What does K want?

Today, with no hesitation, K headed toward the bike room to go riding with me. It took only one day to convince her that I wouldn’t be leaving her home with a paltry frozen kong to assuage her heart. She started galloping with abandon from the first instant of our ride.

We did a short ride, just like yesterday, because I am trying hard not to ask too much of her paw. It is so much harder to gauge the “right” pace of recovery for a dog than for myself because K doesn't tell me when it hurts. In fact, Labs seem to specialize in hiding pain. They look dignified and happy all the time.

As I rode and K romped, I thought about the journey that K and I have traveled since September. I identified the moment that nearly tore my heart to pieces. It was after we knew that her tendon surgery had failed, and we knew that she had either bone cancer or a bone infection in her toe bones. We needed to decide whether to amputate the toe or do a trial of antibiotics to see if we could save the toe. Because the vets put the odds at 50/50, either cancer or infection, my mind jumped from one side to the other with every shift in the breeze. I felt like K and I were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Finally, after a long and inconclusive conversation about the pros and cons of amputation versus antibiotics, my vet asked me a simple question: “What does K want?”. That question pushed me off the cliff into a torrent of tears. The reason was that I knew that being alive and being loved trumped running for K. It was my selfish yearning to have K join me on alpine adventures that was complicating my thinking. So, by asking one simple question, my vet gently led me to a decision. I would do what K wanted… and have her toe amputated, thus maximizing her chances of surviving while perhaps stealing her athletic ability.

It seems ironic that, although I thought that I was making a decision that would hinder K’s running, she’s back romping by my side now. She’s flying high – and I couldn’t be more thankful.

It's a question that I won't forget when faced with a tough veterinary decision in the future. What does my dog want?