04/12/2026
Three years ago, we were told we would lose her.
Osteosarcoma.
The kind of diagnosis that almost always comes with a timeline you don’t want to hear.
But against all medical advice, something in us said… don’t give up. Try.
So we did.
We made the impossible decision to remove her leg.
We drove hours for treatment.
We said yes to chemo.
We said yes to a phase two osteosarcoma vaccine trial from Yale.
We changed her diet, added supplements, did everything we could think of to give her a chance.
And she met us there.
She learned to walk again—on three legs—within days.
She kept her joy.
She kept her appetite.
And most of all… she kept her spirit.
And she beat it.
She kicked osteosarcoma in the ass… and we will forever be so proud of her for that.
She gave us three more years.
Three years we were never promised.
Three more years to love her unconditionally.
That’s the part I keep coming back to.
Because this week, when everything shifted so quickly—when a routine vet visit turned into “she has two days to live”—it felt impossibly unfair.
We weren’t ready.
But maybe we were never meant to be.
What we didn’t know at first was that it wasn’t the osteosarcoma that had returned.
She had fought that battle—and won. (Continued in comments)
