When I was a sophomore in college, my friend Simeon gave me a wiggling little, eyeglass-eating, pillow-shredding, furniture gnawing, 7-week-old Golden Retriever who I named Hunter. She stole my homework, my socks, my shoes, and, immediately, my heart. I was fortunate to be attending a school where I could take her everywhere with me….I’m pretty sure she attended more of my Intro Psych classes than did the football players who were enrolled. When I worked at the student center on weekends, she slept under the desk at my feet and hid from security officers.

With all that constant attention, it is no wonder that Hunter eventually stopped chewing my shoes and became one of the most obedient dogs around. I remember taking her to the Dairy Queen and leaving her ‘parked’ on a down stay outside, waiting for her soft-serve cone. She always would do anything for food, so teaching her tricks was pretty easy as well. Not content with the standard roll over, crawl, and bone-on-the-nose tricks, we spent a lot of time mastering the "Hunter, go get me a drink" trick…until the time her overzealous teeth penetrated a can, leaving our living room smelling like a fraternity house for weeks.

College ended, and before long I was off to Africa for work in the US Peace Corps. Hunter went to stay with my parents and their German Shepherd on their farm in Maryland, and for the first time in years I was apart from my baby. The folks would send me pictures of her from time to time, and my villagers honestly believed that she was a sheep! They had never seen a fat, fuzzy dog before (all the dogs there look like mutant Basenjis).

While I was in Africa, I realized that what I really wanted to do in my life was become a veterinarian. So when I returned it was back to Chattanooga for me, but I couldn’t separate Hunter from her best friend. So she stayed in Maryland for about a month or so, until my parent’s dog unexpectedly died. Not wanting Hunter to be sad, my parent’s allowed her to come back to live with me in Chattanooga. It was like old times, except my shoes were safer! Of course she had picked up the annoying habit of stealing my neighbors’ newspapers…

Those pre-vet courses in Chattanooga just flew by and before I knew it I was starting vet school at the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine. Athens is a great town, and Hunter and I had a great time during those early years of school. All vet students have multiple pets, so there was always someone to play with!

On April 20, 1996 my stepson Ian entered Hunter in the dog show at my school. I got worried when Hunter missed the bone-on-the-nose trick three times in a row. That afternoon I realized that her prescapular lymph nodes were very enlarged. I rushed her to the Emergency Clinic where I worked on weekends, and the doctor there diagnosed her with Lymphosarcoma. She began chemotherapy on April 23rd, her 8th birthday.

I can’t describe what it feels like to be told that your child has a terminal disease and that no matter what you do you will lose her…though if you are reading this page you probably have dealt with this yourself.

Dr. Kelly Chaffin, the medicine resident at the University of Georgia who began Hunter’s treatments, told me the most important thing about having a dog with lymphoma. I was a nervous wreck about what to do, what to feed Hunter, places to avoid so she wouldn’t catch other dog’s colds, things to look out for. Dr. Chaffin told me that I needed to treat Hunter like she was a normal dog, that I should try to make the rest of her life as normal as possible. I’m not sure I would have had the strength to approach the rest of Hunter’s time with a good attitude if she hadn’t set me on the right path initially.

So I didn’t freak out about isolating her and mollycoddling her. Instead, I went crazy the other way. I started taking her everywhere with me again. We made extra trips to PetSmart, extra trips to the pond to go swimming with other dogs. We started taking walks together and spending some quiet time away from the other animals every day. My mom bought Hunter a gumball machine that dispenses bones for dogs, and we taught Hunter how to push down the handle with her paw and get the bone. I even started letting her get on the leather couches when the house Nazi was away on business trips (shhhh...don't tell on me).

It’s been almost 22 months since Hunter started chemotherapy. I never dreamed that we would have this much time together, and it makes me crazy when people say that you shouldn’t ‘put a dog through’ chemotherapy. The drugs don’t hit dogs like they do people. Every dog I’ve ever known that was in remission on chemotherapy has had a much better quality of life during treatment than before. I’m confident when I say that the last 22 months of our lives have been the happiest we have known. Sure, there is that underlying fear. I often tell people that I feel lucky that Hunter has this disease….she could have been hit by a car and killed instantly, and I wouldn’t have had 22 months to tell her I love her and hug her. Or any number of other bad things could have happened to her and I would have missed this chance. I’d never trade these wonderful years with her in exchange for a few of those puppy years back. At least my shoes are safe now!

So here we all are. The family has grown to three dogs, four cats, two horses and two wild, pregnant ponies. Hunter is sprawled at my feet, hoping that a stray cookie may suddenly appear. I’m almost a senior in vet school, and it won’t be long until I’m out there diagnosing and treating dogs with lymphoma. Until then, I hope that you have found some useful information within this web site. And I hope that you and your pup find some measure of peace. Lymphoma can be bad like a clock winding down, or it can be like a book being written. Make yours a happy story...

POSTSCRIPT

On February 21, 1998 Hunter lost her long battle with lymphosarcoma. She was a brave and wonderful girl right to the end, and although we could have eeked out some more time, I was unwilling to let her suffer. She died peacefully in my front yard, with a full tummy, looking out over the horse pasture she loved to wallow in, and in the arms of her momma who loved her very much.

I don't regret any of the time we had together, and I wouldn't go back and change anything even if I could. Chemo gave us 22 wonderful months together. It has been an emotional few months without my girl, but my life is getting back together and I'm even starting to look ahead to the next little Golden puppy. I think a little shoe-chewing won't bother me nearly as much this time around.

There are many people who have helped me all along with Hunter, and I couldn't have made it through those 22 months, and the time afterwards, without them. My heartfelt thanks to:
Hunter's doctors: Dr. DeWayne Biddle, Dr. Kelly Chaffin, Dr. Mark Dorfman and Dr. Clay Calvert.

Nan, who lost her wonderful Golden, Casey, just three short weeks after Hunter left me. Thanks, Nan, for sharing my grief and for giving advice, and for helping me to look forward to our new puppies.

Ian, who reminds me constantly that life goes on in spite of what happens around us. I love you, Buddy.

Paul, who recognized that just because several months had gone by didn't mean that my pain was any less. Also for hugs, and heavy lifting.

Simeon, who started this all and who taught me much about unconditional love...and for Mother's Day cards.

Mom and Dad, who loved Hunter as much as I did and never failed to take us in when we needed help of any sort. I bet they thought I'd never grow up, but this year has done it for me. Thanks for showing me how to be an adult.

And of course, the Moosey-girl herself, Hunter. She brought me through life and saw me through the important times. I don't know what my life will hold without her, but I know I am a better person for having loved her. I know she's keeping an eye on me, and I hope I can be as good a person as she always thought I was. I won't forget...