Right Now

Foster has been managing his first chemotherapy treatment well.  Yes, he's thrown up a little.  Yes, he's left some food in his breakfast and dinner bowls, but really, he's been feeling good.  Good. Good. Good.  He's been feeling so good, he's been a little sassy!

Foster knows he is supposed to sit Over There, on The Spot, when I'm cooking.  Yesterday, Foster decided he was not only going to sit next to me, instead of on the rug, he was going to talk to me about how he needed a bite of the chicken I was taking apart.

He said he'd been patient for over six hours while it cooked in the crock pot and needed a bite Right Now! I said, "Foster Dog, you know how begging bugs me. I can't have you sitting over here telling me what to do.  Now you go to The Spot.  Go on."  Foster Dog tried to lie down next to me.  "No, Foster Dog.  You know where to be.  Go.  The Spot."  Foster's sassy self left the kitchen entirely!

Most people might find that acceptable, but I had directed him to The Spot.  He refused.  I directed him again, and he defied me.  No.  Way.  I called, "Foster Dog!  Come!"  He came.  I snapped my fingers to The Spot.  Luna and Atticus had already arrived, and Fosse joined them.  Sitting perfectly in that one square foot he elegantly consumes, I said to him, "Thank you, buddy."

A person who was waiting for J said, "Wow.  Isn't that the one who has cancer?  You're kinda hard on him."  Apparently, he had overheard the exchange between Foster and me.  I said, "Yes, he has cancer at the moment.  You sound concerned about how I'm communicating with him."  Person, "If my dog had cancer, I'd be doing whatever he wanted!"  Me, "What makes you think Foster doesn't want me to be me?"  Person, "What?  I mean, I'm just sayin'."  Me, "Yeah, me too."

As Foster goes through the dramatic process of healing from tumor removal, a splenectomy, and chemotherapy, every week involves him being poked intravenously for a blood draw, poked intravenously for a quick push of poison, and being separated from His Pack to endure it.  He may experience pain and nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, and I will have very little power to fully relieve his discomfort.  Now is not the time to switch up Foster's life at home.  Now is not the time to make his life even more unpredictable.

Sure, I've been feeding him organic ground beef and organic roasted chicken, but he has had to wait in The Spot, and be called to his feeding station, before eating.  Yes, I have turned The Pack around and taken Foster home when he seems too tired to continue walking with us, but he has been expected to show his leash manners during The Walk.

Fosse relaxing in the sun

I want to make accommodations for sweet Foster Dog, and I want to make his new experiences as stress-free as I can.  I believe a great way to do that is to be the one he can trust.  If I continue to be the rule-enforcing, behavior-guiding, predictably-demanding Lady he knows me to be, there will be comfort in the 165 hours per week we are not at a chemotherapy appointment.

Foster needs me to be me right now.  He always needs me to be me, but especially right now.

Sleepy Foster, happy in The Spot