This is his second lip tumor, on the opposite side from where the first one was. At 15 he is not a good candidate for heroic measures, if it turns out to be cancer and not just proud flesh. Having just lost another dog to cancer, I’m having a hard time being optimistic.
I’m hoping for the best, but even then, at 15, one morning Whiskey won’t wake up. Kipling had the right of it.
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware. Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
I wouldn’t have changed it, anyway.
