cutaneous lymphoma | skillfulpaws

This is the story of Finley, aka Mr. Finney, The Finster, our Fin-Bin – and what he taught me about life.

Growing up in Denmark, I always wanted a dog. This wasn’t an option as my brother had asthma. In Denmark dogs are a part of the family, however it seems like in Austin everyone has at least one furry friend. After moving to Austin, the decision was made. We got Happy, our youngest Labrador when she was three months old, and two years later a second Labrador named Shiner joined our family. At that time I got certified as a canine massage and acupressure therapist, so my life slowly started evolving around “all things dog.” Life was good. Three years passed and then I met my fiancée who, to no surprise, was a dog lover with two dogs of his own. His youngest was named Boony, a Rottweiler mix, and the older one named Finley who was labeled a Pit Bull by the shelter. He had been found out in Dripping Springs, and judging from the pellet lodged in his right ear, someone had used him for target practice or tried to scare him off. I am ashamed to admit that I knew nothing about Pit Bulls. I knew only the myths such as they fight more; don’t get along as well with other dogs and so on.  I was ignorant, to be honest, but I fell in love with his gentle face and sweet demeanor. After a trip out of town where all the dogs were boarded at the same place, we returned to find Finley bruised from an encounter with another dog. The story we got from the boarding place did not match the Finley we knew, and I got scared. How were we to merge two households if he was indeed this “dangerous dog” they made him out to be?

Luckily through work I knew Tara Stermer who is one of the best canine behaviorists. We set up an evaluation to get a correct assessment of Finley, who knew; maybe we had been missing signs or read him wrong. My stomach was in a knot as her assistant took his leash and walked him into the training facility. We waited for what seemed like forever and drew a sigh of relief when Tara asked us to come in; she had a big smile on her face. Finley had aced the tests and was, in her own words, “the best American Bull Dog she had seen in years”. Yes, an American Bull Dog, not a Pit Bull. We left with instructions on how to merge 4 dogs and create a harmonious pack. – And so, in the beginning of 2010, we started our journey.

After 6 months, the new members of our little family moved in. Finely quickly became my shadow at home. When I worked in my office, he would be under the table with his head resting on my feet. It was almost as he if he knew I had been reluctant at first and was determined to change my mind. You couldn’t help but love him. I became his biggest defender when strangers would meet us walking the dogs. We could hear their remarks about Pit Bulls as they passed us. I would usually say in a really loud voice, “No he is actually an American Bull Dog!” Not that it mattered to them, but I got as protective of my two furry “step-kids” as I had always been of my Labradors.

Two dogs can be a handful, 4 dogs can be downright overwhelming. Our vet’s wife jokingly called me the “crazy dog lady” and we would laugh about it. Dog lady? Absolutely! Crazy? Hmm, we had some frazzled moments, but the nights where you could hear all four dogs snoring always made me smile. We had a house full of life. A couple of months went by, and then in October of that year, Finley got this weird wound on his hind leg. At first it was treated as a spider bite and it seemed to respond and went away. Then he got one on his back, then another one. At that time, it started to look like a form of dermatitis and blood tests came back telling us that he was extremely allergic to dust and mold mites. Steroid shots would make it go away for a bit, and then it would return full force. We tried everything under the sun, including switching him to special food which made him lose 6 pounds in three weeks.

He needed his strength to fight whatever this was so I ended up cooking his food myself. Nothing seemed to help. I spent endless evenings researching every symptom he had. He was such a trooper through it all, still falling asleep under my desk or curled up by the sofa at night. As his illness got worse, we watched Boony’s behavior change. Finley had helped raise Boony and the bond between the two was so strong. They would snuggle at night and when the wounds got bad, Boony would gently lie next to him and rest his head on his hip, quietly watching over him as he slept.

I drove the vet crazy during those four months. Emailing him my nightly research ideas, updating him on what I would find and he spend his days off cross posting on veterinary forums, sharing pictures, and asking questions. No one seemed to know. I was devastated. I worked with other people’s pets every day, letting them find relief with the healing touch of my hands, and then I would come home to my sweet boy with eyes of an old soul, and I couldn’t help him. He was so covered in wounds; he couldn’t bear being touched.

In February I was at my wits end. Finley was whimpering and restless one night. I lifted him up in my bed and he curled up as close as he could, only his paw touching my hand. I whispered in his ear “I don’t know what to do anymore”. I can’t describe the look in his eyes, but he quietly looked at me as if to say “Why aren’t you doing anything? You already know.” That night I cried myself to sleep, frustrated and feeling helpless, gently stroking his head till he closed his eyes and fell asleep for a while.

The next morning I called Texas A&M and made an appointment with their Dermatology Department. Then called our vet to let him know that I needed a referral and they needed all the files which he faxed within an hour. The following Thursday we headed to College Station. None of the specialists had ever seen wounds like his. They named several conditions it could be, including cancer, but assured us that wasn’t very likely. They did biopsies and then we went home. The way Finley looked at me as we lifted him into the car; I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. The weekend passed ever so slowly. At night I researched the cancer type they had mentioned and started crying. All his wounds looked exactly like the pictures online. Monday morning the dreaded phone call from A&M came, but in my gut I already knew. Finley had a very rare skin cancer called Cutaneous Lymphoma, a cancer only 3 % of dogs get. There was no cure for him, only pain and misery ahead. We called our vet and gave him the sad news. It got really quiet at the other end as I asked him to please come to the house the following day so we could let Finley find peace. He had suffered enough.

I deal with dying dogs all the time and offer support to my clients as they say their goodbyes, but I had never had to let one of my own go. I knew in my heart we were doing the right thing, and seeing his decline I had already prepared myself. I wanted Finley to leave this world with whatever dignity he had left. We looked at each other as he lowered his head in my hands and quietly let go. I gently whispered “no more suffering, Finney, we’ll see you on the other side”. All of us, including the vet, were crying. I think secretly he and I both felt we had let Finley down.

The amount of cards and emails from friends, family, and the staff at A&M was so touching. Finley affected the lives of everyone he met, even if it was just for a short moment. Most of all he changed me.  I truly believe that there is a reason for every animal we get to share our lives with. I needed Finley to show me what unconditional love looks like. We had both been through things in our lives that could have broken us, but we both emerged. I needed him to remind me that your past doesn’t define your future as long as you are open to not traveling alone. And he needed me to fight for him and walk him through this last part of his earthly journey. He started his life alone and lost, and ended it surrounded by people that loved him more than anything. What he and I went through has made me a better therapist for my clients and a better person. Our bond will always be there, we are just a little further apart… I still miss him every day.

Read Full Post »