Girl loves Dog.

This is an older picture, but one of my favorites. It's the sparkle in his eyes that gets me every time. When we got Rogue from Border Collie Rescue over 6 years ago, his name was Moses and I was drawn in by his eyes. "He has the eyes of an old soul" his foster mom proclaimed. "He is someone special."

Special is right. This dog is a genetic nightmare. He has been in and out of vet clinics for the majority of his life. I'm pretty sure his bills are responsible for an entire wing of the OSU Vet School. All the while, wagging his tail and freely giving kisses to anyone who was within tongue range. Rogue is the definition of happy feet.

So imagine my horror this summer as we have watched him waste away to nearly nothing. His 40+ pound frame dwindled down to under 30. Rather than bringing joy, petting him now causes me to cringe. I can count every vertebrae in his back, every rib. I avoid taking him outside for his walks for fear I will be turned in for animal abuse. My fears were nearly realized when I took him in for his annual blood work last week. The vet was horrified by his appearance and quickly we dove back into the world of tests, tests and more tests.

Every result opens new questions and more tests. All the while my little boy leashes up and wags his way into the vets. Kisses and wags at the ready.

Today, some answers. Luckily it appears we aren't looking at cancer. Rather, we have a narrowing of his intestines, making it difficult for him to get the nutrients he needs. I was given a whole range of options. I'm starting with the conservative. I have already put him through multiple surgeries, each resulting in horrible circumstances for him, and honestly for us too. I'm not sure what I'll do if this doesn't work. I just can't imagine not having my dog here at my feet, happy to see me every day. For now, I won't think about that. He is my boy and together we are going to take this one day at a time.