I have mostly been lurking on here the past six months or so, posting a few times to give others encouragement. This journey has been so full of tough decisions and every time I wasn't really sure what to do, I came here to read the stories of others who had already been where I was headed. I wanted to share my full story, just in case it helps someone out someday.

Amber was always my spunky girl. I met her for the first time at a craft fair where a local adoption group had a tent setup.  When I started to rub her ears, she leaned into me and moaned. I knew she needed to come home with me.

Amber became my best friend. She was the one thing I fought for (and won) in my divorce. She joined me on many hikes and even a few backpacking trips.

Then in late October, my boyfriend noticed a lump on her left leg right at the elbow. We went to the vet, they did a fluid draw. They said it was suspicious and referred us to a specialist because of the location. We didn't get an appointment for about three weeks. During that time Amber started limping a little, just in the mornings. A good walk and she'd loosen up, but if she stayed lying down too long, she'd be a little stiff for a bit. The specialist did another fluid draw and said it was definitely cancerous. This was the first time amputation was brought up. I was very against it until I found Tripawds.

We met with the surgeon for the first time five days later. She wanted to do a CT scan, possibly followed by surgery depending on what they found. It got scheduled for that Thursday. After the CT scan the surgeon called with bad news. Not only was the tumor on her elbow too attached to the muscle, but there was two other tumors. One was down her leg a little further and one was a much larger tumor in her armpit. That was what had been causing her to limp and there was no outward sign that it existed. The surgeon removed her leg that afternoon as well as most of the tumor in her shoulder. Unfortunately, it was too wrapped around bone and muscle to get it all.

Amber came home on Saturday, still a little groggy from the heavy pain meds and anesthesia. My boyfriend and I (whom I'd moved in with by this point) made her as comfortable as possible. In the middle of the night she woke us making a noise we described as screaming. We soon figured out she'd tried to get either onto or off of the sofa alone and had hit her surgical site. After that she just couldn't get comfortable again. We spent the next few days on a rotating duty of working from home and staying up through the night with her. To make matters worse, she started to lick at her stitches. We both went back to the office that Monday leaving her with a cone of shame .

When my boyfriend got home Monday evening, he took the cone off and Amber started to run around the yard, happy to be free. She tore her stitches. We both worked from home the next two days but by Thursday evening, it was obvious something was wrong. She kept asking to be let out, then just wandering around the yard. We took her to the vet where they diagnosed a urinary tract infection. They also looked at her surgical site and recommended an inflatable doughnut instead of a cone to keep her away from it. 

We took her home, put a T-Shirt on her again and she was able to get to sleep comfortably wearing the doughnut. But on Saturday, something was very wrong. She was lethargic and crying. My boyfriend went to peel off the gauze we'd been using to keep the drainage from her stitches off the couch and fluid came gushing out. We called the surgeons office (which is also an emergency vet) and went rushing out there. I cried on the drive, afraid that I was going to lose my dog, or at least her spirit.

It turned out the urinary tract infection was actually a secondary infection. Her surgical site had developed an abscess and become infected. With fresh antibiotics and a bandage in place, we headed home. 

Then just a few days later, my old dog came back. The surgical site finally started to heal, antibiotics did their work. We weaned her off her pain pills and she started to run around the yard again. Then we got the biopsy results. It was a grade 3, stage 3 mast cell tumor. The surgeon told us we had three options. Radiation, which was prohibitively expensive, time consuming and not a guarantee. Chemo, which would give her up to a year, but was only a life extending method, not a cure (and also expensive). Or we could do nothing.

I knew radiation wasn't an option. The closest treatment center was a 20 minute drive and we'd have to go every day. And I just didn't have that kind of money. I looked at my happy dog, back to herself and thought "what will chemo do?" The doctor explained that it doesn't make dogs sick like it does people, but it was just prolonging the inevitable. Ultimately, I decided that the time and money chemo would use was better spent on spoiling the crap out of her for as long as possible.

From then on, Amber was overwhelmed with special treats and new toys. 

We even got in a few good hikes, though she could only manage about six miles (used to be 10 or 12). 

My fiance (who proposed the same day the above picture was taken) even picked up a giant stuffed rabbit at the store for her to destroy.

But slowly, Amber was winding down. New tumors kept appearing. You can see one near her left shoulder in the clip above. She started sleeping a little bit more and playing a little bit less. By the end of March, she pretty much hung out on her bed. After hurting herself jumping onto the sofa, she stopped wanting to snuggle. Even if we lifted her up, she wanted down pretty quickly. And as April started, she stopped playing, stopped barking, stopped wagging her tail. Most of the time her tail was between her legs. It was hard for her to get up and we started bringing treats and toys to her.

Last Friday, Amber couldn't stand at her bowl to eat dinner. When she went out into the yard, she went all the way to the back and lay down. Never before had she laid down in the yard. There were always things to chase and smells to find. Now, she just wanted to sit.

She woke us up the next morning, in a lot of pain. We gave her a pill, like we'd been doing as needed for the past few weeks, but it just didn't help. She wouldn't even lie down; she just wandered from outside to the kitchen to the living room and back. My fiance looked on from the sofa and finally said "it's today, isn't it".

The veterinarian's office had a room tucked at the back with a sofa. Now, she would get into our laps and snuggle. She lay with her head in my lap and I rubbed her ears one last time. When we came home, my fiance and I sat together and sobbed. 

I don't regret any of the choices I made. The surgery in December was what we needed at the time. No one was ready for it to be the end, especially not Amber. She got a few more great months to be herself and make us laugh and smile. I'll never forget watching her running across the yard on three legs, stumble, crash on her face, and get right back up and keep going. As the months wore on, I was worried that I wouldn't know when it was time or what to do, but when the day came, she let me know it was time. I am glad that I get to remember it being mostly good with a rough few weeks at the end instead of watching her fade further and further.

Hopefully someone who is reading this and trying to decide what to do will find some help. And tonight, give your Tripawd an extra treat for Amber. She loved peanut butter and popcorn.