I got to thinking recently about pets and their impact on people’s lives.

What brought this on is I was reading about how people with pets tend to live longer.

That, along with something else that I’ll get to shortly, started this whole line of thinking about pets.

A Google search revealed that the conventional wisdom about having pets is that people who have them are happier and healthier.

While dogs are often considered at the top of the heap on this pet-people thing, cats are right up there with them.

I don’t know where goldfish fit in, but the everyday responsibility of taking care of something other than yourself has to be beneficial.

You can’t walk a goldfish, though.  I guess you could put the bowl in a Radio Flyer, for example, and go for a stroll.

I’d say you can’t walk a cat, but that’s just not true, I learned.  Although it’s a bit unusual.

We once had a cat, Snowy, who used to go out with us and follow us around on our walks with the Cocker Spaniel we had at the time.  It fascinated and amused people on the block.  It seems some cats, at least, like to go for walks.

What does this have to do with cancer patients?

Again, the conventional wisdom is that pets seem to be very good for cancer patients.

Mitchy

Depending on whom you talk to, though, perhaps not so good to have around for a few weeks, or even months, right after a stem cell transplant.

In my post-transplant days, I just couldn’t relocate my dog or cat temporarily, despite the encouragement from my care providers.  My goodness, our dog and cat had already missed me for extended periods of time during my various hospital stays.  I think they missed me anyway.  Was I going to send them away?  Not a chance.

Getting licked in the face by the dog or scratched by the cat, however, are not good things for the immune suppressed.  So, I had to be careful, of course.

Overall, I think Kodi (our dog) and Mitchy (our cat) were among those things that helped me keep my sanity during those heavy treatment and transplant days.

Kodi was getting up there in years, and my situation for quite some time was touch and go.  Linda, my wife, once confided to someone that she didn’t know who would take it worse – me if Kodi died, or Kodi if I died.

Kodi

Having Kodi in my life during my post-diagnosis days and throughout all my treatments was an inspiration.  When he passed away over a year ago, I wrote a column here – Dog Gone, Doggone It ^[1] – about how much he taught me about dealing with trials and tribulations, and life in general.

Suleika Jaouad, another writer I check in on from time to time, relates how much a dog can bring into the life of a cancer patient in something she wrote last fall in her New York Times blog, “Life, Interrupted.”  I could never possibly say it, or write it, better than she does.  You can read what Ms. Jaouad – a very young leukemia patient who hails from nearby (for me) Saratoga Springs but now lives in New York City – wrote in her article A Cancer Patient’s Best Friend ^[2].

So, this brings me back to one of the reasons for this column.

It was extremely hard for us to consider bringing another dog into our home, especially since Kodi was so much a part of our lives for 15 years.

This is an update for the many of you who contacted me after my column a year ago with comments or emails after Kodi died.

We did spend some time earlier this year looking at possibly adopting an adult dog from one of the rescue groups, but nothing seemed to work out.

Then one day in April we stopped by a pet rescue group out in the Saratoga County hinterlands, and there he was.  This cute little three-month-old black puppy with white markings.

Memphis

He’s a Labrador Retriever-American Foxhound mix rescued from a kill shelter in Tennessee, pretty much on the eve of what would have been his departure from earth.  We named him Memphis.

The Foxhound part gives him a bit of a stubborn streak.  Some would say it’s “attitude.”  Nope.  It’s stubbornness.  When he’s being stubborn, I tell him, “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.”

As I write this, Memphis is stretched out here in my home office sound asleep.

Having him around and training him have helped bring about a bit more focus to my life.

And it changes the discussion with those who are always checking in with me to see how things are going.

I say, “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.  Did I tell you I have a new puppy?”

One final note.  Some of you may have noticed that I’m not writing as much here at The Myeloma Beacon.  I recently retired, from full-time work anyway, and I’m sort of rearranging things in my life.  Changing those “deadlines and commitments,” as Bob Seger sang.  One of those “what to leave in and what to leave out” (Bob Seger again) things has been that I no longer am writing a monthly column here at The Myeloma Beacon.

The folks at The Beacon are graciously allowing me to continue to contribute on an irregular basis – when the spirit moves me.

So, you’ll still see things here from me from time to time.  Just not every month.

I do also want to take this opportunity to thank you all for the great comments over the past few years, and the support you have given me on so many occasions.