I had my dates mixed up. Bump went for his ultrasound today. Unfortunately the answers we got weren't encouraging. The imaging tech said that the tumor isn't in his bladder. It's up by his pancreas, and it's so big it's constricting his duodenum. That seems to explain why he can't get food to stay down. He has been pouting about dog kibble for months, but we had been putting it in water, old fashioned Gravy Train style, for over two years now. Bump always got his first, and then the other two who wolf down their meals (hence the water to slow them down), but they were still so fast that the food wouldn't soften enough for Beebe to digest his. He would let the others come over and finish his food off. Not to mention, they ate what he barfed too. So he is on puree only from here on out, as I said yesterday. The Mr pulled out the food processor to turn chicken, rice, egg, and broth into a smoothie. He also went ahead and gave the green light to the pharmacist to compound the medication we were told would treat bladder cancer before he went to the ultrasound. Now he needs to wait to hear what our regular vet says, but he expects to be told that prednisone will be the proper course of treatment.
When they arrived home, Bump jumped out of the truck, ran to me for a split second, and then went back to his papa to remind him that there were still french fries from the Magic Food Window they had passed on the way home from the ultrasound. At least he still wants to eat. It's as good as I could hope for, having learned that my (12 year old) puppy has what appears to be pancreatic cancer. His side was shaved for the scan. It always makes me sad to see animals with patches of fur shaved. It's never for good things. Well, not usually. Girl quadrupeds get their bellies shaved to be spayed, which is usually a good thing, but even then, I don't like making them go through surgery and feel icky. I do it, but I don't like it.
Speaking of that sort of thing, it's Harvey's turn to prevent unwanted pregnancies. He goes in Thursday morning for neutering. Poor guy isn't going to like us much come game night Thursday night. I figure he will hide in one of his unreachable spots, like inside the lining of the box springs under one of the beds. He won't be jumping on the table in the middle of our game, that's for sure. The way that kid eats, I'm making a prediction now: once he is neutered, he is going to get faaaaaaaaaaaaat. Like Jackie-level fat. He might have a chance at avoiding it with his super Siamese kitty genes, but I've seen that kid begging for second breakfast... and elevenses... and lunch... and afternoon snack... and appetizers to dinner...
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