The Wrong-er Dog
Conjure your courage and say farewell.
Sometimes I’ve felt as if cancer is a uniquely human disorder. After all, it just seems appropriate that the magnitude of pain that cancer causes should be reserved for beings that have the intellectual capacity to understand that pain and its origins. However, this is not the case. Today, I have learned firsthand that cancer impacts all creatures, regardless of whether or not they can understand the systems failing within their own bodies.
My grandmother passed away from cancer at the age of 58 years old, years before I was born. This was the one family member I had even known to have cancer, until today. I write to process the diagnosis that my family dog received this afternoon. Agnes had been experiencing nosebleeds for the last month, and we all had figured a blood clot was the cause of the issue. However, we received word from the vet that they identified a malignant lump on Aggie’s soft palate.
No matter who the subject of the diagnosis is, I imagine this information is always shocking. However, a dog has limited ways of expressing pain, which is why I think it can be all-the-more surprising when a pet develops such a disease.
All humans make shitty decisions. We all do awful things to ourselves and each other. Our world is insane and broken because homo sapiens made it that way. We have all contributed to the world’s disorder in some regard, no matter how small or insignificant the contribution. However, throughout Aggie’s 10 years on this planet, she has never done a single thing to hurt another. She used to curl up in my bed at night to protect me from whatever chaos lurked beyond my bedroom door. I am remiss to recount times in which a person did that for me.
Aside from ingesting the occasional deer dropping from the yard, this innocent canine friend has lived to comfort each and every one of my family members at times in which we needed it. I’ve had the realization that the species of a family member does not at all prevent us from loving them. Aggie (canis lupus familiaris) has proven the validity of the last word in her scientific genus time and time again.
I don’t believe that any human deserves cancer, regardless of the mistakes they’ve made and the pain they’ve caused. However, Aggie’s life has produced not a single ounce of tragedy or affliction for anyone. The only way she could ever hope to do that is by leaving this blemished world behind.
Although I know that this time may be coming soon, I am truly grateful for this little animal’s impact on my life. I can acknowledge how much easier being 11 years old was because I could pet and snuggle with an understanding and non-judgmental being when times were toughest. I love her as I would love a good friend and wish she could know just how much good she’s done for our lives.
