him while he's sleeping and we'll say "Wow, buddy, you must have been sleeping HARD for all that smell." Most people walk upstairs and say, ‘it smells like a dog…’ to which my reply is…’Yup, AND?!’ AHHHH, and the glorious, Frito-like smell of his paws.

*His love of our closet, his duty to protect the stairs from all who wanted to pass, his need to always climb up and dig a "nest" in the throw pillows of a freshly made bed, how he liked to “hide” underneath things so his downstairs bed has always been under our coffee table.

*His tendency to run in the opposite direction when I called him in from outside.

*If he wanted something…he would look at you with his big brown eyes and SNEEZE right in your face; or he would get SOOOOOO close to the food sitting on the coffee table and just start licking the air to try and taste it.

*His snoring at night that I could hear from down the hall if he was in Grace’s room, or how the bed vibrated if he was sleeping with us.

*How much he used to enjoy sprinting in circles in between our bedroom, the hall, and Bentley's room because it is carpeted so he could get going with some great traction on the rug and sprint in circles until he was too tired. From downstairs, it sounded like a thunderstorm…then he would stop and we could hear him panting like crazy at the top of the stairs.

*He LOVED sunning himself and I had to drag him in so that he didn’t overheat.

*He liked the water…the river at our house and the lake at his friend Jax’s house…I will never forgot the day we were in the lake at Tor & Jay’s when he jumped off the dock and sank like a rock…I ran in after him and then saw his little white head approaching the surface…a bulldog that COULD swim!

*OH YA…he has his own friends.  My friends and I would actually coordinate play dates with the dogs…like his bestie is his Boxer buddy, Jax.  He had an “arranged” friendship with Moooda.  At holiday parties, my girlfriends and I would line up all of the dogs in front of the Christmas tree for photos.  And now…he has SO MANY friends on Facebook, it’s WILD…from all over the world! (More on that later…)

*He liked to get right in your face and sniff your eyeball.  Who knows – maybe it’s how he feels you out, like when he sniffs another dogs’ butt?!  This one even I can’t explain.  But it made him HURLEY.

*He liked to steal the kids’ stuffed animals and got into the habit of brining one down every time we had company – like a welcome gift. Most of those animals became his…as he chewed out the eyeballs and tore off the nose. Then he would lick them like he was sorry he de-faced them.  And I am so grateful now to have those with me.

*When I took a shower he would either sit outside the shower door like a creep and watch me, or he would lay on my towel on the floor like he was trying to warm it up for me.

*When I combed my hair or turned on the blow-dryer…he would come prancing in and plop himself at my feet – and if I didn’t comb him right away or turn the warm air on him, he would sneeze at me until I did.

*You were an odd guy…sneezing and barking at a lighter; curling up your lip if you got close enough to sniff the nail file I was using or nail polish remover on my fingers.

*He has always thought he was a lap dog but it became particularly ‘worse’ over the last year and all of our trips to Tufts. He would no longer stay in the back of my car…he would jump over the seat and sit in the tiny space between the kids’ car seats – sometimes even IN a carseat if there wasn’t a child occupying it, and he was too big to figure out how to turn himself around without stepping all over Bentley or Grace; then he would make his way to the front with me, climb over my lap and always had to be on my left when I was driving…between the door and me, and he would rest his head on the steering wheel. (Disclaimer: I realize this is probably unsafe, but trying to wrangle a 60 lb dog off your lap while driving I determined to be WAY more dangerous.) In the event that he stayed on the passenger’s side, he liked to rest his head on the door’s arm rest.

*He had never been one to chase cars, bikes…but when Bentley got his first mini-ATV he would chase it around and bark at the front tires like an attack dog.

*When we put the sandbox in…he decided he enjoyed rolling around in the sand until every wrinkle and crevice on his body was covered.

He ran this house like he paid the mortgage.  He knew the sound of Chris’ work truck and could somehow distinguish that reverse beep from the beeping of the neighbor’s box truck.  He would come running down every day when I yelled “Daddy’s HOME!”  When I got pregnant with Bentley he started sleeping across my head at night, or curled up against my stomach.  He knew.  He was never a barker - but during my first pregnancy he became much more aware of our surroundings and would bark at an odd noise or an unusual car passing the house as if to give me a heads up that something was different.  He became a watch dog.  I credit him for sending me into labor with B because he took off down to the river for a swim, got stuck, and when Chris finally found him I had to rush him to the vet for staples in the back of his leg…contractions started not long after.  That night I went in to labor he waited patiently in the chair in the nursery…I found him perched up there in the morning. (A nursery which he made sure to mark his territory in for OH, 9 WHOLE MONTHS).  With Grace, YUP he slept on my head again and then about 3 weeks before I went into labor he sat at my feet and shook like a leaf…as if to tell me he knew she was coming soon. (I strongly believe he developed his anxiety as a result of my anxious tendencies.) He went to sleep most nights in the chair in Bentley's room until we put him into a bed and moved the chair to Grace's room…and then he would start his nights in there…He may have had the most expensive “dog bed” of any other dog in the world.  It warmed my heart when I would hear Grace talking to him in the morning.  My kids are dog lovers because of him and although he was usually a bull in a china shop…he was really gentle with the kids, taking his treats (or a waffle) and giving them kisses.  "Dog" was one of their first words.  And this guy was SO in tune with me…stressed, anxious, upset…he would climb up on me and curl up by my head or try to dig under the covers and lay with me. 

He was and always will be my LOVE…my BELOVED…my SOUL’S FUR-MATE as I like to say. I never thought he could impact my life in the way he did…he taught me how to be a Mom, how to love unconditionally.  He was the ESSENCE OF UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.  He had an unwavering devotion to us.  He was my silent, devoted, loyal companion who never passed judgment on me and got me through the absolute darkest days of my life.  And also the BEST – the birth of Bentley & Grace – and if we had him at the time of our wedding, he most definitely would have been in the bridal party!  If I were to lay on him and cry though…I have to say he DID look at me weird…but that’s probably because he was a typical man.  He let me lay on him and smother him until…you bulldog folks know what's coming next…until the awkward moment where you can't contain the struggle any longer and he wiggled free.

I can thankfully say that even after the kids were born, and before his cancer diagnosis, I never took my boy for granted. He was family…he traveled with us, spent holidays with us. I told him every day, a hundred times a day how much I loved him.  I soaked him up, never missed an opportunity to pet him or snuggle him.  When he would lay across my legs at night I would rather be uncomfortable than to move him…it was more important that every second of HIS life was as comfortable as possible.  He deserved it for everything he has given and taught us.  All rules were tossed aside after he became ill and we had many a nights where he slept with us in bed. Even at the end nights where I slept with him on the floor because I knew he needed me. I loved him to the fullest every day of his beautiful life; I will love him for eternity.

One night recently, I found him sprawled out asleep on my side of the bed…with his head on my pillow…and he was nice enough to leave me just enough room to squeeze in, rest my face on his head, and listen to him breathe.  (and sniff him, of course) Another recent night I went upstairs to bed and as he usually is, expected him to be sleeping on the chair in Grace’s room.  I always sneak in to say goodnight...pet him, talk to him, tell him I love him.  But there he was, curled up in a ball on our pillows.  I sat next to him and my heart was overwhelmed with love and gratitude as I rested my face next to his and pet his chemo-thinned fur. 

He truly is my beloved boy and I am eternally grateful to him from the depths of my soul for the unconditional love he has given to me. Words just cannot do justice to how special my big man will ALWAYS be.

I love you my boy…and TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES.

~E

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Hurley's Story

"WRITE WHAT SHOULD BE NOT FORGOTTEN.” Isabel Allende

We lost our beloved boy 2 weeks ago yesterday and I sure do have a lot to write…

Little did I know when we decided to get a dog over 6 years ago how magical his impact on my life would be…even his cancer diagnosis and our long journey down that road together…

On April 30, 2013 Hurley was sitting to my left on the couch (where he was NOT supposed to be) and when I looked over, it appeared as though he had golf balls under his neck. There were lumps everywhere. I immediately called Tufts and had him there in 20 minutes. They did a fine needle aspiration and we waited.  Around the same time the next day I was sitting in the chair at my hairdresser’s when Tufts called…the vet on the other end muttered, “it’s lymphoma.” Everything turned to a fog and I broke down.  Chris was working not far away and he came to get me. We went home, picked up Hurley, and went straight to Tufts. He was diagnosed on May 1, 2013 with Multicentric B-Cell Lymphoma, Stage 5…less than 2 months after his 5th birthday. Without treatment we could have lost him within weeks; with treatment the averages we were given were 6-8 months IF he responded.  There is no cure; it is terminal, just a matter of buying time.  There was no sign of illness in our boy…AT ALL. We were told that although lymphoma is very aggressive, that is why it typically responds well to chemo. We decided to proceed with a 15-week course of injectable chemo – the protocol CHOP. It would be a combination of different injectable chemo medications on a weekly basis, prednisone, as well as exams and CBCs (blood counts). And so it began…

The spring and summer of 2013 were filled with weekly visits to Tufts. Hurley made friends with all of his caretakers and brought a wonderful friend into my life, his chemo tech, Jenn. She put me at ease immediately – I had NEVER been home alone without my boy there, so Thursdays/chemo days were BRUTAL having to drop him off – she sent me photos of him in her office, begging for her lunch, she made bow tie’s for him out of colored medical gauze, and he even climbed onto one of the doggie carts for a ride while a post-surgery dog rested on top. He quickly went into remission, although there was a ‘blip’ in the radar when one of the meds (Doxy) - which was potentially damaging to the heart - did just that…he suffered some minor heart damage so that particular drug was removed from his protocol and we pressed on.  We continued on through all 15 weeks, finishing in August, 2013 IN REMISSION.

Less than two months later, he came out of remission. There was still NOT A SINGLE SIGN that our boy was not feeling well…so we started another 15-week course of CHOP in October, 2013. He responded well again and went back into remission. Shortly before Christmas, however, his cancer began to progress again – his oncologists believed he had stopped responding to one of the chemo meds, so they changed up his protocol. He continued not responding as well, however, and sure enough we received the news that he had “failed” CHOP. It is NOT a good sign for him to have failed a protocol DURING the course of treatment. I remember sitting on the couch talking to his oncologist…at this point they offer “rescue” protocols. He still looked and felt great. We opted for a protocol called “MOPP” which had the highest chance of success…but that rate wasn’t GREAT. Still, it was worth a shot. MOPP is a 4-week cycle of at-home chemo pills and exams. Initially, his cancer didn’t progress BUT he was not considered in remission…then at about week 4 it was determined that he had in fact failed MOPP. With no clinical trials available, there was one option left…CCNU. He was still doing really well…he has always been a little ox.  Compared to the treatments we had been doing – injectable chemo, at-home meds, weekly visits to Tufts since that previous May (although I have to say he was a champion patient and LOVED LOVED LOVED his time with Jenn and all of his “Auntie’s” at Tufts)…this was EASY. It was a simple chemo injection with follow up CBCs and then he had a break before we resumed the next “round.”  WELL, once we hit mid April, he had FAILED AGAIN. The cancer was winning.

There was one option left…which wasn’t really a viable option for us. He would receive 4-hour chemo infusions for which he would probably have to be knocked out. The side effects were likely significant, which the most substantial being GI upset…and he already had a sensitive tummy. I do have to say that for the last 10 months or so of previous treatments he had very minimal side effects – some vomiting here and there…but that’s it, and it was really only a handful of times.  Chris and I had always agreed that we would do everything we possibly could for him but no matter how hard it would be, we would NOT EVER EVER do anything to ‘intentionally’ make him sick or feel any crummier than the cancer could make him feel on its own. There was no way we were going to do this to him. So we went on to our last resort…prednisone. This is used as the final course of treatment – although not really ‘treatment’ at this point (it is often combined with other chemo protocols and Hurl had been on it before sporadically) as it is just a way to try and keep nodes down, keep appetite up, keep him comfortable. “Pred” (as many of us veteran doggie cancer parents called it) is was. I had developed a great network of ‘pet cancer’ friends with knowledge of supplements, vitamins, etc. so after some additional research (who am I kidding…I’d been researching canine lymphoma online since the day he was diagnosed, talked to countless other dog parents about their treatments, purchased the Dog Cancer Survival Guide, and even took him to a 4-hour appt with a total LOON to discuss alternative treatment options). With everything I had learned, I added a regimen of 3x/day supplements on top of his pred. When he got sick a few days in a row, a couple of times per day, however, I stopped everything except his pred and his nausea meds. At that point, there was not enough benefit – for me, but it could work for others – to cause him to be sick from all the pills.

We thankfully hit that 1-year mark on May 1, 2014. We took photos in his purple cancer bowtie to mark the occasion.



A few weeks ago we had some tough nights. I went to our buddy Griffin’s Roll & Remember in Maine and when I came back I knew he didn’t feel well. He had started hacking more at night, and gagging. He was lying in odd places around the house where he had NEVER laid down in his 6 years. Most days he followed me everywhere. He did pretty well for probably the first 20 days or so on pred, then started having some ups and downs. He would have a few tough nights, then bounce back; his best buddy Jax came and he played like a puppy for hours, but crashed for days afterwards.

On Monday, the 19th he hadn’t eaten all day – by about 9PM he hadn’t touched his food and his peanut butter covered prednisone still sat in his bowl. Before bed he did make his way downstairs with me and had a few bites plus a nausea pill. That night he stayed in bed with us ALL NIGHT LONG, he didn’t move. Tuesday he was grazing on his food on and off, totally crashed with us all night again.

Wednesday morning, May 21st he did not get off the bed when I got up. His head was hanging off the end of the bed with his paws under his chin, just looking at me. He had a look and I knew he didn't feel good. It was a very drastic change compared to the day before even.  He went into the closet which was one of his favorite places and I asked if he wanted a ride…he barley lifted his head and didn't perk up which is not like him. It was his eyes, most of all, that told me. He always had the most beautiful sparkle in his big brown eyes, and I didn’t see it that morning. I BEGGED him that I needed him to tell me when he was tired, and he DID, just with a look.  The sparkle was gone.  I got him up and had to help support him down the stairs because he had a hard time, one step at a time. It was either that he was very weak, he was delirious, or both. He was drooling nonstop with shoestrings and bubbles - assuming from the massive nodes in his neck that he could barely swallow. He was trying to swallow and swallowing frequently, and I could tell it was hard for him.  He stood on the wood floor and his back legs were sliding out from under him as I called Chris. He stumbled down the back stairs to the yard...I wasn’t going to leave him home alone so whatever I had to do to get him in the car with me, and I had to lift him into the front seat.  He was clearly weak and maybe even disoriented. I stopped to get him a plain munchkin donut and he wouldn't touch it.  I broke off a teeny piece and he barely gummed it from my hand, and wouldn't touch the rest. I feel like he just did that to try and be strong for me, that he really didn’t want the donut.  I called Tufts and we got him there ASAP. I knew going in that it wasn’t good…I had begged my big man to tell me when he was tired, and he DID that morning by the look in his eyes when I asked him to go for a ride. He had bruises & red all down his lower belly and groin, which happened when he was first diagnosed last year.  At one point I was underneath him and saw through the white fur on his chin that his skin looked red. We got to Tufts and carried him in, usually he loves going there and he just plopped down on the floor. He wanted to say Hi to a neighboring dog but couldn’t get up.  The oncologist asked what was going on and I told her…as he was just sprawled on a blanket on the floor. He wiggled his bum a bit for his ladies, which was his usual greeting or what he did when he was excited…but it was really hard for him.  I feel like he was still trying to put on a front for me.  He was tired. I felt like I needed them to reassure me that it wasn't an infection or something that we could treat…even though I knew in my heart it was the cancer. He also has something called 'head bobbing' which is common in bulldogs - the wires cross in his neck and his head literally shakes back and forth like he's saying "no." (originally the first few times years ago we thought it was seizures and took him to Tufts where they showed us a YouTube video of 'head bobbing' after I showed them a video I took; he is fine when it happens and totally with it but his head just shakes, sometimes 2 minutes, sometimes 15.) Anyways, he started bobbing – I think his body was just giving up.

We looked at each other and that was it.  No matter how bad it was going to hurt us, we would not let him be in pain. He has given us too much in his 6 short years to let him suffer.  To see a guy so strong in this condition was gut wrenching. As his Mama, I would rather be in the kind of pain I am in now than to let my boy, who has given me so much, be uncomfortable, in pain, suffering. Chris had to carry him out back to get his cath. We went out to the front bereavement garden and two of his favorite chemo techs (Jenn, AKA Auntie Chemo and Auntie Tiff, who had lost her Daisy that same morning and then was still there with us) had to wheel him out on a cart. We talked to him, laid with him, and that was it, he is gone. We had been at Tufts nearly every week for a year. We got just about 13 months than what could have been expected when he was diagnosed…and they were beautiful days, every last second…38 days on solely prednisone. It was 6 years of unconditional, crazy, insane love.  A forever love. A love that makes my heart want to burst open even as it is broken.  It was a year of lasts, so we made everything extra special – his last Halloween with his bulldog-carved pumpkin from Gampy; his last Christmas so we filled it with stuffed guys that he could chew apart all over the house; his last birthday ride with me to our special doggie boutique for his birthday cookie…but this year we went BIG and got him the bone-shaped cake; my last birthday and Mother’s Day with him. BUT we made sure to bring  him on more than one occasion to the new house so that we could have some comfort in knowing that he HAD in fact been there with us physically and “marked” it for us.


On May 21, 2014 we had to say goodbye to our beloved Hurley, always our FIRST BORN.




OUR BELOVED HURLEY STRAZZULLA

March 5, 2008 – May 21, 2014

~E
HURLEY'S MAMA