Oh Ollie....

Oh Ollie, we miss you so much.  So much of our life was filled with you just being here.  There are so many things that seem off now that you aren't here.

The house is so incredibly lonely when we are here. I walk in the door each day and I expect to see you waiting for me.  I even say "Hi Ollie" but your sweet is only there to receive my hello in spirit.

Yesterday the doorbell rang for the first time since you died.  That momentary pause, where we would corral you, restrain you, and then open the door....well, it was so sad that that didn't happen.

This weekend I had loads of cake orders.  No one was there to lick up the powdered sugar on the floor.  Instead my shoes started to squeak on the tile, and then I had to mop.  Twice.

I wake up during the night and walk to the bathroom.  I'm so accustomed to stepping gingerly in my bleary-eyed sleep walking state, so as to not step on you if you're in my path.  But you aren't there.

I hear the sound of plastic rustling and think I hear your claws on the tile in the kitchen.

Today we were gone for the afternoon and evening.  After about four hours I thought to myself "I should head home to let Ollie out and feed him."  And then I wish longingly that you could be here for me to come home and let out.

Every morning I instinctively head to the laundry room to give you fresh water and breakfast...even though I have cleaned your bowls and put them away.  It's just habit.

Yesterday we played UNO.  You were always our "card table" during the game, when you would come over and plop down right smack in the middle of our game and let us put our cards down on you.  But no one plopped down in the middle of us yesterday.  The game just wasn't the same without you.

The kids have left food on the table and no one clears it.  They drop crumbs and no one is right there to lap them up.

Daddy turns the TV off at night and when it makes the "off" sound we are used to hearing you jump up.  You always knew that was the sign it was time for bed.  But no one jumps up now.

I went on a walk the other night.  I saw some of the other doggies in the neighborhood that you knew.  I was so jealous that they were walking with their doggies, and I was crying for mine.

We go to bed and expect you to be right there in the middle of us, but you aren't there, and it breaks our hearts.

Sister talks about what a great doggy you were and how much she loved you.  Brother misses you so much - he is constantly looking at pictures of you, and thinking about you.  He worries he's going to forget you.  It breaks our hearts to hear him cry for you.  We all cry for you.  We all miss you.  Life just isn't the same without you; our crazy, bumbling, food-loving, people-centered, high-on-life sweet doggy.

We hope you are having the time of your life now that you are pain free and at peace.  We miss you so much.  Time may heal the wounds, but it will never erase your memory and our love for you.

Love,
Mommy

If I could talk...

Today I have a heavy heart.  Today was my last day living with my family.  Monday night I collapsed late at night.  This collapse was worse than my others.  I was struggling to breath.  My breath got a very funny smell (you know, unlike it's usual super pleasant smell).  At 11:00 pm I went to the place to see the Nice Man with the needles and treats.  A Friend came over to stay with my Sister and Brother, and Sister's friend, who were sleeping upstairs.  That way Mommy and Daddy could both go with me to see Nice Man.  I know Nice Man loves me a lot, but I think at that hour of the night we all wished we could just be curled up asleep in beds.  Nice man gave me shots of medicine, but I didn't really perk up.  When we got home I was very weak.  I couldn't make it to my bed upstairs in Mommy and Daddy's room, so instead Mommy and Daddy had a sleepover with me downstairs in the family room.  Normally I love sleepovers, but I just didn't feel good.  It was so hard to breath.  My body never stopped quivering.

During the last couple days, I thought a lot about getting to go ring the doorbell to the pearly gates.  Will the pearly gates be fun to chew on?  What will I do when I ring the doorbell?  I've never been on the ringing side.  I've always been on the inside, waiting for someone else to ring our bell.  If I ring the bell, can I still chase my tail?

Mommy and Daddy had a really hard time deciding what was right for me.  They didn't see nose to nose.  Mommy was so afraid I would die while they weren't home, and that thought was not something she could bear to think about.  Mommy hates seeing me look so sad, tired and helpless.  When I collapse my Mommy and Daddy say it's one of the hardest things for them to watch.  Mommy didn't want to put me down, but she knew my time was about up and she preferred to be with me for my last moments.  Daddy wanted me to be at home, where I am most comfortable, to live out my last days.  He and Nice Man with the needles and treats thought maybe I'd surprise everyone and do another turn around.  Mommy and Daddy, since they couldn't agree on what to do, decided they would wait til my friend, Nice Man with the needles and treats, came back from his trip.  Nice Man is gone until next Thursday.  So Mommy and Daddy agreed last night to table the discussion about what to do until they talked with Nice Man next Thursday.  And in the meantime Mommy and Daddy decided to treat my last days as the best days...not that they weren't already fantastic...but not knowing how much longer I had, they wanted to make things even more super-duper.

So last night I got my usual yummy variety of kibble and canned food for dinner.  Washed it down with some pills wrapped in deli-meat turkey.  Yum.  Lapped up about 10 bowls of water....and then...for the grand finale....Daddy went and got Culver's for dessert.  That's usually something that is special between me and my Pop Pop, but since he wasn't here, Daddy did the honors.  He brought me home a vanilla malt and Mommy poured it into a bowl.  I lapped it up and pushed the bowl around the kitchen til I got every last drop.  And it was DE-LICIOUS.  After that my family was watching a movie together, and I just laid there with them.  They petted me and gave me endless loves.

Later in the evening Mommy was working on a cake.  She was crying.  She was worried about me.  Just to prove to her I wasn't quite done yet with my life or my feasting, I came out to the kitchen and looked all sweetly at Mommy.  Then she offered me her leftover cake scraps.  Do you hear me?  She never feeds me cake....but I got cake!  Mommy and Daddy, I love you.

Mommy and Daddy knew I wasn't doing well during the night.  I was up a lot.  I just couldn't get comfortable  in any position.    I tried sleeping in the closet, the tile in the bathroom, Mommy's side of the bed, Daddy's side of the bed.  Nothing was comfy.  I was restless.  I still ate this morning, but it was an effort.

Today when my Mommy got home I went to greet her.  I may not feel good, but she is my Mommy and she'd do anything for me, so greeting her is the least I can do.  But then I went and laid back down.  Mommy tried to get me up again to take me potty.  Eventually I complied, but my legs were dragging.  When we got back inside, I went to get some water but I collapsed before I could get to the water.  My Sister and Brother saw me collapse.  They cried.  A lot.  I was panting a lot.  Mommy tried to feed me.  But I couldn't eat.  It was too hard to breath to be able to eat.  Mommy called Daddy and said "come home fast".  Daddy was here in no time flat.  I couldn't get up.

Mommy called the place where the Nice Man usually is, and asked to speak with Nice Man's friend, Sweet Lady.  Sweet Lady knows me too.  Nice Man told her she was in charge of me while he was on his trip.  Sweet Lady had already left for the day, but when she heard I was doing so poorly, Sweet Lady turned around and came back.  Daddy loaded me into the car.  I collapsed again.  Sister and Brother were sitting close to me.  They were really upset.  I've seen them upset a lot in life, but this time it was different.  This time they knew it was about me.  It made me sad to see them so upset.  But then again, I was super special to them.

When we got to the place and found my friend Sweet Lady, it became apparent that my time was up.  My gums and tongue had turned a pale, pale shade pink.  I never moved.  I just laid there while my family all loved me and cried and whispered to me.  I wish I had a way to whisper back, but somehow I think they knows just exactly how much I love them.  Sweet Lady told Mommy and Daddy that my condition was spiraling downhill and that any attempts to revive me would only be temporary but would not save me in the long run, or necessarily even in the short run.  The look on my face told Mommy and Daddy "it's time".  I didn't want it to be, but that mean cancer just got the best of my body.  But it never got the best of my personality and spirit.  I still had glimpses of my old self, right up til the bitter end.

Alas,  I have a few thoughts on life I would like to share.  Maybe it's a way of letting my legacy be known...although I know I will always live on in my family's hearts.  So if I could talk, and through this blog I can, here's what I would say about my life:

The best place in the whole world is right at home where I belong.  Having loved and been loved is lots more important than fancy toys.  The best entertainment in life is usually free.  Especially when I am the entertainment...and my tail-chasing act has won the world (or at least our friends) over, time after time.  Bunny rabbits in the grass are not playthings.  White snow is meant to be yellow.  Or brown.  Grandparents are allowed to spoil us grandkids.  It's their right.  A hug can make almost anything okay.  For humans or for dogs.  So can a good nap.  Friends and family are so important, so always be a good friend.  Share your treats.  A good burp makes you feel better and makes everyone else laugh.   The most important things are not always said, but felt.  And I feel lucky that I've felt all those things.  And yes, it's true.  I really could tell your emotions and I felt them too.  That's just how I rolled.

To Mommy and Daddy.  Thank you for being the bestest parents a doggy could ask for.  I gave you a wild ride in those early years and you loved me unconditionally through it all.  Thanks for the love, the food, the toys, the companionship, the shelter and heck, even for my Sister and Brother.  I will always love you and I know I will stay in your hearts forever.  To my Sister and Brother: thanks for coming to live with me when you were born.  I'm glad I could teach you a few things about life, and could help you learn to stand up and walk when you were babies.  Sharing fishy crackers and cereal with you was always the best.  Remember, now that I'm gone, you can't blame your burps and farts on anyone but one another.  I'm sorry...but I'll be looking down, watching over you all the time, and laughing every time you let out a good one.  To all my Friends: Thank you for making my life more fulfilled.  Thanks for always ringing the doorbell and allowing me to chase my tail endlessly.  Thanks for everyone who sent me all their love when I was sick.  I really did know  I was loved abundantly.  To Nice Man with the needles and the treats:  Thanks for taking such good care of me.  I had lots of fun with you and I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you to get back before saying goodbye.  To Sweet Lady: thanks for allowing me to go peacefully and with some dignity.  And thank you for being so wonderful to my family because saying goodbye to me was the hardest thing they've ever had to do.  And to all my Friends at the place with the Nice Man and Sweet Lady.  I had so much fun with all of you.  Thank you all for doing your best to keep me healthy.  I will miss you all.  Maybe one day my family will be back again with a new four legged kid.  But I don't think that will be anytime soon, because they have a lot of healing to do.

As a wise man once said:
"Don't cry because it's over.
Smile because it happened."
Dr. Seuss

And so my friends, I throw in my bone here.  I have some special doggy friends up here that have been waiting for me.  I feel good now, so I need to get back to chasing my tail, chewing bones, snatching food, catching frisbees and running wild.  The tater tots here are almost as good as yours, Mommy.  The burgers don't quite match up to your BBQ'ing abilities, Daddy.  But it's good, and I'm happy.

Mommy says she will continue writing my blog for me to help her cope with losing me.  But from this point on, I won't be writing.  And so I say.  Live life to it's fullest and never forget to love.

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.
April 10, 2002 - August 3, 2011

Family Portraits

Hey!  Look at that!  It's me!  Mommy got my picture up on the blog!  Now we can look at my adorable self all the time!  This picture is just one of oh, I don't know, like 300 photos our friend took of me and my family last Tuesday night.  Mommy and Daddy love this picture of me because I look strong and happy in the picture.

So after my collapse last Tuesday morning, Mommy and Daddy didn't think I was going to make it much longer. They spent a lot of the day preparing to say goodbye to me- until I did a 180 degree turn around and got better again.  But they still weren't really sure how much longer they would have with me, and so we did family portraits.  Our good friends - the Man with the Camera and the Lady with the Cheese (that's their names, really!) came over to take some pictures for us.  The Man with the Camera loves to do photography for fun.  The Lady with the Cheese, well I'm not really sure if she always carries American cheese in her pockets, or if that was just for me.  If she does carry it in her pockets that's a little weird.  Someone ought to tell her American cheese belongs in the cheese drawer in the refrigerator.  Then I will run to the kitchen when I hear the sound of the drawer opening and the cheese coming out.  I'm conditioned like Pavlov!  Except with cheese...but anyways.

The Man with the Camera and the Lady with the Cheese came over and Mommy and Daddy and my Sister and Brother got cleaned up to try and look as cute as me.  They don't, of course, look as cute as me, but I appreciate their effort.  I have to say, I'd just collapsed that morning, I'd had and IV in my arm that day, lots of medicine and chemo the day before.  I was feeling like a steamy pile of poo-poo.  And what do we have to do?  Take my picture.  A lot.  You'll notice that I look kind of sad or tired in the pictures.  I was exhausted.  But I knew it was really, really, really important to my Mommy and Daddy to capture the photos of our family while we are still, well, a family.  I mean they'll always be my family, but once I'm chewing on the pearly gates and chasing my tail every time the doorbell to Heaven rings, it'll be a little hard to take my picture.  So we did it that night.  And by the way- it's important to note that every day since last Tuesday I've become perkier and perkier and even the Nice Man with the needles and the treats thinks I may be able to stick around for quite some time.  See- I really am a Wonder Puppy!!!

Okay, so anyways, here's the funniest part about our family portraits.  When the Man with the Camera was taking my picture, I was not a fan of the lens in my face.  I have my personal boundaries, and Man with the Camera was crossing them.  To get even with him, I'd turn my face.  It was pretty funny.  Lady with the Cheese, now she was harder to ignore.  I mean I LOVE cheese.  Hello, I'm a dog.  She would rustle the cheese wrapper behind the camera lens, and like a sucker I looked almost every time.  At least she fed me the cheese after I cooperated.  But guess what?  After that evening was over I decided I didn't care much for cheese anymore.  Mommy cannot put my pills in cheese.  No sir-ee!  I'm above things like cheese these days, because I'm afraid if I eat it that lens will be back in my face again!  Now all my pills come in deli turkey and peanut butter.  I'm thinking I may ask Mommy for caviar next.

In all seriousness- a huge thank you to the Man with the Camera and Lady with the Cheese for coming and taking such beautiful pictures of me and my family.  I know they will be cherished for always.  Here's some of the favorites.  Hope you all enjoy too!

 My Daddy, Sister, me Ollie the sandwich, Mommy and Brother sitting on our back porch

 Mommy was not doing very well by this point.  She was crying.  And I was tired.

 How cute am I in this picture?

 My Brother and I have a special bond.  We love each other!

As Grandma always calls me, here I am poised as a "Noble Beast"

Me with my two most favoritest people in the whole wide world

 My Sister and me.  I have helped her become less afraid of doggies!!!

Ever see the photography works called "The Dog"?  Yeah, this is me, Ollie "The Dog".

Mommy really was turning into a mess at this point.  But it's clear how much  my Mommy and Daddy love me!

These last few weeks have aged me well beyond my nine years, but I'm still as sweet and loveable as ever!

Love,

Ollie the Wonder Puppy.

Ollie the Sphinx

Since I recently told a story about my Mommy's parents, now I want to tell a story about my Daddy's parents.  Their names are Grandma and Papa and they live in a pretty town on the ocean near Los Angeles.  When I used to live in California Mommy and Daddy liked to take me in the care with them for the long ride(!!!!) to visit Grandma and Papa.  My Uncle and Auntie and my sweet little human cousin, who is just 9 months older than me, and my Great Uncles and Great Aunties also live there too.   I would love to have a doggy cousin.  Mommy and Daddy have tried to convince my Uncle and Auntie that I should have a doggy cousin.  But apparently Uncle and Auntie saw enough of my antics as a puppy and decided that I was enough dog for our entire family.    So anyway, back in the good old days when we lived in California and I was my Mommy and Daddy's only child, we would take rides(!!!!) to visit our family in Los Angeles a lot.

Grandma and Papa live in this really nice town.  There's lots of famous movie people that live there.  I'm not really impressed with famous movie people.  There's also lots of people that may not be famous but that find themselves really super duper important - much more important than most anyone else in the world.  They drive fancy cars and act like they are a gift to the earth.  They honk their fancy car horns and they sip their fancy coffee and they talk on their cell phones and wear fancy clothes and live in fancy big homes.  And almost everyone in this fancy shmancy town owns a dog.  But these dogs aren't like me.  The dogs are about the size of my paw and they generally go on outings in their mommies' purses.  My Mommy doesn't have any purse big enough to hold me.  The fancy self-important people don't take their dogs for walks, they take their dogs for stroller rides.  In doggy strollers.  That's right, you heard me right.  Doggy strollers.  I may not have any fancy purse to be carried around in but I certainly don't want to have walks replaced with rides in a stroller.  I mean, really?  So anyways, you can imagine how a big crazy puppy like me must fit in with this small-dog-in-purses-and-doggy-strollers town.  Sometimes when we would go visit Mommy would take me for runs in the fancy neighborhoods.  Shockingly, I was not always as well behaved as some of the purse-and-stroller puppies.  The fancy people stared at me sometimes when I wasn't being a good listener.  Mommy and Daddy said I just had a lot more spirit and all the fancy people were just jealous because their purse-and-stroller pups weren't as cool as me.  

It's important to understand that my Grandma and Papa are super important to me, but they don't act more super important than the rest of the world, like many people in their town.  They don't drive fancy cars and think they are better than everyone else.  My Grandma and Papa are super wonderful and fun.  Papa throws toys for me to fetch.  Grandma and I share a special bond because we both have the same birthday- April 10th!  Next year when when I turn 10 (and my Mommy and Daddy are counting on me to reach age 10!) Grandma will officially be just one year older than me.  By about June of next year I'll be older than her, at least in dog years.  Anyways, Grandma and Papa live in one of the older homes in their neighborhood, perched on a big piece of land that would sell for lots of money.  There house is perfect- not fancy or pre-pre-pre-posterous.  It is perfect for a big bumbling dude like me.  Especially the backyard.  The backyard is my favorite place to roam.  Grandma and Papa used to have doggies when my Daddy and his brother were kids, but they haven't had a doggie in a long time.  So on my first visit to see them I was free to make their backyard my own.  When you turn me loose in a back yard, you know what happens.  I spent most of my first romp going around their backyard marking my territory.  Pretentious purse-and-stroller puppies BEWARE- Grandma and Papa's backyard is now officially MINE.

Grandma and Papa might have thought I was a little bit nutty when I was a puppy.  Okay, maybe more than a little bit nutty.  But they love me so much.  Grandma became especially enamored with me one day on that first visit.  Much like I did in my Mima's garden with the Ollie-Lilies, I did some re-arranging of my Grandma's yard.  I was out prancing around.  Everyone was inside the house, so I had fairly free-reign.  And then it got quiet.  Remember what happens when I get quiet....nothing good.  So Grandma decided to go out and check on me.  And then she found me.  Once upon a time, before I took ownership of Grandma and Papa's backyard, there was a picnic table with a table cloth on it.  It was in a nice sunny spot, perfect for catching rays.  After I took ownership of the backyard I removed that table cloth and showed that table cloth who was boss.  Remember, I'm an interior (and exterior) designer and I didn't think the table cloth was giving off a real good feel.  So after taking care of the table cloth and satisfied with my work, I climbed right up on that picnic table and perched myself in a most perfect poise.  Just like a sphinx.  Grandma nearly fell over laughing.  When I got caught I got off the table, so unfortunately we don't have a picture of me as a shinx.  But ever since that day, Grandma has called me her "Noble Beast."  Even though I live far away from Grandma and Papa, they still tell me the story of me being the sphinx back in the days when I was a puppy.

Now Mommy and Daddy say they'll gladly accept any signs of my crazy puppy-ness.   Anyone have a picnic table with a table cloth?

Good Days, Bad Days and Hopeful Days

Lots of people ask me how I'm doing these days.  The answer can change regularly, but for the last few days I've been having better days.  Mommy and Daddy tell me that I'm taking them on an emotional roller coaster ride.  I don't really know what a roller coaster is.  No one in my family has ever bothered taking me to an amusement park.  When they go on vacations I am forced to go to our local Pet Hotel and Day Spa.  There I romp around with other doggies, swim in pools, get fed weekend brunches of bacon and eggs and get all handsome and groomed.  It's really quite hard being forced to have so much fun.  My Pop Pop (remember, that's Mommy's Daddy) loves to tell the story of what really happens when you get groomed at the Pet Hotel and Day Spa.  It comes with an anal rinse.  Do you hear me?  That's right, an anal rinse.  As my Pop Pop always says when he tells the story "I feel bad for the poor guy that has to do the rinsing."  Trust me, poor guy that does the rinsing, I apologize from the bottom of my.......well, anyways.

Back to roller coasters.  So I don't really know what roller coasters are but Mommy and Daddy have been talking about being on the emotional ones a lot lately.  Mommy once told me about a roller coaster she and Daddy went on when they went to Disney World.  It was an Aerosmith roller coaster and it plays the song "Sweet Emotion".  When she and Daddy got off the roller coaster, Mommy promptly barfed everywhere.  Her barf is different than mine.  Mine is more kibble-ish since up until I got cancer I pretty much only ate kibble.  Yawn.  Boring.  Now that I have cancer I get to eat REALLY yummy foods, and pretty much whatever else I want.  Cancer has its perks, I suppose.

But anyways, there is a point to all this.  If Mommy and Daddy are telling me that I'm taking them on an emotional roller coaster, I assume it's a roller coaster like the one at Disney World.  The one that makes Mommy barf.  Apparently they are emotionally drained from seeing me up, then down, then back up, then down, then up, then down.  Then up, then down.  Then up...... oh sorry...I got lost in a thought about someone throwing a ball for me in the backyard.  Ball goes up, ball goes down.  Up, then down, then up, then down.  WAKE UP!  Sorry, I was dreaming again!  Man, I miss getting to go outside and play ball and frisbee and chase the bunny rabbits and eat the bunny poop.  Those were the good old days.  So my Mommy and Daddy tell me they will continue along on the roller coaster of expenses (and I hear them talking and I've become really really really expensive) just so long as I give them signs that I am doing okay.  Which brings me to my post today, the good days , bad days and hopeful days.  So I'm trying, really I am, to give them some "up" days.

Yesterday morning Mommy went to kiss me goodbye and she freaked out.  Mommy tends to do that sometimes.  If you ask her, she's just being protective and concerned.  If you ask me she's a little bit annoying and overbearing.  I mean really, how many of you have someone walking around watching every single move you make, sticking their hand on your nose to see if it's warm or cool, dry or wet, and kissing the inside of your ears to see if you have a fever?  Yeah, I didn't think so.  Welcome to my world.  That's my Mommy.  And those are my nose and ears being poked and prodded!  But it's okay.  I know how well loved I am.  If she didn't love me she wouldn't be so overly cautious with me.  My Sister and Brother- I think they find some relief in Mommy's attention being on me.  If her attention is on me, then it isn't on them.  So in other words my Sister and Brother's noses and ears are fairly neglected, unless you count when their own fingers are in them.  Lucky them.

So yesterday when Mommy came to kiss me goodbye and she dog-handled my nose and ears she found my nose was dry and hot and my ears were burning up.  I was pretty lethargic too.  I mean, if you had all these pills and chemo running through your veins, you'd be lethargic too, right?  But Mommy was still super concerned so she called the nice man at the place with the needles and treats and he said to bring me in.  So Mommy and I loaded up in the car and went to see my friend, the nice man at the place with needles and treats.  Remember how I said I was lethargic?  I snoozed in the van on the way to see nice man.  When we arrived Mommy helped me get out of the van and I sauntered in.

Since my collapse on Tuesday we seem to have misplaced my leash.  It is somewhere around here but since my Mommy was convinced my nose and ears might catch on fire, we  didn't have time to find my leash before we left.  I got to go "a natural" to visit nice man at the place with needles and treats.  Mommy wasn't super concerned about my state of "a natural" because I was so sluggish when we left the house.  But when she opened the doors of the building so that I could go in and see nice man I went from a saunter to a jog.

You have to understand.  In the last two weeks I have spent seven days at the place with needles and treats and my friend the nice man.  I have even had two sleepover nights there.  So I kind of own the place.  My Mommy and Daddy tell me that if I want to get technical (whatever- I'm a dog- I'm totally not technical) but if I want to be technical, they own the place based on all the money they've paid to the nice man.  But whatever.  I may not own the place, but I certainly feel like I'm at least the Mayor of the place.  So I went from a saunter to a jog, and I ran right back behind the desk and straight to an exam room.  I know all the nice man's secrets now.  I know where those treats are located.  Meanwhile all my friends that work at the place with nice man were all saying "Hi Ollie!"  See, it's really like I'm the Mayor of the place!  They all know me there!  Mommy was in shock- I was just laying lethargically in the van, and now I'm jogging through the place trying to find my friend, nice man, and get my paws on some treats.  Mommy came back to the exam room and dragged me out.  Sometimes she's really a stick in the mud.  Sticks?  Mud?  Oh those are two of my favorite things.  I love sticks and mud!!!!   Maybe instead of saying Mommy was being a stick in the mud, I should say she was being a pill down my throat.  I like pills down my throat a lot less than sticks in the mud!  Okay, so Mommy was being a pill down my throat and she made me sit all dignified in the waiting area.  Dignified is not one of my strengths.

Anyway- there I lay -like a good dignified doggy- on the floor of the waiting room, waiting for my friend nice man to come see me.    When he came out to the waiting area he whistled.  I popped up and ran over to meet him.  My friend!  Nice man!  I really like nice man!  He likes me too, I think.  A lot.  I trotted back with him to an exam room (see, if Mommy, the pill down my throat, had just let me stay in an exam room when we first walked in I'd have saved us all this trouble of having to walk back to the exam room again).  Then nice man did the most undignified thing to me.  Do you know how to take a dog's temperature?  Yeah, that's right.  Through the same place as the poor guy at the Pet Hotel and Day Spa that gives anal rinses.  But this is no rinse.  He's putting something in a place I thought was an exit only.  But apparently it's also to take my temperature.  Nice man, I really love you a lot, but I didn't think we were that close.  My temperature was actually around normal and that is great!  My heart beat and pulse was good too.  So nice man took me back to the back and they gave me needle in my leg and put some medicine in me.  This medicine makes me feel almost puppy-like!  I followed him to see my Mommy, who was waiting in the lobby.  Nice man was chatting with my Mommy and we started walking back to an exam room.  I knew exactly what we were doing.  As he was talking to my Mommy, nice man reached into a drawer.  I got into position.  A perfect, poised, "sit" with my head looking right up at nice man.  If you have ever wanted to see a dignified dog, that would be me right at this moment.  Nice man got a container out of the drawer and opened it.  This is it!  The magic moment!  My favorite thing about nice man!  He took out treats and gave them to me!!!  I love treats!!!  I love nice man for giving me treats!!!  Then he told my Mommy how wonderful a doggy I am, how willingly I do everything he tells me to do, and how sweet I am.  Awww, nice man, I think you're sweet too.  If I had human treats, I would share some with you.  Since I don't I will settle for the next best gift....I'll leave you a nice steamy present on your lawn.  Sounds like an even trade to me- a treat for a treat!

When we got home Mommy told me that we need to ease up on this emotional roller coaster that we keep going for rides(!!!!) on.  She even gave me permission to be destructo-dog while she was at work.  I could get into anything I wanted.  Well not really, but she said I could perform some of my old antics...messing up nicely made beds, chewing a stuffed animal, stealing food, whatever.  Just anything to show her I'm feeling okay.  Mommy says she'll settle for wet noses, seeing me eat ravenously and walking around okay.  And lots of cuddles.

I wasn't really up for destro-dog mode while Mommy and Daddy were at work, but I was otherwise fairly perky last night.  Daddy played with me and my new wubbie, my stuffed chipmunk named Chipper.  I chased him around a little.  I'm not quite as energetic as I was a few weeks ago, but I'm doing okay.  We had family movie night and the kids loved on me lots too.

Mommy is a baker.  She makes really yummy cakes and cupcakes.  I'm her cleaner-upper.  Here's how it works.  Mommy makes frosting.  Powdered sugar gets on the floor.  I come lick up powdered sugar on the floor, then Mommy mops.  We make a good team.  So Mommy was SOOOOO happy when she went to make frosting and there I was out there to lick up all the powdered sugar on the floor.  I had enough energy for that!  So I guess today and yesterday could be considered "good and hopeful" days.

In case you're wondering my all time favorite frosting that Mommy makes is peanut butter butter-cream.  It's like a dream come true for me!!!  Before I had cancer Mommy never let me taste frosting.  Sometimes I acquired it by stealth, like when my Sister and Brother ate cupcakes at the table and turned their backs.  But now that I have cancer, Mommy will sometimes take a little frosting, put it on a spoon and put my pills in it and let me take my pills that way.  That is the best way to take pills!  And with all that's going on with my health and my expenses, Mommy is baking as much as she can to earn some extra money to turn over to nice man at the place with the needles and the treats.  So I sense a lot of frosting in my future.  Cancer has its perks sometimes.

Well, this has been an exhausting blog.  I have a couple other blogs currently in progress, so stay tuned!  Til next time!

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.

Ollie-Lilies

So today is a better day.  I have managed to stay away from the nice man with the needles and the treats for a whole 24 hours now.  I was pretty tired today.  Between my collapse yesterday morning and then having a family portrait photo shoot last night I was dog-tired.  Get it?  Dog tired?  I will blog a whole other post about the photo shoot, but suffice to say, I've been pretty wiped out.  But the good news is I have a bit of an appetite today, I've been fairly alert and I haven't collapsed today.  I'd say I haven't had any chemo today either, but that's not entirely accurate since I have to take a chemo pill every day.  Anyways...my rambling right now sure doesn't seem like it has anything to do with the title of this post now, does it?  So let me get to it.  Today's story is a fun reflection of my younger days.

Let's take a trip back to Easter, 2003.  I was just about a year old.  Mommy and Daddy may have had a slightly better grasp on how to live with me, but I was still a very interesting friend to travel with.  And boy do I love to travel!  So for Easter we for a ride(!!!!) to my Mommy's parents house.  They are called Mima and Pop Pop.  They live in California, so they are far away from me now, and I miss them lots.  Especially Pop Pop because he and I share Culvers vanilla malt shakes whenever he comes to visit me here in Illinois.  I love ice cream.  I mean it's like one of my most favoritest things in the world.  It ranks up there with peanut butter and cheese.  And hamburgers.  And tater tots.  And butter.  But I really love when people actually share things with me, rather than me resorting to stealing.  When I steal I get in trouble.  So the fact that Pop Pop actually buys a bigger size malt just so he can share it with me, now that is true love. Pop Pop is my buddy.  I really love him.  He's really upset that I'm so sick.  I'm hoping if I play my cards right he may come out and visit me sometime soon.  And take me to Culvers. 

Where was I?  Oh yes, we went for a ride(!!!!) to see Mima and Pop Pop.  At the time we lived in California so our ride(!!!!) was only a two hour drive.  Mima and Pop Pop used to live in a different house, before they moved to the one they live in now with slippery floors.  But on this Easter Sunday in 2003 we were going to their old house.  At their old house they had a swimming pool with a deck around it and various shrubs and potted plants in a rock garden surrounding the deck.  My Mima, she is so super wonderful to me.  I love her.  And she is an excellent gardener.  She has what we doggies call "Green Paws".  Her garden is beautiful.  She's also really patient.  Especially with me.  So she was totally fine with me exploring her and Pop Pop's backyard.  In fact, the whole family was happy when I went outside that Easter morning because then they all were able to eat without me begging.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't really beg.  I'm way too dignified for such things.  I merely place my head on the lap of someone who's plate of food smells unbearably good, and I just stare.  I have the pathetic look down pat.  But that's different than begging.  So my Mommy and Daddy and my Mima  and Pop Pop and my aunties and uncles were all eating inside and I was on back yard-patrol.  

I was very busy outside.  First I ran around with a gigantic bucket in my mouth.  Why, you might ask?  Because I could.  Next I ran around in the garden and smelled the pretty flowers.  I like to be at one with nature.  In fact, I like that so much that I felt compelled to go one step further.  I decided that I would help my Mima do some of her gardening.  Remember how I mentioned in an earlier blog that I am an artist and an interior decorator?  Well I'm also an gardener.  I too have "Green Paws," just like Mima.  I set to work out in her garden.  I took my job very seriously, and I worked swiftly and silently.  Maybe a little too silently.  Inside where my family was eating Easter breakfast they noticed they hadn't seen the yellow streak with a bucket hanging out it's mouth (aka ME) run by in quite some time.  They also hadn't heard any sound from outside.  You know, a puppy being quiet is often viewed the same as child being quiet....trouble.  When my family realized that I hadn't been seen or heard in quite some time, they decided to come check on me.  Mima walked outside and there I was, standing in the rocks surrounding the deck and I was holding a pot in my mouth.  The pot, in the life it lead before we met, was the home to a calla-lily.  The calla-lily was nice enough, but the pot, it just looked delicious.  So I lifted calla-lily out by the stem, noticed that a big bulb came out with it and that it was in my way.  So I shook the calla-lily until it was free of the bulb and dirt.  Then I tossed it aside and turned my attention to the pot.  I took the pot in my teeth and I shook it back and forth until I got all the dirt out.  Then I found it to be a most perfect toy.  I mean, if I stuck my head in it, everything turned dark.  I could chew on it and it felt great on my teeth.  I could toss it and it would roll.  I was having a ball....that is, until I got caught in the calla-lily and pot destruction zone red handed (red pawed?).  That was kind of a problem.  Mima, being very patient with me, just let me have the pot (it was kind of too late at that point) and she cleaned up some of the dirt (including the dirt on my face).  We said goodbye to calla-lily, because, well, I had won that battle.  But guess what?????????  Here's where the miracle part happens.  Truly, it's a miracle.  The next spring, in 2004, calla-lilies came up all over in the rocks!  Remember how I shook that calla-lily when I de-potted it?  Well apparently I shook bulbs all over and they came up from the ground the next year.  In a rock bed no less!  When Mima called my Mommy to tell her about the amazing calla-lilies she said she owed it all to ME!  From that moment on the calla-lily was renamed.  It is now officially called an "Ollie Lily" and it is my most favoritest flower.  The Ollie-Lilies were pulled up from the garden when my Mima and Pop Pop moved to their new house with the slippery floors.  And the Ollie-Lilies survived the move just fine.  Mima took bulbs to my Mommy in Illinois.  So now my Ollie-Lilies live in two states!  Mommy is going to post a picture of me snoozing next to one of the Ollie Lilies in my yard when I lived in California.   But that picture may go under a different blog....possibly one titled "Ollie the Landscaper."  But that, my friends, is for another day.

For now I'm ready to go have a little snuggle with my Mommy and Daddy.  I had a busy night tonight with friends that came over.  My one friend who loves me a lot brought me a new chew toy.  It's actually a stuffed animal that is supposed to be good for dogs that love to chew.  That's me.  So far my new stuffed animal, a chipmunk that I named "Chipper" is still in tact.  But I'm very protective of him.  Right now I'm laying with him tucked under my chin.

Til my next blog!

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.

The story of coming to live with my Mommy and Daddy

So my Mommy is having a really rough day today.  So is my Daddy.  They have told me that it's likely that they will keel over from the stress of my health before I actually do.  I think that's a really bad idea, because that would leave me as the big brother to my sister and brother...and that could get interesting.  So instead we are going to focus on some happy times from when I was just a little guy.  Like when I came to live with my Mommy and Daddy.  That was nine years ago, almost to the day.

My Mommy and Daddy lived in California at the time.  They had just gotten married in January of 2002 and bought a brand new house just a few months after their wedding.  Mommy and Daddy tell me that they quickly realized they were ready for a doggie.  They knew they wanted a big dog.  They had a few casual conversations about getting a dog, but they didn't want to rush.  So a few days later, when their friends told them about someone who had a yellow Labrador retriever puppy, 3 months old, who needed a new home, my Mommy and Daddy thought long and hard about adopting the puppy (who, coincidentally, was ME!).  My Daddy is the thinker, the non-impulsive parent.  He likes to come to conclusions after careful thought and research.  He was more than a little hesitant to bring home a puppy on about a day's notice.  My Mommy, she's the opposite of my Daddy.  She thinks....but very quickly.  She is impulsive.  She heard about me and knew it was the right thing to do, to bring me home.  Being that I have one impulsive, and one contemplative parent, they compromised.   I mean they spent at least 30 minutes discussing the idea of me before Mommy convinced Daddy that I should come live with them.

So the next day Mommy and Daddy got in the car and drove to pick me up from the people that were getting rid of me.  Why, you might ask, would anyone possibly want to get rid of someone as sweet and loveable as me?  I know, I wonder that same thing myself.  Apparently this couple that originally adopted me, when I was 8 weeks old, both found themselves in promotions at their jobs.  They would travel lots, and not be able to be around me.  At least that's what they told my Mommy and Daddy.  So after just four short weeks with my previous family, I found my lifelong Mommy and Daddy.  In fact, the previous family GAVE me to my Mommy and Daddy, even though they paid $600 for me just four weeks earlier.  The also gave my Mommy and Daddy my bed, my food canister, a month's worth of expensive dog food and some toys.  Then they practically pushed us out the door.  That was July 24, 2002.  That means that as of right now, I've lived with my Mommy and Daddy for exactly 9 years and 2 days.

After my Mommy and Daddy brought me home it took them maybe two days to realize that perhaps there was more to the previous family's story than just promotions at work that kept them from being able to keep me.  I was, let's just say, energetic as a 3 month old Labrador.  That being said, my Mommy and Daddy were, let's just say, unprepared to bring home a 3 month old Labrador on one day's notice.  So our first few days together were interesting.

The first morning in my new house my Mommy and Daddy had to go to work.  They weren't really sure what to do with me, because I was fairly lively.  They didn't have a crate yet.  So they put me in the kitchen, and blocked the way with a chest.  My Mommy's cousin was living with us at the time.  He worked a late night shift, and usually woke up mid-day.  So imagine my Mommy and Daddy's surprise when Mommy's cousin called and told them that when he woke up, he found me not in the kitchen, where I had been when they left, but sleeping peacefully on the couch in the living room...curled up with my Mommy's childhood stuffed animal, an adorable teddy bear named Pilsbury.  I retrieved Pilsbury from Mommy and Daddy's bedroom.  If you want to know the truth of what happened, I was in the kitchen and I heard this noise.  It kept calling out for help.  Not sure who it was calling, I wasn't sure what to do, but I felt an investigation was in order.  So I jumped over the counter and ran upstairs.  That's when I found Pilsbury, and he was crying out to me with his silent posture to help him!  So I grabbed him and took him downstairs and cuddled him til he was quiet.  The real wonder of the story is that I didn't actually do anything to Pilsbury.  I just snuggled up with him and loved him.  He smelled just like my Mommy, so I figured he was important.  He's one of the only stuffed animals in the house that survived life with me.  Just ask my brother and sister.  When they came along and the stuffed animals started multiplying exponentially, I did my best to keep the stuffed animal population at bay in the household.  But getting a sister and brother - now that's a whole other story.

I was quite a mischevious young puppy.  One of our first nights together, we went for a ride(!!!!).  I love rides.  You just say the magic words "Ollie you wanna go for a ride?" and I jump up and run to the door.  The same works for things like "Ollie you wanna go for a walk?", "Ollie you wanna go for a run?", "Ollie you wanna go to the park?" and "Ollie you want to go play in traffic?"  Okay, kidding about the last one, but I'm pretty sure my Mommy and Daddy thought about that from time to time when I was destructo-dog.  Where was I?  Remember, I'm a dog, I lose my train of thought pretty fast.  Did someone say train?  Oh right, mischevious puppy.  We went for a ride(!!!!).  We went to visit my Mommy and Daddy's very good friends, who became ultimately became my God Dog-Mama and God Dog-Father.  I think Mommy and Daddy assigned them as my God Dog-Parents because a) they were our close friends and b) My God Dog-Father is a police officer and if anyone has an Alpha aura about him, it's my God Dog-Father (I love you!!!) and c) Mommy and Daddy figured I needed all the help I could get- from them, from God, or from God Dog Parents.  Anyway, there was not a formal baptism.  Perhaps some of the choice words my Mommy and Daddy uttered towards me from time to time could count as official.  Whatever.  We we went for a ride(!!!!) to meet my God Dog-Parents who were, at the time, not yet my God Dog-Parents.  We walked into their house and I went nuts.  No big surprise, right?  I'm a yellow lab puppy.  I'm three months old, with a bunch of people I barely know, and now I'm in a house with all kinds of new smells.  It was fabulous.  Eventually I tired out.  I'm not positive what finally settled me down into a nice snooze at my God Dog-Parents house, but I think it had something to do with the big poop I took right in the corner of their living room.  Did I mention their house was brand new?  All I can say is the house needed some character.  And I did my part.  To this day, my God Dog-Parents love me, despite my rocky start.  And I love them too.  They live far away now, but we remain very special to each other.  I love them in spite of the fact that they got rid of the character-building gift I deposited in their living room.  And they love me in spite of the fact that that was my idea of a house-warming gift.

The story of my puppy-antics have barely gotten started.  But for tonight I'm feeling tired and I've had a really long day.  My Mommy keeps crying as she writes for me, so I probably need to give her some loving.  My sister and brother just went to bed, which leaves me at my favorite time of day....just ME with my Mommy and Daddy.

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.

Some pictures of me and my family

 Ollie the day after his spleen was removed.  The vet was amazed by how quickly he recovered.

 Ollie and Daddy outside at a lake just outside of town.

 Ollie and his bestest brother

 Ollie's sister likes to keep him in line and make sure he doesn't chew at his incisions.

 There is a special bond between Ollie and his brother.

 Just a week prior, Ollie had massive surgery.  On our outing he tried to jump in the lake!

 Ollie and Daddy are the best of friends.

 Ollie and Mommy are inseparable.  If Ollie were a human, he'd probably be Mommy.  If Mommy were a Dog, she'd be Ollie.  They are two peas in a pod.

 All tuckered out after an outing to the lake.

Ollie's favorite spot on the stairway landing.

Another day in puppy paradise...

So today my Mommy was going to help me post some fun memories.  Our goal is to post all the memories we have of our life together.  I keep trying to convince my Mommy and Daddy that maybe some memories should not be posted...you know, like my less finer moments.  But whatever, again, I'm not the one with the opposable thumbs and typing ability, so I guess I won't be winning that battle.  But this morning something happened.  Let me back up.

So last night, after "we" wrote my first blog post, we went up to bed.  "Bed" is upstairs and if you want to get technical, I have lots of beds.  One might say I run the house.  I have, of course, my doggie bed that lays on the floor.  When I was younger, I thought my doggie beds were chew toys.  Notice my use of the plural "beds."  I had many beds in my younger years. Usually I only had one or two beds in the house at any given time, but I had loads of beds over the course of my first few years.  Mommy and Daddy would come home and find my beds de-stuffed.  I would kindly add fluff decor to various rooms throughout the house.  I like to call myself an interior decorator.  The fluff decor usually made me wildly popular with my Mommy and Daddy.  The said over and over there was nothing they'd rather spend there money on than new beds for me.

Speaking of beds, did I mention I'm also an artist?  One night, while I was laying on one of my more expensive beds (the brand new one that my Mommy and Daddy slept in) I noticed that the brand new wood frame still smelled a lot like the store where they bought it from.  It just seemed a little off, like it needed a little help assimilating into it's new home.  So I decided to help it.  I buried my brand new grown up doggie teeth into that frame and I went to town.  I just chewed and chewed and chewed...until Daddy walked in.  You can actually see the last three little chew marks on the frame where I knew I was busted.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted, and the bed seemed much more a part of the house after I saved it.  Mommy and Daddy were really mad at me.  Eventually Mommy and Daddy figured out something called "Crate."  I got to go visit crate every time they left the house.  I was NOT wildly popular about Crate, but Mommy and Daddy sure were for a couple years.  They stopped having to buy me new beds every week and they never let me out of their sight when they were home, so I never got a chance to finish up my art work on the bedframe.  Some works of art are just like that though, right?  Unfinished.

Wow- that was a big digression.  That's just my personality though- I can't usually keep a solid train of thought for too long.  That's just so....complicated.  So anyway, last night after the blog we went up to bed in mommy and daddy's room.  It's a new bed frame now.  They put my unfinished artwork bed frame in the guest room.  I still go lay on it all the time, but I know better than to finish that work of art.  Anyways, so we are up in Mommy and Daddy's bed.  I was even able to jump up on it.  I seemed really tired from my day of chemo, but I laid right there in between my Mommy and Daddy, which is my most favoritest place in the whole wide world, and trust me I'm a worldly doggie, so I know what I mean when I say it's my most favoritest place.  The only thing that would make laying in between them better would be if, say, they were spooning me peanut butter, but that wasn't happening last night.  Probably would have if I'd just asked.  Whatever, it was still a nice night.  I snuggled with them until Mommy was asleep.  Then I jumped off the bed, because I really like to sprawl out when I sleep and somehow that bed just isn't big enough for all three of us.  Mommy and Daddy seem to think so, but you know, sometimes I just need my space.

When we woke up this morning, I was laying on a blanket next to Mommy's side of the bed.  The doorbell rang because Friends were coming over.  My human sister was going to a summer camp for the day, and her friend was getting dropped off at our house.  So when the doorbell rang, I got up.  It's important to note that I got up, I didn't jump up.  Mentally, I jumped up.  Physically I wasn't able to accommodate a jump.  I started to head out the door and down the stairs, but then, something happened again.  My body just failed me.  I collapsed again right there in the hallway.  My legs went in every direction and I looked really awful.  Friends ran upstairs with Mommy.  I tried to wag my tail, because I was glad to see them, but I couldn't get up.  Mommy, Daddy and Friends were super worried about me.  Friend went and got my yummy food that I beg for out of the fridge and brought it to me.  I turned my head away.  One thing you need to understand about me, I love love love love food.  I mean it's like my favorite thing in the world.  So if I turn my head away, it's a really bad thing.  I couldn't get up and move, no matter how hard I tried.  Mommy and Daddy just let me lay and rest for a bit.  Eventually I was able to make it down the stairs, but it wasn't easily, and it certainly wasn't pretty.

Mommy and Daddy called their work and said they wouldn't be able to make it in.  But instead of doing something fun on a no-work day, we went back to the place where the nice man with the needles and and then the treats is.  Daddy had to pick me up and put me in the van, and then pick me up and get me out of the van.  When I was set down on the ground, my legs just splayed in all directions.  It was so humiliating for me. I looked at Mommy and Daddy with the look in my eyes that said "ENOUGH".  Mommy and Daddy were crying.  Daddy and the nice man carried me inside.  I curled up in a corner in the room.  Nice man gave me a couple needles, which wasn't really nice, but said it would help me.  Then, all 80 pounds of me layed in Mommy's lap.  Mommy and Daddy were struggling a lot.  They told me that if it was time for me to go, they understood and as awful as that was for them to say it was okay, they didn't want to see me like this.  The image of me lying splayed out in the parking lot was more than they could bear, and they didn't want to make me suffer.  Just as Mommy and Daddy were trying to accept this, Nice Man walked in and said "He's not ready to give up yet!"  Nice man got me up and walked me to the back part of the place and  then he gave me lots of fluids through an needle in my paw.  I'm getting tired of needles.

So then guess what?  I perked right back up!!!  Nice man says that he thinks there is something wrong with my circulation (circu-WHAT?)  All I know is that I feel better now, I have yet another bottle of pills to help with my circulation and I'm back to begging for food, walking around with relatively little issue now and did I mention I'm begging for food?

At this point my Mommy and Daddy realize that my time may be sooner than we thought.  I'm okay for today, but we are taking things one day at a time.  Tonight we have Friends(!!!!) coming over to take photos. I am not always a fan of getting my picture taken, but I know it means a lot to Mommy if we have some pictures of our whole family taken.  I am thankful to have a Mommy and Daddy that love me so dearly.  I know that they want to do everything to help me, but I know they will listen when I tell them it's time.  But today is not that day.  Today, and everyday, I will continue to be Ollie the Wonder Puppy.  Even when I'm gone.

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.

Ollie the Wonder Puppy starts a blog

Hi.  My name is Ollie.  I'm a dog.  More specifically I'm a yellow lab, born April 10, 2002.  That makes me a little over nine years old in human years, and approximately 64, going on 65 in dog years.  "Wow," you might be thinking.  "How is it that a dog is writing a blog?"  Well, let's be real.  I may be Ollie the Wonder Puppy, but opposable thumbs have not evolved to my kind, so I must settle for my human mommy to get my thoughts out for me.  Okay, really, they are her thoughts.  My thoughts are fairly limited to the important things in life, like my next meal, my family, my next meal, which bed I will chose to sleep on, my next meal, going out for some fresh air, the food I may snatch before my next meal, the bell that rings right before the door opens, chasing my tail, my next meal, seeing dogs on TV, my next meal....you know, complicated things.

So really, why do I need a blog when I've just shared with you all the innermost thoughts of my mind?  Because about a week and a half ago, on July 15, 2011, our lives changed forever.  Things started out great.  The bell rang, the door opened, friends came inside.  The bell rang again, and more friends came inside.  I love friends.  When friends come in I chase my tail.  Once I catch it, I pause, then chase it the other direction. It keeps me balanced, you know?  I like the think my equal tail-chasing helps keep the universe spinning just so.  Which brings me back to July 15.  The bell rang twice and I didn't chase my tail either time.  The universe became unbalanced.  So did I.  I was trying to be a good host.  I had all these friends to entertain.  But my body was failing me.  I tried to stand up, and I collapsed.  Twice.  My mommy started crying.  She called the people at the place where they give me lots of treats after they poke me with needles, and they said I needed to come in right away.  So Mommy and Daddy got my stuff together and we went to the place with the treats after they poke me with needles.  My human brother and sister were really upset seeing me hurt.  They went home with friends so they didn't get more scared.  Anyways, I was feeling really miserable.  I couldn't even climb into the car.  My body felt like it was failing me.  Daddy lifted me into the car.  Thanks, Daddy.

We got into the place with the treats and needles and the nice man said I could spend the night.  Normally sleepovers make me really happy.  I wasn't happy.  I just curled up in a ball.  Mommy couldn't stop crying.  The nice man told my Mommy and Daddy to say "bye" to me for the night, and that he'd call them in the morning.  I couldn't even muster up the energy to say goodbye.

In the early morning, I got worse.  The nice man helped me get stabilized.  He had to poke me with lots of things.  Then he called my Mommy and Daddy and told them he had to cut me because he thought I might have a tumor.  Now, I wasn't on the phone, because I a) was in the middle of flatlining and b) don't have opposable thumbs and c) am usually a pretty soft-spoken fellow, but I'm fairly certain I could hear the sobs of my Mommy coming from the phone, and I could feel the heartache coming from both my Mommy and Daddy.  So I knew I was going to have to get better.  And that became my goal.  And then I was asleep.

Wake up!  I woke up a few hours later.  My belly hurt a LOT.  I had a big cut on it, but everyone at the place with needles and treats was being very good to me.  The nice man called my Mommy and Daddy and told them about the surgery.  I had a softball sized tumor on my spleen.  The nice man took out the tumor, and my spleen.  I was doing okay, but I was in critical condition.  No, he couldn't tell whether it was benign or malignant.  He didn't think it had spread, but wasn't sure.  He knew how upset my Mommy and Daddy were.  He called them lots that day.  He always had good things to say.  Like that I was a tough puppy and  that I was stable.  And that I was trying to get up when I was supposed to be laying down.  That I was trying to eat and drink.  All those things were very good signs, but still nothing was certain.  By late Saturday night when the nice man called he said I was quite a dog.  I seemed so good that I could probably go home the next day!  Yay!  Home!  I love home!

Mommy and Daddy and my sister and brother came to pick me up early Sunday afternoon.  Nice man asked them if they wanted to see my spleen.  They kind of didn't answer, so nice man took that as a "yes." They saw my tumor the size of a softball.  Yuck.  Poor me- having to carry around a softball on my spleen.  But I don't feel bad for myself.  In fact, I was so intrigued by my own spleen, I felt that it was worth a sniff.  My Mommy said "Ewww gross!"  So nice man told my Mommy and Daddy that he'd send my spleen off for someone to look more closely at it.  I don't know why he needed to send it off to someone else to do that.  I would have been perfectly content staring at it myself, sniffing, whatever.  But no, nice man sent it off.  He said the results would be back later in the week.  Mommy kept pressing the nice man for answers, like did he think the tumor was benign?  He said he couldn't say for sure, but that even if it was malignant, it didn't look like it had spread all over my insides.

I got home and layed pretty low.  My tummy was badly bruised from the surgery, and it was filled with blood from my spleen having ruptured.  We all just snuggled that day.  The next day I seemed a little more alert.  I was ravenous.  I just wanted to eat and eat and eat.  Mommy and Daddy took me to see the nice man at the place with the treats and the needles.  He said I was doing great.  He told Mommy that I had one of two conditions.  If the tumor was benign, I had what was called a hemangioma.  Basically that means it's just a tumor, but it isn't cancerous, and removing it would pretty much cure me.  If the tumor, however, was malignant, then I had what was called hemangiosarcoma.  Basically that means bad things.  But we had to wait.  Mommy was making herself crazy reading things on the computer.  Daddy was the eternal optimist.  Mommy and Daddy and sister and brother were all loving on me all the time.

Friday morning the phone rang bright and early.  I don't get excited about the phone ringing like I do about the doorbell ringing.  But when Mommy answered the phone, I really didn't get excited.  Remember the two types of tumors?  Well, my tumor, after some person looked at it lots, was found to be hemangiosarcoma.  That's bad.  Mommy was crying while she talked on the phone to the nice man at the place with the treats and the needles.  I heard things like "chemotherapy" and "chances of survival" and things like that.  But I also heard mommy tell the nice man that I was doing really good.  That my tummy looked almost completely back to normal.  That I was energetic and happy and like my old self...or maybe like my younger self?  Anyway, the vet said those are all things that show that I'm a fighter.  So my Mommy and Daddy determined that I a Wonder Puppy.  I am going to defy the odds.  I have already done so, just by coming through my surgery so well.  And now I am going to fight this cancer with all I have, and Mommy and Daddy are going to help me fight it with all they have, and we are going to win.

I started chemo today.  The nice man called my Mommy after my chemo was done.  He said I had done GREAT during my session.  And he said my white blood cell count was back to NORMAL!  Do you hear that?  It's normal!  That is a great sign.  He says he's never seen a tummy heal up from spleen surgery as fast as mine has, and that I am the most pleasant patient.  That's because I am Ollie the Wonder Puppy and I am a fighter!

This blog is going to document my life, starting from my early (and slightly less "behaved") years.  It's going to chronicle the love that I have for my family and the love they have for me.  It's going to serve as a place for my happiness, my sadness, my pain and all the array of emotions that my Mommy and Daddy and brother and sister and I go through on this journey.  And with a lot of love and prayers and throw in some luck, we are going to have a lot of time remaining to document my life.

Love,
Ollie the Wonder Puppy.