I wanted to share Griffin’s story with others as a process of healing, and to help others arriving at a challenging scenario to face.
Arriving at the decision to have your pet undergo an amputation, typically out of necessity, is a difficult and mentally draining process that is often complicated by aggressive timelines and expedited focus on education, finances, and a wealth of other considerations. It’s tough to not panic! But you’re still unsure whether it’s the proper step, or if your pet will be able to cope after the fact. A year ago this week, my dog Griffin and I were at this stage. The lump I discovered on his front/left elbow was confirmed to be cancerous; a grade 3 soft-tissue sarcoma. Our time together suddenly felt abbreviated and I had doctors telling me left and right that we needed to amputate his leg soon, but mentally I was on the fence. It wasn’t until I came across the Tripawds community that I understood how well Griffin could be with this procedure in our past. Through a lot of tears and joy, I read through dozens of stories others have shared on the message board – many of dogs similar in breed/size/age as Griffin, so my confidence in the decision was bolstered. I owe a lot to this community for elevating that courage, and feel the onus of sharing our story in hopes that it will provide support to others who arrive at this decision.
Griffin came into my life as a rescue at 16 weeks and only a month after I moved into a house with a big yard. He was a Golden Retriever and Great Pyrenees mix who grew like a weed and was 32″ at the withers and 80lbs lean after a few months. He took on a lot of the Golden look, but his size and demeanor were dominantly Great Pyrenees, which suited his strong-mindedness, BIG WOOF, and gentle heart. Griff wasn’t a toy-driven pup, but he loved to play Tag in the yard and he loved letting his senses go wild on walks. We settled into a great routine for over 7 years – 4 to 5 miles of daily walking/hiking, no matter rain, snow, or shine. It was my commitment to him, and we saw a lot of our great state. I also had the benefit of bringing him to work with me, so he was my shadow for the majority of the hours on any given day. He didn’t favor me stepping out for casual errands, but he was never destructive. Quite honestly, there was little rearing in his upbringing; we were just riding the same waves from the get-go.
As age settled in a bit more in his 6th and 7th years, his knees and hip were noticeably deteriorating, but we continued to venture out on our daily walks, albeit a little slower. Our daily routine and companionship continued to mature without so much as a thought given to those eventual end-of-days moments. One evening last summer I called him inside for the night and he came running up to the door covered in yard debris. I brushed him down, giving a good ruffle to his coat, when my hand brushed past his front elbow and I felt an unfamiliar glob…enough to give me pause and feel a bit closer. His elbows had some callusing, despite a ton of ‘Golden’ feathering, but nothing of this size and substance made sense to me. It also felt ‘dislodged’ from the rest of his skin and muscle and clearly warranted a trip to the doctor. At our visit to the vet, there was some concern with the size and shape of the mass, so a biopsy was taken and I spent the next week helping Griffin heal up while we awaited the results.
Two very awful changes came to us in the following week. The first awful news was that the biopsy confirmed a Grade 3 soft-tissue sarcoma. Given many considerations to his condition (age, site of the tumor, and rapidity of growth), amputation was the recommended approach to managing the cancer, but I was beyond frightened at the concept. My mind raced through all of the hindrances it would bring to our established routine, the things we did to keep him active and healthy, and yes, also the fear of how the heck do I take care of a 115lb three-legged dog?! I had already been worried about his hips and back legs failing him, so amputation did not seem fathomable…at least not right away. I consulted with another vet a day later, and received the same recommendation. I had a screening and consultation at the local University Veterinary Cancer Center and while they arrived at the same conclusion. But they were able to give me much more information surrounding options, expectancies, and data, which started to shape my mindset a bit more. This was a heavy decision to make and I didn’t have clarity in knowing if I was being selfish or if Griffin would really benefit from the drastic change in his life, for a chance at having more time in this world.
Unfortunately, during the course of these consultations, the second awful change had been persisting with Griffin. The incision site for his biopsy had gone from a cleanly-stitched incision that was mostly healed over, to a reversal of sorts. The site of the incision had become part of the tumor’s blood supply and it was festering into an uncontrollable open wound. It required daily dressings, and really started to impede Griffin’s ability to walk without pain. This was an uncommon issue with routine biopsies but it magnified how aggressive this cancer was proving to be. I met with my vet on a Friday afternoon to discuss next steps and they informed me that Griffin’s leg was becoming necrotic, and heading into the weekend I had two options to consider: we could schedule surgery and amputate his leg to give him a chance, or I would need to consider putting him down to end any forthcoming suffering. Seems like an easy answer, right? Only it still wasn’t. Reality was flipping our world upside down at an alarming rate and I was frightened over what each new day would bring.
Exhausted and lacking clarity, I hopped online and eventually landed on this website. Without exposure to this community and all of the stories of brave pets and people persevering through the very same situation Griff and I were up against truly made the decision easier. I was better equipped to consult with our vet and make an informed decision of how/where/why the procedure would go. My empathy shifted from the weight of guilt and recognizing Griffin wouldn’t have the pain of his tumor or feel sorry for himself being a tripawd – “Be More Dog”. We had the surgery the following Tuesday, and it went as smoothly as we hoped for. I had to transport him from our vet’s office to an overnight care facility which carried a bit of its own trauma. Seeing my boy strapped to a bed in the back of my vehicle, one side completely void of hair and replaced with over 40 staples from chest to back left me feeling so heavy. But we ensured he was comfortable and in good care over the next couple of days while he was monitored and healing.
Eventually he came home with me and we spent the first several hours figuring out….everything. He was still heavily medicated and unsure of how to stand or walk – our initial attempts at moving around with a sling and me by his side were trivial and unbalanced. I ensured he had wide paths and easy access in our home. The floors were covered in rubber matting, and the living room was converted to a giant bed on the floor so he could plop down and rest as easily as possible. His appetite was fleeting at first, but eventually the shredded chicken breast and yogurt I enticed him with changed his tune. Our trips outside were labored and long in duration. Griffin eventually figured out how to go to the bathroom, but the energy he consumed to amble outside and do his deed often left him exhausted and in need of rest. I would help him up with a sling under his stomach, we’d take 3-4 steps and then he’d plop back down to the earth panting with a tiresome face. All I could do was sit by his side and encourage him to take the next set of steps, when I knew he was content with just staying out all night! There was no routine anymore – when he had to go, we invested the next 45 minutes to do so. The first few days challenged both of our resolve. Without his ability to rise from laying down on his own, he couldn’t offer the same signals to me that we had grown accustomed to. It was a guessing game if he had to go to the bathroom, or was just uncomfortable. If I got up and left the room, he wanted to follow – a yelp would echo down my hallway and I would come rushing back in to see him face-planted on the pillowtop. There were moments in those early days where I would hold him and cry, apologizing for the condition he was in. I spent weeks by his side sleeping through the night on that bed I had made on the living room floor. No matter the challenge, he wasn’t giving up and neither could I. Those tough moments were overcome by the victories he started to make, and they came about in a rapid crescendo after those initial weeks.
We were blessed with an unseasonably warm autumn, so every chance we had, we were out in the yard taking in the sights and sounds. Griffin would typically lay out in the grass next to my chair and bask in the sunlight while I brushed and pet him. He soon figured out his new gait and was able to get up and lay down on his own without too much difficulty. I rarely had his sling with me because his trips out to the ends of our yard were no longer a marathon of taking a few steps, and then a few minutes rest. His incision healed astoundingly well, given the size and location. His medicine bottles were exhausted and no longer needed as his diet rebounded and the rhythm of his feeding schedule was back on track. He began to trot after the squirrels and rabbits in our yard, and eventually started to sprint after them! The first time he lept off of our front stoop to chase a squirrel, I panicked! But he followed it right to the base of a tree and stopped abruptly without falling over! One of my biggest goals for our new chapter was to regain a sense of normalcy. It was moments like that where it was evident we were well on our way. As Griffin’s strength progressed, we started to venture back to some of our favorite walking trails to further bring about the normalcy we were chasing. I was always mindful of his stamina, but we managed to get on several more walks in the fall, and even made a full lap on a short hike without a single break! As challenging and frightening it was to hear the diagnosis and be faced with a brutal decision, we were on the other side of it now, and Griffin displayed a degree of resiliency that I will forever admire.
We had fun on Halloween, Thanksgiving rolled by and we arrived at Christmas with Griffin handling his tripawd life incredibly well. He stayed by my side throughout the day, whether I was working in my office or out in the living room entertaining him. In early January, we had a bad weekend. Griffin had become noticeably distraught and out of breath. Seemingly overnight we went from our newfound routine back to the first few weeks of this saga. He needed my aid to go outside again, and he would pant constantly while being at rest for an hour or two sleeping. Our visit to the vet confirmed that the cancer had re-emerged and was consuming his lungs to a significant degree. There was nothing we could do to reverse or repair the state he was in. With the x-rays in front of me and him by my side panting for enough air to support his giant frame, I knew our time was once again abbreviated. On 11 January 2023, I held Griffin in my arms and said goodbye. After fighting through so many obstacles and challenges, he could now rest peacefully. It has been months since his passing and a year since we understood he had cancer, but he’s in my thoughts and memories all of the time.
If I were faced with the same situation and outcome, would I do it again? I have asked myself this question countless times since it all began and my answer remains a clear yes. Cancer was the reason Griffin is no longer by my side, and his amputation had become only a modest inconvenience in his quality of life. We were gifted more time together and made every day count! I was humbled greatly to see such a large dog move about this world without one of his front legs – it truly showed me the resiliency in our pets!
I hope Griffin’s story can help others wade through their thoughts and emotions if ever faced with the decision to move forward with having a tripawd pet. We all want to provide them with the best life as possible, and as daunting of a concept that amputation is, there are so many favorable outcomes that result from this procedure. Deep dive the resources on this site and have honest discussions with your doctor, or two, or three. But act intentionally and be mindful of what your pet is enduring too – they will surprise you on the other side of the surgery if you can just get them there.
One thought on “Griffin’s Tripawd Story”
Ohhhhh. I am speechless, and that’s not easy!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to write such a compelling, heartfelt, and beautifully articulated story about Griffin’s journey, and yours. The way you described the ups and downs, the victories, and the heartbreak, is so honest and real. I know that so many other people will benefit from reading about how you both coped. Rest assured, Griffin’s story and his legacy lives on.
What a beautiful life you two had together. He was your heart dog, that much is clear. And it’s our honor to have been a part of your story in some small way.
Thank you for this very generous, touching post about your unforgettable boy.
Ohhhhh. I am speechless, and that’s not easy!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to write such a compelling, heartfelt, and beautifully articulated story about Griffin’s journey, and yours. The way you described the ups and downs, the victories, and the heartbreak, is so honest and real. I know that so many other people will benefit from reading about how you both coped. Rest assured, Griffin’s story and his legacy lives on.
What a beautiful life you two had together. He was your heart dog, that much is clear. And it’s our honor to have been a part of your story in some small way.
Thank you for this very generous, touching post about your unforgettable boy.