Time with our pets is never enough

Your pets may only be there for part of your life, but you are their whole life.

That phrase, more or less, has circulated the internet in years past, reminding pet owners to cherish their animals.

I found myself trying to make the most of those words recently.

As I started writing a draft for this column, I looked over at my senior border collie, Beauty, while she scratched that itch on her ear in just the right place. I’ve been blessed to share 13 years with her.

Thirteen years. She’s been around for nearly half my life.

My parents lost our other family pet, 12-year-old Minnie the cat, late last year. At that time, I told Beauty she wasn’t allowed to leave us any time soon.

After finding a lump on her back recently, I was worried I may have jinxed myself.

Any time you find a lump in a place there shouldn’t be a lump, on a human or pet, concern is valid. Senior pets, too, are a whole different breed of worry. Any out-of-place growth or mole could spell that six-letter diagnosis no one wants to hear. Nearly everyone I talked to after scheduling a veterinarian appointment said the same thing: let’s hope it isn’t cancer.

 We’ve had a few health scares in recent years with Beauty after doing routine senior dog blood work, but additional testing abated our worries quickly. She’s a healthy looking dog for her age.

A lump wasn’t something I wanted to think about just yet. 

Plus, it wasn’t easy to find. A soft lump that moved around under her skin, it was hard to pinpoint. My fiance, Justin, couldn’t feel the lump when I tried to show him, but he still encouraged me to look into it.

 I waited longer than I should have to schedule the appointment. I kept thinking I was worrying over nothing like always

Google told me it could be cancer. Then again, Google says just about any medical concern could be cancer.

I called Saturday, and the veterinary clinic fit me in for a visit Feb. 17. I spent the rest of the weekend worrying.

With her mortality in mind, I took a longer walk than usual with her the day before her appointment despite the freezing temperatures. Strolling around together in the snow felt liberating somehow. Beauty excitedly rushed ahead to sniff every mailbox, hydrant and tree she could find on our path.

By the time we returned home, she waited patiently at the door as I unlocked it. The cold had finally sunken into her thick coat.

You’d think she was freezing, too, when we made our way into the Hartford Animal Clinic’s lobby that next morning. Surrounded on either side by yellow labradors, Beauty couldn’t stop shaking. 

She’s never been a fan of other dogs. She planted herself firmly against the side of my leg farthest away from the others.

The vet tech weighed her — just under 30 pounds, a normal weight for my little lady.

We were then ushered into an exam room, where veterinarian Dustin Decker quickly appeared to check her lump.

I offered none of my internet search knowledge. Let the professional handle it, I thought.

Within a few seconds, he shared his assumption: lipoma. A quick fine needle aspiration — a cell sample extraction from the growth — indicated the same diagnosis.

Not to be confused with the lymph system cancer lymphoma, lipomas are benign skin tumors made up of fat cells. They show up as soft, moveable lumps under the skin and are typically painless for animals. They don’t require treatment unless they become large or uncomfortable or interfere with movement.

I’m writing this as if I absorbed every word the vet told me in the moment and didn’t research lipomas after the fact. Truthfully, all I heard was “not cancer,” “not fatal” and “no treatment needed.”

I hugged Beauty as I strapped her harness into the car after leaving the clinic. She wagged her tail, licked my cheek and jumped excitedly in her seat.

My thoughts were correct — I was worrying over nothing. Then again, I’d rather pay for a quick check-up and find nothing substantial than discover a few months down the road my dog has a terminal affliction.

With a senior dog, every year that goes by together feels that much more precious. Every unremarkable test result and vet appointment help me breathe a little easier.

I don’t know how much longer I have with Beauty, but I know it’ll never feel like enough time. I was reminded of that the other night as she snuggled into the covers next to me before falling asleep.

However much life she has left, we’ll make the most of it.