What Dog Cancer is Teaching Me
Lessons on self-care, emotional strength, and finding agency
Hi, Friends,
It’s never a good sign when someone you love stops eating, especially your dog. So, when my Labrador, Toby, refused food three weeks ago, I knew something was wrong. Despite working with the vet and trying different medications and foods, he wasn’t improving much—his appetite only slightly returned, and he wasn’t sleeping well. I was determined to get to the root cause. Last week, we learned the answer: Toby has lymphoma.
This is why you didn’t hear from me last Thursday. I was processing the news and my emotions, which swung from tears to frustration that I hadn’t noticed the signs sooner. But after a few days, I realized that what Toby needs most right now isn’t my guilt or overwhelm—it’s my presence, advocacy, and care. And to give him that, I needed to shift how I was showing up.
Life has a funny way of testing us, doesn’t it? As I work on Live Your Opus—a guide to crafting a meaningful, balanced, and fulfilling life—I now face an unexpected challenge that demands I live the very lessons I’m writing about.
Over the last few days, guided by The Opus Way, the methods shared in my book, I’ve made three shifts that are helping me reframe my perspective, regain energy, and step into this new role with clarity and strength. They’re not magic wands, but they’ve helped me find my footing as I navigate this new reality.
Put My Oxygen Mask on First
Tuesday night, I brought Toby to a specialist at a state-of-the-art animal hospital in a nearby city. The appointment took four hours and included an ultrasound of his internal organs and a needle aspiration of his lymph glands, liver, and spleen, which required sedation. I walked in with a sick but energetic dog and walked out with a dog who could barely move all night.
I planned an overnight trip to London with clients and needed to leave my house at 4:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning. Our favorite pet sitter was lined up (she’s fantastic), but knowing that cancer was now the doctor’s working hypothesis, I felt an overwhelming urge to cancel the trip. It seemed selfish and uncaring to leave him—especially with a 10-day trip to the U.S. already looming.
The specialist, however, assured me that Toby would be fine at home with the pet sitter and encouraged me to take the trip as planned. After some reassurance, I decided to go.
When I landed in London two hours later, I had journaled and meditated, and already, I felt like a different person. I hadn’t realized how emotionally drained I was from two weeks of worry. To care for Toby and stay on track with my writing, I’d put my self-care on hold—no yoga, no walks, no healthy meals, no quiet moments.
When I landed, the first thing I did was clear my schedule. Aside from two commitments, I gave myself two days off. I didn’t pack my laptop, so working on my book wasn’t an option.
Over those two days, I ate nourishing meals, let go of my mommy guilt about leaving Toby, and even enjoyed the festive Christmas lights and decorations. That time to reset wasn’t just healing—it gave me clarity and helped me get my emotions in check (below).
When I returned home, I was ready to take charge of Toby’s care with clarity and strength. Even more surprising, the time away had sparked a flood of new ideas for my book and practice—ideas I’m now bursting at the seams to bring to life.
Sometimes stepping away feels impossible, but those moments of renewal can be transformative, can’t they? They remind us that caring for ourselves isn’t a luxury—it’s what allows us to care for others.
Reprogram my emotions
In moments of crisis, I’ve learned that emotions can carry us forward or hold us back. My first response to Toby’s diagnosis was deep sadness and, frankly, overwhelm. I won’t lie, I went dark pretty quickly. I guess that’s normal—I’m human. But I knew I couldn’t stay in that place long.
Taking some time for myself gave me the space to reflect, and what I realized surprised me: my initial emotional reaction wasn’t even mine. I recognized that my response mirrored the dramatic reactions I grew up seeing in my family whenever a pet got sick. It wasn’t the reaction of the person I’ve become, nor the reaction Toby needs from me now. He doesn’t need my panic or sadness—it isn’t about me. He needs me to be his advocate and carer—calm, informed, energized, and ready to keep his spirits up. And my family and I need that, too.
So, I paused and asked myself: “What do I need to do to become the version of me that Toby needs right now?” The answers were surprisingly simple: I needed to find an immediate way forward to help him regain his appetite, feel stronger, and stay comfortable.
Then I did two things:
I wrote to the specialist and firmly requested medication—or another office visit—before the weekend.
I found the best guide on dog cancer care, which included practical tips for feeding sick dogs.
By Sunday afternoon, Toby had eaten four meals of homemade dog food, his energy levels were noticeably higher, and he’d even slept through the night. On Saturday, he surprised me by wanting to go to the park—and, against my advice, he happily plunged into a cold stream for a swim. Seeing him regain his strength and spirit has lifted mine.
Keeping it together over the next six months won’t always be easy; chemotherapy is a long process. But I know I can keep coming back to myself, reconnecting with the person I want to be in this moment—for Toby, my family, and me. Sometimes, that reconnection takes less than a minute, but it can help me choose how I want to show up, moment by moment.
Shift my role
I’ve often told clients the importance of shifting from working in their business to working on it. When you work in your business, you’re immersed in the daily demands. But when you work on it, you step back, see the bigger picture, and focus on strategy.
It turns out that this idea applies to life, too. At first, I thought of my role as a “dog lover.” But the dog cancer guide I found offered a better term: “dog guardian.”
A dog lover delights in the kisses, play, and companionship. When things go wrong, they feel deeply but often leave the hard decisions to the vet. A dog guardian, however, takes an active role in their dog’s care. They direct the treatment plan, leaning on the vet as a partner—not the sole decision-maker.
When I read that distinction, something clicked: I know my dog best. I’m in charge of his care. That realization shifted me from helplessness to agency.
This is a role I’ve never played before, but like so many roles I’ve stepped into, I know I can learn. And with each step, I’m reminded of the power of leaning into what’s possible.
I don’t usually write posts about my dog or dogs with cancer. But I know I’m not alone in facing unexpected challenges. Whether caring for a loved one, navigating a career shift, or managing the unpredictability of life, we all encounter moments that ask us to pause, recalibrate, and grow.
These three shifts—putting yourself first, reprogramming your emotions, and stepping into a new role—have been essential for me this week. I hope they offer you a fresh perspective, too.
Wherever you are today, I invite you to reconnect with yourself. Sometimes, the smallest shifts—choosing rest, reframing emotions, or embracing new roles—help us meet life’s challenges with clarity and strength.
We’re all learning as we go, and I’m grateful to have you on this journey with me.
I’m Janine Mathó, and I’m writing Live Your Opus, a book for ambitious people who crave deeper meaning, fulfillment, and direction but sometimes struggle to break through (forthcoming 2025). As always, thanks for being here. If this resonates, please share this letter with others who might benefit. Thank you!
Until next time, be well!
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Oh Janine, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re going through all of this with Toby, and so sorry for poor Toby. This was such a great lesson, and I’m grateful for you for sharing. I also had a weekend of self care and feel happier, lighter and ready to face my business again, even though nothing in my business situation has changed, per se. But putting on my oxygen mask and finally acknowledging and letting out all the emotions that were blocking so much of my work/life was exactly what I needed.