November 13, 2022
Our baby boy Bronco, a 9-almost-10yo pitmix (with American Bulldog, probably) needs a splenectomy to remove a mass found 2 days ago on his spleen. The surgery consult is $200 and the surgery itself can be up to $8,000 if he is kept for several nights for potential complications. We have already spent $2,500 on vet visits, the ER, and ultrasounds to confirm the mass in the last 3 days. We are not asking for a full ride, just any amount of help. Any contributions, even meeting $100 goal would help and be so so appreciated! <333
We are also accepting donations via Venmo @Nicole-Canete ($200 on Venmonso far as of 11/14 @2:45pm!!)
Here is our Story:
Nicknames - Beto, Beto Bronc-y Boy, Beto Burrito Bronquito, Burrito Sussito, Beetsy Boy, Beet(s), Eetsy Oy, Broncolito, Bub, Bubby Boy ~ ~~
I got Bronco when he was 2 years old from Liberty Humane Society in Jersey City. He had been there a little over two months, perhaps because he was a pitmix. While most of the other dogs barked and whined from their cages, he just stared up at me patiently, mouth wide open and goofy smiling, his Little Rascals brown spotted eye against a white coat making him memorable. They let me take him for a walk and I noticed he was very quiet, reserved, and obedient. I told him to sit and he sat, waiting still and silent, looking out into the distance - not making eye contact, not pawing at my legs, not asking for anything, yet content to be there with me. He had a lot of scars, which I assumed was from previous neglect or abuse (we now know is alopecia). I loved him immediately. We were alike, the two of us. A quiet steadiness from deep within (we are old souls), a cautious curiosity for life, and a little awkward, out of place, misunderstood by the world around us that did not look like us.
We had had a family dog, Roxy, our Pomeranian mix, but she had passed two years prior at age 10. This time was different. This time, Bronco was MY dog, adopted in my early 20s. Despite being over $100k in student loan debt, I was able to pay his adoption fee and eventually move out with him to my new apartment. I paid for his vet visits and doggy daycare and boarding for years, with some occasional help from my parents. When I learned he was not friendly and actually mistrustful of most people, I paid for and committed to his training, someone who was good with trauma baby pits. Despite his ambivalence towards strangers, he loved our family and was happy to find his pack.
Almost eight years later, Bronco is still a quiet, quirky boy - packing 80 pounds of muscle, but still acting like he's a little pup, scared of (but a little less scared now) and defensive (but a little less defensive, too) towards the world and protective over me and our family. Being a sound triggered trauma dog, if the breeze so much as blows the wrong way, he will scramble and run, then bark at the suspect (the air). He will protect us from a human intruder he can see, but will run behind us from an unknown sound he cannot. With the help of my partner, Tamilia (they/them), he has learned to stop barking (almost) on command, regulating his volume from fairly startling barks to the softest whisper of a "boof," his final sound of displeasure. Beto Burrito Bronquito is not like some dogs who may be bright and bouncy and light up the room, so if you're not watching closely, you'll miss his other dopey quirks. At parks, he'll lay on the grass and before fully relaxing, will proceed to belly crawl several feet, letting his back legs drag like frog legs on a plate, too lazy to use them, too excited for a free, nature belly rub to sit still. He gets off couches like this, too, sometimes. He seems to love a good leg stretch. As a pup, there wasn't a single bed he hadn't destroyed, so as a senior dog, when we bought a huge, presumably bullet-proof, therapeutic bed for him, he had no idea how to lay on it. He is perfectly comfortable hanging with half his body off the edge and on the floor, or worse, his entire head sloping onto the floor, which would give anyone a crick in their neck, but this is good enough for him.
Beto loves sniffing the air, especially on car rides, "scavenging" in my parents' backyard - letting out his customary warning BOOF! to prospective threats (there are none), before leaping down the deck to explore - and sometimes just sitting at the top of the deck stairs, looking out at the falling leaves or feeling the wind. Living with a Filipino family, Bronco loves lugaw (our version of Chinese congee), carrots, bloobs, and whatever my mom sneaks him when she babysits him at their house. In the morning, he checks on me, sniffing with his wet nose at whatever available limb of mine he can find at the edge of the bed, and then goes to check on my partner (Mama T) in their room. On walks, he boops his nose against our calves as if to check that we are still there beside him. With a soft muzzle, he is learning to intermingle with people without being reactive. Despite intimidating most of the neighborhood with his size and stature, passersby often compliment our handsome boy. He's big, but even playing fighting, he is a gentle giant - and if he does get an accidental strong hold of our hand, licks us immediately in apology. He only likes to be cuddled for a minute or two, but sometimes when you hug him, he’ll wrap his front paw around your wrist and hold you back. Our quiet boy, who rarely whines, cries, or complains. We would have never known he was in pain or uncomfortable until we saw the loud symptoms - uncontrollable peeing, then drinking water excessively right after, barely eating for a highly food-motivated dog, and not responding when we called him. It was the shaking while lying down that prompted an ER visit and next step to diagnosis.
With him at age 9 and me at age 31, we have never been apart. Among all the constant changes and inconsistencies in the ride through my 20s - from new jobs, new lovers and new exes, new friends and friend breakups, new tensions with parents when I came out as queer, Bronco has been my constant. When he moved out of my parents' with me and to our 2 bedroom apartment with my partner this past January 2022, I knew this would be his last chapter. Tamilia and I have been doing our best to make it his most loving, freeing, and abundant chapter yet.
One day he will transition, but he does not have to suffer until then. He needs surgery to remove a mass on his spleen, so he can greet us at the door, wobbling sleepily on his feet from a nap while we avoid his wagging tail like a whip. So we can get him a basket muzzle and teach him to socialize with more people, to learn that all people are not so scary and would actually love to love him. With the help of my partner, unafraid of big dogs having grown up with 2 Rottweilers themselves, Bronco has learned to let new people love him and to learn him, with all his silly quirks. If the tumor is benign, he gets to learn love from more people. If it is cancer, we will take him to the beach - his favorite place, just imagine how far he can drag his stomach on all that sand! - where he will be held by loving family as he passes. Where he will be safe and home.
- With love and gratitude, Nicole (he/she) & Tamilia (they/them)
