The monster boy is almost back to himself. He’s eating and playing and running around the field. The vet said the incision healed well, his blood count is almost where it should be for perfection, everything looks good.
I’m trying not to hope, but how can I not?
And then I tell myself that he’s 10 1/2 years old and I’ve been blessed to have him in my life for this long.
We’re trying chemo – it seems more as a precaution than a necessity.
In the meantime, he’s sleeping next to me. And life is good.