
Removing Jeff’s Tumor
We’ve been asked by people for years what breed(s) Jeff is. They most commonly ask if he’s a dingo. He’s not. Sometimes, people simply ask, “What is that?” (He does look a little like Yoda.) We didn’t know the answer to the breed question until earlier this year when we had a DNA test performed on him. According to the DNA results, he’s a real killer.
Pit Bull/Chow-Chow/Rottweiler/Basenji mix. He’s one of the kindest guys I’ve ever known, though. He takes food ever-so-gingerly from your hand. He even lets his little human cousin give him wet-willies in his never-drooping ears. With his brown-spots-on-white fur and long thin neck, he resembles a giraffe, leading to his name. (I’ve just never liked the spelling of “Geoffrey,” so we went with “Jeff.”) He lets out one short bark when super-surprised by lightning or similar. Otherwise, he grunts.
I adopted him from Austin’s Town Lake Animal Center back in 2008. As I’ve written before, I’d just gotten out of a long-term relationship and my fur-sister, the dog I’d had with me for many years, had recently died. Jeff was to join me on a “just a boy and his dog” path. Of course, it turned out that Misty (saltyraconteur) actually accompanied me to visit him, and now we’re married. So, instead of a “boy and his dog,” Jeff became our first fur-son.
His older fur-brother, George the Big Yellow Lab, who we saved a few months after adopting Jeff, just died on July 19, less than a month ago. Jeff was clearly sad — he started licking and biting his paws raw. We cleaned and dressed them and made him wear an inflatable neck doughnut for a few days until he healed up. He’s better now, except for a mast cell tumor on his right hind leg diagnosed at the vet last week.

One of Jeff’s many nicknames is “Junkyard Dog” because he seems to be indestructible. From a bum leg to an exploded bladder*, he’s survived and come out acting as much like a puppy as a nearly ten-year old dog can. (Usually, with a few more scratches to add character). I’m hoping the moniker fits after we get the results back from his tumor removal on Friday.
We were fortunate enough that, after his bladder exploded while we were unemployed, so many of our friends and family stepped in to donate to help him. We’re fortunate this time that we have incomes. Though we may live, like most, paycheck-to-paycheck, we can afford (barely) to cover this mass removal. If he needs more help, if it’s cancerous and has spread or there’s something else that’s significantly wrong with him, there’s no way we could afford to help him. I’ll fight like hell to find a way. If I fail, well, at that point, I will apologize to Jeff— with tears streaming down my cheeks and rage battling sadness for control of my heart — for ending his life because I can’t financially afford to save him.
Misty made this PetChance.org profile for Jeff, if you’d like to donate to this (hopefully, only) stage of his care.
By Misty (@saltyraconteur):
We just found out [Friday] that one of our fur-sons, Jeff, has a mast cell tumor on his leg that needs to be removed. He also has a couple of other growths that sprang up out of nowhere. The vet doesn’t think they are of the same type, but she will be removing them as well to be safe. I, my husband, and our extended family are heartbroken. Jeff is such an important part of our lives. I can’t conceive of him not being a part of it. This is especially tough because we just lost Jeff’s brother George, the Big Yellow Lab, on July 19. George and Jeff were both rescues and were adopted about the same time, a little over nine years ago. That date is also important to me because it marks the beginning of my relationship with my husband, William. We truly did start a family together. Jeff has been especially depressed since the passing of his bigger, both in size and age, brother. To get this news in his annual checkup has rocked the family even more. Jeff has been more than just our dog. I’ve had times during my career when I’ve had to do a bit of travel, so Jeff has vacationed with his human grandparents. They love him as much as we do. And after our niece was born, she fell in love with him too. We discovered he was gentle around children, letting her share his dog bed, lay on his back, and give him wet willies. Most people fall in love with Jeff once they meet him, though the first reaction is usually, ‘What is that?’, ‘Is that a dingo?’, or ‘Is that hyena?’ I’m always tempted to say ‘yes’, but just patiently smile and say, ‘No, he’s a mixed-breed dog.’ In reality, Jeff is an AmStaff/Rott/Chow/Basenji mix. He acts like a catdog. His ears operate like radars. He loves butt rubs, and will only bestow puppy kisses to the truly deserving. He is a bed hog. He still acts like a puppy at nine years old, loves adventures, playtime, sprinting, cat chasing, acting like a pony, and takes food out of your hand like he is lifting a feather. Help us help Jeff. He is the least demanding dog I’ve ever met, and the most stoic. There’s a reason we call him Sir. He has too much pride and is too humble to ask for help, so I ask on his behalf. This is a breakdown of what he needs this Friday:
Sx Lumpectomy-Sm $135, INJ Pen $20.25, INJ Buprenex $20, Pulsoxometry $25, AX Gas-Iso $55, Prescreen $99.50, Histopath $245.50
I should note here that I don’t expect anyone to donate. Everyone has their own bills to pay. Nonetheless, I’ve used the above site to help others, so, should you be so inclined, I encourage you to donate using that site — whether it’s to Jeff or someone else who needs a chance.
*In April 2015, we found out he had numerous kidney stones ranging in size from small to, according to the vet, HUGE. His bladder ruptured and his abdomen was filled (you could see the bulge) with urine. They were able to drain him and repair his bladder. Jeff acts like a puppy still.

