Remember yesterday, when I was all smug about solving my dog problem? Yeah, about that.
I knew there was something wrong the way that my husband wasn't getting out of the car. And then when he finally did get out of the car, he just paced around the driveway, still on the phone. And then I heard his mom's voice. My initial thought was that Rocco had been hit by a car, because my in-laws live on a fairly busy street and they had voiced that concern several times. But it turned out to be cancer. Apparently the poor dog is riddled with it. Something burst and they didn't expect him to make it through the night. My mother in law was apologizing to us, for some reason. They've had the dog for three weeks.
He did manage to make it through the night, and even was in full-body-wag mode when it was time to go home. The good news is that the SEVEN THOUSAND dollar surgery will not save him, and there is no expensive chemo option for us to politely and ashamedly decline. He's just going to be an old dog with cancer, until suddenly he's not anymore. My in-laws have graciously promised to provide hospice care for as long as it lasts.
Anyway, weird that I finally posted about this just yesterday as it was all going down. I went through a lot of emotions last night, mostly ones that can probably be blamed on being overly hormonal at the moment, worrying about the dog dying in cold metal veterinary cage wondering why I had abandoned him. But by the light of day, and considering that he is by all accounts acting like nothing happened, I am back to feeling like this is the best possible situation for everybody. Except I guess for my in-laws, who have to deal with the reality of my ticking time bomb cancer dog dying on them at any moment.