|Ernest is a good boy.|
Later that night he showed me. It looked like a mosquito bite. I didn't think anything of it at all.
|Mike shows me the lump.|
|It's barely the size of a mosquito bite.|
The next night we received a phone call about 9pm. The vet. "It's not benign," she said. I listened, barely believing her words. I thought Ernest was fine. He had no symptoms. And the bump was so small. But now the bump had a name: mast cell tumor.
Monday Ernest had surgery to remove the tumor.
|Ernest's scar on his right shoulder.|
None of us know how long we have. It's no different for Ernest. We're just going to give Ernest the best, happiest, most loving life we can, and the best health care within our means. We have a wonderful veterinarian we trust and we know that she'll take good care of us. We plan to continue with therapy dog classes (only one left and then he'll take his test!) and if he passes, Ernest will fulfill his destiny (we believe) to be a therapy dog.
He's recovering from surgery well. The tumor has been removed. And all because my husband was petting him one night.
So petting your dog can save his life.
And you can bet, we'll be petting Ernest a lot.