Today was a little tough as Cole was a little weak and wobbly from either the chemo or the after surgery crash. He just wanted to sleep and was not interested in food other than very select cookies. The things he went for yesterday were spit out today. This makes me think it was the chemo. We had to shove the pills down his throat and he ate very little food but some cookies and a little bite of chicken so that is something.

This morning, I was watching him sleep and sad for him that he seemed to not feel good and worried that he was so weak. I saw him struggle to walk to go out and go to the bathroom. I’m ashamed to admit I started missing the dog that he was. I miss my playful goof and sweet snuggly guy that I know he still is and will be again but I also miss the beefy, seemingly invincible dog he was. I miss the dog that people would stop me to ask about and want to pet and make comments like “I bet no one gives you a hard time!” I miss moments like the door to door security system salesman coming to our door, pausing with his mouth open when the door opened and he was face to face with a wagging and smiling Cole, shaking his head and saying “Have a nice day” before walking away. I miss the dog that once blocked my entire bedroom doorway with his huge body and, head down, snarled in a way that sounded more like a bear roaring than a sound a dog can make when a man came into my house at 3:30 in the morning (it was just my husband coming home from an overnight film shoot at work so no worries, nothing bad happened). I miss our walks and the short but hilarious wrestling matches between him and Ella. I miss the gorgeous beast who was so much the ideal mastiff. It is shallow and selfish to think these things and I felt bad thinking them. He didn’t ask to get cancer and is in pain and here I am, sad that he will be less….perfect? impressive? I’m not sure what the word I am looking for is. I am tempted to delete this whole post because I am disgusted with myself for thinking these things even if it was only for a few minutes.

As the day went on, he started feeling better and got stronger. All of his little victories made my heart swell and I was so filled with pride when we took off the back half of his harness and barely supported him for his last potty trip before bed. I was so happy for him when I took his port out after his last dose through the catheter because it meant he could be out of isolation and back in his bed. The “dog bed” is a twin size mattress on the floor at the foot of our bed so there is a mattress thickness bit of a jump. I was so happy when he hopped up on the bed after only one stumble all by himself. He is now snoozing with Ella where he should be and I expect him to sleep through the night because of it. He is now sitting up at different points during the day and can get up by himself. I am so proud of how strong he is and how resilient. I miss some things about the old Cole but I am appreciating him in so many new and different ways now. He is amazing and still so impressive and gorgeous and a perfect example of a mastiff. He has lost nothing but 10 lb of pain and disease so I was crazy for feeling sad before.

I wonder if others have these thoughts through this process. Is it just me being selfish and prideful or is it normal to miss things about your dog?

Just now while I was writing this, he stood up by himself and walked a few feet and then got back in bed with no assistance at all for the first time. It feels like the kind of excitement you feel over a baby’s first steps. I’m so happy he will soon feel less confined by his inability to move very much.