Everyone has it. That one thing that just warms you from the inside out. Lifts your spirits when nothing else can. Makes all of life’s pressures and disappointments just disappear.
For some, it’s as simple as a long, hot bubble bath or a walk in the park. For others, it’s a bit more extravagant, perhaps a Hawaiian sunset. For me, it’s Murray.
Me and Mr. Murray, my love.
Now, don’t get me wrong, other things tickle my fancy. Spring Training baseball in Arizona. (Let’s go, A’s!) Riding my bike on a perfect Saturday afternoon. Movie day at home with my closest friends. Discovering a new book that I just can’t put down. And those Hawaiian sunsets aren’t bad either.
But there’s just something about my Murray. He’s been by my side for a lot of difficult things, always with his tail a-wagin’, full of kisses and cuddles. Aside from pork, fortune cookies and vanilla ice cream, there’s nothing he loves more than crawling up in his Momma’s lap. (Truth be told, there’s not much his Momma prefers either.) But this little boy is more than just the sweetest little Bichon EVER. He’s also a cancer survivor.
Nearly three years ago, Murray was diagnosed with lymphoma. Yes, the same type of cancer as me. (Gotta love the irony.) During one of his typical cuddle sessions, we found a small lump in his neck. Wasn’t much bigger than the size of a pea, but I knew something was wrong. Having gone through a lymphoma diagnosis myself, I was aware that the combination of painless swelling of a lymph node plus no other signs of infection could equal cancer. Sadly, I was right. I took him to the doctor on a Monday, we then had an appointment with a doggie oncologist on Thursday (yes, they have those). In the course of those three days, Murray went from his typical happy self to a dragging, lumps protruding sad boy. The cancer had advanced that quickly. I was inconsolable. The only thing worse than the pain I was feeling was what Murray was going through. In many ways, Murray’s diagnosis was more difficult than my own.
Murray at the 2007 SF Lymphomathon
I had been through several courses of chemotherapy myself and I couldn’t imagine putting my Murray through what I had endured. As much as it would destroy me, I wouldn’t let one of the best things in my life go through that nightmare. Fortunately we were referred to an amazing vet. (I simply cannot sing his praises loudly enough.) Even though the drugs Murray was to receive were some of the same ones I had, the dosages would be significantly lower. The goal of doggie oncology is to get the furry one into remission, not to “cure” them. It’s all about quality of life. If you can get a three, four or five year remission, that can be as good as a cure in doggie years. He started Murray on a course of chemotherapy at that appointment and literally the next day, most of his lumps were gone. By day two I couldn’t find any. He received weekly, then bi-weekly chemo infusions. He was a bit sluggish on chemo days, had some “pee pee” issues, and since he has hair and not fur, there was some hair loss (poor little guy looked like Einstein) but not much else.
Momma and "Einstein" circa 2007
After six months Murray was in full remission – for two whole months. I was warned at that point the prognosis wasn’t good, but there was a chance he might respond to a second course of treatment. We went for it. That was nearly two years ago.
Murray is now nine years old, remains in remission and has never been more puppy-like, playful or happy. He is truly a miracle boy.
Murray has always been my special love. When my husband and I looked at that box full of puppies nine years ago, one of them wandered over toward me and put his little hands up on the edge box, as if to say, “pick me, pick me.” And I did. I always believed that Murray chose me, not the other way around. And as psycho as it sounds, I truly believe we were meant for each other. He has brought more joy to my life than anything else could. And in me, he got a Momma who recognized the cancer, chose to treat him aggressively yet compassionately, and as a result, continues to live a very cushy life.
After everything he and I have both been through, I treasure him now, even more than before. Multiple times, each and every day he makes me smile, laugh, and feel loved.
Everyone needs their own Murray. What’s yours?
[...] little Bichon Murray was diagnosed with lymphoma in January 2007. He was just six years old. As I’ve described before, his diagnosis was almost as hard for me to handle as my own. (Ironically, for the same type of [...]