Terry would have been happy if I had regarded our move to Italy as an opportune time to find another home for my two dogs. Not that he suggested it, but Terry is a reluctant dog owner and only tolerates them for my sake. Of course for me there was no question as to whether they would accompany us. Both were rescue Boston Terriers, adopted shortly after my husband died, and so had been with me for some time. Django and Grappelli would go to Italy with us.
Taking pets to Europe requires another set of documentation layered on top of that required for their human owners. In February, I had sent for a packet of the forms and instructions needed for transporting animals to Italy. These papers would function as a passport of sorts, until, once in Italy, I could get an EU passport for the dogs. Because the U S and Italy are both rabies controlled counties, passage between the two is relatively simple.
Still, it is complicated enough compared to the experience of taking my first Boston Terrier to Europe. Then all I needed was a certificate of health from a vet for each of the trips into and out of France. Now new, more stringent, regulations were in effect, which I started addressing in early April. First the dogs needed to have an EU conforming microchip implanted, unless one chose to carry along a transponder that read the existing American chip. I couldn’t see that working well in a real life situation, so I opted for the EU chip. At the time the chip is implanted, the dogs also have to receive a rabies shot regardless of how recently he or she has been vaccinated. In strict order, the shot must follow implantation of the microchip. In time I would have to send all inoculation records, microchip numbers, description of each dog, and certification that they were not being transported for commercial reasons to the U S Department of Agriculture. A veterinarian in that department would, in turn, sign and return the very important papers allowing the dogs to travel. And, oh yes, a stamped and signed certificate of health filled out a few days before departure was still required.
While waiting in my vet’s office for the microchips to be implanted, I noticed that a lump on Grappelli’s side, which had been there for at least a year, maybe two, was today bright red and left a tiny drop of blood on my finger when I touched it. The mass had been aspirated previously and showed no sign of malignant cells. With that result and because it was symmetrical and soft, I had never been particularly concerned about this small lump. I could only surmise that its sudden change of color may have been caused by a scrape as she jumped into the car. The vet, however, recognized it immediately as a probable mast cell tumor–cancer. And it should be removed asap. Fortunately, she had an opening for surgery the next morning so I returned then with Grappelli, her bed, and a soft blanket to ease her post-surgical day.
When I picked her up in late afternoon, I saw an incision extending about seven inches down most of the length of Grappelli’s side. Though the mass was only about a half inch in diameter, good practice was to excise enough of the surrounding tissue to ensure that the margins were clear of any metastasis. Not surprisingly, Grappelli was in considerable pain the first day, but by the next was feeling better and was well enough within a week to rejoin Django and me on the daily walks. We had to return to the veterinarian’s office in ten days to have the stitches removed and I would learn then the results of the biopsy.
In the meantime. I studied mast cell tumors on the internet. They are graded one to three with one considered non-invasive and usually needing no treatment beyond removal. Three was a much more serious matter requiring further tests, perhaps radiation, and probable chemotherapy. Grappelli’s tumor turned out to be a three, and a very aggressive three with off the chart mitotic numbers. Because we were planning to leave the area, a course of radiation was not feasible so Grappelli began to take the only medication available for treatment of mast cell tumors, Palladia. Although it has some efficacy, Palladia is not a miracle drug and can have serious side affects. Still, there was little choice other than no treatment at all.
Before these unhappy developments, I had ordered two carrier bags, required by airlines for any dog flying in cabin with their owner. By the time they arrived I knew well the grave situation Grappelli was in and that it was possible only one of these bags would be used. I hid them away, unopened, in a closet to avoid any reminder of that sad prospect . But as the days passed with Grappelli tolerating her medication well and behaving normally, I began to feel much more confident that she would fly to Italy with us. As optimism grew, I ordered two muzzles and two travel bowls, and packed them into the carriers.
Lurching towards Italy 