What have I done?

Okay. So, I dropped Fergi off at the vet this morning and they rushed her back to get her started. I read up on mast cell tumors, and it seems much less frightening than it did Saturday. Apparently, it is common and the survival rate is high, so no worries yet. I'm not entirely sure of the process, but they are going to remove the tumor with a wide margin and see how invasive the cancer cells are around the lump. My understanding is that the presence of cells in the margin will indicate whether chemo is necessary. Chuck and I have decided that if chemo is necessary, we will not proceed. I just can't imagine putting my poor angel through that without a guarantee that she will survive. So, for now, we're just hoping that there will be one surgery and they will release her with a fairly clean bill of health.


With that said, the family had already decided to adopt at least one pet at the time that Fergi was diagnosed. And so, we will be adding not one, but two dogs to our family tomorrow. I'm not really comfortable with the timing, but I find that I can rationalize just about anything these days. So, anyway, we are adopting from the pound two dogs. The first one is a puppy. (I'm not thrilled with the prospect of a puppy, but (1) they didn't have an adult version of this dog available; (2) Luke and Evie really wanted a puppy and wouldn't consider any other dog; and (3) she is really super cute.) She's a retriever mix and three months old. We haven't decided on a name yet, although the kids have discussed the following possibilities:

• Aggie
• Odie (think Garfield)
  
• Maggie
• Gilmore Girl
• SugarSnap
• Pancake

My choice name is Stella, at the moment. Here's a picture.


Then, completely on accident, I fell in love with this dog.

Isn't he adorable, in a shaggy, pathetic kind of way? He's three and a half years old and sweet as he could be. I seriously fell in love on the spot, even though I wasn't looking for this dog. It was just meant to be and I couldn't leave him there. Chuck and Lindsey are making fun of him because he looks old. They keep calling him the "geriatric dog", but he is seriously sweet and adorable. The names I have picked out for him include:

• Walter (Cronkite)
  
• Phineas
• Albert or Finney (as in Albert Finney)
  
• Emmett
  

Tell me what you think. The kids want to call him "Pooperbang" because he pooped and pooped and pooped when we took him out of his cage and let him run around so we could get to know him. He had apparently been holding it in for a while. That alone, put him high on my list since he's obviously house trained and good at it. Give me your thoughts.

All three pets are having surgery today. The two from the pound are being "fixed" and Fergi is getting her lump removed. All three will meet tomorrow, but they should be drugged up and feeling weak so they won't be aggressive - at least, that's my hope. We'll keep them away from each other, but I just have this feeling that it's all going to work out perfectly. And if there's one thing you learn in the Army, its to be optimistic. (Consider that Movie Quote 55).

Oh, just got a call from the vet. Fergi did fine, but we probably won't know anything about the spreading or extent of the cancer until next week sometime.