Dog Health: When Lumps Appear

We began our latest tale of veterinary drama Friday, with Lilly calmly at my feet in the exam room. I asked her to join me on the bench because I wanted to be sure I could find a pea-sized lump in her neck / shoulder when our veterinarian joined us. What I found instead was much scarier.

Lilly hopped up onto the bench without hesitation. She sat there smiling, like the heavily medicated, silly girl she was. So, I began groping around her left side for the lump I wanted to point out. And, instead of the tiny hard bump I’ve been tracking for a month or two, I found a huge, squishy, swollen mass that took up the better part of Lilly’s neck and lower cheek.

Serious wave of fear pounded my already-battered emotional strength.

Kid you not, my first thought was, “@#$@# Me. If that’s another rattlesnake bite, I’m going to croak.”

Here is the thing. I bathed Lilly has week. The lump wasn’t there. I brushed her well, using both the furminator and the Zoom Groom, Monday morning … just 9 hours earlier … and I’m pretty sure the lump wasn’t there.

My heart racing and brain frantic, I tried to reconstruct the day:

• Had she been outside alone?
• Where else had she been?
• Was it even warm enough (considering the nonstop snow) for snakes to be out?
• Had, perhaps, this lump indeed been there, and I missed it?

I could remember just one thing that was at all out of the ordinary. After Lilly and Ginko went with me out to the pond to check on our goldfish that morning, both gave the low deck near the creek a good sniffing.

And, much to my chagrin after the grooming, Lilly threw herself down neck first and wriggled in the snow … my assumption … on top of something stinky. It’s really the ONLY time she does this particular neck-to-ground grinding.

“Maybe she is having an allergic reaction to something?” I thought, after recalling that one weird thing.

My only concern after the wriggling was that Lilly might stink for her appointment, so around lunch time, I soaped up a wash cloth and did my best to get whatever was stuck to her coat off. She did indeed smell a little, and I wanted to fix that.

She was NOT pleased with me, but she ALWAYS gets sheepish when I try to wipe her down. In fact, the sound of me tearing off a paper towel and stepping toward the sink is enough to send Lilly fleeing the kitchen.

My point is this … in addition to brushing her that morning, I wiped her down that afternoon, and I didn’t feel anything unusual.

I felt awful, wondering if the lump had been there a while and I’d missed it. Here I’d orchestrated the entire day to prepare Lilly for a routine veterinary experience. Now, goodness knows what would be required.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” I told her. “I don’t know where you got this or how long it’s been there, but we’ll take care of it. Promise.”

I began parting her coat, bit by bit, looking for fang marks (like I found with her last rattlesnake bite), but the best (or worst) I could come up with was some bad bruising and redness near the top of the mass.

When our veterinarian came into the room, I broke the news.

“How are you doing today, Miss Lilly?” she asked.

“Well, here I was all prepared for a nice routine conversation, and LOOK what I just found. I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Should I take off her collar?” I babbled.

“Yes.”

She palpated the mass, brow a little furrowed, eyes almost averted, as if she wanted ONLY information from her hands at first. Lilly didn’t cry out. Having us feel her neck didn’t seem terribly upsetting to her. Then, again, Lilly has a history of stoicism in these matters.

“Is it OK if I shave this spot so we can get a better look?” she asked, after maybe 30 seconds.

“Of course.”

***

We’ll continue this tale tomorrow with the diagnosis.