As we got closer to the place I'd been all to often lately, she started shaking. She truly hates that place. She's been there too much.
As we got out of the car she looked up at me with her beautiful big brown eyes. Pleading with me not to make her go back there. I smiled at her, promising it would be quick. Promising I'd take her home.
The surgeon, the other vet that sent TheDog home with me, and the surgeon's assistant all joined my mom, sister and I in the exam room with The Dog.
We were there to have the staples removed. And to get the results of the biopsies. I was happy to have them all there.
The news was not good. The mass is not the kind of cancer that will respond to chemo. And the surgeon still thinks the surgery to remove it is too risky, with too difficult of a surgery to put her through.
So, there is no next course of action. There's nothing I can do. And nothing anyone can do. Except spoil her rotten. And hope and pray that this thing grows slowly. And isn't at all painful. The vet assured us we would know when it became painful, or when it has grown too large.
I don't know what to do with when. I just know what I'm doing with now. Staying up with her. Making sure she's comfortable. Giving her lots of love, short walks and home-cooked meals. And wishing against when.