One Little Dog

In one of my recent posts titled Regret, I made mention of how our little dog, Jake, would jump up and bark at the door when my insides gurgled too loud. Well earlier this week we lost Jake. He died of liver failure at 10 months old. The house is quiet. Elwood our other dog is kind of lost right now, not knowing where Jake went or why he is gone. He just knows that Jake is gone.

The vet said that there was nothing we could have done for Jake. For him to die so quickly, and so young from this, that his liver was probably never working properly.  Even if we had known about it, there are no liver transplants available for dogs. There was nothing we could have done to save him. So it was a matter of when it was going to happen and not if it was going to happen.

I wasn’t going to bring this up in my blog at all, but then I thought that this is why I had the surgery. Not for the little dog Jake, but for my family. Since I had the surgery, my family now has one less thing to worry about when it comes to my health. With almost a 90% chance of catching cancer from the CDH1 mutation, there was a better chance that the cancer would show up than it wouldn't. So I could sit back and let what happens happen, or take control and remove the risk from my future. I chose the latter.
We can now focus on our future plans that, hopefully, include me being around for a long time to come. In other words I plan to be bounding down the stairs, with my insides making noises for the foreseeable future. Yes, I know that there are many ways to die and that my time here is not limitless. When my time comes, it comes. There are no guarantees on when or how that day will happen; with one exception. I know that I will not die from stomach cancer. 

I have told you about my Grandfather and how he died at 70 from this disease. I have made mention of the No Stomach for Cancer website and their Facebook page where there are stories about other families and their fight against heredity diffused gastric(stomach) cancer (HDGC). The one thing I don’t believe that I have mentioned is that it has been reported that the average age for someone dying of HDGC is 39. Way too young.

It took one little dog dying so young to remind me of this and why I did what I did.  

Rest in peace little Jake. You were an amazing little dog. You will be missed. 

In harmony with the cosmic sea
True love needs no company
It can cure the soul, it can make it whole
If dogs run free. 

(If Dogs Run Free  Bob Dylan)