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We recently lost one of our dear old friends, a beautiful West Highland Terrier named Kenosha. He would have been 15-years-old on August 1st. Here is the short and sweet story of why he was so loved.
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I remember when I was just 1 year old. I was wild, and it wasn't long before I found myself at the Wisconsin Newfoundland Rescue. My new parents decided to take on my bad behavior and took me home as soon as they saw me. Because I was so big, I needed to learn some manners. My parents hired a personal trainer for me! With a little instruction and a lot of hot dogs, I was soon the gentle giant my breed is known for.

On my daily walks, I met so many people; I always liked people more than dogs. Most people didn't know what I was; some even thought I was a bear! Although my walks were great, my favorite pasttime was chasing frogs in the summer. My family had 3 ponds, and I could have spent all day in them! In the winter, all I wanted to do was lay on my back porch. Sometimes I was so covered in snow that all you could see was my wet nose!
I had many great years with my people. I pulled my family in toboggans and helped carry wood and Christmas trees, though I didn't care much for the harness. I always needed to be the center of attention (that's why I was always laying in the middle of doorways and under their feet). I got lots of belly rubs that way, too.
I loved my family very much and felt that it was only right to protect them. Once I chased a big, floating balloon out of the yard. I must have gone too far because a strange man in blue pulled over and tried to get me in his car, but I was taught never to take rides from strangers. I spent that night with a lot of other lost dogs.
I aged very well, never looked a day over two, and because of all my exercise, I felt good too… until one fall day when I was 11. My sister noticed swelling at my wrist. She works as a vet assistant here and knew all too well what was happening to me. I knew too, but I didn't want to admit it. I was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma (bone cancer) on November 4, 2009. My prognosis was graded to poor, and my family now had some decisions to make. I could have chemo, or they could have my leg amputated. Because I was already so old and it was my front leg, my family decided that it would be too hard for me to recover from an amputation. So it was settled, I was going to get chemo. My sister was trying to find the best chemo for me and came upon a clinical trial at the Vet school in Madison. We both knew it was perfect for me; I could help cure others.
It is my understanding that the trial was to find out how 2 different types of chemo work together. I got to go to the teaching hospital once every four weeks. They made me walk across a treadmill that told the doctors how much weight I was putting on my leg. They also took me to the human hospital for CT scans to see how active my cancer cells were. That's the boring part, though. The students at the hospital fed me whatever I wanted, even if it was from their very own lunches. I got to hang out in the same rooms as them while they were working, too! Every time I went to Madison it was a new opportunity to win over the hearts of the staff. My favorite was Dr. Lassara McCartan. She was the one in charge of me, and she was my biggest fan at the hospital. She would always tell me what a great job I was doing and how I was making medical history! I can only tell you so much about the trial, because it's still in experimental processes, but my results were sent to the FDA and my doctors all say that I am the poster dog for this chemo combination.

I was the first dog to make it to through two treatments, but I didn't stop there! It wasn't until my appointment for my 5th treatment that they discovered that I fractured my leg in 2 places, and they could only tell by an x-ray. They also found metastasis in my lungs, which meant that my cancer had spread to the rest of my body. It was my time; I had done my work and loved with every ounce. My family made the decision; I was to be put to sleep at my house, on my porch. The doctor arrived that evening, and everyone was there to say goodbye. As I passed, a rainbow filled the sky, and I knew that my journey had only just begun.
N29 W23950 Schuett Drive, Pewaukee, WI
Phone: 262-347-0787 • Fax: 262-347-0780
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