“What a big puppy!”
“He can hold three?!”
Variations of these words always seem to blurt out of people as they encounter the one-and-only, life-loving Maximus Sloan. Those of you who know Max adore him. Today, friends, he needs your support.
Among neighbors, it’s no secret that he’s had a lump growing on his back. It’s also no secret how much I love Max and how much he just wants to be a part of things, to be at my side for whatever, wherever, whenever, even as I jabber away to seemingly nobody in my home office.
Special note: Max is Romeo’s son. I’ve paid homage to Romeo here previously.
Well, today is a big day for Maxie. On his behalf, I am asking each of you to send your positive energy and most supportive and powerful thoughts across the universe to him in Rohnert Park north of San Francisco where he will undergo surgery.
Here are some photos for those of you who don’t know him in person and after the photos, my special request:
at 6 weeks
drifting off on summer vacation
contemplating the next stunt
throw some more balls in!
a couple of weeks ago
He’s going in to have a hemangiosarcoma cancer tumor removed that recently aggressively returned. It’s located along his lumbar in front of his left hip. You can see it, actually, in the last photo. His doctor, Lisa Alexander, an experienced surgeon, believes there are reasonable odds for a fully functional recovery and significant extension of his life at a high quality level.
(My brother and I tried to eradicate these kinds of hereditary diseases by creating the business plan for and funding VetGen but the development of cancer diagnostics to be used for preventative breeding has still eluded the researchers there.)
Max and I talked last night after his last pre-op meal, which included his regular dog food heaped with some homemade dark meat turkey with broccoli and spinach in a vegetable broth. His appetite for this meal was much like his appetite for life. He devoured it.
Laying in the grass afterward, we talked quietly about things. I kept both of my hands on him softly with no movement during this time, eyes closed. He laid there, relaxed but alert like a sphinx, swishing his tail in the grass occasionally to acknowledge my voice and my tone. We talked about what we wanted to happen, how tough he would have to be, how much his friends love him, and what fun lay ahead if he could go in today, go under, come out on the other side of it and endure the surgery and recovery. We talked of body surfing at the beach, fetching balls, hikes in the redwoods, spooning in bed, howling at passing sirens, and just being “a part of things.”
He told me he was ready… for life. Typical Max.
Whatever you got, friends, today’s the day. Send it to him. He needs you.
Check-in is at 10am Pacific Time. X-rays are at 11am. If those show no presence of spread to other major organs, a CT scan happens at 1pm. If that shows no obvious spread to neighboring tissue, surgery starts immediately.
I will be there all day, working from the lobby at the surgery center, pulling for my best friend and little brother, Max.
If all goes well, the surgery will take place and he will stay for monitoring and recovery for at least one night.
I will provide an update here tomorrow.
Thank you for pulling for Max today. This crazy world’s a better place with him in it.