Snoop, my dog and me

A dog is like a kid who never grows up. He depends on you for everything. You provide food and water, and you pick up his shit. You take him to the vet and give him his medicine. He doesn’t know what’s good for him or what’s bad for him, until it happens to him.

Since Snoop had the surgery, the waiting for the lab analysis results of his lump is especially hard. The past few days I’ve gone from worrying to optimism, and back to worrying again. I find myself drifting with random thoughts at home and at work.

What if it is cancer and it has spread to other parts of his body?
What if amputating his paw wouldn’t save him?
But he’s been fine all this time, if it’s cancer surely he would have shown signs of being ill?
Should the lump have been removed earlier? Should I have insisted that the vet operate even thought he didn’t suggest it at the time?

As a result, self-doubt and melancholia have set in occasionally. This must be like what parents go through when their children go through a major illness. Or when they go out alone with friends. Or when they first get their license and drive. Or when they first started having sex. Is this what my parents went through - the constant worrying?

So why do we do it? The most obvious answer is unconditional love and the satisfaction in watching them grow and be healthy. At least that’s what I feel it is with pets and young children anyway. I’m not too sure about teenagers. :mrgreen: