I hear JJ bark in the backyard, the neighbor's dog answering bark, then a ladder crashing. I check the basement, and JJ is lying there, cooling off, I assume. When he comes upstairs to greet Jack, Jack yells at me, "something is wrong. Come check JJ's side."

I'm horrified to discover a 4-inch flap of skin hanging loose. It's not deep; the fur and the first layer of skin sliced away. Asking Jack to call the vet, I apply pressure to keep the flap in place.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Our dog luck is in the crapper. JJ received his first cancer treatment after his surgery... yesterday.

We've spent the last month ferrying him weekly to the vet. The last place any of us want to go is to the vet. You see, we failed as pet parents.

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