Hug the nearest dog

Well, this weekend that was supposed to be a ho-hum catch-up stay-home weekend turned dramatic from the get-go. Emmett just wasn't himself on Saturday morning, listless, uninterested in cuddling or fetching or just plain moving. We figured that even dogs, even Emmett, get under the weather. But we kept an eye on him. At 12:30, he was still kinda slow. At 12:45, though, when he could barely stand up, then staggered, then fell, I scooped him up and got him to a PetsMart vet in one breath, and they told me almost instantly that they suspected a ruptured mass in his abdomen. They got him tapped on IV saline and got me to rush him 20 miles away to the Veterinary Specialties Hospital in Cary. They confirmed the diagnosis.
So, well, Emmett got a blood transfusion, the surgeon came and operated, and Emmett did indeed have a mass on his spleen, called a splenic mass, which is apparently not rare in larger dogs though more typically in labs and German sheps. The mass had ruptured, and Em had lost 2 liters of blood, he was, in fact, dying. Well the spleen was removed, and they didn't find any worrisome other nodules around, and they patched our old buddy up, gave him another transfusion. It takes just a few sentences to tell, this drama that unfolded over interminable minutes and hours, yelled encouragement and possible goodbyes.
Em is still in the ICU, looking every bit the war victim that he is, with his shaved belly and 30 staples, but he's getting top-notch care and hydromorphone. They did a 3D chest Xray and found no nodules in his lungs, and now they're doing an ultrasound to look for nodules on his heart. They're also waiting for his EKG to show a more normal trace, since apparently our spleens produce factors that give us regular heartbeats and when removed it takes a while for the heart to get back to normal. Yesterday morning he was completely out of it on drugs, last night he was ambulatory but still pretty drunk. but he's coming home.
Who knew? Who knew that this 11-year-old athlete the vets always marveled at, the quick-as-lightning frisbee hound, the round-up-the-ponies-at-the-barn go-getter was hiding this hideous killer which could do this in a mere few hours? I'm still in shock that he almost died this weekend... and that, even with all this and perhaps chemo, it's looking like we have maybe another 18 months to enjoy his lovely presence among us. Still, just a little more time is what we need, and I think I'm never going to tell him "no" again.
I'll post photos tonight.