A leson well learned

Until eight months ago, I hadn’t concerned myself with Cancer in dogs. However, events last year gave us here at Chifido our first brush with the dreaded ‘big C’ and began for me, a steep learning curve. Since then we have seen Mast cell tumour and Histocytoma at close quarters and myself and Jason Pearson have joined forces to bring you a couple of case studies and to share our experiences.

It’s a terrifying thought and a word that fills most of us with dread. However the word Cancer, when used in terms of veterinary medicine, often doesn’t have quite the same meaning as when used in human medicine. In animals, and for our purposes specifically dogs, the term cancer is used to describe a tumour. The tumour can be either malignant or benign. It has long been accepted in veterinary medicine that “any tumour composed of abnormally growing cells forming in tissue” is cancer.

Looking back, it started three years ago when Pepper and Molly had a fall out over who should go through the door first. The resulting spat left Pepper with a three-cornered tear on her chest. Difficult to stitch, the wound broke open within days and healed itself from the inside out. The only evidence of the spat was a small white lump of scar tissue no bigger than the top of a pencil. And that’s how it stayed until last year. Suddenly, within a matter of months it began to change and grow.

I can best describe it as looking like a nipple with elongated ‘orange peel’ type cells around it. Instinctively I knew all was not well and after a phone call to a friend and several hours of research on the internet I concluded that it was Mast cell tumour. I rang the vets and booked her in to have the lump removed the next day.

At the surgery the vet was cautious. Mast cell tumours come in a variety of shapes and sizes and are very hard to diagnose by sight alone. He asked to do a fine needle aspiration whereby he would draw off some of the cells in the lump and send them away to be analysed. I reluctantly agreed but in my heart knew what the diagnosis would be. Call it instinct, call it blind panic, I knew.

I took Pepper home and later that day watched the lump grow massively to the size of an egg. Pepper seemed depressed and from what I had learned from my research I recognized this as a release of histamine from the tumour that had caused the swelling and Pepper to feel unwell.

It’s funny, even though you know in your own mind what it is, until the vet rings you to tell you were right, you don’t quite believe it. Up until this point, I’d been very business like. OK we had a problem, we knew what it was, and we would get it sorted – simple. But from the moment the vet confirmed the diagnosis, I fell apart.

Those who know me well know that my brown horsecoat girl is a real character with a personality bigger than a lot of people I know! I describe her as the naughtiest puppy I’ve ever had, who grew into the dog I couldn’t live without. And how true that is. At home she’s known as my number one daughter, much to Laura’s disgust and whilst perhaps I shouldn’t have favourites, I do and it’s Pepper. The thought that I might actually loose my beloved dog at four and a half years old was devastating. How could I? She’s the one I put the world to rights with, she’s my girl. A forever dog, here by my side ‘til she makes old bones…..

I rebooked the surgery. The phone call had come on the Friday and the surgery was booked for the next Monday. Those two days were among the worst in my life. We cried, we cuddled and we worried like never before.

On the morning of her operation I took Pepper to the surgery and waited with her whilst the vet did the pre-surgery checks and I signed the necessary paperwork. Pepper stood on the table as good as gold allowing the vet to do what he needed with her. It was at this point that I asked him if he wanted to sedate her before taking her away. Taking one look at this seemingly mild mannered pussy cat of a Shar Pei he declined my offer. I pressed the point explaining that whilst I was by her side she would do whatever I asked without a murmur, but away from me she wouldn’t be so accommodating – you know how horsecoats can be. He took another look at her, spoke to her, stoked her and again declined. “We’ll be fine” he said. With that he led her off to a crate to await her surgery.

Now that the vet knew he was dealing with Mast cell tumour he knew he would have to be quite aggressive in the removal of the lump taking a good 3cm all the way round (including underneath) the tumour. Luckily, whether because Pepper had had puppies or with age, Pepper had developed a wrinkle on either side of her chest and the vet was able to take 3cm (1.25 inches) below the site without going into the muscle wall or taking any bone.

A phone call later that day to tell me she had had the operation and was ready to go home had me rushing back to the vets to be reunited with my girl.

When I arrived the vet asked me if I would go out the back and collect her. Apparently, much as I had suspected, the minute my back was turned, Pepper had turned into the dog from hell. Refusing to co-operate, she had intimidated and terrified the vet and his assistant, so much so that he had put soluble stitches in so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trial of taking them back out!

Again, the minute I appeared she became the sweet loveable girl I know and love. The vet was incredulous.

Suddenly time with Pepper had become precious. And I spent as much of it as I could with her.

The phone call finally came. The cancer was a grade A stage 1 tumour. The best result we could have hoped for. The prognosis was good. A grade A is a mature cancer which tends to be localized and not to spread through the rest of the body. In fact the chances of it spreading were slim and the long-term chances of survival over 90%. No chemotherapy or radiotherapy was required. Provided the tumour did not grow again on the site within the next six months, we would have the all clear.

Within days of her operation my girl was like a puppy again. I hadn’t realized that she had been so off colour before the tumour was removed, the change in her must have been so gradual. Afterwards the difference was amazing. She ran, she played, she got into mischief. My girl was back.

Sometimes I think we take those we love for granted and it takes a wake up call like this to make you appreciate what you really have. Since the cancer scare I don’t take anything for granted.

Eight months later and there has been no recurrence of the tumour. My vet tells me we are in the clear with this one. He tells me not to become a lump freak, not to look for lumps and bumps on my dogs or I’ll drive myself mad. But you know what its like, you have to check don’t you?

How serious is your Mast cell tumour?

MCTs are classified in two ways by stage and by grade. The stage tells you how far the tumour has spread and the grade is the pathologist’s impression of how aggressive the tumour is likely to be or how likely it is to spread.

Stage 1 -- tumor is solitary, no sign that it has spread, tissue margins are clean on removal
Stage 2--- the tumor has invaded regional lymph nodes
Stage 3--- the tumor is widely invasive (invaded past surgical excision) or there are multiple tumors, even if the lymph nodes are not involved
Stage 4-- the tumor has invaded tissue far from the original site, such as the spleen, in the case of a skin tumor

Grade 1 tumors are the least likely to be malignant and Grade 3 are the most likely to be highly malignant.

One night whilst playing and making a fuss of May, I noticed a small lump by the side of her ear. At first it looked like a tick but on further investigation it seemed to be a small spot or maybe a bite.

As the days went by the lump began to grow and change to a slight red colour. The small spot was developing into a raised lump, which was starting to break open from the middle outwards. Within seven days it had grown to the size of a small garden pea.

Enough of that, it was time to go off to the vets. This is going to cost me! The vet took a look and agreed it looked like it could do with being removed. The next day May was back at the vets to have the lump removed and sent off to be tested.

It was only a small incision and knowing that May had a show coming up; the vet only shaved a small amount of fur.

Ten days later the results were back. It turned out to be a Histocytoma, otherwise known as a Button Cell Tumour.

I was told that if left for several weeks it may have resolved itself on its own, if not they recommend having them removed. But even having been informed of this, I looked back at the mess it became whenever May scratched at her head and I was happy that I had the growth removed early.

Cancer appears to be on the increase in all breeds but I’m told by my vet that Cancer in dogs is not hereditary as such but as in humans there is a tendency for cancer to run in families.

He also tells me that as humans we all carry five life threatening genetic defects but as our gene pool is so large the chances of meeting up with someone carrying the same genetic defect are small. Not so in purebred dogs where the gene pool is much smaller and often they can all be traced back (as in our breed) to a handful of dogs.

My advice would be, don’t take chances. If you think your dog has a lump or an unusual growth, get it checked out at the vets. It may only be a histocytoma and nothing to worry about but it’s better to be safe than sorry.