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.
Ten and a half years is a long time for a fur baby to live. You’re clearly doing something right and loving your babe up. I’m glad everything’s getting better or more stable now. Give that good boy some kisses for me.
It’s one of the things that comforts me – he’s had a long and wonderful life. When he turned 10, I said that every day became a gift. Every day is more special now. He’s getting lots of kisses!
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I’m glad. Send my love to Max!
thank God (and lovies from you!) I am glad things are looking up