What Happened to Sol

On the surface this blog is the story of our dog's fight with lymphoma, but it's far more than that. It's about listening to the Creator and Sustainer of Life, the Lord Jesus Christ, and doing what He leads us to do. This blog is a step of belated obedience. I should have started it at least a month ago. When people have asked me about Sol and his progress, I have not always mentioned that it's entirely the Lord's doing. I don't like the looks of skepticism and seeing the words "religious freak/wacko" pass through their minds. Also, when I recently told the vet what we're doing with Sol, I didn't even mention prayer. Let me tell you now what God has done.

Sol is our dog, rescued 9 years ago from the humane shelter. Sol is not the name we call him by, but it was the name on his cage's sign. We wouldn't have noticed him, he was so quiet, but his earnest gaze compelled us to look closer. He never barked. Just revealed his soul through those intelligent eyes. We gave him a different name on the way home, but he's still part-Sol. After all, the name is derived from two Hebrew names, Saul and Solomon, and means "prayed for". We went into that shelter praying for God to lead us to the right dog for us. Never was there a more "right" dog!

There's another reason I'm not using his real name. It's because when I talk about him and this disease to anyone, he gets so uncomfortable. He acts foolish, hangs his head, seems depressed. I've grown to respect this dog as well as love him, so for this blog, he's Sol.

Here begins my account of the past few months.

"Canine lymphoma", said the vet, "quite advanced. Without Prednisone, Sol has four weeks. With chemo, he could have twelve weeks. With Prednisone, he could have six, eight at the most." This was the middle of February, 2009. Sol had developed what looked like a rash on his tummy. It turned out to be bruising. What I had thought were harmless fatty tumors were swollen lymph glands. Our vet knows her business, cares deeply, and did her best for us. She sent in samples of each lymph node, and in each lymph node, 75% of the cells were cancerous.

We couldn't afford chemotherapy, but we wanted to make our sweet dog as comfortable as possible. Though we knew Prednisone to be a harsh drug, what were the options? We held off a week before we thought Sol's discomfort warranted its use. He was put on the standard dose for a 60 pound dog with this disease-- 40mg per day. One 20mg pill twice a day. We were warned that he would crave food and that he would urinate more frequently.

We went online to discover all we could about canine lymphoma and the Prednisone treatment. When is the best time to give these pills? What could we expect? I printed out a "quality of life" assessment to help us know when we should end his suffering. I looked around for other treatments, and found none.


Poor Sol. The Prednisone really did a number on him! Within a week he drank more than a gallon of water a day and had to go out every 15 minutes. Even at night he couldn't wait over half an hour. He did not develop the hunger expected. He slept little, and restlessly. Since he shares our bedroom, we didn't sleep much either.

As Christians who believe in the omnipotent, omniscient God, we prayed unashamed for a miracle healing. God's power is unlimited. His Word says He's aware of every sparrow that falls to the ground (and we are worth much more), and that He cares about all that concerns us. I took the story from the Bible, Luke 18, where the widow keeps knocking on the unjust judge's door. He finally gives her what she wants just to get rid of her. I determined to be that widow, knocking on God's door in prayer. He's a loving and just Judge. We would not give up praying for Sol's healing. Not that we demanded. But we asked. We waited. Nothing happened except God seemed to be saying no.

Sol quickly began losing weight. Daily he grew noticeably weaker. His muscles would twitch, and he would groan and moan. Our hearts were breaking for him. Clients who came to the house weekly shook their heads, so sad.

After one week he no longer wanted to be a 60 pound lap dog. After two weeks he stopped jumping up on the bed. He walked slower every day, and less. He began having scattered accidents at night. I bought a used vinyl tablecloth to place under him to protect things.

At three and a half weeks he showed little interest in food or anything else except his people. His backbone was prominent, ribs showing, no energy for walks.

At four weeks he refused food altogether, his backbone protruded over an inch above his back, rib-cage was totally visible, and he stumbled when he walked. His groaning was nearly incessant. His neck resembled a pelican's pouch. Always a slender dog, his hind end was now not more than two inches wide. Nearly a skeleton dog. Once or twice I caught the hint of a look in his eyes, as if he were almost, but not quite, ready to be delivered from it all.

We arranged a visit with my parents and my husband's, so they could see him one last time. I called our son, away at school, so he could be prepared for the end and speak once more over the phone to his dog.

We figured we had two, possibly three days at the most before he'd be gone. We hadn't stopped praying for that miracle, either, though I think our hope was diminishing. At that four week point He began wetting himself and lying there in it.

As I got him outside that night and watched him weave and stumble in the street, I prayed out of my agony. I told the Lord,"I understand and accept if Your answer is no, though I know You could easily heal him in an instant. You have the power to do it. In the name of Jesus the Christ, I ask You to extend this dog's days. If there is anything at all that we should be doing, please show us." As I prayed, something felt different. I had a sense of peace, of having done all. I helped Sol back up the steps into the house.

Please read again in the days to come to hear what God did for Sol.