We are in the information gathering and pondering part of this unexpected process of taking care of K. There are so many unknowns that cannot be nailed down that it’s very tough to decide what course of action to take. The toe bone that is being eroded by some nefarious agent, either bone cancer or a virulent infection, is too fragile to biopsy. Consequently, we are weighing our options without knowing the exact diagnosis. We’re talking to our veterinary experts and hoping to reach a decision soon. The odds are about 50-50% between bone cancer and a very serious infection.
K is in more pain than when she wore the cast or even than before her surgery. It’s tough for us to see but she still seems happy to soak up the small pleasures in life. She uses her soft bandage as a pillow as she snoozes.
In the evening, she seeks snuggles and love. Her fur is silky soft. I curl up with her, stroking her luxurious coat and smelling the piney scent of her fur. She is such a loving and sweet girl.
Each morning, K and I stroll out to the meadow for some time together in the sun. We walk together, knowing each other’s habits so well that no words are needed. K meticulously examines each dirt scrape or scent on a shrub. Sometimes she leaves a reply.
The elk herd has gathered in our neck of the woods, and the bulls are still jousting over the cows, a carryover from the recent rutting season up in the high mountains before they migrated down here. We hear the sound of stupendously heavy antlers clashing and see the herd surge in one direction and then another as the hulking males try to control their harems. Ethereal elk bugles arise from the distance at dawn and dusk, captivating the Labraduo.
The coyote pack mingles with the elk. Sometimes the elk ignore the canines and, at other times, they stampede to chase away the lightning-quick coyotes. It’s a beautiful dance but I’m guessing that it’s a dance of survival for some members of both species.
After my stroll with K, some mornings I am lucky enough to have time with R on the trails. He's an entertaining and loyal mountain biking partner. His energy lifts my spirits.
This weekend, I discovered that we have a mountain lion kill cached near one of our mountain biking trails. A red fox was ambushed by a lion and is hidden under a pine tree about 50 yards above my favorite trail. On Saturday, my wildlife expert friend and I placed a camera pointed at the half-eaten carcass to see what animals check it out. We suspect that the lion(s) have abandoned it but it will be interesting to see what creatures are captured by my trail camera.
When R and I pass the spot where the scent of the carcass wafts across our mountain biking trail, all the training we've done pays huge dividends. He's willing to "leave it" and come storming toward me. He looks like a flying lab sometimes!
Today, after I rode with R, I headed out for a short ride on my own, before rushing home for a phone consultation with a veterinarian. About halfway through my ride, I realized that I couldn't even remember passing through vast sections of the trail. I was focused on my swirl of thoughts about K rather than on the world around me.
At one point, I was shocked out of my pondering by the surprising sight of a skunk almost directly in front of me on the trail. He was a spotted skunk, the type that can live at high altitude, although he's only the third skunk that I've seen in a decade in our forest. Fortunately for me, he chose to flee rather than spray me.
That was a wake-up call, and I realized that I'd better pay more attention to the trail ahead of me!
Before heading home, I checked a couple of wildlife cameras. This cute mule deer buck had peered at one camera. Ignore the date and time on the photo - I accidentally reset everything when I briefly removed a battery.
Closer to home, my icon, the feisty and ever-hopeful bobcat, had visited. First, he investigated near our birdfeeders.
Then, close to an hour later, he exited our clearing via the trail behind our house. I wonder what he did for an hour?
This bobcat looks like the kitten who visited recently. He left no scrapings or other scent markings, suggesting that he's not a dominant cat. Rather, he's probably a young cat who is trying to fly under the radar, avoiding confrontations with the faster and stronger adults in the area.
Today, somehow, the forest calmed my wild swirl of fear and worry to some extent. For the first time since Friday, I felt some semblance of inner balance. I feel confident that we'll make the best decisions that we can for K with the available information.
For now, we'll try to find joy in each day that have together, knowing that the future is always tenuous. The uncertainties are just more obvious than usual due to the specter of bone cancer.
