The first time I saw him, I was stunned.
A massive tumor dangled from his chin, weighing at least two pounds, swaying with every step he took. His helpless eyes told me everything — he was in pain, scared, and alone.
When I approached, the little guy tensed up. His neck shook under the tumor’s weight, and his thin body was crawling with lice and ticks. I knelt down, spoke softly, and tried to reassure him. He stayed close, as if clinging to the comfort of a kind voice.
I began removing the bugs I could see, but there were too many — hundreds of them. The poor puppy couldn’t tell me what he’d been through, but his body spoke for him. The tumor and the parasites were slowly killing him.
I didn’t hesitate. I took him home.
I gave him a gentle bath, scrubbed away the filth, dried him with a hair dryer, and de-wormed him. Slowly, he began to look — and feel — cleaner. His eyes brightened, his tail twitched, and he started following me around.
After gulping down an entire tray of water, I brought him to the hospital. The veterinarian gasped at the tumor’s size and immediately ordered blood tests and X-rays. Amazingly, the little guy didn’t flinch when the needle went in. He seemed to understand we were trying to help him.
The X-ray confirmed it — the tumor was enormous. Whether it was malignant or benign was still unknown. Thankfully, his bloodwork came back normal. The vet suspected it was filled with lymphatic fluid and recommended draining it.
A long needle pierced the tumor, and thick fluid slowly filled the tray. The hard mass began to soften and shrink, leaving only loose folds of skin behind. The dog bore the pain quietly, letting out only the occasional grunt.
When the last drop drained, it was as if a weight had been lifted — literally. The little guy wagged his tail, free from the suffocating burden that had hung from his jaw for so long.
To prevent infection and help him heal, the vet gave him six injections — anti-inflammatory, antiviral, liver-support, and anti-tick treatments. He warned there might be more leakage, so I would need to keep a close watch on him at home.
After a few days in the hospital, I brought him back. This time, he bounded up and down the stairs with a spring in his step. He was eating well, exploring the house, and settling in as the newest member of my family.
Watching him play, jump, and enjoy his second chance at life, I knew without a doubt — I had made the right decision.
