RHF WEB

 

SHARED REAL STORIES

Our Rottweiler Mochi - Dealing with Lymphoma
submitted by Lovelle Cacho on August 20, 2009

Today at 8:00 a.m., we said goodbye to Mochi as we decided to end his suffering from lymphoma. Mochi came into our lives 9 years ago as a pup and from the beginning he was as sweet and soft-hearted as the mocha ice cream balls he was named after. His best friend was a gentle pit bull named Moo-Moo and they loved each other to no end. When Moo-Moo moved to Las Vegas Mochi was overcome with depression, but recovered thankfully.

Mochi was a kind, affectionate dog with silly effeminate ways. He would stare at you with one front leg up and turn his head slowly to a near 45 degree angle. He earned the name "goofy bastard" because of his silly nature and antics. Though pestered by big and little dogs alike, he was never violent in return and was always the one to back down first to avoid confrontation or escape from a scuffle.

Mochi always had some kind of medical issue going on and he was allergic to everything. We changed his food often, upgrading to newer, fancier, supposedly healthier more expensive brands as his appetite for the old ones diminished. So when he refused to eat the most recent high grade favorite, we were not initially alarmed. He continued to eat, but not as much. For two weeks, the quantity that he ate grew less, but he still looked healthy. Then almost overnight, he lost a lot of weight and was lethargic with blood shot eyes. We took him to the vet and when we picked him up in the afternoon after a slew of tests, the vet said that she suspected lymphoma because of enlarged lymph nodes at the back of his knees. The lymphoma was later confirmed a week after the initial suspicion by the vet (only last Friday, August 14th).

In the last week, Mochi had become weaker and he was unable to go upstairs without assistance. Each walk outside was slower and the distance grew shorter. He swayed a bit when walking to get his balance, his legs were weaker, and he no longer lifted his leg to relieve himself. His breathing continued heavy and labored from the stomach and he collapsed to the ground from exhaustion after each walk. Through it all, he never complained or cried, except when he saw me consumed with grief in front of him. Only then did he cry and the louder I cried, the more he whimpered and cried. Last night, I awoke to the sound of what sounded like choking and heavy snoring. My husband tried to assure me that he was in a deep sleep, but I wasn't convinced and found Mochi lying on the bathroom tile floor gasping for air. "He's dying", I said to my husband and whispered to Mochi while I stroked his chest, "Hang on, sweet boy, it's almost over." We had already decided to put him down today at 8:00 a.m. and were only waiting for his appointment.

Early this morning, Mochi and I went out for one of his last walks. It was still dark and midway, he found a patch of cool grass to lay on under a palm tree in the neighborhood. I should have let him stay there because I think that he was actually choosing "the place" for his rest. Because of my constant urging he walked the rest of the way home with me. Instead of waiting at the foot of the stairs as usual, he instead climbed onto our couch near the front door and lay in wait for the dawn. I slept with Mochi until it was time to take him to his appointment. My brother arrived earlier and followed us to the vet. Mochi didn't want to leave the car --the first time for him to resist a potential adventure. At the vet, my brother and I were in tears. Mochi wouldn't leave his side and the vet and staff tried to drag him across the floor. Again, Mochi's first attempt at resisting anything in his whole life. They eventually had to carry him to the back. He knew. I kissed his sweet face one last time and said goodbye.

We had lost our first Rottweiler Smokey, to masticular myositis at the age of 11. When we put him down, I was there by his side and acknowledged his long, brave fight. For Mochi, I decided that I couldn't be there to see him go. Lymphoma struck him down too fast and I wasn't ready to say goodbye in that way, but I knew Mochi's suffering needed to end. It's still fresh as I write this and tears are rolling down my face for the umpteenth time, but I feel a bit of catharsis and am comforted by others' stories about their beautiful companions and their valiant struggle against this dreaded disease. I am also assured that wherever Mochi is, his spirit is in the best of company.

INFO

Do you have a REAL STORY to share about your Rottweiler?

Please email your story, along with photos to the RHF Webmaster .  Please indicate your approval to include your email address with your story if you don't mind others contacting you.

Your story may help others going through similar circumstances.

Thank you for sharing your story.