A few weeks ago, we got some bad news. It started with Bronte showing some lameness on her front leg around the first of July. I wasn’t initially alarmed, since the dogs do injure themselves sometimes with all the running they do on uneven ground. There was a little bit of swelling in her knee, but not much, and she was still getting around just fine and was cheerful. I gave her some NSAIDs I had left over from her spay, and it seemed to improve.
Once the meds were gone, it got worse, however. The swelling increased, as did her lameness, and her demeanor started to change, as if she was in more discomfort. I worried that perhaps it was a bigger injury, like a tendon that needed surgical intervention. I called to make an appointment to have it x-rayed. My description to the vet that it was a strange, “hard” swelling made her instantly say “bone cancer” on the phone, even without seeing it.
Hauling Bronte to the vet and hoisting her onto tables and such is non-trivial, but we got ‘er done. And, cut to the chase, yes, it is bone cancer, osteosarcoma. This is my first ride with it, but it’s common in dogs, especially big dogs, so we’re in good company. Even my vet just had her pet dog go through the ordeal, so she was especially well-versed on the topic.Her dog only lived 7 months past the diagnosis, BTW, despite its owner being a vet and being able to do every possible treatment approach.
The crux is, by the time you see these symptoms, it has most likely already metastasized, usually into the chest, and the dog is now in the category of “dying of cancer of some sort.” So, that means it’s all about palliative care- keeping them comfortable and doing what’s reasonable to prolong quality life. But, we’re talking months, not years.
This news was tough to swallow. Bronte is seven, so that’s getting older for a giant breed, but still, I don’t consider her old. I find with livestock protection dogs, it’s not quite the same emotional impact as a house pet. You don’t find yourself lamenting “I’m going to miss snuggling with you on the couch, and walks on the beach…” We don’t have more than a few minutes of daily interaction, and it’s socially superficial compared to the bond I have with the house dogs. There is, however, emotional impact, it’s just a different kind. The thought of not having that dog here, competently handling the protection of the sheep 24/7 is a very emotionally vulnerable thought indeed. All grieving for the loss of another is inherently selfish. Sure, there’s a philosophical part where you lament their loss of more time on this earth. But that isn’t really the part that hits you in the gut, it’s the part where you lose what you’re getting out of the equation that’s so hard to bear.
I had a few teary-eyed days. Especially because her discomfort made me wonder if this was already the end of the line, time to consider euthanasia. Bone cancer is a very painful condition, so often it apparently hits a point where the dog is just too uncomfortable to go on. Thankfully, once I got her on a strong set of NSAIDs, she rebounded, and she’s back to her old silly self, sprinting and playing. She’s favoring the knee, but not too badly. So, there is at least a little time.
We discussed amputation. It can be an option if the cancer was caught early and has not metastasized, but that’s unusual. And, it can be an option to address the pain, to literally remove that entire area that’s in pain. For house dogs, this is an obvious choice straight-up. But my vet had sound advice on this, I thought: she felt that until Bronte is walking three-legged most of the time by her own choice, amputation isn’t the right choice for her. She moves about on such rugged terrain, learning to move on three legs will be a dramatic adjustment for her. It could put her at risk for other injury, as the body has to completely re-tool its muscling and core strength to handle this change. Better to let her do it slowly on her own terms than to do it abruptly, with a front leg, to boot. So, that’s an option we’re saving for later. 
Another approach is to do a pamidronate IV infusion, which is a drug that slows or stops bone turnover. It can also help alleviate pain in the joint. I did her first treatment last Wednesday, and I do think it helped. I could see her lameness subside to barely perceptible, and she started travelling very smoothly at a trot. I’ll need to repeat this treatment once a month or so. And again, this is not trivial: now she’s wise to being loaded up into the van, and tries to fight it. Wrestling a 125 lb panicked dog is a challenge. At the vet, she ran into the glass wall- you just forget how much an outdoor dog doesn’t know about the indoor world. She finds her time at the vet to be very stressful. But hopefully it’s worth a month of less pain…
The other option I’m weighing is radiation, which is also supposed to help knock back the cancer progression in the bone, and reduce pain. The most affordable way to do this treatment is to drive to WSU. I’ve had coworkers in this routine before: it takes 1-2 days of vacation. You drive over there one day, do a treatment in the afternoon, stay in a hotel, do a 2nd treatment in the morning, and drive home. This is going to be more of a challenge to fit in, both time- and vacation-wise; as well as I’m concerned about how much stress she’ll endure on such a trip. I’d also need to board her at the hospital, because it’s not like I can have her in a hotel room at night! She’s not housebroken, and won’t go potty on a leash. The logistical challenges with farm dogs are just… different.
Once I spent a week processing the news and plans for next steps, there was another obvious aspect of planning that needed immediate attention: succession planning. Bronte is our best protection dog, she is truly bonded to the sheep and very protective of them. So, ideally she needs to be around to help rear a replacement pup, so she can correct it when it tries to chase sheep, and help it establish a sense of territory, boundaries and community. This is part of why I’m focused on, and willing to invest money in, making her as pain-free as possible in the coming months. I’m asking her to give one last, and most important gift to the farm and the sheep: another generation of protection dogs.
So, this arrived on Friday night, a MiniMe. More stories to come, for sure!
The Collie Farm Blog 
August 21, 2016 at 7:49 pm
so sorry to hear about your dog. I’m glad there are things you can still do. I know what you mean re: working dog versus inside snuggling dog, and how, despite the fact that you spend very little time snuggling with a dog like this, you still love her like crazy. I remember the border collie, Jill, on my grandfather’s farm, and how she used to herd the dairy cows for me in a heavy fog, and how much I relied on her.
August 22, 2016 at 4:53 am
Thanks Virginia!
August 23, 2016 at 6:53 am
So sorry to hear this about Bronte, Michelle. As soon as I read your second sentence I knew what was coming. I’ve dealt with osteosarcoma in four dogs (Rottweilers, not all of them related) and it’s a right bitch, and left me reeling each time. I wish you the best with her ongoing treatment, and as much quality time as is possible.
Maureen
August 23, 2016 at 3:55 pm
I’m so sorry to hear about Bronte’s cancer. But the image of her training her replacement as her last gift to you has me tearing up. Good luck with giving Bronte the time you and she and the new pup need.
August 24, 2016 at 12:56 am
Thanks Erika!
August 24, 2016 at 1:00 am
Thanks Maureen!
August 24, 2016 at 1:31 am
Coming to terms with the imminent death of an animal friend, whether it be a service animal or “house pet,” is a part of human experience that gives more depth to our humanity. Seven years seems young for a dog–even in “dog years”– but as you say, big dogs often tend to be more short-lived than smaller breeds. I was most impressed with your country practical,”life is down and dirty on the farm” perspective concerning Bronte’s diagnosis. One quality–I call it an “attribute”–of humans is that we can”anthropomorphize”our animal friends: we do what we can for them as we would our own blood and kin but in our sapient wisdom, we know when it’s time to say good-bye. I think of the Hemingway piece where he takes his ailing horse companion to the mts. and one friend to another, does himself what he knows needs doing. From one animal lover to another–and one who’s had to euthanize a pet–my thoughts are with you and Bronte the next few months, which, I hope, will allow enough time for him to pass along his sheep-wise knowledge to his young apprentice. Sincere best wishes. TMJ
August 25, 2016 at 3:34 am
I feel for you and all the feelings that will continue to well-up for more time to spend with your dog. We have had our share of dogs, having sheep for over 35years, and of course our fave that never could be replaced. “Buddy” only lived for 4 years but they were the most precious to us of all the dogs.
I still get have a hard time. My “Belle” is the last dog for us. This year I will be letting all my sheep be sold. I am no spring chicken at 84 and my husband at 88 and we have to listen to our kids telling us it is time to give it all up…will miss my woolies in the fields……..JEL
August 26, 2016 at 6:56 am
Oh, Joan, that is another sad threshold to cross, retiring from sheep altogether. I often remind myself of and take comfort in the Biblical passage, “to everything, there is a season…” It is not easy!
August 26, 2016 at 7:02 am
TMJ thanks for your kind words. I’m sure I’m in a bit of denial and blocking-things-out, forced by the practicalities of the day-to-day. I’ll be a mess once the day comes when Bronte is suffering too much to continue, and I have to buck up to the decision to put her down! I often procrastinate that date longer than I should, out of the selfishness of sparing myself the responsibility of the decision!
I am not familiar with the Hemingway piece; but I know someone who did just that, took his dying horse on a special backpacking trip into the wilderness, shot him, left his body to nature and hiked home alone. OMG! I don’t think I could do it! But I understand the sentiment for those who can! It’s kind of the ultimate personal sacrifice to do right by the animal, despite one’s own painful emotions in the process.