Hope is the hardest love we carry…

That came from a poem that talked about herons and horses and solitude, and a lot of stuff, and at first all I could focus on was the heron (I am a bird dog, after all), but then I realized there was a deeper meaning in the other parts.  I interpret it pretty much like this…my Mom doesn’t wear hope very well. In fact, she wears it a little like a peon would wear a tiara…with great trepidation, very uncomfortably, and with a lot of distrust.
 
Here’s the deal…when I lived through my brain surgery, a tiny flicker something came alive in my Mom. I know that she thought I was going to die, and then, BAM, when I became the super-fantastic miracle dog, she sort of came around to my way of thinking, which is, frankly, that good things can happen. I’m here to prove it, right? I am a living, breathing, walking (it might be funny looking now, but it still counts), full-fledged MIRACLE. I heard her say that I embody hope, and if this makes her happy, then I agree; I do embody hope.
 
I think maybe one of my jobs is to make her realize that you can find hope in a lot of different places, and that you don’t always have to be afraid of it. Sometimes it can come in something as innocent and simple as your dog being able to swim again. Or the fact that your dog can walk up the stairs. Or even something as mundane as the fact that he still wags his tail so hard that the walls shake.  A while ago, just before she sent me in to my last surgery, she told me that her fear is born of love, and I took this to mean that if she didn’t love me so much she wouldn’t be so afraid about what’s going to happen to me.
 
I wish I could tell her not to be scared. At first, this was one of those times I wanted to be able to talk, but then I realized that words might just make the whole situation more complicated, and really it’s just as simple as love. I can show her that I love her without saying a word, so I climbed right up next to her on the sofa (even though it hurt my bad leg), and snugged in, with my head right on her lap. Sometimes she can be slow on the uptake, but not then. She figured it out right away, and in the end, I was glad I couldn’t say a single word.
 
So everyone, here we go again! My Mom and Dad were prepared for me to die. There really isn’t much hope that a dog will recover from osteosarcoma, right? I think that’s why we are having the Summer of Lincoln, in fact. But listen to this…we finally got my bone decalcification results back from WSU, and they couldn’t even find any cancer. At first I was a little freaked out by this, I mean, seriously, did they cut my leg off for nothing?
 
But then, as it was explained to my Mom (I was eavesdropping), they went back to my original biopsy and confirmed that indeed there were cancer cells in there, so the diagnosis stands. It turns out that my Mom may have been right about us catching this super early. Thanks to TPLO number two, I just may live. I don’t know if I told you or not, but that’s why we went to the vet so quickly when I started limping. My Mom thought something was wrong with my knee, so she didn’t delay, and that just may be the difference. Maybe that TPLO surgery and all it’s corresponding pain will be worth something after all.
 
So, I’ve started chemotherapy (I have to have five more treatments). Honestly, the chemo doesn’t really do much to me, so I can’t even say that I hate it. I’m still eating (of course my Mom says I’ve always been a good eater). I’m still totally mobile. I’m not fast, but I can still move out if I need to, and I have the video to prove it. My Mom says that I “Totally Rock”, and if I’m being honest, I’m starting to believe her.
 
 
Just so you know, we’re still taking things day by day. My Mom says this is the best approach, and while she may not be as carefree as I am, she’s gotten me pretty far, so I’m going to stick with her. I can already go for walks, and everyone says I’m getting around amazingly well (to be honest, it’s mainly my Mom who says that, but I think it still counts). Check out my videos for proof, though, just in case you needed it.
 
 
 
Plus, it’s as I said, I really have to make my Mom realize that it’s okay to believe in hope. I mean really, who better to convince her than me?

Author: credocanis

Lincoln is a huge golden who has had one brain surgery, two ACL surgeries, and one rear leg amputation. Yikes.

11 thoughts on “Hope is the hardest love we carry…”

  1. Dude! You are getting around great!!!!!! I can only wish to ever walk like you! Darned funky front leg of mine!

    And hey, how cool is it that your TPLO thingy might have helped you?!! I wonder if you can get a refund on it? I probably would have asked for the metal back and then would sell it on ebay! (Slightly Used from a Smoke Free Home! BAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

    Lincoln I gotta give you some tips with Mommies since I’ve been doing the ‘Comet Hop’ for 11+ years.

    First off, Mommies can be super worry warts. My mommy says she is a recovering worry wart but no one is buying it! She thinks she is recovered because she only asks me 4 times a day if I feel okay instead of every 15 minutes!

    If I could talk, here’s what I’d say:
    “Hey Mommy I’d feel good if you’ll break out the cookies and let me help myself!”

    Second, no matter what we say, do or think – Mommies are going to always worry. So when mine gets super goofy about me, I just roll my eyes and shrug. (when she’s not looking)

    Okay Lincoln, you keep doing what your doing! I am pretty sure there will be an Autumn of Lincoln, a Winter of Lincoln, a Spring of Lincoln and so on and so on…

    Your friend,
    Comet

  2. Lincoln, you do totally rock.

    What a beautiful, noble photo of you.

    Thank you for sharing!

  3. Comet – That’s pretty funny you would say that because my Mom did ask for the hardware back. She also asked if she could keep the piece of my skull after my brain tumor. They told her no both times, if you can believe it.

    🙂

  4. You DO get around pawesomely Lincoln! Very well said, thank you for this touching post and the videos. AND what great news about the cancer! WoWWWWEEEEE!!!!Keep it up!

  5. Hoooray Lincoln!

    What a good hopper you are. I am also a good hopper, and the bestest napper and the best ever chewer in the world (my mom loves to give me really crunchy things…I discovered I would get even more crunchies if I chew with my mouth wide open and crunched really loud! Anyway, my mom and pop think I am the best at everything. I am such a good boy! PS Comet, before you say anything sarcastic, just don’t…Bwaahahahahahahah, I know, that’s impossible for a smartypants.

  6. Lincoln, I’ve read your new post probably 10 times today. What an amazing and beautiful story teller you are.
    You are wise beyond your years and an old soul in your heart.
    Thank you for this post, you have given me much to think about.

    the chauffeur

  7. Lincoln,

    We need more Golden’s like you! Just look at Opie and at what I have to deal with on a regular basis. I even let him change from the drums to the saxophone in our band.

    Do you have any musical talent, Lincoln? We know you can keep a beat because I saw your beating head video! It was super cool. I’m thinking we need some strings in our band. Do you play the harp by chance?

    You’ll also need a nick name. Be thinking about it. We’ll give you details later!
    Cool Cat Comet – out

  8. Hey, Lincoln! You are doing awesome!! And your post just about made my mom cry. See… she’s a worry wart, too. My two older sisters tell me that all the time. Part of our job must be to show our moms what hope is and how to do it!

    And I think if you play strings you should be the string bass player. You’re so cool, and that seems like a fitting instrument for that handsome picture of you! I’ll talk to Comet about that. COMET – are you kidding? Lincoln would look way cooler with some shades and strumming the string bass than the harp!

    Hugs,
    Holly

  9. Way to go Lincoln! You are so amazing! Have I told you that lately? Your video is just pawesome and you look like you do totally rock! You and your mom are way wise beyond your years….I’m with your mom, I don’t wear hope very well either but when these miracles happen (like you!) it’s hard not to find hope in that. Keep amazing us Lincoln – you give us all hope!!

  10. Hope and Love Lincoln! That is all you need! Keep working on your Mom! You are amazing and so is she! Love her to pieces and make sure she does the same for you! Great hopping videos!

    XOXO
    Dillon and Rhys

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