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In Loving Memory of
Bingo
Lynn's beloved boy
Died November 7th 2007 aged 14 1/2 yrs
dx TCC August '07
I was looking at pictures of Bingo, and thinking of how lucky
we were to have had him, and how nearly we missed having him. He was
a lame stray hanging around a school where we had gone to play a
concert. The principal said that he had called Animal Control, and
was told that it was too far to send a truck for one dog. We
rearranged instruments and passengers, and took him home, with
detours to the vet and U Wash Doggie, followed by de-fleaing the
car. We had a rocky start, with unauthorized chewing ( including
three seatbelts, a door panel, miniblinds, shoes and two TV remotes)
and separation anxiety, but we talked each other into keeping him.
His left foreleg healed with the elbow joint fused, but he was able
to use the leg almost normally, although he had a distinctive gait,
and almost every walk brought inquiries about it. A few years later,
when he needed surgery to repair a torn cruciate ligament, he had a
daily ride and sunbath until he was cleared for walks again. (He
didn't like the walk time restrictions while he was convalescing).
He was a big, handsome dog, probably a Lab/ Ger. Shep. mix, gold
with a black mask, and he loved people. The kids in our local park
called him the smily dog, and the day before he died a woman came up
to him and asked if she could pet him. She said that she didn't
usually approach strange dogs, but he'd smiled at her. On one walk,
a police car pulled over, the window opened, and the policeman
called "Great dog!", and so he was. I have never known
such a people-oriented dog, or such a charismatic one. He charmed
storekeepers, restaurant owners, waiters, park rangers, hotel
concierges, the vet, and passing drivers. He was diagnosed with
Cushings syndrome about a year ago, and was doing well on Anipryl.
In August, we noticed him dribbling bloody urine, and subsequent
tests gave a diagnosis of TCC, although we decided against surgical
biopsy for confirmation. He was 14 1/2, and we didn't want to put
him through surgery knowing how resistant TCC is to therapy. He
enjoyed life til the end, and went for a walk and cadged seconds on
dinner and peanut butter pretzels on what turned out to be his last
day.
Thanks for letting me ramble on and reminisce.
Our best to you and the furpeople,
Lynn
I
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