A Christmas tale of an oncologist, a dog and a surprise under the tree
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Unconditional love is usually defined as love without strings attached. It’s love you offer freely. You don’t base it on what someone does for you in return. You simply love them and want nothing more than their happiness.
If you’ve ever had a dog in your life, you know about unconditional love. Dogs are the embodiment of unconditional love. It doesn’t matter the breed — it’s a simple fact. They have the unbelievable capacity to forget, forgive and love us again and again, even after we fail them multiple times.
People who are lonely or suffering or persons with disabilities will sometimes turn to dogs for comfort. It is immediate canine therapy. Dogs don’t care if you are old, or didn’t get the promotion, or failed a test. When their time comes to cross the rainbow bridge, it’s literally losing a member of your family.
‘A special bond’
We have always had dogs in our family. Every day when I return from work, the first individual to greet me at the door is our dog. It’s a greeting as if I was away for 6 months. The rest of the family basically nods upon my return or will say, “It’s only dad; he’s home.”
Our family has always had rescue dogs — a dog that has been placed in a new home after being abused, neglected or abandoned by its previous owner. Rescue dogs are known for being fiercely loyal, no matter what. One in particular, named Toby, brings a smile to my face every time I think of him or see his photo. I think it was because we had a special bond.
When we got Toby at the rescue facility, he was nothing but skin and bones. He didn’t even know how to play with a toy. But with love, kindness, healthy food and a lot of patience, he developed into a beautiful and entertaining member of our family.
Here’s a story about Toby that will take your mind off any of the complex patients you’re seeing or other challenges you may be facing today.
It was a wintery afternoon in December several years ago. Snow was falling lightly, the fireplace was crackling and the 9-foot Christmas tree was all decorated. Toby was at my side on the couch as we both watched a football game. My wife related that she was going out to do some Christmas shopping and reminded me that Toby “had to go out.”
About 10 minutes after she left the snowfall increased from moderate to heavy. I waited an hour and the weather got worse. I really did not want to take Toby away from a warm crackling fire and exciting football game. Just as I was about to get up, Toby jumped from the couch and went over to the Christmas tree. He often did this to lie under the tree or sometimes paw at the ornaments. However, this time he walked toward the tree stand, lifted his leg and urinated directly into the water receptacle with not a drop spilled. A perfect shot. While relieving himself, he looked at me with his big, bulging brown eyes as if to say, “I’m good, no problem.” When he finished, he hopped back on the couch next to me. It made for a perfect winter afternoon with no need to go outside in what turned into blistering snow.
Keeping it secret
However, now I had a big dilemma. I knew the first question my wife was going to ask when she returned was, “Did you take Toby out?” If I told her what he did I would never hear the end of it, and she would tell me to change the water in the tree. There was no doubt in my mind that would be the order. After 38 years of marriage, my answer to that would be a simple, “Yes, dear.”
As I thought about my response and sweated through it, she entered the house, looked straight at me and with the packages in her arms asked, “Did Toby do his thing?” I promptly responded, “Yes, he did.” To my delight no other questions were asked.
Subsequently, the two of us continued to watch the football game on a winter day I will never forget.
I hope this made your day.
P.S. I never told my wife — at least not yet.
Stay safe.
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- Nicholas J. Petrelli, MD, FACS, is Bank of America endowed medical director of ChristianaCare’s Helen F. Graham Cancer Center & Research Institute and associate director of translational research at The Wistar Cancer Institute. He also serves as Associate Editor of Surgical Oncology for HemOnc Today. He can be reached at npetrelli@christianacare.org.