Back in the fall, Tom found a little lump in the crease just in front of JoJo's right hind leg. And then we couldn't find it again. And then . . . there it was again! Not very big. Hard to find. Worrisome. But also not so worrisome. But worrisome enough that I took her to the vet in November.
I expected the vet to say No worries, just a fatty tumor.
But that's not what the vet said. Let's aspirate that, the vet said.
And it turned out to be . . . not good. A mast cell tumor. Cancer.
We must cut that out, the vet said. And have tests run to see how likely to spread it might be.
Unsettling. (And JoJo is only 5.)
Last week, JoJo had surgery. For such a small lump, she ended up with a massive incision. I was aggressive with the margins, the vet said. Because I could be, he said. And because she is only 5, he said.
Frankendog, said Tom.
After being kind of out of it for a couple of days, JoJo bounced back. She doesn't like to sit still. She wants to play and jump and run. No roughhousing, said the vet. And no running.
And she really wants to get at those stitches. So . . .
It's an inflatable collar. Better than a cone, by far. Ahoy there, matey! said Tom.
Last night we got the pathology report from the vet. Good news, said the vet. Clean surgical margins and a low probability spread, said the vet.
You know what we said?
Be sure to hop on over to Carole's today for other Three on Thursday posts.