A minor Christmas miracle

The one big downer on Christmas was that we had to say goodbye to my brother's older dog, Max, who recovered nicely from a tumor and a leg amputation earlier this year, but had taken a rapid downward turn in the last week or so. He's still eating, and everyone spoiled him rotten with table scraps yesterday, but he's moving very slowly, he can't navigate the stairs, and he's obviously in a good amount of pain.

So the plan was that they'd put him down sometime this week, and it was clearly taking a toll on my brother and sister-in-law to have that awful responsibility, on top of just not having him around anymore, and having to try to explain everything to the kids. So it was a little bit of sadness tempering the otherwise unbridled joy of Christmas day. By the time the Smelmooo and I left, our seven-year-old niece was in tears about the dog being so sick, and her parents were both a little choked up and misty-eyed.

Then, last night, my mom left us a voicemail about my brother's trip to the vet -- I assumed to put Max to sleep -- and it turns out that they ran some tests, and found that he has arthritis. They gave him some new medication to alleviate the arthritis symptoms, which has him walking much better and feeling much more comfortable, so they're hopeful -- if not entirely optimistic -- and will see in a week how he's doing, before taking any drastic steps.

So my fingers are crossed that the medicine will buy him a good chunk of time -- if it's just prolonging the inevitable for a couple of weeks, it may almost be worse, just dragging it out, but if it keeps him healthy and active for six months or a year, that'd be amazing and wonderful. We'll see, but for now, it seems like an extra-special Christmas gift to have him around and comfortable for a little while longer, at least.