I'm not quite ready to share Pru's life story yet, but I wanted to share her story of her complete diagnosis and passing:

This all happened so quickly. Pru had a slight limp in June, which we thought was after too much rough play at doggy daycare. We got X-Rays of her wrist and elbow, and they appeared clear. Her pain appeared to be coming from her wrist, so some rest and NSAIDs were prescribed for a presumed soft tissue injury. She seemed to be feeling much better within a few days, so she went back to daycare.

In mid July, I had to board Pru at daycare for a few days for my brother's wedding. She came home with a considerable limp, but this time it appeared higher up. Again, took her to the regular vet, they still thought it was related to her wrist and did not take x-Rays again. We did some rest and NSAIDs again, and she only got a little bit better, but still had a bit of a limp.

I had another trip scheduled for early August, so I had a petsitter watch her for the time I was away. We got in to see a vet orthopedist as soon as I could get in, which was this past Saturday. Pru had launched herself off the bed that morning, seemed to land OK, but her hind legs became weak and she slipped. She was crying for a full minute and I tried to comfort her.

It was at the orthopedist on Saturday that we got the devastating diagnosis of osteosarcoma in her shoulder. She had very small metastisis in her lungs on the X-Ray and her leg was very weak.

The orthopedist and I discussed the different treatment options, but I was in so much shock that I didn't absorb it in very much. I asked for her to get a fentanyl patch to keep her a bit more comfortable before I left, and made an appointment with the vet oncologist with his earliest avalaible, which was Wednesday.

I brought my baby home, and I had a solid cry for most of the night. I spent that night sleeping next to her on the floor. I started researching some of the treatment options that the orthopedist had recommended that night as well.

The next day, I grabbed the leash to bring Pru out in my backyard to go to the bathroom. After she went, she went to the front door and wanted to go for a walk. So we went for a short walk, and then she stood next to the car. So we went for a nice long ride in the car. Sunday was spent doing Pru's favorite things. I snapped a few pictures of her that day.

My friends came over that night and brought some groceries over and moved my mattress to the floor so Pru and I could sleep in bed together Sunday night. Pru was so happy, and she jumped on the now lowered mattress and we cuddled all night. She wasn't eating much that evening, but I chalked it up to her being in a lot of pain.

I had planned on working from home on Monday, and let Pru out to go to the bathroom. I bent down to put food in her bowl when I noticed her cancerous front leg was purple at the inside of the shoulder. I called the vet orthopedist and brought her in immediately. Her leg started swelling on the way over, and was extremely swollen by the time we got to the vet.

The decision was made for me. I knew if I wanted to save my dog's life, I would need to be open to amputation. So I signed the forms for the surgery, they admitted her to the hospital, and gave her IV fluids and IV pain medication. I told her not to go see daddy that day, and that I loved her very much and she always would be my baby.

The vet held off doing the surgery on Monday, as her clotting time on the gum test wasn't great. The blood tests came back that she only had a mild form of Von Willebrand's, so they readied plasma and medications for the surgery. Pru had never had problems with clotting before. Her surgery was scheduled for Tuesday morning.

They put her under anisthesia on Monday to get better pictures of her leg, and it was defintely broken. She came out of anisthesia just fine on Monday.

I dropped off a t-shirt that smelled like me on Monday night, but didn't stop and see her because I didn't want to upset her when I left. I could still hear her whining, and the vet techs said she was doing pretty well. She was enthusiastic for her walks to go to the bathroom, jumping around in her cage, but not eating much.

I spoke with the surgeon on Tuesday before surgery, and we talked about Pru's past and any bleeding episodes. I trusted his expertise and preparedness and I thanked him for taking such great care of Pru. I told him that I would be ok with whatever the outcome was, and I knew she was in great hands with him. I knew there were risks with the surgery, but I was ready for whatever came up.

At around 2:30 PM as they were finishing up the surgery, Pru went into cardiac arrest. The surgeon called me and let me know that they had been unsuccessful in reviving her for 5-10 minutes and that it wasn't looking good for her. I asked him to continue recitation efforts until I got to the hospital. I rushed out of the office, with my manager driving me and I ran into the OR.

They were doing internal CPR and venting for her. I stood next to the surgeon and spoke to her. I told her she was a fighter. And that her mom was there. And that I loved her. And that she was my angel. I stroked her head. Kissed her face. Rubbed her ears. Her heart beat ticked up a bit hearing my voice, and then a few minutes later, the surgeon confirmed that her brain activity had ceased.

They stopped the internal CPR. The ventilation stopped. I asked if I could pray over her soul. I said I hoped her soul had an easy and safe passage heaven. I said I hoped she saw her daddy, my late husband. I said I hoped she was no longer in pain, was running free and was happy. I said I would miss her the rest of my life. I looked around the OR and there was not a dry eye in the room.

The surgeon kept on apologizing, saying that she wasn't bleeding much during surgery, her lungs looked pretty good, and they did everything they could to save her life. I told him to stop apologizing, as I trusted his and his staff's expertise implicitly, and that they couldn't have possibly prepared for these unknown factors. I thanked all of them for doing everything that they could, and that I knew it was extremely hard for them to lose her on the table.

She could have potentially had an unknown blood clot, or the cancer could have affected clotting ability that wouldn't have been able to have been measured by any test.

They finished stitching her up and I left the OR. One of the vet techs asked if she could take a clay impression of Pru's paw for me, and I was so touched. They wheeled her into a private room for me to stay with Pru as long as I needed.

A few of the staff came in, had said how shocked they were as far as what happened and were so very sorry. I stroked her head, kissed her face and nose, touched her paws and stroked her body. I gave her a hug, told her how much I loved her and how I would never forget her. I said she was likely to not get along with my late husband's Dalmatian tinker bell up in heaven. I asked her to save a spot for me up there, and to greet me before anyone else, including my late husband.

I will miss my baby forever. She was the last link I had to my late husband, as we were not married for very long and didn't have any children. The house feels horribly empty without her.