Goodbye Trey.

I had to put Trey to sleep this morning and it was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.  About 4 or 5 months ago, he developed a cancerous tumor on one of his hind legs.  It was a “high” Grade 2 mast cell tumor although they were able to get most of it.  About a month later, he got another one on his back by his tail, although this one had much less cancer cells and none on the perimeter, meaning they got all of it.  And then I found the last one.

When I took him at the beginning of December to get the last one removed, my vet called to tell me if I’d seen the one under his front right leg, and I said no, because I really hadn’t seen it.  I don’t know how I could have missed it because it was at least the size of a golf ball.  In addition, there was bruising around it so at first we thought it might me a hematoma from playing with Fancy.  About two days later, though, I noticed that there was also bruising on his belly so I took him back.  The vet shaved a part of his belly and it looked like he’d been hit by something.  His entire abdomen, from his groin to just under his front leg was bruised.  I kinda knew at this point that this wasn’t good.  Fortunately, the bruising went away and Trey returned to his old self.

I got them back from the kennel last Monday, where they’d been while I was in Colorado and during that time he took a turn for the worse.  The lump under his front leg was growing exponentially, even after the vet dressed it.  It looked like he had a small loaf of bread under the skin.  The vet was afraid that if they went in to get it, he wouldn’t be able to walk again, and the size of it almost precluded them from getting it all.  There’s be nothing to sew back together.  So I watched and waited and he slowed down.

I decided last night that he was really in pain and that something had to be done.  Actually, I didn’t really decide anything because there wasn’t much left that we could do.  It got to the point where Trey would barely make it to the carpet to lay down, and failing that, he’d simply lay down where ever he was.  He would eat treats if given to him, but I barely noticed him eating, which is way out of character.  When I woke up this morning and he was in the same spot he was in when I went to bed, I knew it was time.

Even as I sit here typing this I keep thinking “I could have done more” but I know it would have just prolonged the inevitable.  I told myself that I would do whatever I could provided that he wasn’t in pain and I did.  It got to the point where he could barely walk and that was just too much.  I put him to sleep to save him the pain and to save me from having to watch him go through it.

I will miss you always Trey.  You were a gentle, sweet dog from the day I got you and I am forever glad you were mine.


Too much beer

Seems someone can’t handle their liquor.

He done swelled up

Had to take Trey to the vet this morning. Woke up yesterday and the poor guy’s muzzle and cheeks were swollen. It looked like he was on the losing end of a fight. The vet said to give him Benedryl and that got rid of it.

This morning, though, the white part of his right eye was swollen. Not sure if he scratched it while scratching his face or if its part of the swelling from yesterday. Anxiously waiting for an update.

Not sure how people will react if they see me with a three-legged, one-eyed dog.

UPDATE:  (Thanks for asking Dave!)  Trey is doing well.  The vet gave me some antibiotic drops and she gave Trey two shots in the ass.  I thought I came out on the good side of this until I got the bill.  We also had to up the dosage on his thyroid meds…he must be doing better since  he’s back to his normal pain in the ass, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Escape Artist

So I was pulling into the garage the other night and thought I noticed a shadow or something cross between me and a gardenia bush next to the garage. Didn’t think anything of it. Turned off my headlights, opened the door and heard a familiar jingling sound.

The rational brain said, “Hey, uh, why are you hearing what sounds like Trey’s tags rattling? He should be in the back yard.” The irrational brain responded with “OH MY GOD! WE’RE HAVING A STROKE! WE’RE HEARING PHANTOM NOISES!! IT’S A SIGN!! QUICK! CALL 911!!”. The rational brain muttered, “dumbass” as it made my left arm open the car door. When I did, guess what?

Trey was there to greet me. The little bastard got out of the backyard. Fortunately, he didn’t go far and he appeared no worse for wear. Today, though, was a different story.

He got out today, crossed the creek that runs behind the fence, and ended up in a neighboring subdivision. A very nice lady put him in her garage, called the vet, and they figured out who he was from the ID on his rabies tag. I left work to go pick him up.

When she opened the garage door and he saw me standing there, he knew he was in deep doodoo. His tail was tucked so far underneath him that it was touching his chin and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. He did that “tail tucked” walk all dogs do when I called him…well, to be honest, his was more of a tail-tucked hop, but you get the point. As he gimped towards me, the first thing I noticed was how wet he was. The second thing I noticed was how bad he smelled. He smelled like shit…and I don’t mean that figuratively. He was nasty…and since he won’t jump into the car, I had to lift him up. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper because I knew I’d have to bathe his stupid, smelly ass before going back to work.

Since it was too cold to bathe him outside, I threw his ass in the guest bathtub. I realized this would be difficult since I’d have to use a cup to get his butt wet and I was right. It was a royal pain to get him wet and rinsing the soap off would have been a nightmare. So…Trey had his first shower. Yep, turned on the shower and it worked like a charm. I was able to rinse him off and the shower was gentle so the water wouldn’t get in his ears. He didn’t seem to mind, but for a brief instance this reminded me of the shower scene from First Blood. You know the one where they’re hosing down Rambo and all the deputies are standing around laughing at him? I think that’s when he snaps and starts killing people…so I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t turn into Ram-Trey.

So…when I got him dried off, the boy and I had to have a talk…well, I talked and he listened. I explained that if he gets out again, I’m going to have one 3leggeddog and one 2leggeddog. I think he got the message. To be safe, I’m going to board up his escape hole. Thinking back, I should have known there was a problem. I noticed someone had taped photos of bikini-clad girls on my fence but I ignored them. Maybe I should have named him “Andy” instead of Trey.


You have two dogs driving you crazy, only one rawhide in which to distract them, and no money in the budget for more rawhides. Do you:

A) Toss them the rawhide and best dog wins

B) Let one have it for 30 minutes, then give it to the other

C) Cut the rawhide in half with your handy-dandy 10″ Sliding Compound Mitre saw?