June 26, 2007
Alphie may appear to be soundly sleeping in the third floor computer room, but the moment I pick up my purse on the second floor, he comes flying down the stairs and heads onward to place himself in front of the garage door on the ground level. He sits there, facing the door and waiting for me. I open the door and he hurries through and stands in back of the car and awaits the opening of the hatch so he can jump in. We go the mile and a half to the hospital with him hanging his head out of the window, ears and jowls flapping in the wind. When we arrive, I leave all the windows open and tell him I will return shortly; he sits down on the back seat to wait for my return, and to my knowledge, doesn’t bark or get excited about the activity around him. I go in and as a “regular” have my own room for my blood draws and/or injections. This morning’s blood draw was important because we were filled with hope that with the additional neupogen injections, it would indicate a return to reasonable numbers in the white blood cells and the neutrophils. That is what happened, making this a happy day for us. Always, it is a lesson on how to live a proper life; one must have patience and faith and optimism. Of course, it is easier when the darker moments aren’t so extreme, however, the principle is the same. We drive back to Sanctuary in the same manner that we came, and Alphie leaps out seemingly pleased with the adventure.