Harlie: Chin Up, Whiskers Forward (Radiation Era Activated)

Harlie is officially in her Indoor Heiress chapter.

Since having the chin mass removed, she has fully embraced the penthouse lifestyle. Window watching? Yes. Door dashing? Hard pass.

Open the door and she just looks over like,
“I’ve seen enough of the outside world. I prefer filtered water and central heating.”

She doesn’t even flinch. No lunging. No scheming. Just vibes.

The Medical Update (Deep Breath)

I spoke again with her oncologist at WSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital.

Confirmed:
It was cancer. In the chin mass and in one lymph node. So yes, it had already started to travel.

There’s also a small spot on her lung. It’s a 50/50 situation right now. Could be inflammatory. Could be related. We monitor. We don’t spiral.

Histology couldn’t clearly define the exact type of cancer. Frustrating? Yes. But it doesn’t change the next steps.

If we do nothing, the mass will likely return. And the risk of further metastasis increases.

So we move.

The Chemo Conversation

From day one, I told oncology I was not doing chemo.

Watching Roo struggle through it was enough for this lifetime. I won’t do that again if there’s another viable path.

And here’s the part I appreciated most:
Her oncologist agreed. She did not think chemo was the best option for this case. She was thoughtful, grounded, and completely aligned with quality-of-life first.

She’s amazing.

She also said something that made me pause—because I’ve been saying it for years. They are seeing more unusual tumors like this. There’s no single smoking gun. But we live in a world soaked in chemicals.

Glyphosate.
Environmental toxins.
Living near manicured golf courses.
Air. Water. Soil.

Toxins. Toxins. Toxins.

We can’t always pinpoint the cause. But pretending our environment plays no role? That feels naïve.

None of that changes the present. It just sharpens the focus on what we can control.

So… Radiation It Is

Harlie starts radiation Tuesday.
We go back the following Tuesday.
Skip a week.
Then round three.

It’s not cheap. Not even remotely.

But when Mike and I take on pets, we make a promise. We don’t bail when it gets inconvenient or expensive. We signed up for stewardship. So we steward.

One option was leaving her there for the week.

Absolutely not.

She comes home with me every time.

I don’t mind the drive. I’ll grab coffee, hide a few rocks along the way, listen to podcasts, and let the highway quiet settle my brain. There’s something grounding about carrying someone you love in a carrier and just… driving.

And she’s such a good traveler, I doubt she’ll even be mad.

I haven’t told her yet. She’s currently busy living her best post-surgery life.

Right Now

She’s eating.
She’s snuggling.
She’s alert.
She feels good.

She’s currently busy rotating between her sunbeam throne and her pink martini scratching post like a tiny striped socialite.

And that matters.

We don’t control outcomes.
We control effort.
We control love.
We control showing up.

So that’s what we’re doing.

Chin up. Whiskers forward. Radiation on deck.

And Harlie?

She’s currently busy rotating between her sunbeam throne and her pink martini scratching post like a tiny striped socialite supervising the neighborhood like the indoor legend she now is. 🐈🐾🍸