This petmoir can be commenced at the beginning by going to the page labelled Trog and Other Animals
Although the arrival of Jerry perked Mungo up, it was short-lived. Before long he had returned to the state which we had thought was depression. Although he still wandered when he could find a way to get through our much repaired fence he no longer played with the ball, no longer chewed it until the green outer fibre was lying in tufts around the house and the rubber pierced by his teeth. Instead he spent most of his day lying on his bed, reluctant to get up for anything.
The process of lying down became a prolonged event. He would circle one way and then the other, try to get down and then decide he had to circle a few more times and eventually he would make it to a lying position, often crying in pain when he finally made it down. He no longer sat at all. Where a sit was automatic in the past such as waiting at the edge of a road on a walk, he stood, not even bothering to attempt to get down. We finally realised that depression was not his problem.
Bridget had recommended a friend of hers at Forster as being very skilful in diagnosis so we took one of our few days off and took both the dogs to the vet.
Bridget had been right. Her friend was a great vet and really put both dogs at ease in his examination of them. He got down on the floor with them rather than put them on the table, an action which had always terrified Mungo in previous vet visits. He gave both dogs a thorough going over, gave Jerry his next lot of shots and ordered an X-ray for Mungo. He did not think hip dysplasia was the likely diagnosis but rather some other bony/joint problem.
We left Mungo, went and did some shopping and returned to pick him up and be given the diagnosis we didn’t want to hear, that Mungo most likely had bone cancer, and probably had no more than two weeks to live although there was a slight chance it was severe arthritis of his knee-joint. Devastated, we made the hard decision that we would not inflict surgery on him and amputate his leg hoping to stop the spread but let him live a comfortable existence until the time came to be kind.
We were given pain killers to give him and he als had an injection of glucosamine, just in case it was arthritis. With heavy hearts we made the journey home.