My name is Kat, and I'm asking for help to get through a really trying time. My sweet 12yo rescue dog, Alice, has been diagnosed with Oral Fibrosarcoma and has a limited life-span remaining. We will have maybe two more years with him, depending on how the cancer progresses. The end stage of this diagnosis will be when the cancer damages the bones and structures of his face, which can be very painful and debilitating. What I'm asking for your help in achieving is to make his golden years as long and as comfortable as I possibly can before we have to say goodbye. Update: 18/10/23 Alice also has a Mast Cell Tumour on his back leg, but we don't yet know how this will affect his overall prognosis. Update: 2/11/23 Alice had his Mast Cell Tumour removed surgically as well as a non-cancerous growth near his ankle ligament that posed a risk to his mobility. His prognosis after the procedure is good so the return of the Oral Fibrosarcoma is most likely going to be the life-limiting factor. His overall health and wellbeing is currently high, but tackling Second Cancer has been a massive additional expense and mental strain. Update 29/05/24: At nearly a year from diagnosis, Alice is approaching the end stage. [Image: Alice, a black Labrador, in his sunflower bandana, sitting on a sunny pavement. He is looking off camera with his mouth open and a happy expression.] I adopted Alice when we were both babies. He had been rescued from a rough home and an irresponsible breeder, and I was a 16-year-old just beginning to get out from under my own rough start. For the past 12 years, he has been with me through thick and thin, has traveled almost everywhere I have, has forced me to get up and out each morning, and has pushed his smiling face into my arms whenever things feel too heavy. My partner and I are both recovering from trauma and its related illnesses, and Alice is a lifeline to us. We dearly hope to be able to return the favour by providing him the absolute best care we can. We also want to have as long as possible to come to terms with the end, with the loss, with the shape our life will be without him. [Image: Alice standing on a hillside on a sunny day with flowers, fields and more hills in the distance. He is pushing his nose towards the camera with his mouth open and his eyes slightly closed, looking extremely blissful.] Alice was diagnosed in July, and the vet made no bones about the fact that this journey would be expensive. There are no cancer treatments for dogs that I could begin to describe as affordable. Every single treatment path, except for the most basic short-term palliative care, would be likely to cost thousands of pounds at the minimum. I could have rolled the dice and left his mass to progress, but I can't describe how much Alice has given to my life with so little needed in return. My view is that the end of his life is when I have to step up, and ease things for him by any means I can. My partner and I are committed to paying for the treatment path we have chosen, which began with surgery to remove the majority of the mass, and going forward involves a targeted drug to slow its recurrence, and regular, in-depth monitoring of his organ functions. [Image: Alice sitting in a large hole he dug on the beach, with the sea behind him. He is wearing his sunflower bandana and, as usual, he looks very happy.] The problem is that my partner and I are currently unfit for work. I experience agoraphobia, panic attacks, depression and fatigue, while my partner suffers from migraines, seizures, tremors, insomnia, confusion and short-term memory loss. All-in-all it's not a combination that hiring managers tend to be excited about, and trying to work right now would impact our recovery significantly. However, we are going to pay these vet bills by any means, which has meant taking on dribs and drabs of freelance work, which is unreliable and which we know we will be paying for in our health. We are struggling to balance these costs, the pervasive fear of the next bill, the inadvisable workload, and looking after ourselves. Buying groceries, eating well, sleeping, hygiene and self-care are falling down the list of priorities, with Alice at the top. [Image: Alice is in a dog-friendly gym with a weight bench in the foreground and dumbbells in the background. He is leaping in the air with all four paws off the ground, looking very excited.] It's hard to shift this mindset because, look at him. He deserves the world. He has the happiest disposition of any dog I've ever met. He seldom meets anyone or anything that he doesn't think is shaped like a friend. Every single day he wakes up with absolute, unshakable confidence that good things will happen, that there will be exciting smells, that he will get to run and play, that he will eat some little treats, that his favourite humans will cuddle him - and all I want, all I can think to want, is for him to be right. For that to be his day, every day, until there are no more days left. Your help will make the difference between our ridiculous dog-parent martyrdom, and being able to do what he deserves and what we deserve. Every bit of attention that we don't have to give to looming bills, maxed out credit cards and empty bank accounts, can go into looking after our whole family, and actively enjoying the years before things have to change forever. [Image: Alice is in the front passenger foot well of a car with my knees on either side of him, which is his preferred spot. The sun is hitting his face from the passenger window, and he gazes out with soft eyes and his tongue sticking out.] In recent weeks, the vet bills have grown and we are facing even more pressure than before. The reason for this is that his cancer medication initially caused damage to some elements of his white blood cells, and he needed more intensive monitoring while we worked to get these issues resolved. Thankfully, his levels have now resolved and we have cleared up the secondary infections he picked up while his immune system was struggling. Alice has also developed a couple of other lumps elsewhere on his body which need to be investigated. What this increased pace of testing and monitoring has meant is that in the last few weeks, we have hardly managed to go anywhere but the vet, to socialise with anyone but the dogs in the waiting room, to take Alice on any adventure more exciting than the examination table. I would appreciate it so greatly if you could help take any of this pressure off, allowing us to exhale, giving us space to relax on a long walk, or take Alice for a swim in the sea. [Image: Alice is laying on a sofa with Clementine, an orange and white tabby cat, sitting next to him. His head is lifted up to hers, and his tongue is barely poking out as the camera captures him about to lick her face. She looks slightly peeved, as a younger sibling might. They love each other.] Any amount that you can spare to donate would be a huge, huge help. The relief we feel when another segment of his care can be covered, and when we realise that yet another person cares about him, cares about us, is immeasurable. We have been so moved by the volume of help we've received so far, how many people have checked in regularly, how people we had somehow lost closeness with have still come through because Alice has been in their lives. This won't be over until the very end, as far away as that can possibly be, and I need to keep asking for help. If you can't donate, please share our link by any means, up to and including sky-writing. Ideally, share a word or two about why you care, what Alice might have brought into your life, what myself or Mallaidh mean to you, or anything else that may be relevant. It makes a massive difference and we appreciate it so much. [Image: Alice is sleeping on a sofa, his head and upper body resting on several velvet cushions. Tucked behind his front paw and close to his body, Party Rings, a tiny tabby kitten, is also curled up and sound asleep.] Beyond donating and sharing, the final way you can help is by loving us and loving Alice. Keep showing up for us, checking in on us, bringing us over or gracing us with your company, thinking of us and speaking to us, and just continuing to care and be wonderful. Alice is truly the public universal friend and I want him to know as much love as he can fit in his huge little heart while he still can. [Image: Alice is laying his front on a pebble beach with his eyes closed. His fur from the top of the head down is wet and shining from a swim in Loch Lomond. He looks tuckered out.] Find below some images to illustrate the vet costs to date. These are not exhaustive as some transactions were in cash. Since July we have paid over £6,000. Thank you so much to everyone who has helped get us this far. If you can help in any way to keep us inching forward, it would mean so much, and Alice will love you forever (which is true even if you can't). Thank you <3 [Image: Two payments to Alice's vet of £350 and £308.50] [Image: Three payments to Alice's vet of £1157.22, £265.90 and £345.56] [Image: Three payments to Alice's vet of £315.52, £811.82 and £26.82] [Image: Three payments to Alice's vet of £125, £400.97 and £26.92] [Image: Three payments to Alice's vet of £161.05, £550 and £8]
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