'ROID RAGE

I AM WRITING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I NOW HAVE 'ROID (STEROIDS FOR THE UNINITIATED) RAGE. BECAUSE I AM WEAK FROM THE CHEMO AND NOT BEING ABLE TO RUN AROUND LIKE I USED TO, MY AWESOME HOME VET PUT ME ON WINSTROL V 2 MG (AKA ANABOLIC STEROIDS) ONCE A DAY TO BUILD UP MY MUSCLE TONE. I AM NOW GOING TO BECOME A GINORMOUS IRISH WOLFHOUND AND KICK DOWN DOORS AND BEAT UP SMALL NEIGHBORHOOD YIPPY DOGS. YES YES YES!!!! FORTUNATELY, I HAVE A WEIGHT BENCH IN MY BEDROOM TOO SO I CAN TOTALLY WORK OUT AND BE AS BIG AS HULK HOGAN! OR BETTER YET, A BASEBALL PLAYER!!!!

GOT TO GO, I FEEL THE URGE TO LIFT SOME CARS. GRRRRRR.

*That picture is of me putting an entire dog in my mouth. AHRRRRR!!!!

Stairway to My Dogroom

What Irish Wolfhound do you know rocks? What Irish Wolfound can leap hissing kitties in a single bound? That's right. ME! Not only can I dogslap my dog buddy when he comes to play, I can now walk down an entire flight of stairs by...my...self.... That's right. Of course, it is not graceful and I would not win any agility awards for my performance but HEY! I got down without falling or knocking human mum down the stairs. I must admit, I was a teensy bit scared (ok, a huge wuss) but human mum was very very encouraging. She even jumped up and down and applauded once I made it down to the bottom of the stairs. In return, I gave her a hardy tail wag and head butted her. Next step...going up the stairs. To be continued...

Daisy Doodle Scare

Whooboy! We had a little scare in the dog family. My cousin, Daisy the most giantest Great Dane, felt under the weather yesterday. Being the hypochondriac she is (i.e. a big BIG baby), she refused to get out of her human parents' bed. Also, she left a couple puddles of pee or puke around the house (nice work, Daisy!). Because she would not extract herself from the extremely comfortable human bed (now really, why should she move?), human mum had to wait for human dad to return home. When he did, they brought her to animal emergency room. Apparently, this is a very interesting place (or human parents hit the bottle before they went - kidding!) because they saw one of those kangaroo type creatures in the lobby. That is besides the point. Once there, the veterinarian noticed she had a swollen joint (distal radius) in front leg. Uh oh. That is how my arch enemy - the osteosarcoma, the evil dreaded bone cancer who WILL DIE DIE DIE - presented. However, Daisy also had a fever and I suppose she was a wee bit dehydrated. They x-rayed her leg and thankfully, no apparent cancer. Phew! They shaved the area around her joint to see if there were any puncture wounds from Fred the psycho kitten or perhaps a large branch protruding out (she is a GIGANTOR GREAT DANE after all). Nothing there either. So long story short, they kept her overnight, gave her IV fluids and antibiotics, and are sending her x-ray to a veterinary radiologist (like the fancy Cornell one who looked at my x-ray) to make sure nothing was missed. Daisy gets to go home this morning and hopefully she will feel better very soon.

BIG WOLFHOUND SMOOCHES YOUR WAY, BABY!

Eleven Days to Go

I have less than two weeks before I am done my chemotherapy. Although it's been a complete blast getting injected with chemotherapy every three weeks for the last four months, I am looking forward to staying in one place. It's been a strange experience. I haven't had too many bad side effects but I definitely have not had it easy. I have lost weight - although I eat as much as I always have, I have had diarrhea - really really nasty stinky wet poopies all over, I have been lethargic, and I have not had a bath in a longggggggg time for fear of being exposed to a sick dog and in turn, getting sick. Oh yeah, and it is taking FOREVER for my hair to grow back. And I have an enormous scar from the surgery. But here's the best part - I HAVE THREE LEGS NOW. Alas, being the most bestest dog EVER, I have adapted like the trooper I am.

Once the chemo is over, I guess we will have to wait and see how I do. It's scary. It seems that the median survival rate with amputation and chemotherapy is 18 months. As you know, I have done both. Also, the cancer was caught early, thanks to my mom who SHOULD HAVE BEEN A VET NOT AN ATTORNEY. Ahem. Sorry about the dogburst - get it, outburst? So clever. In my case, a dogburst would be the foul watery diarrhea that flew out my butt two weeks ago but that's besides the point.

New term: dogburst: explosive watery, foul, nasty diarrhea from a giant breed dog that seems to cover an excessive amount of area for no apparent reason.

Enough said. I'm doing well and I'm happy. That's good for everyone

RainRainRainRain

When is it going to STOP RAINING!!!!????

When is human mom going to realize I DON'T ENJOY BEING LEFT OUT IN THE RAIN?

Finally she realizes: Oh wait! There is a monsoon outside. I believe Finnegan might not enjoy being drenched in rain.

Stupid human.

One last chemo treatment to go. The last one went fine and as usual, I was tired and had to pee five thousand times. I got some spray stuff to put on my back where I'm all itchy from being shaved for my Duragesic patch. It still seems like it's taking FOREVER for my hair to grow back in normally. Maybe once I have completed the last chemo on November 3 at 10:00 a.m. I will grow back a nice head (back hair sounds too gross/guidoesque) of hair.

If not, maybe I can get a sweet dog toupee and impress the ladies.

TOYS! LOTS AND LOTS OF TOYS!

I had my fifth chemo treatment of cisplatin last Friday (the biggy one where they infuse me with so much fluids I feel like I will burst) and I now am fully recovered. I needed the weekend to relax, kick back, drink a couple cases of Guinness's but now I'm doing fine. In fact, I decided Human Mom needed to entertain me for a while so I head butted her (yes, I still can as a tripod) and semi-chased her around the room then leaned against her for a good ol' scratching session. Once that was complete, she presented to me three different fuzzy squeaky toys for my choosing.

First, she placed the really fuzzy nasty beige toy from the sale bin at Petco and squeaked it then place it in front of me.

Next, she took the moose looking fancy overpriced Lake Placid toy and squeaked that then placed it in front of me.

Finally, she grabbed the really big red dog bone (also a fancy toy) given to me by my former neighbor, Cedar and his human mom and squeaked it and then put it in front of me. (Take it easy, I know this is all fascinating stuff).

After contemplating my choices, what did I select as my toy du jour? Of course, the nasty drooly crusty really fuzzy beige toy because dogs just love disgusting things.

Then There Were Three

Finally, some pictures of me post-amputation. I do believe that I am a handsome man.