It’s been exactly a year today

…since Coco was diagnosed with cancer.

Coco was such a special boy

I was always quite taken aback by how many people just naturally seemed to love him. He was so gentle. His eyes so incredibly kind. And he was calm. Stoic in fact. He never barked and rarely whined.

He just quietly loved me just as much as I loved him. He always wanted to be near me, to be in the same room as me, he followed me everywhere. When I lay down in bed or on the sofa he used to jump up and snuggle up behind me and sometimes he would put his cold, wet nose on the back of my neck. Just a small, gentle touch right in the middle of my neck. When it happened I was so astounded, I didn’t dare to move. They were such precious, loving moments.

Coco also had another, equally wonderful, side to him. He had an unusual, lifelong love of running – and for that reason stayed incredibly fit right up until he became ill. As soon as he was let off lead on the beach, he just ran and ran and ran. He ran like an absolute nutter, not just in a straight line, he ran up and down the sand dunes, twisting and turning, spinning round in circles. He leapt right over the large dunes and would then madly, excitedly, dig a deep hole and plonk himself down into it. His nose peering out of a hole in the sand became a classic Coco-moment to his online followers.

This was usually followed by a sudden decision to cool down in the sea. I tried to keep up with him, running down to the water’s edge to capture his funny cool-down sessions on camera. As the true lurcher he was, he would always, always make sure to keep his head high and dry above the water.

Just as suddenly, he would leap back out of the water like a rocket and start the process all over all again. He was absolutely hilarious. His love of life was so infectious and watching him run really was the highlight of my life.

Injuries

As a running-addict, however, this also came with a regular stream of injuries over the years. He was no stranger to getting stitched up, patched and coned. Some of those injuries never entirely healed and he always had one leg that was a bit lame. And herein lay the reason why we didn’t suspect anything nasty for as long as we did. Limping was normal for Coco. He ran. He injured himself. He limped. But then in 2022 and 2023 his limping became more permanent and we eventually took him for another checkup at the vet. His condition was initially just fobbed off as ‘old age’ and ‘probably a bit of arthritis’ and we were sent home with appropriate painkillers.

Strange as it may seem and, although I have worked in this industry for over a decade now, being familiar with conditions that greyhounds have, it just never occurred to me that it could be cancer. Let alone osteosarcoma, the cruelest of them all. But, osteosarcoma it was, and today marks exactly 1 year since his diagnosis.

The diagnosis

I remember the day like it was yesterday. We were waiting for a long time for our appointment that day and I remember feeling increasingly anxious, but when the vet came and said he would come and discuss the ‘results’ with us shortly, I felt a bit relieved. I remember saying to Chris that at least they had ‘found something’ so we would get a solution soon. I imagined surgery, long months of healing, or something along those lines.

As we walked into the vet’s room, however, my immediate thought was ‘why isn’t Coco in here?’. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because the seriousness of the situation was revealed to us very quickly.

“Unfortunately” the vet began….

I can’t say I remember much else that he said. I just remember the feeling of shock and despair, and of being shown the scans of Coco’s legs where the cancer was present, and then finally of his lungs. It was there clearly visible in front of my eyes.

Anyone who has lost a dog so deeply loved knows just how completely and utterly devastating this experience is. Life just came to a halt right there. When I asked the vet how long he thought Coco had left, he said it was difficult to know… that it could be months, or weeks. We were told to always keep him on lead from then on, as any sudden movement or attempts to run or jump could fracture his femur very suddenly – leading to the worst of all possible outcomes.

The last weeks

The following weeks were extremely difficult. With a young toddler in the house, dealing with a very sick hound was beyond exhausting. And Coco’s condition deteriorated so rapidly we could barely keep up. When his legs began to slip away on the floor, we covered the whole house in padded flooring so that he could walk around safely. But Coco spent longer and longer days in his basket outdoors, just wanting to be alone.

He seemed quite content as long as he was laying in his basket – something that made it even harder for us to make the decision that we eventually had to make. Coco just wasn’t mentally ready to leave us yet.

November 7th

These pictures were taken the day before we sent Coco over the bridge.

It was November 7th, the sun came out and it was a glorious day so we decided to give him one last experience of the ancient woodland of Blean. We didn’t know that it was going to be his very last day on planet earth then, but we did know it was his last time in the woods.

Oh Coco. How I loved you – and still love you so much.

On November 7th we lifted Coco carefully into the car and drove him to the woodlands. As we approached the little lane before the car park, Coco started whining. He always used to whine when we got to this point. It was a happy, excited sort of whine. But that day, his whine was completely different. It was a mixture of happiness, excitedness, sadness and despair.

The realisation

When we arrived, we gingerly lifted Coco out of the car, and I think it was at that moment when we put Coco down on the ground that we realised. He was barely able to walk at all. Instead of turning around and heading home, we decided to see if he wanted to have a little sniff around the trees, maybe mark his territory a few more times. He made it a few hundred meters into the woodland and then gratefully accepted the blankets we had brought with us to lay on.

We had a sad but magical time with him in the woodlands that morning. The sun was out, the light was gorgeous and even though it was November it was warm and Coco was very happy to soak up those warm rays of the sun. He looked so content! I remember thinking that this really would have been the perfect moment for him to go to sleep and never wake up. He was at peace, in one of his favourite places on earth.

The following morning, on November 8th, Coco was barely able to walk the few meters to the grass for his morning wee. His legs no longer able to hold his weight. That was when I knew I had to make the most difficult decision of my life.

I knew I had to say goodbye that same day.

No more pain now Coco. My true love.

Now and for all eternity,

Anja x