Notes from Maine - 2024/04/14

Finn (English Mastiff) is in the hospital. We woke a few days ago to find that he was unable to walk. The local vet sent us down to the specialist in Scarborough. They determined that he had ruptured a disc in his spine. I’ve been adamant that I wouldn’t put him through speculative surgery if it was only going to torture him, but this felt different. The surgeon saw a very clear problem with an operable solution. That’s the thing with surgeons though—they always think they see an operable solution.

He’s not doing great today. His attitude was good and he had a good appetite. I took him grilled chicken. When Finn is down, grilled chicken brings him around. Today was no exception. But he was physically weaker. They wanted to see him using his back legs more today and he was using them less. We sat out on the grass for a couple of hours and enjoyed the sun. I can only hope that tomorrow will be better.

Finn came to me by accident years and years ago. My friend Bruno (older half brother to Finn—same mother) was struck with idiopathic epilepsy that doomed him to a short tortured life. While I was searching for treatment for Bruno, the breeder reached out and said that Finn needed a new home. Bruno and I went to meet him the next day. Poor little Finn was nothing but fluffy hair and nervous energy. He couldn’t seem to find his place in the world until he came to live here. He has been a great friend for the past ten years. 

Regardless of what happens, there’s no cause to be sad. I’m certain he has lived a happy life. He enriched the lives of everyone he came in contact with. Maybe he has a few more good days in store. Maybe not. I won’t give up on him, but I will give in, if it appears that’s the right thing to do. The world keeps spinning even when you don’t need it to. 

I don’t have anything unique or enlightening to share about his situation. I’ve talked about Finn in earlier letters so I thought it would be unfair to leave out this chapter. Thanks for reading.