She was born the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. In the area where she grew up, many people believed that being born the seventh child of a seventh child and being of the same gender gave you special gifts. Many times I have heard about how she used to be able to touch people's warts and the next day the warts would be gone. As a young girl, she was very shy and one day after church, she was just mobbed by people asking her to rub their hands to remove wars and she vowed that she'd never remove another wart. After that, she never could.
One March afternoon I took the dogs out for turn out. When we got to the door of the pen, Treat squatted to go to the bathroom and I figured that she had been stubborn in the morning and hadn't gone when she was out. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that something was wrong after she went into the pen. She couldn't stand up. I felt my heart stop right there. I called my husband, and called the vet to tell them I was bringing her in. My husband arrived home, and we hurried to the vet.
A few tests at the vet left them baffled, but it was apparent that something was drastically wrong with Treat. To say that I was heartsick is a huge understatement. They offered a tenuous hope, to give her steroids overnight and see how she was doing in the morning. I grasped the straw. Amazingly, she was up and able to walk with assistance the next morning. A day later, I brought her home, scared about what the future would hold, but relieved beyond belief that I still had my girl.
She wasn't supposed to go up stairs or climb onto furniture by herself, so I'd bought her a huge, fancy orthopedic bed. I carefully carried her into the house and set her on the bed. She gave me a look of disgust and staggered over to the couch where she put her front feet up there. I hurried over to pick her up and set her on the couch so she wouldn't hurt herself, and she curled up contentedly.
We had several ups and downs where she got much better and then got worse. Finally, five weeks after the onset of the problem, she had a bad weekend and that Monday morning she looked at me and I knew it was over. She was tired of fighting, even though she'd done it so valiantly. I called work and the vet and we took our last ride together.
Cancer is a nasty thief, a crusher of dreams, and a breaker of hearts. It's something I wouldn't wish on anyone, not for someone to battle themselves, or to have to watch a loved one go through it. I really hope that in my lifetime we'll see an end to this ugly disease.