Goodbye, Stranger

Today's post might seem a little strange to some; I'm memorializing a cat I don't know. In my mind, he's a "he," but perhaps he's a she. I don't even know. I do know that he's small and brown with light orange spots all over. He has long hair and a black collar. We've met many times but never gotten to know one another. I'm pretty sure I annoyed him to no end.

You see, we've seen this kitty a host of times over the past several weeks as we continue to search for Mr. Squiggles. He inhabits the same area Mr. S was last spotted. Every time I would see this little guy, for just a second, I thought he could be my own. Plus, seeing him, a healthy, living, outdoor cat, gave me hope that our own little hunter could survive out there in the big, bad world.

Saturday night, I found my little mystery friend dead. Out checking traps before bed, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. I stopped the car and backed up to the animal. My headlights only revealed to me that this figure was a dark, long-haired cat. Mr. Squiggles? I had to get out with my flashlight and check. The first thing revealed to me was the tell-tale dark collar, and I knew in that instant that kitty wasn't my own, but the little guy who had given me so much hope across the weeks.

What happened to him? I couldn't tell. He seemed uninjured, but obviously, dead. Perhaps he was sick, or perhaps we was hit by a car. All I know is he deserved better than to end his life along the side of the road, eyes open, tongue out, collecting frost as the night cooled. I wanted to scoop him up and honor him with a proper burial, but the frightened parent inside of me said, "No. He's wearing a collar. Some other family like you could be tortured wondering where he is. They deserve a chance to find him." Three days later, he is still there. We are giving his family more time, but I still ache to rescue him every time I drive by.

Each time I see him, I am reminded that my own boy is still out there, apart from us. By seeing my mysterious friend, I had hope that Mr. S could survive too. Now, seeing his soul-less body lying there, I am reminded that it's a rough, dangerous world. I fear for my boy, and I miss him beyond words. But I also grieve, in my own way, for this little unknown kitty, who merely by existing, provided a small measure of comfort to a frightened girl.

Goodbye, little stranger. I'll miss seeing you around.

The Stages of Grief

It was recently brought to my attention that I am going through the five stages of grief, brought on by the disappearance of our cat, Mr. Squiggles. We still have hope that he'll be found, but the fact remains that he's been missing for one month today. I haven't seen him in over five weeks.

We often think of grief as something that takes place after a loved one dies, but really, any trauma can bring it on. I'm experiencing it now, but I also went through these stages when Indiana was diagnosed with cancer.

1. Denial

Then: This can't possibly be happening! She can't be dying! How could my dog get cancer?

Now: This can't possibly be happening! My cat can't be missing! How could this happen to us?

2. Anger

Then: Why? Why is this happening? This is so unfair! Indiana doesn't deserve this; we don't deserve this. Damn you, God, why are you doing this?

Now: Why? Why is this happening? This is so unfair! We've done everything we can to be good parents, and this is how we are rewarded? Damn you, God, why are you doing this?

3. Bargaining

Then: Ok. What's it going to take to make things right? I'll give anything to save her. I'll give up my career. I love my career. Take it, just save her.

Now: Fix this! Make it right! I'll give anything to have him back. I'm doing everything I can to find him, spending any amount of time and money. We need and deserve him back!

4. Depression

Then: She might die. How will I survive if she dies? Life is so unfair. What is the point? How do I get through this? I'm walking through life with a dark cloud permanently following me.

Now: We might never get him back. He could be dead. Even if he's not, we might never see him again. How can I survive never seeing him again? Was the last time I saw him the last time? Is that the last touch I'll ever have? The last kiss? How do I get through this? I'm walking through life with a could permanently following me.

5. Acceptance

Then: This is awful and scary, but life has to go on. Every day that she survives makes it more likely that she'll live cancer-free for the rest of her days. I have to move past the fear and pain and realize we can beat the cancer.

Now: I haven't reached this stage yet. I don't think I want to.

Every day that he's missing is that much harder. We still have hope, but it gets more difficult. Others don't understand and think there's no way we'll get him back. They are wrong. I have no time or patience anymore for those who don't get it. I don't want to "accept that you might not get him back" or "think about getting another cat." My cat very likely could still be out there, and I will keep looking for him forever. I don't want another cat, because I want back the one I've lost. My life isn't whole with part of my family missing.

I don't know if it's comforting to realize I'm going through the stages of grief. Does it really matter? Perhaps it does. Three years ago, when Indiana was diagnosed with cancer, I thought my world was crashing in. But my strength got me through that crisis, and every day, it gets a little easier to live with a cancer diagnosis. If I could survive that, I can survive this. It's not been easy, but I remain hopeful and strong. Some days I feel like curling up into a ball and never emerging, and I don't try to fight those days too much. As with any roller coaster ride, the dips will be followed by a rise. I just have to ride it out.

Things I've Learned From My Dog: Heartache

I am no stranger to heartache. Indiana's illness quickly indoctrinated me into that world. My own pain grew into the pain of others, as I met my online cancer friends and experienced their pain and eventual loss. That's been pretty consistent for me, though over time I have learned to better separate my pain from theirs.

Now I am experiencing yet another heartache. Our beloved cat, Mr. Squiggles, is missing. We came home from vacation Friday night, and we still haven't seen him. We had a sitter staying with him, and he takes great care of our boys. He feels tremendously guilty about this, but we don't blame him in the slightest. It could have happened while we were home.

But it didn't. I can't stop blaming myself for this. What was he thinking while we were gone? Did he miss us? Was he angry that we left? If he's dead, did he die knowing we weren't with him?

These thoughts haunt me. I should never have gone on vacation. I don't see how I can ever travel again. This was one of my worst fears, and it has come true. I was supposed to protect and care for my boy, and I failed.

Life feels very dark right now. Jim and I are taking care of each other, as we cannot care for ourselves. We still have hope that we'll find him, and we're doing everything we can to make that happen. We will not give up.

But in the quietest moments of the night, we are reminded that he is not here. He is out there, somewhere, missing. I hope and pray that he is alive and well, just not able to make it back right now. I won't give up on him.

It will be a long road for us, especially the longer he is gone. I won't be alone; I have my old friend heartache to keep me company.

I'm a guest at Happy Dog Land

Last month, our cancer foundation had the opportunity to work a dog event hosted by the city of Chicago. While I was there, I was introduced to Billy Rafferty and Jill Cahr, whose book, HAPPY DOG: Caring for Your Dog's Body, Mind, and Spirit, just became available this month. Billy and Jill also have a blog, and they invited me to do a guest blog post about animal cancer.

Please head over to Happy Dog Land to read my guest post as well as all of the information Billy and Jill have to share.

38 Months and Counting

My friend Shanele and I spent part of the day yesterday at the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic for Indiana's twice-yearly appointment with oncology. I'm always a nervous wreck before these appointments. Even though Indiana is doing well, it seems like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. We had a lot of bad news in the beginning, so I know things don't always go smoothly. Still, I know my dog, and I know she doesn't have cancer anymore.

I can't say as though I ever look forward to going, but it's become a pretty regular part of our lives, and I'm used to it. I take comfort in knowing what's going to happen. So of course yesterday, they had to change things. Normally, we start our visit by being led back to the private oncology waiting room, complete with couches for parents and furry kids alike. We chill out for a while until an oncologist comes to see us. They do an exam there in the little waiting room, and Indiana is taken away for blood tests, ultrasound, and x-ray. Otherwise, we all get to wait together.

But yesterday starts with a tech (not one of our regular ones!) taking us to an exam room...not our couches. I mention this, and she only says we can go to the couches later. Hmmm. I don't like change. After a very formal check-in (we've been coming here for over 3 years!), she tells us the doctor will be in soon...and not our usual doctor. Strike two. The visit with the doctor goes fine--she's one we've seen before, though she's a full doctor, not our usual resident. She has me sign forms and ok the costs for the procedures, something we've not had to do since Indiana first got sick. Huh? What's going on here? Why are we in this alternate-universe U of I???

After all that oddness is over, we are finally led back to our precious couches. Oh, sweet, fluffy couches. How I love you. You are so normal. The rest of the visit goes by much like usual. We see a couple of students, rather than a resident, because the department is short-handed right now. Indiana doesn't seem to like the unfamiliar faces. We're used to all of our usual people, who don't seem to be around today. Bah!

Overall, I can't really complain, because everything came back great. There is no sign of the cancer, and Indiana's heart arrhythmia, while still present, hasn't gotten any worse. There are a few age-related changes, which the doctor considers normal. (I'm just happy to still have a dog who's able to grow old!) Indy's BUN is high, though her creatinine is normal, most likely from her raw food diet, or from one of her supplements. I'm not overly concerned about this--I left Dr. Becker a message about it, and we'll see if she wants to run a fasting BUN sometime.

I was a tad irritated, because the release report mentioned something the vet hadn't--Indiana's adrenals are mildly bilaterally enlarged, more so than last time. I'm concerned this indicates a progression of the atypical Cushing's Disease she was diagnosed with about a year and a half ago. We'll see what Dr. Becker has to say about it.

But none of these things really worries me. The cancer isn't back, and Indiana feels better than she has in a long time. After cancer, nothing is insurmountable, and neither of these problems is life-threatening as they stand. Just like everything else, Indiana will kick ass.

Things I've Learned From My Dog: Listen!

We had a brief (and actually very minor, in the grand scheme of things) scare with Indiana this week; she stopped eating!

She's done this before, about two years ago. It's scary every time, given her history. My mind goes terrible places at first. Oh, God, why isn't she eating? Is she sick? Is it the cancer? It's the cancer, isn't it? How will I ever be able to deal with it? I can't go through this again. Why is this happening? Why? Then I take a deep breath and tell myself to shut up! For heaven's sake.

Turns out, Indiana, who isn't a picky eater, is a picky eater. The first time, she was turning her nose up at her food because we were trying to sneak pills into it. So out went the pills, and in came a new brand of food. We thought this round of food-snubbery was related to a new pill she's taking--a bit of stomach upset?--and fed her canned pumpkin that night to settle her stomach. The next day, she was still turning her nose up at the food, but she was acting completely normal. Hmmm. "Let's give her some of the cats' raw food," I thought to myself. "Let's experiment here." Sure enough, she ate that raw food like it was going out of style. Hallelujah!

We're still feeding Isis the homemade raw food, but Indiana is eating a locally-made raw food, Nature's Quest. Jim feels bad about this switch, because we were obviously feeding homemade because we felt it was the healthiest thing for our pets. I don't feel so bad about it though. It's not like we're going from raw to kibble. We're still talking about a high-quality, fresh diet, made by a company I trust (I've met one of the owners and traded emails with the other--they started feeding raw to their pets for the same reasons we did, only they decided to make a living out of it!).

For whatever reason, Indiana is done with the homemade food for the timebeing. She made that abundantly clear. We'll give her some time off and try the homemade food again. But it has gotten me to thinking. Even though we give our girls a good rotation of meat--a different source(chicken, turkey, lamb, or buffalo) every 5 meals and a different mix of fresh veggies and fruit every batch--it wasn't enough variety for Indiana. Maybe going back to the homemade isn't the right way to go. Maybe a rotation of different meats and different brands of commercial raw foods is right for her. It's so hard to know.

But what I do know is to listen to Indiana. She's pretty clear about what she wants, and why shouldn't I trust that?

Product Spotlight: Primal Pet Foods

This is the first in a series of posts on products I love. It was hard to choose which product would have the place of honor as the very first, because there are so many wonderful products out there, but ultimately, my gut said to go with Primal.

I discovered Primal foods several years ago when I switched over to holistic care for my pets. They make a wonderful line of premade raw meals, with meat sources like chicken, turkey, beef, lamb, quail, venison, and pheasant. The first thing that struck me about Primal was their ingredients list. Check it out:

Chicken, Chicken Necks, Ground Chicken Bones, Chicken Hearts, Organic Kale,
Organic Carrots, Organic Yams, Chicken Livers, Organic Broccoli, Organic Apples,
Organic Ground Flaxseed, Cranberries, Organic Unfiltered Apple Cider Vinegar,
Organic Parsley, Organic Coconut Oil, Organic Kelp, Alfalfa, Mixed Tocopherols
(source of vitamin E).

Oh my gosh! Amazing! I know and understand every ingredient on there! I love that their fruits and veggies are not only organic, but they use just the right mix, so they don't have to add any artificial vitamins or minerals. Humans are always told that it's better for us to derive our nutrients from food sources, rather than from vitamins in pill form. The same holds for our animals. Love it!

We don't feed the premade stuff anymore, but we do use Primal meat in our homemade mix. Primal makes a line of "grinds," which include the meat, organs, and bone. We add our own veggies and nutrients to this. The only reason we switched to a homemade diet was because we wanted control over the vegetables and add-ins, such as the oils, supergreen foods, and such.

Primal is always the first brand I mention when I recommend raw diets to others. I encourage you to visit their website, http://primalpetfoods.com/, read their company philosophy and drool over their wonderfully amazing ingredients lists. But pretend you're a dog when you're drooling, or otherwise it's pretty gross.

Happy Birthday, Squirt!

Today is my youngest kitty Gus' First Birthday. Or so we guess. He found us on September 25, 2008, and we guessed him to be about six to eight weeks old. He only weighed fourteen ounces, so he was super tiny, but he was weaned, so we think he was just an unlucky (although eventually VERY lucky) runt.

When we found Gus, he had an injured leg which turned out to be broken. After microscopic orthopedic surgery, Gus was good to go. Well, mostly. His leg couldn't be repaired correctly, so he can't bend it and now walks with a limp. But he couldn't care less. We have been constantly amazed by his ability to adapt. I've never once seen him frustrated at his disability. I'll tell Gus' story someday soon too, as there are lessons to be learned there as well. (Look for a post soon about his internet and calendar stardom!)

So, a very happy birthday to my little man. You've brought Daddy and I such joy. We are so lucky to have found you and brought you into our lives. You make us smile and laugh every day, and we love that we never know what you're going to do next.

The cutest darn kitten ever.

Guster today. Still pretty dern cute.

Things I've Learned From My Dog: Raw Food Diets

It's no coincidence that my first real "meaty" post (oops...no pun intended!) on this blog is about raw food diets. The raw diet is probably the best thing I've learned from Indiana's experience, and something I wish with all my heart I had learned about 11 years ago when I became a parent. Alas, I had to learn the hard way. Don't make the same mistake I did! Learn about raw food now, read about it with an open mind, and give it a try. I guarantee you won't regret it.

I first learned about the raw food diet from the wonderful Dr. Karen Becker. On our first consultation with her, after Indiana's cancer diagnosis, she explained that it was vitally important that dogs with cancer eat a grain-free diet. Standard commercial kibbles and canned foods are PACKED with grain (mostly corn). Honestly, grain isn't good for a healthy pet, let alone one with a weakened immune system. Cancer feeds off carbs (especially true for tumor-based cancers), so feeding a diet high in grains is essentially feeding the cancer. Indiana had struggled with weight problems her whole life, so we had her on a kibble that we felt was the healthiest. While I won't name names just yet, it was a "premium" kibble, and it was the "weight management" formula, which Dr. Becker informed me was around 80% grains. Gasp! Aren't dogs carnivores, for heaven's sake?

And so we began our slow transition to raw foods. Both Indiana and Isis were put on canned foods alone--no kibble (canned is so much healthier for dogs, because it has more meat and more moisture). Slowly, we added in raw foods over a period of about eight months. Dr. Becker was really careful with Indiana, because of the fact that she's missing part of her stomach. We also added in a digestive enzyme, Prozyme (it's good stuff) to help. We still use Prozyme today, with all of our pets.

A lot of people have a tough time with the idea of a raw diet. They worry about the bacteria. Well, many vets think dogs' stomachs are much more adapted to bacteria than our own, making the bacteria not a big deal. Plus, if you handle the meat properly (keeping it frozen, etc.), bacteria shouldn't be an issue. We've fed raw exclusively for two and a half years now with no problems whatsoever. For crying out load, doesn't your dog eat poo or dead animals off the ground? I know mine do. No bacteria there, uh uh.

Other parents are concerned that raw food is "gross." I'm a vegetarian, folks; if I can do it, you can do it.

Another worry about raw food is the cost. Is it more expensive than kibble? You bet. Is it worth every penny? No doubt. I won't deny that not every family can afford to feed a raw diet. But every family should consider a raw diet and see if they can swing the cost. I'm going to be incredibly unhelpful here and tell you I have no idea how much I spend each month on pet food. It's a lot. But feeding our kids the healthiest diet possible is a big priority for Jim and I, and we're willing to make budget cuts in other places in order to keep our kids in fresh meat. I feel so good about feeding raw, I'll always find a way to make it work.

The biggest obstacle you'll reach is probably your veterinarian, unless you're blessed to have someone like Dr. Becker. I'll save the drama for another post, but I'll just make this statement: vet school nutrition classes are taught by the commercial pet food brand manufacturers. A bias there, perhaps? Do your research, follow your gut instinct, and sometimes you just have to do your own thing. I actually had an oncologist basically tell us we would kill Indiana by putting her on the raw diet. Hrmph. Shows how much she knows.

So I've talked a bit about common raw food concerns. You're probably still wondering--if it's so controversial, what makes it so great? Aha. Here's where it gets good. The benefits of a raw food diet include, but are certainly not limited to:

• weight control (Indiana is at her ideal weight for the first time EVER!)
• decrease in allergies (many pets are allergic to grains)
• immune boosting (fresh, chemical-free ingredients--it's ideal!)
• improved joint function
• clear skin and shiny coat

Take those benefits and multiply them by 1000, which will then tell you how awesome the raw diet is. I seriously understate it.

It's important to mention that kibbles aren't the best diet for a pet. They're processed--highly processed. I could blabber on forever about this (and I will later, trust me), but Dr. Becker puts it best, I think:

"To think we could sustain life on a 100% processed diet is conceivable, but to thrive…it’s not possible. Much like trying to sustain your kids on Ensure© liquid beverage; it’s 100% nutritionally complete but if that’s all kids were fed generation after generation, overall health would deteriorate. All life requires living foods for health. Can you and your pets survive on canned/boxed foods? Sure. Can you or you pets thrive on canned/boxed foods? No. It’s that simple."

Over the next week or so, I'll be sharing more about my pets' diets with you. I make a homemade diet (vet-approved), so I'll share pictures of our process. I ask you to follow me with an open mind, and I encourage you to do your own research. There's a lot of information out there, both pro and con, and I suggest you read both. I'll talk about diet a lot over the course of this blog, as diet is the fundamental building block of health. I also happen to be pretty obsessed with the topic!

I'll leave you with a few great websites about food:

• Dr. Karen Becker, DVM, NMD of Natural Pet Animal Hospital
• Primal Pet Foods, makers of my favorite raw foods
• DogFoodAnalyis.com. Find out how your pet's kibble rates
• The Dog Food Project. Anything and everything about diet

Life After Cancer

Last week I shared with you the story of how Indiana was diagnosed with cancer. Today I want to talk about what happened after.

The first month or so after Indiana got sick was an emotional rollercoaster. We were thrilled that Indiana had survived her surgery, but we still had the cancer to deal with. My poor dog had been through so much and looked like a patchwork dog.

My poor dog is missing hair all over,

including her beautiful mane of neck

hair. Her legs are all shaved too. I think

her eyes tell a story of what she went through

as well. Those are not my Indiana's eyes.

The only real problem we had with Indiana was nighttime incontinence for several weeks following surgery. Indiana sleeps in bed with us, and every night she would wet the bed. There's a lot of urine in a 90-pound dog. (Though at this point, she weighed closer to 80 pounds, having lost nearly 10 pounds in the 5 days in the hospital.) We started setting our alarm clock for 1 or 2 in the morning, and taking Indiana out to go to the bathroom. Our vet explained that the urinating was probably as a result of too much cortisol in her body--that's the body's stress hormone. Her body had been through such a shock that it was producing too much cortisol and that in turn was making her have to go to the bathroom a lot. In time, probably 2-3 weeks, the problem went away, and Indiana was fine. It was yet another sign though of what hell she had been through.

We returned to the U of I two weeks after Indy's surgery, at which time we were out of the woods, surgery-wise. Yay! We had found out in the previous weeks that Indiana's cancer was called leiomyosarcoma, a cancer of the smooth tissues. The oncologist told us that if you have to get cancer, it's one of the best ones to get, as it grows very slowly and can be cured. The surgeon had achieved clean margins with Indiana's tumor, but we still couldn't be 100% sure that there were no microscopic cancer cells floating around elsewhere in her body. The oncologist's recommendation was 4 rounds of chemotherapy. We knew that if the cancer ever came back, and we hadn't done any type of treatment, we would never forgive ourselves. We knew the chemo came with some risks, but the doctors would be very careful, and we had to give her a final chance to beat this cancer.

Prior to Indiana's first chemo treatment, the doctors ran an echocardiogram on her heart, to make sure it was strong enough to handle the chemo drugs (doxorubicin--which can be cardiotoxic). Imagine my shock when the oncologist came back and told us they had found a mass in her right atrium. My stomach dropped, and I just felt ill. My Mom was with me at the time, and I just remember crying once they took Indiana back for her chemo. How, after all we had been through, could there be something else?

The doctor explained to me that because the mass was on the inside wall of her heart--where all of the "electronics" are located--that a biopsy would be very dangerous and even life-threatening. Because the treatment for a heart mass (most likely hemangiosarcoma) would be the same as the treatment for her stomach cancer, we easily made the decision not to biopsy.

The doctors couldn't be sure what the mass was. Maybe it was cancer (again, most likely hemangiosarcoma, one of the worst cancers out there) or maybe it was a blood clot (which could dislodge and kill her instantly) or maybe it was something else entirely different. We wouldn't ever know. Though my heart was broken once again, I actually felt bad for our oncologist, who seemed not to want to share this news with us. He was so kind about it though.

Heart mass or not, Indiana's heart was strong enough for chemo, so we started that day. The first round gave her some nausea and diarrhea (which is scary after you've seen your dog nearly die after vomiting and pooing blood before), but after dose two, we learned to administer drugs to her proactively, to prevent the upset. She sailed through the rest of her treatments with no problems! I even joked that perhaps the vet tech forgot to give her any drugs, because she didn't act any differently.

Indiana received four doses of doxorubicin, each 21 days apart. After the fourth dose, our oncologist said he felt comfortable ending there--six is the max a dog can have anyway.

After the chemo was over, we did another echocardiogram, and the mass was still unchanged. We weren't sure if it was because the chemo was keeping the mass from growing, or because the mass wasn't responding. This was pretty disappointing. We wanted with all our hearts to find the mass gone. Why wasn't it responding to one of the most powerful chemo drugs out there?

After we found Indiana's heart mass, I was so frightened. Everything with the stomach mass had happened so quickly, that I didn't have time to really process it all. We just dealt with it. But now with this new problem, I was out of my mind. I needed to do everything to help her. Out of desperation, I decided to turn to holistics, to complement the traditional treatments we were doing. Our vets directed us to the most wonderful vet in the world, Dr. Karen Becker of Natural Pet Animal Hospital. You'll be hearing more about her later, because she is my hero. I'll have a whole post dedicated to Dr. Becker.

Dr. Becker was amazing, really easing our minds about the heart mass. She was sure it wasn't cancer. She set us up with all kinds of immune supplements and helped set up a diet transition to raw food (more about that too--I'm a HUGE fan of raw diets.) I left the visit with her, having hope for the first time in a long time.

After chemo was finished, life was able to start to return back to normal. At least our new normal. No more vet visits every three weeks--no visit for three months! We did have one scary episode, where Indiana started to waver and shake. We thought for sure the mass was a clot and had dislodged. She bounced back quickly from it though, so we're not sure what caused the episode.

Gradually, life slowed down again. The vet visits got farther and farther apart, and Indiana continued to thrive. To this day, the heart mass remains unchanged. We still don't know what it is. Indiana has developed a heart arrhythmia, possibly as a long-term side effect of the doxorubicin or just because she's 11 years old. Our oncology visits went from every three months to every six. The echocardiogram is now being done once a year. Indiana still takes a lot of pills, and we still see a lot of vets, but we're thrilled that she's still alive!

This experience has certainly changed our lives, and much of my time is dedicated to Indiana and our other pets. Feeding rituals are much more complicated now, we visit the physical therapist once a week, and I practically live at the local natural pet food store and Dr. Becker's office. I wouldn't trade an ounce of it though, because Indiana is still alive and well. I even forget about the cancer sometimes.

There is so much that I've learned, and so much that I am still learning. Indiana has taught me so much, and I am eternally grateful to her. Good things needed to come from her experience. Jim and I formed The Great Good Heart Animal Cancer Foundation, to help educate others about animal cancer. We learned the hard way, but others don't have to. I'm excited to share with you all that I've learned and to bring to you new and exciting ideas for you and your pets.

Happy Re-birthday, Indiana!

Today is Indiana's third re-birthday! Three years ago today, she was reborn free of cancer. I am so happy that she's alive and well today. We were given a miracle that day, and I will be forever grateful. Thank you, my sweet girl, for fighting so hard to come back to us.

Happy Re-Birthday!

Mr. O gets a shout-out too, for helping Indiana

(and Mama) three years ago

Indiana's Battle: The Story

Today is Indiana's Birthday--or at least, the day she was reborn free of cancer. Three years ago today, I nearly lost the furry love of my life. This is a post I've been dreading ever since I first thought about starting a blog. It's a very important story to tell, as it's made me who I am today, both as a parent and as a person.

As I start to write this, I can already feel butterflies in my stomach, a heavy feeling in my chest, and tears getting ready for their inevitable moment to shine. In three years, I've only written the story once or twice, and I've never actually talked about it, at least not all of it. It's been a defense mechanism for me, to keep the pain from overtaking me. I don't really want to write it now. I know the tears will flow and my heart will want to burst with pain. It sounds melodramatic, I know, but that day was more traumatic than I can even describe.

So be warned that this isn't an easy post to write, and it isn't an easy story to read. I do think it's important though--both for me to write it and you to read it. It helps you understand who I am, who Indiana is. While the story itself is heartbreaking, it does have a good outcome, and I hope it brings hope to others who feel like they are facing a future without hope. There is ALWAYS hope. So here we go.

In 2006, Indiana had been throwing up on and off for a few weeks. I should have been concerned about this, but I just figured that it happened sometimes with dogs. Perhaps she'd eaten something weird. In retrospect, the vomit was bloody, but at the time I just thought it was dark from food.

One day I was at my parents' house with the dogs. Indiana had been acting off, which worried me. We watched her go to the bathroom in the yard and walked over to see if it looked normal. It did not. Her stools were black and tarry. My Mom and I decided she needed to see the vet. We took her in, and they suspected a gastrointestinal bug. They gave her a steroid shot and some antibiotics and sent us home. The next day, Indiana did feel better, and I was so relieved. This was short-lasting though, as she grew more lethargic the following day.

Jim and I were supposed to go out of town for the party of some friends, but we postponed leaving to take her to the vet. I'll never forgive myself, because we nearly left. Her gums were pale, she wasn't feeling well, and I was still so torn because I had a responsibility to our friends, whom we were helping to organize the party. I had her in my Mom's car and nearly let her go. Ultimately, I just couldn't do it. Jim and I took Indy back to the vet. She had little energy and couldn't even stand for an exam.

I found out later that the vets suspected she was bleeding out from hemangiosarcoma, the most common cause of acute anemia.

Our vets did a blood test, and sent us home for the night, telling us they'd call in the morning but would most likely send us to the University of Illinois Vet Med Hospital. Why we didn't just take her then, I don't know.

The next morning will haunt me forever. I woke up early, around 6:00 a.m. Indiana wasn't with us in bed, which was unusual. I got up to look for her and couldn't find her. Eventually I found her laying under the back deck. I know now my precious baby had gone there to die. Oh, crap, here come the tears. I was able to get Indiana inside, but she had no energy, wouldn't eat, and her gums and tongue were pure white.

I finally got a hold of the vet at 7:30 a.m., and she only said, "I recommend taking her to the U of I right away." She got everything set up for us--calling ahead, making sure they were ready for Indiana.

Unfortunately, Jim couldn't go with us to the hospital. Our friends had left several days before, and we had all of the decorations and food for the party the next day---8 hours away. Thankfully, our friends arranged for their cousin to bring the supplies out to them, so Jim only had to drive a few hours up to the suburbs of Chicago. Still, I hated that he couldn't be with us.

My parents drove Indy and I down to the U of I. It was a horrible hour and fifteen minutes. Bless my Dad, because he drove much faster than usual to get my girl to the hospital. I just sat in the back of the van with her, on her bed, talking to her, loving her, telling her I loved her.

When we got to the U of I, we helped Indiana out of the car, and she promptly collapsed. My heart sank. This was bad. I ran in to get help while my parents stayed with Indiana. My Mom tells me that she said to Indiana, as they layed on the pavement, "Don't you dare die." U of I was great, because they immediately sent out some students with a gurney, so by the time I got back outside, they were already lifting her on. I couldn't go with her, because they needed to stabilize her. It was horrible letting her go, not knowing what would happen.

God, I had to walk away just now. I was crying so hard I couldn't see or breathe. I had to call my wonderful Mom, who listened and helped me feel better. I'm sitting on the back porch, on the swing, with Indiana at my feet. We're watching the cats wrestle. Back to the story.

After the students took Indiana, we were immediately led into a private waiting room, which I later learned was where they take grieving families so they can have privacy. This room would be our home for the next 12 and a half hours. A doctor, one of the most beautiful, wonderful human beings on the planet, Dr. Karine Eusanio, came in to give us a quick update and get approval for tests and treatments. She told us she couldn't stay with us long, as Indiana needed to be stabilized. She was very touch and go.

We were, over the course of many hours, told that Indiana was bleeding from a mass in her stomach. The blood packed cell volume of a normal dog is somewhere in the 40s--Indiana's was at 7 or 8, meaning she was incredibly anemic.

Jim had thankfully arrived by this point. He had no clue how serious Indiana's situation was. He didn't take the news well, but we needed each other, and clung to each other to survive. Thank God my parents were still there with us.

The doctors sort of recommended an endoscopy to biopsy the mass in Indiana's stomach. This surgery of course came with risks, all of which were amplified on my dying dog. We were told if the tumor was cancerous, they wouldn't pursue any further treatment.

The endoscopy was performed, and the surgeon, Dr. Thomas Graves, told us the tumor appeared benign. He was the first person to give us real hope all day. One of the oncology surgeons, whose name will never appear on the pages of this blog, said she disagreed with Dr. Graves, that the tumor was probably cancerous. Dr. Graves and Dr. Eusanio (and who knows who else) gave us our options at this point. We had two. Do surgery, or let her die. Without surgery, she would be dead before the day ended. Surgery would stop the bleeding, but they were convinced she'd die on the table because of her blood loss. The aforementioned, never-to-be-named oncology surgeon wouldn't do the surgery, because she was convinced it was cancer. Why save a dog, just so she'd have cancer? (Have I mentioned yet how much I hate her?) She never even met with us. If not doing the surgery meant Indiana would die, then we felt we had no option but to do the surgery.

Dr. Eusanio, who had at this point become our angel, understood us, and what was in our hearts, and knew we wanted the surgery done. I think she felt as well that Indiana wouldn't survive, but she wanted us to have the chance to try. They found a surgical resident (Dr. Tobin Eshelman, our other angel) who would do the surgery. He explained the surgery to us, as well as the risks, both surgical and post-op. He didn't know exactly what he'd find when he opened her up. I know everyone there thought we were grasping at straws to save this dog. They all felt bad for us, I think, but they were sure she'd die. Drs. Eshelman and Eusanio were honest about how grim our situation was.

When all of the paperwork was signed, and I had put down a hefty down-payment on the treatment (take every dollar I have--just save her!), the doctors told us they wanted us to come back to the ICU and say goodbye to Indiana. Not just until after the surgery. A real goodbye. Her chances of waking up were very slim, and that moment was looking like our last time to ever see her.

This is the part of the story that rips my heart into pieces. Jim and I walked into the ICU to see our dog for the first time all day. She looked horrible beyond words. She could barely lift her head or move at all. The doctors had her lying on the ground in front of her cage. There were doctors everywhere, watching closely for any changes, but giving us as much privacy as possible. We laid down on the ground next to our precious baby. I hungrily kissed her and smelled her, wanting to make those memories last forever, just in case. We talked to her and told her over and over how much we loved her. We told her that she was the best dog any parents could ever hope for, and that we were so lucky to have her in our lives. My Mom and Dad were able to come in for a few minutes to say goodbye as well. After they left, we only had a few more minutes before the doctors needed to work on another dog--parents aren't really supposed to be in the ICU at all, so we needed to leave soon. I hugged and kissed my precious baby, told her I loved her, and looked at her for what could have been the very last time.

The minute I walked out of that room, my heart broke into a thousand pieces. I was so heartbroken and angry. It wasn't fair that this was happening. I wanted Indiana well. This was all just a bad dream, wasn't it? Surely I would wake up soon. My heart ached for her, and my arms longed to hold her. I had taken a small piece of fuzz off of her fur when I saw her, and now that piece of fuzzy fur was my lifeline to her. Would it be the last part of her I would ever hold? The doctors promised that if she died on the table, they would allow us to come in and see her one last time.

The next four hours or so were the longest of my life. The hospital got quieter and quieter, as patients and then staff left for the day. I couldn't eat, read, sleep, or do anything. I listened intently for footsteps, praying every time that they weren't heading our way--it was still too soon. In my heartache and desperation, I made a pact with God. If only he would save her, I would give him something else special to me. Not another family member, but something still dear to me--my dream of being a singer. I was very early in my career at the time, and I was following a life-long dream, just a little later than most. I told God that I would give it up though, if it meant saving Indiana. Singing was who I was, but I was also nothing without my baby. Take it, I thought. Take it and save her. Just give me a sign it's what you want.

Just after 9:00 p.m., we saw Dr. Eusanio in the hallway. She told us that Indiana had come through the surgery, amazingly, and was being brought into recovery. Everyone was amazed that she had made it this far. It seemed that one big hurdle had been jumped. We waited another hour and a half for the surgeon to finish his last surgery. At 11:00 p.m., after Dr. Eshelman promised to call us if anything changed, we left the hospital and checked into a hotel. God Bless the Holiday Inn Express.

Nighttime passed without incident. We were anxious to get back to Indiana. To be honest, I remember little about the days that followed. They've all blurred together a bit for me. Indiana became over-hydrated from her IVs, and began having heart problems. That was scary, but she eventually pulled through. My parents came down every day to visit us--both Indiana as well as Jim and I. They would bring us lunch, and we'd sit in the park across from the hospital. I didn't want to go far from her, plus the park was where we had spent many evenings with Indiana while we were in college. I know we wouldn't have survived that week without my parents. We stayed in a hotel the first night but spent a few nights with our friends Tim and Beth. (Thank you both, if you ever read this--you'll never know how important seeing you was to us--it was such a needed break from the hospital).

Jim had to go back to work after a few days, so my Mom got a hotel for us and stayed with me. I had vowed not to go back home until Indiana was with me. I carried that piece of fuzzy hair in my pocket at all times, even when it became a matted mess. I also carried her leash and her favorite stuffed toy, Mr. Oppossum. I even took Mr. O into restaurants and stores. He was my link to her and my good luck charm. My sweet parents, who were babysitting Isis this whole time, brought another toy of Indiana's and placed some of Isis's hair on it. That way the toy could stay with Indiana, and she could smell home and her sister.

Indiana got better and better each day. We had been warned that she might be in the hospital up to two weeks, but after 5 nights in the hospital, they were ready to send her home. We weren't out of the woods yet, as her stomach staples could still leak. If that happened, there would be nothing they could do, and she would die. Still, she had overcome so much.

The day we brought her home was amazing! My Mom and I drove back home in the morning to get the house ready. Out went all of the old bones and chewies (Indiana was now missing an important part of her stomach and could easily get an intestinal blockage). The mattress went on the floor, so Indiana could just walk onto it and still sleep with us at night. That afternoon, my parents, Jim, and I, drove down and brought our baby home! It was bittersweet, as she had survived, yet she wasn't out of the woods yet. She also didn't seem all that excited to be home. I know now it was because of the stress of the surgery.

My precious girl recovered from serious gastric surgery--part of her stomach was removed along with the pyloric sphincter. She had a nearly 18 inch incision on her stomach and chest and more staples than I could count. Her two week window of stomach leakage came and went, and she continued to recover. My happy, beautiful dog came back to me again. So what if she was missing hair on her neck, all four legs, various patches on her sides, her stomach, and her butt. She was beautiful because she was Indiana, and she was alive.

I hope by reading this, you take away several things. First, miracles can and do happen. We were given a miracle that day. Second, always follow your heart. If we had listened to the doctors, our baby would be dead. Doctors don't always know best, but your heart does. Third, never give up hope, even when it seems like there is none. There is ALWAYS hope.

That day changed my life forever. Some for the bad, but mostly for the good. I am a far better parent today. I learned much the hard way, and that's why I'm working so hard to help others. I don't want anyone else to have to learn the way I did.

I am forever indebted to Dr. Eusanio and Dr. Eshelman. They gave me my baby back and helped us when others wouldn't. Both doctors are now gone from the U of I, and I know wherever they are today, the patients are better off because of them. I will remember them until the day I die.

Thank you to those of you who've made it this far in the story. Thanks for letting me tell it, really for the first time. It has done my heart good. My gorgeous girl still sits by my feet, keeping watch over the cats and the back yard. My dog is alive, well, and happy, and all is well with the world.

A Celebration of Life!

Three years ago on June 30, Indiana was reborn, free of cancer. Every year we celebrate with a big party, full of food, games, family, and friends. It's a way for us to celebrate the miracle we received that day. We are blessed with wonderful friends and family, many coming from out of town, willing to share this day with us.

Yesterday was the big day for Indiana! The weather was forecasted to be hot (close to 90 degrees), so we decided to hold the party indoors. This limited us a bit, but we figured our guests would be much more comfortable stuffed together in the air conditioned house rather than spread out under the annoying mid-western sun.

Each year brings a new party theme. This year: Flea Circus!

The centerpiece--featuring all 4 kids!

This would have been less obnoxious outside. I think.

Desserts. Yum!

Waaaaaay too much carnival food. Including nachos.

I think I consumed my weight in them yesterday.

My good friend Shanele decorated these gorgeous cupcakes

for me. All 96 of them. Isn't she talented?

Schneider parties always involve games. Usually goofy ones. We love our friends, and they're good sports for putting up with the odd things we ask them to do. This year's party was supposed to involve clowns and tricycles, but that plan was scrapped due to the heat. Darn it. We still were able to fit in two fun, less-humiliating games. And we're always generous with the prizes, so there's an incentive for our friends to play.

Here's Stuart and my Mom playing the ball toss game.

I hand-painted Krusty the Clown. I was pretty proud of that.

This game was actually a lot harder than it looks.

Stu was the winner, I think.

Being from Chicago, this was our own version

of Bozo Buckets, called Boozo Buckets.

(Indy's nickname is Boo--get it?) Note the clown shoes,

nose, and tie my wonderful Mom is wearing.

We also like to send our guests home with not only prizes, but also gift bags! (What's a party without some swag?) This year's bags featured magnets of Indiana, candy, Cracker Jacks, and a souvenir photo of the big day.

Here's talented cupcake-decorator Shanele

and husband Matt. Super cute!

Indiana had a really fun day. She was so excited to see everyone and to be the guest of honor. I swear she knew the party was for her. Several people brought gifts, and I love that everyone made sure the treats were high-quality goodies.

One of the highlights of the day, for me, was Indiana seeing my college roommate Margaret for the first time in nearly 9 years. (We all roomed together for a year) I didn't know if Indy would remember Margaret right off, but she did! No barking or nervousness, just a smile and a happy butt. It really almost made me cry, because her relationship with Margaret, until yesterday, was entirely B.C. (before cancer, as we call it). Seeing Indy and Margaret together again brought me back to those innocent days. It was bittersweet, thinking of the lost innocence as well as the wonderful memories we all have together.

Here's a happy Indiana with her

Auntie Margaret.

It was really just a wonderful day for all of us. We're so lucky to have friends willing to help set up the party, tear down, and come and join in the fun. We have so much to be thankful for. We have amazing friends and family and the best dog in the whole world. She's still alive and well, and we couldn't ask for anything more.

Happy New Birthday, my precious girl!

Indy as a baby: Life before cancer

This blog is inspired by and dedicated to my sweetheart, Indiana. I think it's appropriate, as I start this blog, for you to learn more about her and her fight against cancer. I tend to wax a bit poetic when I look back on Indiana's life, so please bare with me during these early days; I promise things will get more fun eventually!

Indiana Bones Benson Schneider was born on April 21, 1999. It was the summer before my senior year of college, and faced with a house full of dog-less roommates, I decided to take the parenting plunge myself. After a trip to our local humane society (who amazingly was "out" of puppies!), we were referred to a local farm, who had a litter of puppies they were trying to find homes for. Of course I fell in love with the two remaining pups the minute I laid eyes on them. Two little balls of black fluff with tiny little paws and delectable puppy breath. I could take only one (though I look back on it now and think, why?); how would I choose? One of the pups was more calm than the other, with a really sweet personality. My decision was made. Mama dog was off in the fields, so there was no good-bye for her and her puppy. I cried all the way home, cradling my new baby, vowing to be the best mom in the world to her, to always take care of her. (Remember this--this will come up again in a later story)

I got my new puppy home to my parents' house, and introduced her to the rest of the dogs. She fit in right away!

Indiana and my Grama's dog, Skippy

Now for a name! What would it be? As an avid Indiana Jones (well, more like Harrison Ford) fan, my Mom suggested naming her after Indiana Jones' childhood dog, Indiana. Remember the third Indiana Jones film, when Henry calls Indiana "Junior?" Indy tells him he wants to be called Indiana. His Dad says, "We named the dog Indiana." Indy replies, "I have very fond memories of that dog." Thus, Indiana Bones was born! Life was good for this tiny pup. Her days involved eating, sleeping, and playing. Over and over and over.

Indy learned to eat this way from her collie cousin, Dynk

It's hard being a puppy!

Silly upside-down dog!

Despite a very serious illness when she was six months old, requiring three days in the hospital, life continued on as normal. Indy went off to college with me, and fell in love with my roommates, Auntie Margaret and Uncle Shree, as well as Uncle Jim (today know better as Papa). We had a fun first birthday party for her. My wonderful friends came over bearing gifts, and we shared cake with Indiana and all took her for a walk. It was a good day!

My life revolved around Indiana. I would spend as much time away from class with her as I could. My friends would hang out at my place so I wouldn't have to be away from Indiana. We went for lots of walks, spent our evenings at the dog park, played with toys, she chewed her way through every single stick in the yard, and she wormed her way into the heart of every person she met!

My family loved her just as much as I did. For my parents, it was their first "grandchild." To this day, my Mom still thinks she cried more for Indiana than me when I returned to school that fall! My parents always welcomed Indiana home with open arms on weekends and holidays.

After graduation, Jim and I welcomed another puppy to our family, Isis. (She'll get her very own post soon.) Indiana was the best big sister! Not long after, the whole family made a big move, closer to our families. Jim and I got married, and Indy and Isis were the ring bearer and flower girl (with the assistance of Auntie Margaret and Uncle Shree, of course). Starved Rock State Park (or "Stairs Park," as we call it) became our favorite place to visit. Indy and her sister were spoiled with tasty treats and mountains of toys! There were no stays at a kennel for these girls; Boommaw and Boompaw (my parents) were always happy to babysit anytime. In 2002, we moved again and added a kitty to our family--Mr. Squiggles!

Jim and I tried our hardest to be good parents. We fed what we thought was good food, gave lots of treats, went on lots of walks. We were doing the best we could with the knowledge we had. As it turns out, it wasn't good enough.

Up next: The day that changed our lives forever.

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day to all of the fathers out there--both to humans and furry children alike!

My kids have the best Daddy in the world!

Papa, Indiana, and Gus

Dad provides the most comfortable lap in the house,

says Mr. Squiggles

A fun day at Allerton Park with Indiana and Isis

Jim's a great Dad. He always greets the kids with excitement, love, and hugs. He's ready for a walk at a moment's notice. He can snuggle with the best of them. He isn't afraid to act silly to make the babies smile. Jim would go to the ends of the earth to help the animals, and he was so amazing when Indiana got sick. He never considers money or inconvenience, only what's best for the kids. We are lucky to have such a wonderful husband and father.

I also have to give love to the Grampas in the animals' lives. Jim's Dad (and Mom) has stayed at our home on numerous occasions to babysit while we're on vacation, and they always come down for Indiana's annual cancer survival party. (More on that shindig next week!) My Dad (and Mom) comes over to feed the kids when we're at work or out of town, he's always up for babysitting, whether for an evening or for a week, and I know he would do anything for my kids. He too was amazing during Indiana's illness. Jim and I wouldn't have survived without my parents that week.

So, to the three men in my babies' lives, I love you all very much! We're lucky you're a part of our lives.

Things I've Learned From My Dog--Welcome!

Hello, and welcome! Thanks so much for visiting my blog! It's pretty hard to decide what to write; I don't want to just ramble on! I think I have something to say though, and I hope you'll agree!

Some quick background: three years ago, on June 30, 2006, the lives of my family were turned upside down when our beloved Belgian sheepdog mix, Indiana, nearly died from an undiagnosed tumor in her stomach. I'll talk more about that day later, but for now, it's just important that you know that that day changed our lives forever. In some ways it was the worst day of my life, but it did afford me the opportunity to reexamine our lives and the lives of our pets and make significant changes for the better. Because of Indiana, I fell in love with the beautiful philosophy of holistic medicine, found a fantastic diet I will feed my pets for the rest of my life, expanded my horizons, met a whole new group of wonderful people (my "PCS family"--more about them later too), and discovered much about myself and life in the process. All because of this fantastic, amazing dog.

Through this blog, I hope to share with you all of the things I've learned and am still learning, about pet health and diet, alternative medicines and treatments, about new products that I've fallen in love with (and that I think you and your pet will too). I would like to bring guest bloggers to you as well; parents with an amazing story to tell, experts and doctors who can broaden our horizons together. I'm still on a journey to learn, and I'd like to invite you along.

This blog is dedicated to Indiana and her unbelievable spirit. Through her, I have learned courage and strength, perseverance, dedication, forgiveness, and the incredible capacity to love. I hope you too will benefit from the things I've learned from my dog.

Up next: Part One of Indiana's story, including adorable baby photos!