Day 100 With Graffiti

A milestone few dogs reach after a hemangiosarcoma diagnosis

Mar 05, 2026

For a long time we have known this day was coming.

Day 100.

When Graffiti was first diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma, one hundred days felt impossibly far away. It was not a number anyone talked about in those early conversations. Most of what we heard then revolved around statistics, survival timelines, and how quickly this disease is expected to unfold.

Graffiti has survived two major bleeds since his diagnosis. There were many moments along the way when we truly did not know if we would ever see this day.

But today we did.

And Graffiti is still here.

When you first hear the word hemangiosarcoma, time suddenly starts to feel different. Most of us had never even heard that word before the day it changed our lives.

Very little prepares you for what life inside this diagnosis actually feels like. The statistics are discussed often. The timelines are discussed often. But much less is said about how much ordinary life can still exist between the difficult moments.

And yet that ordinary life is exactly what has carried us through these past months.

Life continued.

It looks like this more often than you would expect. Graffiti trotting ahead of us on a walk like he always has, ears up, moving with that quiet confidence that has always been part of who he is.

Watching him move through the world exactly as himself in these stretches of normalcy reminds me why we chose to keep going. To care for him, to fight for him, and to give him the space to keep writing his own story.

One hundred days may not sound like much in the context of a lifetime. But inside a hemangiosarcoma diagnosis, those days begin to hold a depth of meaning that is hard to put into words.

This disease moves unpredictably. Some dogs decline within days. Some arrive at the hospital already in crisis. There is no standard timeline and no reliable map.

Every day that passes with a good appetite, steady breathing, and a corgi still pulling ahead on walks is a day we were never promised.

The good days bring relief, gratitude, and a deep sense of presence. The difficult days bring fear, helplessness, and the quiet hope that your dog will pull through one more time. And always in the background is the awareness that none of it lasts forever, and that any moment could be his last.

Living inside this diagnosis changes your life. I understand why some families cannot continue care. The reality of this disease reshapes everything emotionally, logistically, and financially.

For us it meant rethinking nearly every part of our daily lives in order to protect Graffiti’s quality of life. Overnight our world reorganized itself around him. The medications. The signals we watch for. The constant, quiet effort to make each day as comfortable and meaningful as we can.

We know how fortunate we are to be able to make those adjustments. Many families facing serious illness with their pets simply do not have that flexibility, and we carry that awareness with us every single day.

And that brings me to the part of this story that still surprises me the most.

This community.

We would not be here at day 100 without the people who have gathered around Graffiti’s journey. That is not something I say lightly, and it is not an exaggeration. The support this community provided has directly shaped the level of care we have been able to give him.

Every message from someone who told us about their own dog’s diagnosis. Every person who shared a resource, a supplement recommendation, or simply the words “we went through this too.”

Every family who reached out after losing their dog to hemangiosarcoma and said that following Graffiti’s story helped them feel less alone in their grief. Every single one of those exchanges has meant the world to us.

Some of you have been here from the very first post. Some of you found us through a shared story on social media and stayed. Some of you are veterinary professionals who have quietly offered guidance behind the scenes. Some of you are going through this right now with your own dog and have told us that reading these updates has helped you feel more prepared for what you are facing.

I want you to know that we see you. All of you.

What this community has given us is something that is hard to measure. You have given us the feeling that Graffiti’s fight matters to more people than just our family. That his story is reaching people. That what we are learning and sharing might genuinely help someone else down the road.

That is a gift we did not expect, and one we will never take for granted.

In many ways, this story no longer belongs only to us. It belongs to everyone who has walked alongside us. And that has made the hardest days a little more bearable and the best days something truly worth celebrating.

Thank you. From the bottom of our hearts.

Brady has been living inside this experience with us too. He does not understand hemangiosarcoma, of course. But dogs notice when something about their world changes.

The slower walks. The medications. The moments when we pause and let Graffiti rest.

Anyone who knows Brady knows he is expressive, loud, and not exactly known for patience. He has always been the one demanding attention, stealing the spotlight, making sure everyone in the room knows he is there.

That is just who Brady is, and we love him for it.

But through all of this he has shown a side of himself we had not seen before.

He keeps close to Graffiti in ways that feel quiet but intentional. He will lie beside him when Graffiti is resting, something he never used to do. On walks he matches Graffiti’s pace instead of pulling ahead.

There are small moments - a nudge, a pause, a look - that feel like his own version of checking in.

It is hard to explain without sounding like we are reading too much into it. But when you live with two dogs and one of them gets sick, you notice the shift in the other.

The house feels different.

The energy between them feels different.

While Graffiti is the one carrying the disease, the little world around him has changed.

Brady has changed with it too.

One of the things this journey has taught us is that strength does not always look the way you expect it to.

Graffiti’s strength is not loud. It is not dramatic. It is the same steady, forward-moving energy he has always carried. Eyes forward. Walking at his own pace, on his own terms.

Each morning he wakes up and simply continues forward.

Not because the path is easy, but because continuing is what you do. You show up. You care deeply. You do not let the weight of what might happen tomorrow keep you from being fully present today.

Living beside that kind of steadiness changes you. It teaches you to slow down, to pay attention, and to meet each day with the same quiet determination he does.

That quiet resilience in him has become something bigger than we ever anticipated. It has become a symbol for the families following along. For the people facing their own version of an impossible diagnosis.

For anyone who has ever had to choose between fear and forward motion - and chose forward.

We wanted to find a way to carry that spirit beyond the screen. Something people could hold onto. Something that honors what Graffiti represents to this community, not just as our dog, but as a reminder that showing up every single day, even when the outcome is uncertain, is its own kind of courage.

To mark this moment, we created a small collection inspired by Graffiti’s journey - something that celebrates this incredible milestone while carrying his spirit and the community that has grown around him.

The designs are personal to us in ways that go beyond Graffiti’s story. They draw from the same place we draw from when we sit with him on a hard night and choose to stay steady. From the resilience this journey has demanded of us. And from the strength Graffiti has shown us day after day - the way he wakes up and chooses to keep going without hesitation, without complaint, with nothing but that same steady forward energy that makes everyone who follows his story believe that maybe they can do the same.

It is about giving this community something tangible to carry with them. Something that reflects the strength, the heart, and the quiet courage behind all of this. A way to say, I was a part of Graffiti’s story, and this mattered to me too.

We cannot wait to share what we have been creating, and we hope it feels like what it is meant to be. A thank you. A tribute. And a way for all of us to keep walking together.

Because that is what we do. We keep walking. As a family. As a community.

And Graffiti is still leading the way.

If you’d like to celebrate this milestone with us, you can explore the collection here:

View the collection →