Truman, my beloved cocker spaniel, was chasing the neighbor’s cat when my world first gave way.
Just a few moments ago, he was all squirmy and silky ears, leaping over the backyard fence like he owned the road. The neighbor’s cat, unimpressed, almost went down on him. Trew screamed, bolting through his doggy flap, and sending his water bowl across the kitchen floor.
Ordinary men, faced with an alluring fox catI thought worriedly.
“True, you’re a character! I’m off. See you this evening,” I said, nudging him. “Go back to sleep.”
I was running late for college, where my life became fuller, busier and more demanding than I could have imagined. I built that business from scratch and poured myself into it. Chris kept the house fires burning, often with Tru at his feet, waiting for my keys in the door. I loved them both, but in the midst of ambition, exhaustion, and other things that needed to be done, I stopped noticing how much they waited.
That afternoon, I grabbed my car keys and remembered the sandwiches Chris had made for my lunch. I turned back for them, smiling at its small tenderness. When I opened the garage door, Roy, our neighbor and a paramedic, was trimming his hedge. True followed me, panting from his humiliating defeat.
“True, you silly sausage. That should teach you to try to improve a woman,” I said.
“No more chasing cats for the rest of the day. You can’t win, you know.”
Then Truman collapsed.
One second, he was by my side, funny and endearing. After that, he was on the ground. Alarm rushed through me. I felt for his pulse and it fainted.
“Heart attack?” I said out loud, not understanding what I said.
Roy’s voice startled me. “Dogs don’t usually have a heart attack. It can be a stroke or epilepsy,” he said. “Take him to the vet.”
Together, we carefully lifted True into the back seat of my car. “Thanks, Roy. I’ll take him straight to Dr. Peyton. Please call Chris at work for me and send him to the vet.”
I burst through the front door of All Creatures Great and Small Veterinary Practice with a limp trow in my arms. “Good morning, Mrs. Roberts,” the startled young receptionist, Jenny, greeted me.
“True is broken. She’s dying. Quick … Oh, please!”
“Calm down, Mrs. Roberts. We’ll contact him immediately,” Jenny called urgently over the intercom. A nurse and a young doctor attended and took Truman away.
The waiting room is a blur around me. People come and go with carrier cats and dogs on leads. A woman next to me holds a pet python in a glass case. “Sleep has something stuck in her stomach,” she told me. I nodded, but my mind was with True.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Peyton appeared. “You have to leave him with us for a while. He’s on a drip. A few moments later, and the dog might not have lived.”
“What happened? Truman was good at chasing a cat…”
Dr. Peyton put a kind hand on my shoulder. “I need to run some tests. Call me in about an hour.”
“I want to wait, Dr. Peyton.” I couldn’t think of leaving him. Truman was woven through the fabric of my day. I often said, half jokingly and half not, “I love that dog more than anyone in the world.” At that moment, I knew how true it was.
Chris soon arrived, pale and anxious. He tried to put his arm around me, but I pushed him away. I could not stand the comfort. I can only think of Tru.
When Dr. Peyton finally led us in, True was a helpless little man with a drop in his right leg. He looked lifeless. “True, my baby, my boy,” I murmured as I kissed his mouth and stroked his velvety ear.
“He’s very sick indeed, Mrs. Roberts. If you hadn’t gotten him here in time, he might not have lived,” Dr. Peyton said gravely.
“What about my son?” I asked.
“I need to do some more tests and an ultrasound. Her calcium levels are high. Worst case scenario: cancer. I’m sorry.”
“But this morning he was chasing a cat,” I said.
“These things come without warning in dogs. They are such happy, loving creatures, and they never complain. Look at him now—not a vulture, though he is in great pain.”
Silent tears rolled down my face. “My baby, I love you, please don’t die,” I whispered, kneeling beside him.
Dr. Peyton gently helped me to my feet. “You need to go home now. She’s in good care. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Can’t I take him home and bring him back tomorrow?” I begged.
“You can do whatever you want. He’s your dog, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
“We’ll leave him in your good hands, Dr. Peyton,” Chris said calmly. I kissed True one more time before allowing Chris to guide me out of the surgery.
The next morning, Chris brought me tea and toast and opened the blinds to let in the light. I just slept. There was no trew to wake me up with his wet, cold nose. The house felt wrong without him.
I didn’t need to go to college. For once, the work I built my life around could wait. I picked at my toast and wrapped both hands around the mug.
“Thank you,” I said. Just yesterday, Trew was strutting around, tail wagging and long silky ears flapping. Now he lay at death’s door.
Life changes in moments.
At the veterinary surgery, Chris and I met with Dr. Nanette, the radiologist. We sat on the edge of our seats awaiting the verdict.
“I’m afraid the news is not good. Your dog Truman has liver cancer.
A large tumor, and the entire liver is fragmented. Obviously, he has a matter of weeks to live, maybe a month.”
“No, no, it can’t be!” I cried.
Dr. Nanette continued gently but firmly. “I’ll give you painkillers, and you can take him home. There’s nothing else we can do here. You’ll have to decide to give him his final injection soon.”
“Absolutely not!” I was bored.
Chris thanked him because I couldn’t speak. He led me into the waiting room, then collected Tru and carried him to the car, placing him on a blanket in the back seat. When he came back for me, I didn’t move.
He gently guided me to the passenger seat and strapped me in like a baby. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks. Chris reached into his pocket and handed me the large white handkerchief he always carried. I gratefully accepted and blew my nose loudly as we drove away.
Back at home, Chris lights a roaring log fire and puts Tru in his basket. I sat next to him in my armchair, tucked under a blanket. My eyes were red and swollen, but I was no longer shedding tears.
I thought I was fighting to save Truman. I didn’t even know he was trying to save me — not even noticing the woman I had become.
Looking back now, I see that some of life’s best teachers came with four legs, muddy paws and unconditional love.. Truman’s illness made me stop long enough to notice what really mattered.
At the time, however, all I knew was that my beloved dog was doomed, and I was determined to find a way to save him.
A note to readers:
Some of you might be wondering what happened next.
Truman’s illness began that day on a much bigger journey than I could have imagined. In my desperate quest to save her, I find myself revisiting a chapter of my past that will ultimately teach me unexpected lessons about love, loss, forgiveness, and the blessings that always stand by my side.
