Wallace is my black standard poodle in cords. He has osteosarcoma.
The Osteosarcoma Diagnosis
Dear Friends,
I have some sad news I would like to share.
I am always open to sharing my experiences with my dogs, both the good and the bad. And it is in that same spirit that I will share this news now.
A few weeks ago, Wallace came in from playing with what looked to be a mild sprain. Wallace’s vet agreed that the injury was likely a mild sprain or strain.
Wallace is a very active dog, after all. He exhibited no pain and his limp was hardly noticeable and not anything that restricted himself from everyday adventure. And so, we proceeded with his care as though we were dealing with a sprain.
The limp would ebb and then return. It seemed to heal more slowly than it should. On Dec 22, during Wallace’s “spa day,” I felt for the first time, what appeared to be swelling on his right leg above his wrist joint. Now, because Wallace is a corded dog, I wanted to make absolutely sure in what I was feeling. Wallace didn’t flinch when I put pressure on this swelling on his leg. I shaved his leg and discovered a large growth on his leg.
Could this be cancer?
I’ve been intimately involved with dogs for too long to not be concerned with what I saw. Even still, my heart tried to reason my mind out of admitting what was so clearly displayed in front of me.
The three days between my discovery of the growth are difficult for me to recall. Worrying about a terminal illness is never going to be a settling experience. But worrying and trying to find answers in the days that surround a major holiday is, arguably, the most unsettling experience.
On December 22 and 23, there were phone calls with the vet. On December 24 and 25(Christmas Eve and Christmas Day) further intimate conversations occurred with friends whom I trust to “give it to me straight” and gently… lovingly tell me what I already knew was probably happening inside the body of my most beloved poodle friend.
Christmas night I didn’t sleep. Wallace had his appointment for x-rays the next day. That night, I went down the Google rabbit hole, looking for anything I could find that would give me hope.
Wallace’s growth hadn’t grown or changed since I first found it. So that could be good?
Wallace was so stoic! Surely he’d be exhibiting more pain if this was cancer in his bone?
Maybe it was some sort of infection?
Maybe there was an injury in his soft tissue and aggressive therapy could help?
Anything would be better than hearing the words “bone” and “cancer” brought together like two evil twins who were separated at birth.
December 26, my husband and I took Wallace in for a thorough exam and x-rays to find out what, exactly, we were dealing with.
Wallace walked… limped… into the vet’s office filled with his usual glee. He was greeted with smiles and accolades from his vet office fans. He soaked up every moment!
Wallace has never been a frequent visitor to our family veterinarian. But when he does visit, it is always memorable for all involved. After all, Wallace is a hard poodle to forget.
The mood in the office was immediately light and cheery when Wallace entered. He was limping, sure. But he was happy and he made everyone else in the room feel at ease. Surely whatever was wrong with him couldn’t be that bad… right?
The positive vibes and hopeful spirit in the air only increased when Wallace saw his vet. The vet tech did her usual exam and Wallace behaved like a champ. For all intents and purposes, this may as well have been a routine health check for a big adventure on an airplane or road trip into another country.
Wallace’s vet took a close look at the growth on Wallace’s leg. I watched the veterinarian’s face, and in his expression I saw a mirror of my own face on December 22nd:
This growth seemed to point in a very specific and devastating direction. Everything about it presented as a growth from osteosarcoma.
But… but… but…
Wallace didn’t flinch when the vet applied pressure to the growth. Wallace stayed in a “settle” position and allowed the vet to manipulate his leg. Pulling, pushing, pressing, massaging Wallace’s whole leg. The most reaction Wallace gave was to lick his vet’s hand.
“Well. There might be a chance this is an infection or abscess of some sort… bone cancer is extremely painful and I am just not getting the impression Wallace is in very much pain…”
I listened as the vet’s voice trailed off. I knew what was in his heart and I knew that he was doing the same thing I’d been doing in recent days; hoping against hope.
Somehow, I think it’s easier when a dog shows outward signs that he’s sick or in pain. It’s when a dog is just so darn happy and excited to be alive that we as humans have so much trouble looking past the superfluous and right into the obvious.
And so, I held my breath.
”You think there might be a chance it’s not cancer?”
“Maybe a chance.” Was his cautious response.
Wallace went off for his x-rays to decipher whether this growth was cancer in my dog, or something less threatening.
This is an x-ray picture of a dog leg bone with osteosarcoma.
The vet returned with Wallace and his x-rays. The first x-ray that I saw was a picture of a lung.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t stop them falling. This was the moment of truth.
And I knew.
It was cancer.
You see, there really is no need to take further x-rays if the initial picture shows an injury. An x-ray of the lungs happens when there is confirmation of cancer in the bones. The veterinarian will check the lungs to see if the cancer has spread or metastasized to other areas of the body.
Bone cancer is infamous for showing up in the lungs straight away. In more than 95% of cases, by the time a growth is found on a leg bone, osteosarcoma has already metastasized and spread into the lymph nodes and lungs of the body.
Yes, I’d known. In my heart, I’d known for a few days, at least.
But having my hunch confirmed. Seeing the tumor eating away at the bone in picture form on a screen in an office… Frankly, it was just too much.
It was at this moment is when I stopped talking. It wasn’t that the words wouldn’t come. Believe me, I had lots and lots of words swirling around in my brain. But my throat had closed. My lips had pursed themselves shut.
Speaking words… that would have taken too much energy away from the most important task at hand for my body… to prevent itself from collapsing onto the office floor.
I remained standing for the duration of the visit. I remember the words “metastasized” and “palliative” and “comfortable” being spoken quite a lot.
I also remember, during the conversation about osteosarcoma, the vet shaking his head, petting Wallace and saying; “he’s very stoic.”
Wallace,a black standard poodle, receiving a kiss from Pali, a white standard poodle, in Alaska on a hike.
And that statement is a true summary of Wallace.
My dog who has protected his pack from moose on many occasions.
My dog who only has to stand up tall and other dogs back down in his presence.
My back country dog who can smell a bear and warn me before anyone else even thinks to be worried.
My best guy who is absolutely fearless in summiting any mountain, in any weather, always by my side.
My poodle, who has changed the minds of many, many people about what it means to be a poodle.
He is very stoic.
Osteosarcoma spreads quickly through the body.
When this cancer isn’t detected in other parts of the body, an amputation of the diseased leg and chemotherapy gives a best estimate of about 9 months of life.
Sometimes, even a whole year.
However, when x-rays can show the cancer has metastasized, life expectancy drops to weeks. Perhaps even a few months.
Wallace’s cancer has progressed past the point any real treatments. We are in the palliative care mode right now. The primary goal for Wallace is to manage any pain so he can continue in most of his daily activities.
Wallace’s time on this earth is coming to a close. And, right now, I am living moment to moment with my sweet poodle guy.
And, against all odds, Wallace is still living his best life.
Wallace’s veterinarian surmises this cancer has been in his body for many months now. Possibly even a year. The fact his outward signs of the disease didn’t present themselves until his body was positively riddled with the disease speaks volumes about the lifestyle of Wallace. It seems that years and years of species appropriate, holistic living has given Wallace an advantage when it comes to living comfortably with cancer.
Wallace isn’t exhibiting the typical pain and discomfort from this bone cancer. I take comfort in knowing his pain is comparatively mild.
Currently, Wallace is eating and relieving himself without issue.
Wallace sleeps soundly… sure, he’s sleeping more now, but it is a comfortable rest. Sometimes, I even catch him rolled on to his back, legs in the air, sound asleep without a care in the world.
Wallace can stand up and lay down on his own with relative ease. And he still enjoys walks outside and car rides to exciting destinations like the gas station.
As long as Wallace’s body is able to maintain this status quo, I believe his quality of life is still absolutely wonderful.
This is one of my favorite pictures of my black standard poodle; Wallace and me, hiking in Seward Alaska.
As we prepared to leave the vet’s office, in the evening on December 26 2019, one woman was sitting in the waiting room, she couldn’t help but hear our conversation with the staff as we checked out. Before we left the clinic, she spoke up and said; “I want you to know… and I’m sure you won’t remember, but I met you and Wallace in 2016 in Talkeetna while you were hiking. I was so amazed by this beautiful black standard poodle in the forest, perfectly groomed for a dog show but obviously at home in the woods. He made me want a poodle. And now I follow you on Instagram”
I had to laugh a little.
Because that statement summed up Wallace's influence in perfect form. He is the poodle that turns heads and grabs your attention. There is just something in his soul that speaks to the masses… I don’t know why or how… but he has it. And I cannot express to you all how humbled I am to have been able to be the human who harnessed his greatness and walked beside his light.
Wallace is truly The Coolest Dog in the World.
I am doing my due diligence to continue this discussion about osteosarcoma, dogs, palliative care and how Wallace is doing in his day to day, on my social media accounts.
I invite you to join the conversation on my Facebook page or my Instagram account.