New Year, New Bee

We found out today that the two tumors Honey had removed a couple of weeks ago are NOT malignant, and were removed with completely clear borders. She’s all in the clear! We’re thrilled.

Considering the amount of stress I had over just the surgery itself, I couldn’t be more relieved. Like the deranged dog mom that I am, I stressed myself into a frenzy prior to her procedure.

Over the past around, say, 10 months or so, a small bump on her side grew to a softball-sized tumor on her ribcage. She had another smaller one, like a miniature whoopie cushion, underneath, near her belly. That one had stayed around the same size, though, since we first noticed it. The one on her ribs was getting out of control. Poor kid was bumping it on everything. After getting it checked out at the vet in October, we decided to go ahead and have them both removed. Seems like a run-of-the-mill type thing, but ya girl’s stress levels were off the charts.

Let me tell you about Bee. Firstly, her name is Honey. At least, that’s what it says on her tag, and is the name I gave her when I adopted her from the Houston Humane Society in 2006. However, she’s called Bee now because I once took her to a pet psychic who let me know that she preferred that. I’d called her Honey Bee and Bee before sometimes, but now she happily answers only to Bee, and Honey when she’s bad. AND the pet psychic helped with some behavioral issues she was having at the time, so I’M IN TO IT. #dontjudge

Her with a toy she loved for about 4 months before she changed her mind and destroyed it:

bee n chop
Honey and her Lambchop

She is one attitudinous diva. She thinks she’s people. And not like in the “oh look, the dog got in the driver’s seat because he thinks he can drive the car” thinks she’s people. Like, “if you don’t do what I want I’m going to throw a fit and knock things down or punch you in the crotch,” and “I will look you directly in the eyes, then direct my eyes to something I want, then back to you, then back to the thing” (we call that her teleki-bee-sis). She will have conversations with us, too. Like, when you come in the door she starts in on these “woo woo” noises and will go back and forth. She will chew us out for not following her rules, too (which include no dancing, walking backwards, walking in slow motion, talking shit, running, OR pretending like you’re just about to do any of those things). She makes a face and bitches any time you show her something she thinks is smelly (i.e. hand sanitizer). She knows that when the phone rings in the evening that it’s probably a food delivery and she should head toward the door. AND on top of all this she’s moody as hell. So like, she might give Damon a kiss and refuse to give me one, while she looks me right in the eyes, then brings her nose to my face and sneezes on me. Or vice versa. And sometimes she wants to be petted, and sometimes she doesn’t. She’s just, very Bee about all of it. About everything.

Here she is letting me love on her and looking thrilled about it:

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So let me just say, I am INSANE about my dog. IN. SANE. And knowing she was going to have surgery, at 10 years old — she’s no spring chicken. And she is my baby child, and I am a helicopter dog parent. The whole idea was sending me into a ridiculous “WHAT IF?” spiral. In fact, starting a few days before the surgery, I called the vet’s office to change my mind and have the tumor biopsied instead, then called them back to un-schedule the biopsy and just go ahead with the surgery, then called them back again to see what they thought was a good idea, then called them back to thank them for dealing with my insanity. I TOLD YOU I WAS INSANE.

Luckily, the vet handled me very well and handled Bee even better. Turns out the tumor on her ribs weighed THREE POUNDS. THREE. FREAKING. POUNDS. And she’s sooo much better now. I’m really glad we had the surgery, and I’m glad she’s okay, and I’m glad the tumors are benign. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go hover over my dog and kiss her on her head until she gets furious.

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“Mom. This is so uncool.”


P.S. If you’re the kind of person who is totes cool with looking at what I’d consider gross stuff, I’ve included a link to a photo of the tumors here. If you ain’t, don’t click.


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