We've been on a pseudo-vacation for a couple weeks with the dogs (more on that later).
When we came home we took Beorn to the vet for some tests, as he's been having trouble breathing. The tests showed that Beorn has a cancerous tumor in his lung(s). We're meeting with the vet today to sort things out, including possible treatments.
This is sad news. We love Beorn tremendously, as we do all our dogs, and though we knew this day comes for them all, it's still quite a gut punch.
The hard truth is, with Beorn just a couple months away from eleven years old, any "treatments" that make his life harder (surgery, chemo, radiation) are simply not worth it. We don't want to increase his suffering out of selfishness to keep him around. Any treatment will happen only if it allows him to remain happy and comfortable in his final weeks (and hopefully, months).
When and if it becomes clear that he's in pain and life is too hard, we'll make the difficult decision.
In the meantime, Beorn gets whatever the hell he wants. Cheeseburgers. Pancakes. Chicken. Pizza. The works.
I'd say more, but it's so damn dusty in here today… my eyes…