I hate and refuse to read/ watch/ acknowledge any story involving a dog--because I love dogs and the dog in a movie/ book/ whatever always dies. I can't handle that.
When I found out I had cancer I said to Chris (writer, significant other; in case there is a soul reading this who doesn't know that) "If I die, given that Seamus lived, you have to write the memoir "The Dog Lived." I love the irony. Seamus (our beagle) was diagnosed with cancer more than 3 years ago and was told (okay, right, I was told; Seamus still doesn't know) that he would live maybe a year. Instead he's cancer-free and well into remission. That would be the great irony of my life story--the dog lives. I don't.
Not surprisingly, Chris was not amused and did not want to write that memoir. Oh, and my prognosis is not at all that grim. So instead, in a rare mood I'm attempting to just put a positive spin on things. The Dog Lived...and so will I.