It seems that we all have something we are fighting right now. This next month, I’m all about doing battle with cancer. Cancer. Ugh, I hate it. I actually began this piece with a direct conversation to cancer itself, but it contained so many swear words I had to delete it. I have good reason to hate cancer, as does almost everyone reading this article. Personally, I’ve lost two dogs, a sister-in-law and a best friend to cancer. I have several friends who are battling cancer as I write. I look at my three dogs and find myself wondering—will I lose one of them to it? (That’s not paranoid, cancer affects dogs at higher rates than it affects people.) What about Jim? Argh, I can’t even go there.
Of course, none of us can have a direct conversation with cancer. It’s not sentient, it doesn’t speak English, and just as relevant, there is no such thing as “cancer” as a single disease. Cancers vary tremendously; that’s part of why it is so challenging to prevent and cure its many variations.
However, the fact that many kinds of cancers are found in both people and dogs creates an opportunity for researchers. Having similar kinds of cancers found in two species means that researchers from both human and veterinary medicine can combine forces and work to cure those cancers for all of us.
That is what the Puppy Up Foundation is all about—raising money to save lives by funding comparative oncology studies that battle cancer with an interdisciplinary approach. This year people and dogs in 40 cities will be walking to raise money to fund that research. Last year the Madison walk raised over $132,000 to help find a cures. 1,100 people and 900 dogs participated, and this year Jim and I will be there again, fighting the best way we know how—by personally doing all we can to help raise money for a great cause. And a great cause it is; in years past large grants have been made to UW-Madison, UC-Davis and the University of Texas, all doing cutting edge research to find better ways to prevent and cure cancer.
This then, is my fifth year of cocking my head and raising a paw in hopes of generating more funds for such a good cause. Please join me in Donating to Puppy Up Madison, and looking forward to a world in which our grandchildren think of cancer as a disease of the past.
Join me too in sending a memorial to those you have lost, or who are currently fighting cancer:
Misty—My little, fox-faced Misty Cuffs, I am so sorry I didn’t realize that you were harboring tumors for so many months before you died. And then, just a few days from diagnosis to death. I love you, and miss you. And I wish you’d come back and kill all the moles in the lawn like you used to.
Lassie—My sweet, whipped cream of a girl, I still ache for you. Thank you for teaching me how kind and loving a dog can be. And for learning not to leap up and stick your tongue into people’s mouths like you did when I first got you.
Barbara—My wonderful warrior sister-in-law, how could we lose you at such a young age? Who is there now to tease your brothers, soothe your mother, be the first to welcome me into the family? But you will always live on, in the students you nurtured and inspired. Thank you for being you.
Karen—Are you really still gone? Are you not out tracking somewhere with your Flatcoats? Please come back, I miss you girlfriend. Still.
I hope you have fewer memorials to send, both now, and in the future.
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Spring! Really! First flowers:
Miki says
Jake – I’m so sorry that we didn’t know that you had tumors. I’m sorry that we couldn’t do much when we found out that the tumors ruptured in your stomach. I miss your smell so much.
Indy – Sweet, sweet girl. Loved to roll in stinky stuff. I’m so sorry that we let you go at the hospital where you didn’t like. I miss seeing you savoring the gentle wind.
Cassini – I was looking forward to getting older with you, Cassini. I didn’t think we would lose you at the age of six. You were the most peace-loving, caring, and fun dog. Luke finally stopped looking for you last week. We all miss you, your sweet scent, and your sweetest sighs.
Grainne Levine says
Fergus – You were the most empathetic dog I’ve ever known. You brought happiness to all the people you meet while making your therapy visits. I miss your knowing eyes.
Bonnie – My friend and rescue partner. You fought fiercely for all the dogs and became Momma Bonnie to all the volunteers. You are our inspiration.
Erin says
Gumdrop -“Gummer” Our feisty terror terrier mix. I’m sorry at the time you were diagonised that there wasn’t a better option for treatment. I knew our little pound girl who had to be kept in a cat cage because she escaped from the puppy pens deserved a better end then chemo in a lonely cage. You’d been through that enough. Rest in peace my precious one, I still miss you. And I’m sorry I didn’t know then the things I know now.
Amy says
Georgia – We say goodbye to you tomorrow. Cancer struck so fast that everyone who knows and loves you is still in shock. I love you and I pray for the strength to be calm and loving in your final moments.
Susan S. says
Simon, The Moose, our man in a dog suit – The vet said you had a tumor, but it was the ’70s & I don’t think we knew that cancer in dogs could be treated. We were young & dumb & soooo busy, & we didn’t have a lot of money then. We were happy for you on your good days & we gave you aspirin on your bad days, until the morning you lifted your leg on a tree & fell over & died in the yard. Nothing before or since has made me wish so much that dogs could talk. I’m sorry.
Leanne Bertino says
Exactly one year ago tomorrow my then 9 year old Portuguese Water Dog (named Spice) had surgery for a sarcoma on her hip. After 4 weeks of radiation she began the slow healing process. One year later Spice is cancer free despite a 70% local recurrence rate within the first year. So yes, there is hope! I hope many more survive and I also hope that cancer treatment becomes more common, effective and affordable so that more people can choose that option.
To those pets I lost- all to lymphoma-
Merlin (Aussie mix) my sweet escape artist. May you be running free wherever you are.
Michael and Emma- (Maine Coon cats) you were so much fun! Michael I hope my attempts to save you weren’t too hard on you. You just were so agreeable, even when I gave you meds you just wanted love or a snack. Emma, thank you for sleeping with your paw wrapped around my wrist for 14 years. You were all love.
Finally to my Mom who had the awful luck of being diagnosed with breast cancer at age 44 and dying at 58. Almost my age now. Mom bravely chose to forgo treatment when there was no possible cure, choosing instead to enjoy what time she had left.
Thanks for this opportunity. Much appreciated.
sandra hovey says
Freya my wonder dog…it has been 8yrs since we said goodbye and I miss seeing your eyes light up when you saw a child, the joy you experienced in a mud puddle, your love for your Frisbee and swimming in the lake. You were my soul dog…
Piquito my poor little Aussie rescue, you never ever became comfortable with wide open spaces. I will miss the trust and love you were able to give me.
I am a breast cancer survivor. 3yrs ago my life changed. It would be wonderful if my grandchildren could think of cancer as a disease of the past!
Linda says
Bridgewood Biff – my beautiful Boxer. My first dog, passed when I was just 13. You taught me so much about love, dogs, trust and death. When I met you at age 5 I knew I would always live with dogs.
My dad, Burt – the man who opened my life to dogs. I so enjoyed hearing your stories of the dogs who shared your life.
MC says
I’ve been giving CBD to my little terrier who has cancer. So far so good… he’s gained weight, has more energy, and one of the tumors shrunk, while the other didn’t grow. I don’t know if it’s a miracle cure but it does seem to be helping. I’m also giving him turmeric extract, canned pumpkin puree, and hamburger. For what it’s worth. It’s a horrible disease. I lost my father to it, and several other beloved relatives.
Edna Gorby says
Eden Bay-we did not know you were sick until the first symptom showed up and it was too late.
Murphy-you fought Lymphoma like a superhero. I know you hated the chemo but we got an extra year with you because you fought so hard.
Riley-I am happy I adopted you but wish I had more than 18 months before Cancer took you. Because you were a puppy mill survivor I felt you deserved more.
Casey-I only wished your former owner/over breeder had gotten you to a vet during your life. I was proud of how you helped get the word out about hospice care for dogs.
Leeward-you were THAT dog and Cancer robbed the world of your spirit, love of life attitude way too soon. You did touch so many hearts and lives.
Bennie-adopting you when you just need a place to let your injured tired body rest brought together so many. Your bucket list brought joy and awareness that you could live large with Cancer. You were my Puerto Rico rescue labbie and having you here was amazing.
You all were my rescued, hospice, adopted Golden dogs. I did what I could out of love and hopefully I am becoming the person I think you needed and wanted me to be. I miss you all very deeply.
Ramona says
Simon – The memory of your paw reaching through the kennel and touching my hand at the humane society that began our first day together lives indelibly in my heart. You were the best orange kitty ever. When I decided to try my hand at Clicker training, you were the best! I miss you riding on my shoulders, sticking your paw in my coffee for a taste and your love of cantaloupe. Love you sweet boy.
Pearl – From the day I brought you home, I knew the bond we would have. So many interwoven pieces of my life that you were a part of that even though it’s been a year, I still expect to feel you laying by side when I wake up, I still expect the jingle of your collar coming down the hallway. What I wouldn’t give for one more day. I love you baby girl.
Dad – You fought the battle over and over and I know how tired you were. I know that you were so worried about how mom would be. I will always keep my promise to you dad to make sure she’s ok. In my heart, I know Pearl is up there with you and Simon too. I love you Dad.
Auntie Alice – No one ever expected you would be the first one in our family to go. You were so strong. Ever day you worked on the farm and you were always smiling and humming. I also remember the very tender side of you. My love of critters, in all shapes and sizes comes from you.
John – You were such a good friend. Thank you for all the special handyman jobs you did for me so willingly. I hope you know that it was an honor and not a burden to care for you in those final days. I hope you and Pearl are playing tug! I know you’re life was not easy but I hope you also know that you made a difference. Love you dearly, my friend.
Debra Jensen says
Wyatt – My sweet Aussie blue eyed blue merle. Friendly with his dog buddies, and steadfast with friends and family but not a therapy dog although we tried. (Tears and children made him hide). Lung cancer at 9 – went so fast we didn’t even realize it was there until it was too late. Thank goodness for our last romp in the open space chasing ground squirrels and bugs just the week before he passed.
Christa McElroy says
Tessa: You spent so long at the puppy mill and such a short time with us. Your courage, tenacity and loyalty are unequaled. I long to bury my face in that sweet spot between your ears every day. I will always miss you, my little shadow.
Gregg: You were the best son in law and father. Your wife and children were so short-changed, losing you so young. We miss you every day.
Shawn: My first and best collie – you were such a gentleman. So accepting of everyone and sweet and gentle with everything little…. kittens, children, chicks, other dogs. You took charge of every foster that came into our home and made them feel welcome. I’m sure you’re still greeting people and animals at the pearly gates.
Amber, Ninja, Gaia – such sweet little kitty spirits. You had good lives and maybe I tried too hard to keep you all, at the end. It’s so hard to know when to give up and let go. We loved you all dearly.
As for me: Someday I hope I will stop being afraid of metastases or recurrence and learn to live with grace, being thankful and celebrating each day that is given me to live without cancer, either in myself or my loved ones, both four and two legged.
Jena says
Loki – my best friend in the world. I took your leg to save you but little did I know how you would hate only having three legs. Little did I know that in six months that same cancer would come back and fill your entire body. There will never be another you. I hope that you are able to run whole and free now. I have said it a million times and I will keep saying it until it’s gone. Cancer sucks!!!!!!!
Jenny says
In memory of Scooter:
My heart dog who filled my life with so much joy and comfort. I love you, and I am proud of you. You are, forever, part of me. The cancer took you too hard and too fast, but you fought to the end. Thank you.
CJ Clark says
Stryder and Sasha I miss you both dearly and ache for you. I love you both. Sasha I am sorry I let you down, I didnt realize you were so sick. I was so focused on Stryders illness.
We now have a new puppy Sammi but I explained to get she could never full your footprints and she needs to make her own.
Adrianne says
For Bandit, you were such a big, sweet, kind, loveable Himbo. Cancer literally broke your heart. And broke ours along with it. You are the measure by which all dogs after you are judged. We miss you every day and thank you for sending us Ghost, who takes very good care of us now.
muttzrule says
Scout – Mr. Sweetness, world’s best goldador and self taught assistance dog. Though you had no formal training, you always saw ways that your mom needed help and figured out on your own how to meet those needs. I’m sorry that at age 14 you were diagnosed with lung cancer. I’m grateful for the remaining time we had together, especially the last weekend when you had a brief remission from the pain and were able to enjoy life almost like a young pup again. I’m so sorry for the pain you suffered during those weeks and wish I could have done more for you. Love you forever, big guy.
Mary Beth says
Mr. Buck — Sweet and faithful Florida Brown Dog. We didn’t know there was anything wrong until. You guarded us, counseled us, kept us company and hoarded all the dog toys. We miss you.
Casey — A joyous Labrador who was in charge of knowing how things were supposed to be. And retrieving squirrels, even when you could hardly see anymore, you knew where they would be. I was never sadder than when the pain took you, and we couldn’t help.
Kris says
My sweet Duke, the sun doesn’t shine quite as brightly since you left this world. It rose and set on you, after all. Two months today. After nearly 14 amazing years of “us”–a pack of 2–how can you possibly be gone? I’m so very lucky to have no regrets. I gave you everything I had, and you gave it back a thousand times over. And you have me the most treasured gift of all…the gift of dogs. You taught me how to speak dog. How to spot your anxiety triggers and make them go away. How to read your every movement as a message. How to give you what you needed, when you needed it. How to reinforce what you loved and banish what you feared. How to celebrate the small stuff. How to love so purely and so completely that my body physically aches to touch you just one last time. To softly whisper those sweet nothings into your and soothe whatever was bothering you. How to massage away your worries and make the world a safe place. Because I was always there. Always watching you. Like you watched over me for all those years…reading and understanding me as well as I did you. We were an amazing team. You gave me the beautiful gift of dogs. I love and miss you more than any words could begin to express. You burrowed into my heart and soul more deeply than any human or animal ever could or ever will. And I’ll walk for you on May 7 at the Madison Puppy Up. It’ll be the hardest 2 miles of life. But I know you’ll me there with me. Not at at the other end of the leash, but in my heart. I hate cancer for taking you away only 21 hours after hearing that ugly word: hemangiocarcoma. Remember how I always told you “I’m right here” when you were scared or anxious or insecure? I’ll be listening for you to whisper those words into my ear this time. The whole 2 miles. I love you, beautiful boy. Thank you for letting me in and loving me like you did. You’re my forever heart dog.
Maggie says
My sweet Hunter Matata who loved to visit the oldies in care homes and loved being with her humans. Even though you bullied the bitches you were such a joy to work with. I will forever remember the trust I had with you in stays and recalls. Why was your cough misdiagnosed? Why didn’t the xrays show the cancer that your lungs were trying to deal with? Why couldn’t I ease the agony you went through that last night? I will remember your resilience and uncomplaining last few hours with us. I know you will be at Rainbow Bridge waiting for us all. RIP our sweet girl.
Margaret says
Alfie – Best dog ever. I loved you more than I can say, and was devastated when I discovered that you were battling prostate cancer, that had already gone into your bones and your lungs. You were such a brave boy. I hated having to say goodbye to you, though I know I did the right thing. You always embraced life, and I’m sure you bounced on death and sent him flying too. I miss you so much.
Mum – it’s been nearly 30 years since cancer beat you. It’s a foul, foul disease, and I will never forgive it for the misery it put you through. I hate that it was misdiagnosed and that you had to go through so much. I know that diagnosis rates are much better than they were, but I know that your spirit will be thoroughly behind the Puppy Up people. You fought as well as you could, I’m glad that people (and dogs) are still fighting.
Robin says
I will post something soon, but just wanted to say that my heart aches for all the losses I am reading about; literally aches. Yes, cancer sucks.
UrbanCollieChick says
To my friend’s father, Edward McNicol, who passed after a long and horrible fight with melanoma. Ed, your daughter has been taking a long time to come to terms with your passing. I only wish it had been more peaceful. The cancer was not kind. It never is.
To my Opa, who had cancer of the kidneys, among other things, before he passed.
Two my two kitties who had fibrosarcomas.
To my friend’s mother who is currently battling breast cancer. Go woman go!
And I’m ever so grateful to have my dear father still with me, after dealing with colon and prostate cancers.
CB says
I want to say so much but there would not be enough room. My Beamer (GP) we are loosing him to Myopathy and bone cancer all the specialist we take him to say that due to where the cancer is they cant operate and the myopathy is not reversible and will just get worse. They swear his not in pain but all he does is just lay there and has a hard time getting up to go for his short walk to use the restroom.. I feel life is so unfair he is a rescue and had a hard life before coming to us in 2012 and now he is ending like this. He is between 6 or 7 YO. Rescue dogs are very hesitant of people specially him that was shot at when he was homeless and abandoned before he was even born. I loved him the minute I saw his picture and he taught me so much about kindness and forgiveness. I feel there is so much left for him and I to learn from each other. They say he will tell me when is time, and to enjoy every moment I have left. How? if when I’m with him I feel sadness knowing how he will go. I hope his message is clear when is time and he goes with the dignity he lived. even though this might sound strange I think even his brother Murphy (GR) is feeling the loss we have had him since he was am 8wo pup and now is 7 years old. Murphy is not the same. I wonder if he is grieving with us and knows what is happening to Beamer?
Rebecca Owens says
Lark, you survived lung cancer just before you turned 14 and had a clean scan 3 months later. Then 3 and a half months later, you began to limp and I noticed a lump on your left foreleg. Osteosarcoma took you from me a short five weeks later. I have missed my yellow dog every second of every day for the past almost 2 years (on May 12). My dreams show you happy and healthy and in your prime. I love you.
Lorraine Hoge says
To Sasha and Patience cats. To Murphy and Mollie – an amazing pair adopted at ages 5 and 7 and learned so much and lucky to have till cancer caught up at ripe older ages of 14 and 15 – we were very lucky! To Zuky – 8 yrs when adopted – mammory tumors founds right after and ate the leather leash when waiting with the tech for your chemo! …lol…the tech and vet will never forget that! Had you for 2 yrs and it was the best! Comquat – oh my – 8 yrs old and what a girl you were ..big and red and beautiful and lost to cancer so quickly at age 10 – but 2 years that were great.
And right now we have Joey – age 10 or so from out of the shelter – 8 pounds – and the sweetest dealing with cancer tumor that is not operable – but YOU and I are having a good time right now and making every moment count! We love you Joey and I wish we could have you for years to come but every moment of today is great 🙂