Room for Three 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

We were just finishing up with the morning’s surgeries when Sandy popped her head in the surgery room door.

“Dr. French is here with Willow,” Sandy said. “He doesn’t have an appointment, but I told him I was sure you would work them into your schedule. You’re the doctor, but it looks like she has a large mammary tumor.”

“Do I have any time available this morning?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sandy said. “There are a couple of appointments that you might be able to rush through and come up with some time, but the only time you have is the noon hour.”

“Bring them back here, and I will long at Willow and keep her for any workup,” I said.

Sandy escorted Dr. French and Willow back to the surgery room.

“I didn’t mean sneak in on your schedule, Doc,” Dr. French said. “But, I think we have been a little negligent with Willow. I just noticed this large mammary tumor. I know I sound like some of my patients, but I swear, Doc, this thing wasn’t there last week.”

“Sometimes, in the dog, these tumors will be small for a long time, and then they just sort of explode,” I said. “I don’t have much time this morning, but if you can leave her, we can get a chest x-ray and some blood work, and I can talk with you here over a sandwich or something.”

“What’s your gut feeling, Doc?” Dr. French asked. “I mean, Willow is almost ten years old. That is ancient for a Great Dane.”

“You know as well as I do. It is sort of the luck of the draw,” I said. “If this is a hot tumor, we will not do much to change the course of things. Sometimes, removing this primary mass will buy some time, just because if it grows that fast, it will rupture soon. Then it will be a mess for you and uncomfortable for Willow. If she has cancer in her chest or elsewhere, we won’t buy her much time.”

“That’s sort of what I thought,” Dr. French said. “Go ahead and get an x-ray and do the blood work. I will bring you a sandwich at noon. Jane makes a wicked tuna salad.”

“You have a deal,” I said. “I love a good tuna salad.”

We got right to work on Willow, hoping to get some of the work done before our first appointment. The blood draw only took a minute. The x-ray was going to be a challenge. 

Willow was a great dog to work on, and with three of us, we were able to get her on her back on the X-ray table and snap a picture. The lateral view was easy.

“You get the films developed and bloodwork done, and Debbie and I will start on the appointments,” I told Dixie. “I don’t need to look at any results until Dr. French returns here at noon.”

The morning was filled with routine stuff that seemed to go by fast. A cat with a bite wound that would be an abscess next week if not treated today, a coughing dog that the owner was sure had a bone in his throat, and several vaccine appointments. Before I knew it, it was noon, and Dr. French and Jane were in the reception room with my lunch.

“Come on back, and we will look at what we found out,” I said. “I have been busy and haven’t seen any results, so you can help me look things over.”

We went back to the surgery room, and Jane laid out lunch on the surgery table.

“I can’t think of a cleaner place to eat lunch,” Jane said as she pushed a sandwich toward me.

Dixie came in and handed me the sheet with the blood results, and she put the X-rays on the viewer.

“There is plenty here for everyone,” Jane said. “You can tell Sandy and Debbie to come and get it.”

I glanced at the blood results, and everything was normal. I handed the sheet to Al. 

“For an old Dane, things look pretty good here,” Al said. “But let’s turn on the viewer and see what her chest looks like.”

“Maybe we should eat a few bites first,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to review these films. I don’t know what we will find.”

“You just don’t want to miss out on lunch if it is all bad news,” Jane said.

But we all took a minute to enjoy one of the better tuna salad sandwiches that I have had. There was some idle conversation. Sandy had to catch up on how all their kids were doing. Their oldest daughter had just moved to Bend, and their other daughter was also considering moving there.

“Okay,” I said as I switched on the X-ray viewer. “Let’s look at this chest.”

“That’s a big chest,” Al said as he looked at the film.

“That is a big chest for this little clinic,” I said. “Willow was great. Otherwise, I don’t think we could have gotten a picture without sedating her.”

Willow’s chest filled the entire large X-ray. At the bottom of the film, you could see the primary tumor. I pointed this out to Al as he stood looking at the film. There were a few traces of bone visible in the primary tumor.

“The bone in the primary tumor says it is a mixed mammary tumor,” I said. “This is a common malignancy in the dog.”

“I don’t see anything in the lungs,” Al said.

I stood and carefully looked at the lung field.

“I always like to send these to a radiologist,” I said. “Those guys can see things you and I will never see.”

“Yes, I always think they make up half the stuff they say they see,” Al said.

Then I saw it. The first lumbar vertebra was half gone. It was eaten away by an extension of the mammary tumor. I pointed to it to bring Al’s attention away from the lungs. I didn’t need to say anything.

Al turned away and grimaced.

“Damn,” he said. “That just about does it for her.”

“We are probably lucky that it held together for the X-rays,” I said. “That could fall apart anytime.”

“Dave, we are going to just take Willow home and love her for one more night,” Jane said. “Could you come over tomorrow, after work, and put her to sleep at the house for us. I know that might be a lot to ask of you.”

“Jane, that’s no problem,” I said. “I would be glad to do it. The only problem is sometimes it is hard to know when the work ends here. But let’s plan on six o’clock, and we will call if it will be later.”

***

Jane, Al, and Willow met Dixie and me at the door when I rang the doorbell.

“We are all set up out in the backyard,” Al said as he ushered me to the back door.

It was a small backyard but well-kept. I could see that Al had dug a grave against the fence in the middle of the yard.

“I guess it is okay to bury her here,” Al said. “She is the third Dane we have buried back here. We are going to run out of room pretty soon.”

“As far as I know, there is no rule against it,” I said. “You could always call the city and ask, but that might be the best idea right now.”

“I have a chair over by the grave,” Al said. “I hope you can do this by yourself. Both Jane and I are softies when it comes to Willow. We have to wait in the house.”

I sat in the chair, and Dixie held Willow in front of me. Al and Jane melted back into the house. I picked up Willow’s front leg and placed a tourniquet at the elbow. Dixie patted her head as I slipped the needle into her vein. Willow was gone before the injection was over.

“This is so sad,” Dixie said. “Leading her out to her grave to put her to sleep.”

“Practical, though,” I said. “She is a big load to carry out from the house.”

Jane came out as we were picking up our things.

“Do you want us to help get her into her grave?” Dixie asked.

“No, our son is coming over to do that this evening,” Jane said. “You guys have done enough. I can’t thank you enough.”

Willow became the third Great Dane buried in their small backyard. I never checked the regulations on burying dogs in the city limits. If there had ever been any deliberations on the subject, they were unlikely to have considered the possibility of three Great Danes in a small backyard.

Photo by Matthias Zomer on Pexels.