I miss Mowmow

My Scottish terrier, Mowmow, died last year of gastrointestinal lymphoma. I always thought I would lose him to old age not dog cancer.

He started falling off a little in weight a month before he died. I remember thinking there must be something wrong, because he'd have accidents in the house. Something he hadn't done since he was a puppy.

I remember I woke up one morning and there he was, head hung low as if in shame from the mess he made in my living room floor. I checked the clock to make sure I hadn't over slept, but it was only 8:00 o'clock - 30 minutes before his morning walk.

I started to get angry, but then I looked at him, eyes cast down in shame and it melted away. That's when I noticed the runny pale brown stool on the floor was streaked with blood.

The vet said chemotherapy was the only slim hope and gave him prednisone. He said that canine cancer was common in the breed. He held on for a month after that, but he just couldn't make it. He stopped eating and refused to play. I took him to a second veterinary appointment two weeks after the diagnosis. The vet said that there was no hope, and it would be best to put him down.

He was 8 years and 4 months old. I never knew how much of my home's comfort was taken from Mowmow's presence.

He filled it with love. It's a year later and I still expect to see him, red ball in mouth, darting across the room.